my awp experience (hindsight)

My AWP experience was, for the first time, rather pleasant. I didn't attend any panels (aside from the one that I was a panelist for). That was because I was tied to the No Tell/Bloof table for most of the days. But that was OK. Sure, they put us in the crappiest room at the bookfair that most people never made it into, BUT we had the best spot in our ghetto and despite all that, book and lottery sales were rather good. Thank you book buyers!

I did make time to have my Tarot reading done by Hoa Nguyen at the Fact-Simile table. The reading showed a break through in my writer's block (sweet sweet Empress). I wasn't so sure, but today I dreamed that Charlie Jensen (the director of MY writer center) was in my powder room having trouble with the soap dispenser. I went in, cleared the pump and then that soap FLOWED!

I only went to one reading (Coconut/Horse Less Press/Switchback). It was a really good reading -- for what I could hear of it. There were a bunch of jackasses in the back who were talking really loudly. At one point Chris turned around and bellowed SHUT IT! and they were all like "who the fuck does he think he is?" and "fuck him!" and I thought, Dear Lord, please let my husband beat some poet ass into the ground, that would be so very very completely hot.

But the good Lord rations bliss and clearly I received all he was willing to give for one night.

On Saturday I taught Gideon how to network at AWP. He brought along his own business cards and together we worked that bitch of a bookfair. He fumbled a little, but overall was pretty good at it. I just don't want him to grow up to be some newbie fool hassling editors about rejecting his work or whatever.

My favorite part was probably Jill Essbaum teaching him how to say "Do you know who my mommy is? . . . Reb Livingston!" while shaking his fist.

In a few short years, I suspect Gideon will become the AWP King. Maybe then he'll go back and finish the job with those rude, loud poets from the reading--in the name of his mama.

Sunday morning I must have been retaining poets or something because I couldn't fit my rings or my shoes on. I have never been that bloated, not even when I was pregnant. It was disconcerting, but don't you worry, I got my magic rings and ruby slippers on this morning with no problem.