On May 2nd, my friend (and poet and artist and Fence board member) Christopher Stackhouse and I went to Philadelphia. Though I’d had the lineup of co-readers (Dorothea Lasky, Brian Kim Stefans and Caroline Noble Whitbeck) figured out for months, I’d only sort of recently figured out a venue…

…But i’m getting ahead of myself. I realize now I should actually stop and step back and talk about putting together readings. I will try (both here and in future posts) to not get mad all over again and go on a rant. It basically all comes down to four different types: The University Reading, The Bookstore Reading, The Curated Reading, and The Other. The University Reading usually comes about through the faculty of an institution deciding they’d like to have you come and read. These are great because–thanks to the department–the poets get paid, the students get to go for free and the non-student members of the community get to go either for free or for less than what they’d pay at a Curated Reading. The Bookstore Reading usually happens at the insistence of the writer or the press publishing the writer. The Curated Reading, though it sounds like it should only happen in a museum or gallery, usually happens in a bookstore or cafe, though it may also take place at someone’s loft-style apartment. The Other includes huge group readings in cemeteries, marathons on various holidays and my favorite: non-curated readings in galleries (more on this later).

In putting together my tour I found that I’d committed to a combination of all of the above. The New School reading I talked about last time was, of course, a University Reading. The Providence reading was a Curated Reading. The LA reading was a gallery reading. And the Berkeley and Philadelphia readings were Bookstore Readings.

Though I probably should have just gotten in touch with Robin’s from the start, I had it in my head that Philadelphia would be a perfect place for an Other-style, gallery reading. (I also somewhat naively believed that I could have readings that turned into dance parties [more on this later]). After a few rejections–the most civil and helpful of which came from the good folks at the Kelly Writers House–I took their suggestion and finally got in touch with Robin’s Bookstore…

…While there is no excuse for tardiness I should stop here again and say that I was, the day after the reading, headed out of town for a month. Also, the night before going to Philadelphia I’d curated, in conjunction with my friend Xaviera Simmons’ installation, a reading with Tisa Bryant and Christopher Stackhouse in Harlem and so hadn’t had time to pack. Leaving an hour later than we should have and thinking that if nothing went wrong, that if we didn’t hit terrible traffic and didn’t get lost we’d still make it on time, we, of course did hit terrible traffic and did get lost, both on the outskirts and in Philadelphia proper. Somewhere in all the screaming at the drivers in front of me and stopping to ask for directions, I called my friend Brooke and told her to tell them to start without me. We arrived nearly an hour after the six start time. On the one hand this is the most “rock star” thing i’ve ever done in relation to a reading. On the other hand its also the time i’m most felt like an asshole. Dorothea and Brian and Caroline read beautifully, or so I’m told. To top off the lateness the battery on the microphone my friend Brooke was using to videotape the reading died and so while the image is perfectly framed by Ms. Bocast, one sees only my lips moving. And to top this off the box of books sent down from Albany for me to sell were nowhere to be found. Luckily, the aforementioned Brooke Bocast, already generously putting Christopher and I up for the night, had agreed to have an after party for me. That night I fell in love with Philadelphia, with its citizens, all of them great dancers and possessors of good taste in music, and with its food. I resolved to never be late to a reading again and have mostly stuck to this. Mostly.