Last night, I got a lot of compliments for my performance. I think everyone gets a lot of compliments, though. The one person from whom I really wanted a compliment did not give me one. It's probably going to be the thing that makes me want to be a full-time stage actor.
But, right after that, I went to the Holloway reading. Gillian Osborne and Rachel Levitsky were extremely nice, and they both said they loved the poster. I was elated. They were both so nice to me that I started to feel like I was somebody in the poetry scene. It's amazing what nice words from the right people can do for me. I think that I am turning into one of those people who will do anything for anybody as long as you say nice things about them.
I still don't care about people, in the general sense, liking me, but it makes me very happy when certain people do.
My friend, Salinger, didn't like my manuscript, THE HAUNTING OF NINJA TOWN. I really wanted him to like it, but he doesn't. And I am paranoid that he might not like me anymore, either.
Lyn Hejinian said she loved my manuscript. She said a lot of things about it, but I was too busy wetting myself to remember most of what she said. I told her that I would write the whole conversation on my blog and use everything she said as blurbs, and she said she would write me a real blurb. She kissed me on the cheek and I felt a little like crying.
I rode in an SUV to dinner. From the inside, I like SUV's more than from the outside. I hate them on the outside. I kind of like them on the inside. SUV's are like people that way.
There I sat with famous poets at a pizza parlor, stumbling over all of my words making myself look like an idiot. I get nervous around Lisa Robertson. It's like I develop a stutter or something. I try to say things, but they are all stupid. I am stupid.