I'm sad today for various reasons, some that are frivolous and some that are legitimate (and although the legitimate reasons put the frivolous reasons into perspective, I'm still going to expound upon--nay, celebrate!--my frivilousness).
Ani DiFranco is in Iowa City tonight. I am not. Nuf said.
Ani DiFranco will smell the air on the banks of the Iowa River, dense with Midwestern field-must. I will not.
Iowa City will have their acoustic/rock/punk/freak Joneses rocked. I will not.
To re-iterate: Ani DiFranco--Hancher Auditorium in front of a beaming, tattooed, gyrating, and ardorous crowd. Me--Armstrong Hall room 210 in front of a Dell with a smudged-with-greasy-vending-machine-food finger-printed screen.
And according to RBR, tickets are still available. It's enough to put a person over the edge.
End of Pity Party; Population of 1; ME.
The universe has been re-balanced with the following news:
Tracy Kidder is coming to St. Peter on September 27. Words escape me...you wish! What a spectacular fucking way to spend my birthday weekend, hob-knobbing with (read: stalking) one of the pioneers of literary journalism! (I hate how cheesey exclamation points are...they turn just about any sentence into a corny declaration.)
Kidder will be discussing his new book at Gustavus Adolphus. I'll be toting my battered, jacketless, yellow-paged hardcover copy of Among Schoolchildren that I picked up on the third floor of Armstrong Hall in my first year in the program when the office of the School of Education was cleaning off their bookshelves and stacked a pile of books under a sign that read "Free."
This is like attending a John McPhee or Joan Didion reading. (With the exception of the small issue of shit in my pants. I would undoubtedly shit in my pants if Didion came to St. Peter.) I'll be taking my camera and my most glassy-eyed swoon for when I get my first glimpse of him at the podium.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment