POPSICKLE V RUNDOWN OF RUNDOWNS FROM A RUNDOWN HANGDOWN
Goddamn. That shit was all of it. So many people in that space and all the words in the air bouncing off of hearts and digging into brainmeats and all the sweat and all the love and all that dirty sun coming through that big dirty window. Goddamn is really the only word that keeps flashing in front of me. Goddamn beautiful. Goddamn majestic. Goddamn loving. Goddamn attentive. Goddamn true. Goddamn infectious. Goddamn delicate. Goddamn brawn.
I got my ass to DUMBO early, so I marched myself to the area where there were a gang of folks watching the World Cup on huge screens. Everyone was oooooooing and ahhhhhhing watching the game but I was watching them. Moving in unison, like a thousand-limbed beast. It was something. I walked my way back up to where the event was going to be and found a loading dock to park myself at. I watched Erika Anderson walk by, called out her name, and she—I am so goddamn proud of her—KEPT RIGHT ON WALKING. There was a crew of Asian construction workers sitting on the curb on their break eating a meal and watching the game on one guy’s phone and I fell in love with them, with their ease, with their love for one another.
Right around then Matty “Champ” Nelson rolled by on his bike and I called out to him and he stopped and we hugged and we sat on that dock and smoked a couple of cigarettes and talked about the day and the night before and the three million years of life and love we both want. We decided to go inside and say hello and inside I saw Erika again and told her she’s gotten real-real good about ignoring men on the streets calling out to her. Then Matty and I decided to go get coffees and we ran into Kalli Mathios—who is becoming one of my favorite people—and we all sauntered into this joint to get coffees and a guy in there was cooking all the bacon on a grill and it smelled like heaven and a hangover in the joint and I felt swoons in me and saw it happen to M and K, too.
Then everything starts to sizzle like the bacon and blur like a hangover.
THINGS I CAN CURRENTLY RECALL:
—Jessica Freeman and Samantha Kiel showing up and being fucking awesome, as always.
—Niina Pollari and JD Scott were incredible and kind and loving hosts.
—The space itself—Forgotten Works Studios—was beautiful and dark and strange.
—Not once throughout a very long and hot day did I see ANYONE pull any diva shit.
—So blown away by every goddamn reader. So much beauty. So much grace.
—Always so good to hang with my homie TOBIAS MOTHERFUCKING CARROLL
—Joe Riippi is still Joe Riippi, and nobody else can be Joe Riippi.
—Peter BD rapped and slayed and shouted me out. I feel precious and special.
—Eric “Little Brother Sunshine” Nelson rocked a wicker throne and owned it. OWNED IT.
—Throughout the day as it got hotter and hotter, you could feel everyone’s breaths happen.
—Oscar Bruno d’Artois read like a beast from his phone and I still love him.
—Chris Fay was hilarious and great.
—Joey De Jesus was fucking rad and I would love to read more of his work.
—Got to hear pressmate Andrew Worthington read from his soon-out WALLS.
—Mike Lala busted out a chunk of GUN CABINET, which made me want the whole thing.
—Jason Cook in a suit[duh] and asked me to read later on after at Mellow Pages.
—Morgan Parker. Morgan Parker and 99 Problems. Morgan PARKER.
—LK MOTHERFUCKING SHOWBIZ.
—Matty introduced me and filled me with love and we hugged real hard.
—I wanted the room to know they were appreciated and loved. I told them so.
—JD gave me a purple popsicle and I felt like a newborn.
Like I said above—GODDAMN—it was a beautiful day.
Met up with Matty at Mellow Pages after and we ate tacos and drank Gatorade and waited for a new crowd to show up for a reading thrown by Jason Cook and his mighty Ampersand Books. People filed in. Matty and I were running on fumes and grilled chicken meat and electrolytes. I ended up reading first and I know what I read and I know how I read and I know I picked on a guy in the room and probably maybe miffed him a bit, but I was so spent and so full of love and light that ain’t a goddamn thing anyone was going to do would undo. Mali Scott read some fucking rad poems—sans mic!—and blew me away. Danniel Schoonebeek read some poems and made me think of Steven Jesse Bernstein and I got all misty about it and made sure to tell him outside that he had stirred that up in me. I hugged Matty and then I 23-skidoo’d my way home. I felt like I had been on the ocean all day, my equilibrium a little askew, my heart a little slow but full, and my head swimming in words and images and smiles and sweat.
That’s all I know.