I missed my opportunity this Saturday to see Gronk at Skylight Books in L.A. I got caught up with other things. It's probably best to keep a distance from the heroes.
I read at the 2nd Annual Small Press Book Fair at The Church in Ocean Park (Santa Monica). It was an all day event. I recognized several of the presses and journals present, and even heard a few readings. I read along with a few others who have published in Rattle. The interesting, though, was Charles Bukowski's daughter's mother (not sure if they were married) was in the audience. FrancEyE was in the front row for much of the time I was there (also in the audience), checking it all out. I wanted to approach her, but thought, nah, what for--I'm awkward like that. One of her chapbooks was put out by Pearl Editions, the same group that has put out work by David Hernandez, Denise Duhamel, and the recent gem by Ada Limon called this big fake world.
I have to catch the tera melos this time around.
And Portugal the Man, too. I was in Wasilla, Alaska once--once and only once. Nearly frozen solid while being attacked by a wild band of Alaskan Huskies with nothing but attitude--they tried to get to the saladito stash I hid beneath my tubesocks, homeboy! It got ugly, but desert boy prevailed when he pulled out the Imperial Valley sun from his pocket and blinded those little bastards, raising that shit up like a Gary Soto orange.