Written and performed under the influence of caffeine, tonight
1960s coffee cups, here

Ironically my genius chiropractor healer guy who gets completely geeked out by new concepts of meridian points and eyedropfuls of shots, found out that I am not supposed to drink much coffee anymore. But tonight's theme is fine with me. There are four of us reading (all reading from upcoming forthcomings). It's great to read it out loud, a great way to test it out and see what works. If you're in Saugerties tonight, come.

LOVE! LUST! HATE! ADVENTURE! EXCELLENT FOOD! ROCK & ROLL! WOLVES! New works written under the influence of CAFFEINE.

also with
Maureen Cummins (producer of more than 30 limited edition books, Cooper Union grad, printer and bookbinder), purveyor of a printshop/studio in a turn-of-the-century warehouse in Brooklyn.

Robert Burke Warren (Texas Music, Brooklyn Parent, the Woodstock Times, vulture.com, Paste, TheRumpus.net, Fathermucker.com, RockPaperPhoto.com, Chronogram, and the Da Capo anthology The Show I ‘ll Never Forget), bassist, writer for Rosanne Cash and Wanda Jackson, played Buddy Holly in the West End musical Buddy: the Buddy Holly Story, and he's Uncle. Rock.

Scott Anderson (Prima Materia, Chronogram and more), and a scriptwriter, radio play performer and novelist.

Inquiring Minds Coffee House and Bookstore
68 Partition St., Saugerties, NY 12477
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Vanilla ice cream with butterscotch sauce

New bedding coming to the shop from the 1950s and 1960s. Delicious.


Mama Lucille

Out of eight eggs, three chicks, who will be five days old tomorrow. They are doted on by Lucille with great passion and intensity. If they flick a shaving into the water, she picks it out. If they are not pecking at the chickstarter feed fast enough, she pushes a heap of it out of the bowl at their feet. Any sense of danger and she clucks for them to hide in her wings. The grey one, or so we call it right now, likes to roost on her back.
Tipple stick

February 13, 1922. Washington, D.C. Unidentified woman demonstrates an ingenious Prohibition-era fashion accessory, the cane-flask. Courtesy Shorpy.

Last night I dreamt I was, no kidding, saying "Swordfish" at the back door of a speakeasy, wearing oxford shoes and a great big coat. And carrying a cane. Remembered where it came from: the Shorpy archives, that great treasure trove of old pix that is nearly as good as my Dad's bookcase. Nearly, but not completely.

It's not in Manhattan but it could be, with that white hex tile and the twisted leg chairs, which Mom called Candy Store chairs. They came from Great Uncle Sam and his brothers' candy store on the Lower East Side, which also doubled as a numbers parlor back in the day. In an odd coincidence, K and I realized that it is highly likely that my Great Uncle Sam and his great grandfather, an enforcer who sported brass knuckles and fedoras, may well have crossed paths. According to Uncle Sam those fellows made sure things stayed right. The one time a poor fool made the mistake of stealing the cash box, the boys across the street had it back in three hours.