March 8, 2010
Thank God my husband doesn’t read my blog and hopefully won’t talk to anyone who does because I just found out that the guy who is on the top of my list of people I would have an affair with if I were going to have an affair, Jon Stewart himself, is hosting Book Expo… and Jon, I’m going to be there. I already have my hotel arrangements and my airfare. I’ll let you know where I’ll be staying. Of course, if I posted it on this blog, photographers would be mobbing us.
Jon is too hot. And he’s smart. That’s my idea of a hot guy… Smart, funny. I know you’d be lying in bed, reading a book (which is what I do in bed) and he’d be over there just thinking funny things and then he’d say something that would make you laugh. Jon, with your knowing smirk and your adorable hair and swagger, I know it’s going to be great when I see you from a huge distance in that auditorium in NY at the mike. Of course it may be like when I saw Cornell West last year at BEA. He didn’t wave or smile. Just kept talking. But Jon will know it’s me. Jon, I’ll be wearing a short red dress, just for you.
Last night we had this great party for Claremont Graduate University, Red Hen Press and Poetry Society of America at the house of Rex and Angela Wilder. She made this amazing lasagna and cake that was to die for. We had such a great time. Carl Phillips was there, Lucia Perillo and Robert Wrigley all of whom are reading tonight at the Boston Court in Pasadena. Wanda Coleman and Jenny Factor were there. It was a night of poetry stars and the Academy Awards were playing in one room and Rex and Angela’s boys were there explaining to me that their parents need to give them each a room. They have a bunk bed, and the smaller one is being tortured by his brother and has to sleep on the bottom bunk. They recounted the list of plays they’ve seen to Gordon Davidson. It was funny thinking of all the boys who have shared rooms and complained about bunk beds and older brothers who pounce on their stuff.
The poetry and wine and movies and theatre conversation all flowed around me like water. I loved seeing Marc Redfield, Gordon and Judi Davidson, Lisa Krueger, feeling the language and love and laughter. Alice Quinn did the introductions. Even the most jaded poets kept sneaking off to check the awards and the costumes; this is Hollywood and the city glows for the Academy Awards. Movies are a kind of poetry too, a kind of magic. Rex and Angela made magic, their backyard smelled of honey and jasmine.