Imitation is the sincerest form...

...of affectionate mockery, hence my co-workers' leaving a copy of the hot new book, Live Nude Boy: Shake It, Shake it, Shake It, Till You Can't Shake No More, on my chair for me to find when I made my triumphant return yesterday morning: Thanks, guys! Also waiting for me? The following sign, courtesy of Sendy......and peanut-butter blondies......courtesy of Jeffrey. If you are curious about how he made the culinary magic happen, then might I suggest you take a look at Jeffrey's blog? Welcome to the working week.

Long Sunday afternoon of the heart

On the last leg of my most recent journey back to Chicago (after the drive from Carmel to downtown Indy, after the Megabus from there to Union Station, and after the El from there to the Granville stop, on the walk from there to my apartment), I saw the following sign on the door to a barber shop and I had to stop and take a picture: Let's get a closer look: Maybe because I was sleep-deprived, alone, and overly emotional, this sign seemed to speak directly to me. Something about its DIY hand-lettered quality and its overall semi-comical questionable believability (fishing? really??) reminded me of the tour that Kyle and I had just about finished. It still seems unreal to me that we really went out and did what we did. And that we were able--considering costs, work committments, family obligations, the shit-tanking economy, the panic in the publishing industry, etc. etc. etc.--to do what we did at all, and to have had such a fantastic time (I did, anyway) doing it.

Another reason the sign's message felt especially relevant is that I asked for and received an approximately two-month leave from my office job in order to do the tour. Now, having not shown up in my cubicle since January 30, I will report back there as per usual by 8:30 am this coming Monday. So basically, the "go fishing" part of my recent life is just about over, and the "back soon" part is about to begin.

You know that sense of protracted finality you get on a Sunday afternoon or evening after a weekend particularly well-spent? The feeling that the all the fun and freedom you've had is ending, and that all that opportunity you had to do whatever you wanted is, at least temporarily, at an end? This whole week has felt like that. And I actually really love my normal job. I can't imagine how this would feel if I didn't. So thanks to my employer for letting me go away, and, more importantly, to letting me come back; catch you soon, back in Cube City.

Now the two friends climb up, up to the high balconies.

Kyle and I had to limit our travels to the continental United States, but intrepid super-fans Lisa (left) and Mansi (right) made sure that Live Nude Girl got a European vacation: They are pictured here reading LNG on a scenic promontory at Gibralfaro Castle in Malaga, Spain, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Spring Break 09! Thanks, you two.

Hoosier Daddy?

Last night was our penultimate appearance--the second-to-last stop on the epic Live Nude Girl in the Devil's Territory tour--and the 24th city out of 25 was Indianapolis. It's a five or so hour drive from Carbondale to Indy (plus, you jump a time zone, so you lose an hour). Luckily, Kyle (who did all the driving) and I were well-rested, a fact I attribute--in my case, at least--to there having been ballerinas in the room where I'd slept the night before: Improbably restful natural sleep has happened three times so far on the tour (twice at Carol and Elizabeth's and now once at Rebecca's) and I'm beginning to think ballerinas are somehow more effective than Ambien. When we got to Marian College, where we were hosted by Andrew Scott (pictured below, rocking the mic), whose fiction chapbook Modern Love I highly recommend... ...I couldn't decide which section of Live Nude Girl to read, so I asked the students, some of whom are pictured here... ...to kick it democracy-style and vote for whether they wanted to hear a chapter that was more about sex, or one that was more about death. As in Carbondale, sex won by a landslide, even though (or maybe because?) it was a Catholic college, and we were clearly, as indicated by the World's Largest Cross by the side of I-57... ... in God's country. After the reading, Kyle and I parted ways, not to be reunited until May 18th, when we'll be reading with Zach Dodson and Gina Frangello in Chicago at the Book Cellar. He headed down the lonesome highway to Muncie, and I went to Carmel with one of my oldest friends, Liz... ...who I met 15 years ago, during our freshman year at Downers Grove North High School in Downers Grove, Illinois. Go Trojans! Thanks to her, her husband Dustin, and their son Marcus (pictured here, being really excited about drinking tiny bits of water from his mom's plastic straw)... ...for having me, and for driving me to the Megabus stop downtown this morning, so that I could be delivered safely back to Chicago this early afternoon.

