Of my own volition I went to a poetry reading last night.
I know. So soon after my rant.
Our buddy, the poet, was quite good.
We met at the diner in 1990. He and his friend stopped by the restaurant to fortify before going in search of cheap underpants and vacuum cleaner bags at a few local stores. I wasn't sure if they were a couple -- they definitely were very close and had their funny schtick down pat. I hoped they would come in again, and they did.
The poet invited me to sing on some of his recordings. When mrguy entered the scene, the poet started making his recordings at mrguy's studio. Eventually his friend (of underpants and vacuum bag fame) suggested that the poet record me singing some work by the poet. Last night some of us from that recording project were reunited for the first time in 20 years at the poetry reading.
Our friend the poet was funny and wry, and I enjoyed the reading.
The other poet, more poet-like, was pretty good, too, although he spoke in the hushed poet tones that make me want to slap something. I couldn't help but like his work despite this.
I will take my poet friend's book with me and share it on vacation.