BEA is finally over.

The last day was kind of a madhouse. I used to spend time that last day going around and talking with other presses and collecting stuff for the kids, especially graphic novels and comic books and toys and stuff. But now those kids grew up, so I don’t do that any more. I could have bought jewelry and collected some books, but I was too much in a frizz by that time.

I’ve been in NY ten days, and there has been one long party. I went with Alice Quinn to this place called momofuku, it’s this really hip restaurant where you sit across from each other on high benches and then you lean in and you yell because the volume of the restaurant is as high as the mast of a ship and you want to say something and then you’re drinking and maybe it doesn’t matter so much if the person hears you and the food is to die for. I had some mescal which is really my favorite drink and then we had wine. We had these little mushroom buns that were crazy good and after we were finished our dinner, we just went and had them again. I could have made a whole meal of them.

Last night we went to Jim Tilley and Deborah Schneider’s house. It was out of the Javits and maybe an hour walk in the hundred degree wet heat to Grand Central Station. Rush hour, no cabs. My feet a mess, one bleeding because the night before I’d been impressing nobody with my heels and finally had to walk through NY in bare feet as my feet were a bloody mess. But Alice and I just kept walking through the park and talking. She doesn’t notice things like bare feet, she’s into poetry deep and wet.

And then I was walking the next day on my bandaged feet feeling like a Chinese woman only taller and with larger feet and blond but otherwise exactly like a Chinese woman and at the station, we made the train by a minute and then an hour in the cool fast train up to their town and we caught a cab to their house and then we could breathe. Their place was so much cooler than NY, and the trees were brushing the sky, and there were fireflies flitting about and dogs and wine and later there were blueberries and they have a wonderful library and everything was moving fast like falling stars. And we were back at the Javits Center and I got my nails done and we came to JFK in a hot cab and soon, in about five minutes, we board a plane to Ireland.

We want to write. We want to breathe. We want to not talk. We want to not hear anyone’s stories but our own. We want to be alone.

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Published in: on June 1, 2013 at 4:02 pm  Leave a Comment  
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