In conclusion, here is a picture of a record-player that was in the same room as the ballerinas: Why? Mostly because I like it. But also maybe because it feels like Kyle and I have set some kind of record in the world of DIY touring? And because I never met a pun I didn't like? I'm inevitably sad when something comes to an end, even when said something sort of sucked sometimes (which, for the record (Get it? Sorry, I can't help myself.) this tour pretty much didn't). So I am happy to say that this is not good-bye, not yet. This is still until next time.

Homewood, Kankakee, Gilman, Rantoul, Champaign-Urbana, Mattoon, Effingham, Centralia, and DuQuoin...

...are the towns you pass through when you are riding the Amtrak Saluki to Carbondale, Illinois. In addition to possessing a certain romance, trains provide an excellent environment for getting work done while you are en route. But even then, there comes a point (about four hours in, this time) when all you can do is look pensively out the window and take self-portraits for your blog (special thanks to Alexis, who is 8, for helping me pick which one to post here): Once our train arrived--only half an hour late, which is really pretty decent in Amtrak time--the whole town of Carbondale was Spring-ing its heart out (thanks, Tree!).... ...and Kyle was there (thanks, Kyle!) to pick me up at the station and then head off in search of a slice of chocolate banana cream pie for me... ...and then to a bar called--fittingly, given the subject matter of the tour, "Booby's"--for a ham and cheese sub for Kyle, tempting though it would have been for him to pick up some Chik-Fil-A, whose signs pit one poor doomed animal against another in a desperate and poorly spelled fight for life: After that, we gave a reading that was very hot and not just because of the winsome... ...and stylishly dressed audience: I mean, that too, but also, the room was just really hot. After that, we went to Fujiyama, a Japanese steak house in a strip mall. Although we did not sit in the stunt cooking section where, we are told you risk getting your beard set on fire or at least losing an eye, we still had a lovely time. Special thanks to Pinckney Benedict for bringing the funny to our intros, and to Laura Benedict (pictured below) for reading with us and for the delicious dinner... ...and to Jon Tribble and Allison Joseph (pictured below) for hanging out and adding to the photographic documentation of the evening's events: Thanks also to Rebecca and Brian (and Karma and Alexis) for cleaning their rooms and hosting us at their home in Herrin, Illinois. Tomorrow morning, Kyle and I will hit the road again and tomorrow night we will read at 7:00 at Marian College in Indianapolis. But before we go to bed to rest up for that, here is one more picture of the sky above the SIU Student Center, both because it is pretty and because it reminds me of Elisa Gabbert who had lots of cloud formations in her poems when we read in California last week. This one's for you, EG. Good night out there, everybody, wherever you are.

Surf's up!

Many aspects of our trip to California were so improbably beautiful and fun, they felt unreal. Some of them actually were unreal, such as this faux-horse outside a storefront in the quaint and hilly town of Ramona, former turkey-producing capital of the United States: Numerous other things were fully real, though, including our enthusiastic audience… …at Cal State San Marcos… …at the reading we gave there… …as well as the beach, of course… …the mountain scenery… …Lester the parrotlet (pictured with Lorraine)… …and even the squirrels: The food was superb, and the fresh produce was beyond. Witness the berries and bee pollen on the acai bowl I ordered (when in Rome) when we stopped in Encinitas on the way from the airport to Carlsbad: But Elisa and I also really… …really loved the pickled vegetables: And it felt like Happy Hour there all the time: Spring Break 09! Thanks so much to Mark, pictured with us on the beach trying to look intense and perhaps even spiritual (not our forte?)... …and Lorraine for being phenomenal hosts. Thanks also to the Cal State audience for being so laugh-y and attentive, and to California for embodying such a weird yet appealing dream. Kyle and I are hitting the road again tomorrow, and will be reading in Carbondale, IL on the SIU campus tomorrow at 4:00, so if you are in downstate Illinois (or Kentucky or Indiana or Missouri or thereabouts), come on by.

