Yesterday read on Debbie Priestley's Cambridge TV show, then hung around Central Square for the Cantab. My friend I was supposed to go with got sick and canceled, which led to me eating and drinking alone for the two hours prior to the open mic while sort of writing at Middle East.
I got to the Cantab early this time, no number one slot for me, and talked to Adam Stone and Judy at the bar while I drank my Jack. Adam is the only person I know who is on the no fly list.
The crowd was weird tonight. A lot of first timers. I read my poem about the Atlantic and I don't think anyone liked it very much. I was down already about other things, and that didn't help, so afterward I went outside and bummed a cigarette. I talked to a nice kid from NH named Mark, who is also called The Colonel. I said I felt weird reading here because no one talked to me. He told me not to take it personally, that it just takes that group a while to warm up to new people.
I left before the feature. I had been alone too much, inside my head too much, and all I wanted to do was go home and do my dishes and eat hardboiled eggs.