Tonight I went for the first time in months to the Cantab open mic in Central Square. It was the best poetry reading experience I've had in a while.
The crowd there makes noise -- meaning they laugh when you're funny and when they like a line, they whistle, or yell, or hoot, or clap, or all of the above. It's a little disconcerting, and I don't know if I should pause or what, but when I read tonight they made a lot of noise, and I think that's a good thing.
There's this boy there I've seen a few times. His name, poignantly, is Carlos Williams. He's really good. Every time I see him read I'm floored. He goes back to his stool after he reads and sits alone with crossed arms watching. Tonight I talked to him. He's nineteen, but looks even younger. Unlike a lot of poets I meet, he's modest and unassuming. I gave him my email and asked if he wanted to send each other our stuff. I hope he does.
Then as I was leaving, Jack McCarthy stopped me to tell me I was good. He asked me to come to his Stone Soup feature on Monday. I was flattered. If I can get off work, I'm going to go.
I forgot to eat again today. After I have dinner, I'm going to work on my novel until I pass out. Yes, remember, art. Marry your art, he'll never let you down.