and she didn't even get lost...

so i went to nyc tonight, alone, and made it to the venue, with my chai tea latte in hand (i didn't know if starbucks was being boycotted because their coffee beans had too much caffine or what, not that the activists are the problem, i'm saying, i'm clueless if they were being boycotted it would be classic suz to stroll into a joint with a starbucks Tshirt, venti in hand, and a orange cranberry scone).

so i sat outside of bluestockings on the blue bench chained to the building. with a bike rack across from me, lesbian literature beside me and had my chai latte. i called my sister, because that is what i do, draw her in to my life wherever i happen to be. she encouraged me and i saw the poet who was hosting go by on the bus.

she came by about a half hour later, when i was back on the bench outside yakking with my sister. i reintroduced myself (she had only ever heard me read one poem at an open mic, so she didn't know me from adam basically), and asked if she wanted company wherever she was going. she was going to eat, so i'm glad i joined in.

i had a real slice of nyc pie. and the locals know the best joints. mine had fresh mozarrella and spinach. my favorite, bianca verde. the host, italian that she is kept trying to get me to pronounce it right. berde. but i kept anglicizing it, verde. (even though i'm latin and know better). we sat and talked for a bit while we at our slice and i went for her plate which was sitting on the table,

i'm a mom, it's what i do.

i'm a feminist, give me my damn plate.

she said.

i laughed.

i'm pusing it now.

we walked back to the venue which was sporadically filled at six p.m. but standing room only by the time i read, at 8:30. there were probably twenty people in chairs at the center, the window seats were full, the bookstore register area had salespeople lined up listening. it was a great venue. a great time.

heard lots of cussing and it makes me understand why i'm desensitized to it now. i can't help that i don't mind it. heard lots of descriptions of coitus, and ensuing variations. i guess, that is the topic that most interests people. my set had a couple of those poems in it, but i'm decidedly st8. a manfan all the way.

i had the crowd with me, which was pretty stunning since the other poet i read with was a multimedia spoken word artist who was quite good. she had music accompanying her set and sang a few ditties (long ditties, which were interesting). again, much about coitus.

i had all this transitional garbage to say between my poems, and i dumped it all and hit them straight on with what i brought. i was the closing poet. i jumped right in, read with my usual confidence, and was well received. a couple people left, but it is to be expected. i've been to reads for well known poets with only a handfull of people. this was a crowded joint, granted the joint was small, but it was a great first time out.

who knows where i'll read next.

my girl wanted a souvenier. and i thought some of the items a bit too, um, mature, shall we say. and i could just see her walking in to her presby church with an "i'm a feminist" shirt on. i would have loved it, but it would have been too difficult to explain. so i got her a feminist book on women's history. a girls' guide to life. i figure, i'm not going to raise a clueless girl. we're going to get into some of the difficult topics facing women, and she's a sponge. time to start teaching some women's history to her.

as i said, i'm no feminist, i'm no activist. but i'm willing to listen, to learn, to grow. that is all i hope to do. to remain open to the people and experiences that come my way. to trust the people who need to cross my path to cross my path. and to believe that there is a reason for everything, even the madness going on in my life right now.

my set dealt mostly with domestic violence, sexual abuse, marriage issues and emerging as a woman. becoming whole.

i hope to use that set as the backbone of a poetry book i'm putting together for a new women's voices in poetry contest, for unpublished gals like myself. it would sure be nice if i won and got published that way. it comes with a bit of cash, which i could use.

that's all. i came home to find it had snowed lightly, a dusting, while i was away. so my ride home was glistening. it looked on the outside, like i feel on the inside. regardless of if people will ever come to hear me again, i did it. i read in nyc. and i didn't even get lost on the way there. you'd think i'd lived there.

now if i can just bring myself to cross against the signals (i don't, but everyone else does, even in jersey, it's insane). then i'd look less like a visitor. waiting at the curb for the little white guy in his walking pose to guide me across the street safely.

nyc is a great place at night. i shall have to go back again sometime.

p.s.
for all those who sent me word, or encouragement (one friend text messaged me before i went on. others were sending me good vibrations. many praying me through), thanks! it was a dream. truly. and i'm grateful for your part in it, i needed help through this and getting myself ready for it. so many people listened to me read, talk endlessly about my damn set. i'm glad it's over, for their sake, but i'm also glad for what's ahead. just around the bend, i hear it coming...