Currently recovering from a dream last night in which I wore an enormous bow-tie. This thing was huge! The ends extended at least two feet past my face on both sides and kind of curved up under it - my face - so I couldn't turn my head at all. No recollection of other dream details - just this gigantic pleated bow tie wrapped around my throat.

Kasey left his copy of The Shaggs' "Philosophy of the World" in my car and I'm listening to that now as I try to report on last night's reading at David Hadbawnik's featuring James Meetze and Sarah Rosenthal. James and Sarah read poems and Sarah also some prose and James an eight page hunk of burning love called Amplifier, a portion of which can be found here.

I'm no good at reading reports. These events, they just make me want to hug everyone. I think Stephanie is with me on this one. In her enthusiasm for L.E.A.R. she suggested poets "warm-up" like theater folks. I'm thinking of the illustrations in Juliana Spahr's _Fuck You-Aloha-I Love You_. Breathing and loosening the voice and limbs and trust exercises and so on. Kasey seemed skeptical, but later as I looked around the reading room, everyone shoeless and bunched up on the hard-wood floor, it felt a lot like kindergarten. In a good way, in the best way possible. But the story-time atmosphere renders me completely useless - words covered in fuzz and smeared with chocolate and smelling of apple juice.