California, here we come.

"We" being Elisa Gabbert and me that is.

We are flying--from Boston and Chicago, respectively--into the San Diego airport tomorrow morning, because tomorrow night, we are doing the Community & World Literary Series at Cal State San Marcos, further detais about which you can find here. A really important detail is that we will be reading collaboratively and individually, which basically makes this three--three!--readings in one. The event is free, but really, that's a lot of bang for your literary buck. So if you are anywhere near Southern California/Northern Mexico tomorrow evening, stop on by. And speaking of details, regardless of where you are, you can stop by our blog "Even the Details Have Details" any time.

Wordslingers!

Everyone's always warning you to beware the ides of March, but this year I have to say my ides went pretty well. In addition to the Woman Made reading yesterday, I got to appear on the local poetry radio show Wordslingers based out of Loyola University and located in this building (which I will admit, at night, looks a little worth bewaring)......and at 88.7 FM, and co-hosted by Michael Watson and Shelley Nation. Also appearing was Joris Soeding, the managing editor of Another Chicago Magazine and the author of two chapbooks: Trees.Otherness.Instance. and Surfaces Diminished. Thanks to Michael and Shelley for having me (and for being totally cool when I almost accidentally swore in a poem on live radio, despite having been told: "Because of the FCC, no profanity or overtly pornographic or graphic descriptions of sexual interaction can be allowed on air") and to Joris for reading the best poem about attending a Barbie convention in Schaumburg that I have ever heard.

Support good art--shop Woman Made.

Many's been the time in my working life (including my years as a live nude girl, not to mention the ones spent slaving in the white collar sweatshop known as adjunct teaching) that I've ardently wished to be part of a union--all that working together for the common benefit/sticking it to the proverbial Man. Unfortch, that dream has never been realized, although reading today at Woman Made was almost as good because they are a tax-exempt, not-for-profit organization whose goal "is to support women in the arts by providing opportunities, awareness, and advocacy," and which "specifically accomplishes this through monthly thematic exhibitions which raise public awareness and recognition of women's cultural contributions." Thanks to Woman Made and Nina Corwin, I got to read this afternoon... ...in their space at 685 N. Milwaukee in Chicago, for a lovely audience... ....while being recorded by Kurt Heintz (to whom the arm pictured on the left belongs), along with Alice George... ...Kristy Odelius... ...Elise Paschen...
...Parneshia Jones... ... and Jesse Lee Kercheval. Thanks to everyone for coming, to Janet McKenzie (the artist responsible for the beautiful piece hanging behind everyone in these pictures), and to my fellow readers for fitting so much pure, unadulterated woman-made awesome into one modestly-sized art space. Thanks also to Caitlin Rogers for coming to the reading and announcing the call for submissions by Wisecrack: Feminism & Comedy, because who (besides Christopher Hitchens (that jerk)) says women can't be funny?

Afterwards, Martin and I went home and I baked a bunch of butterscotch chocolate chip cookies, mostly because I miss cooking when I'm on the road, but also because it seemed like a nice third-wave feminist kind of post-WomanMade reading thing to do. Hear me roar. Also? Come see me read with Elisa in the Community and World Literary Series at Cal State San Marcos later this week, on Thursday.

Great Lakes, Great Times

That is pretty much how it felt to be in Michigan yesterday, so a big way-to-go to the people who came up with that slogan and put it on the "Welcome to Michigan" signs that greet you when you enter that state: The front left seat in the top deck of the double-decker Megabus is by far the most coveted, at least by me, and yesterday that was the seat I got, the better to take pictures out the window of Indiana, my dear: It looks perfectly healthy here, I know, but do not be fooled... ...this was one seriously unwell Megabus. The poor thing broke down six times--six! times!--on the way from Chicago to Ann Arbor, but that was cool because the driver happened also to be an amateur mechanic, so he would just do this damage control where the hose would break, the pressure would get low (so he explained; I had no idea what he was talking about), he'd slow the bus to about 20 mph, put on the hazards, and limp it over to the shoulder of the road where he'd do something to "fix" it before pulling back on the highway at top speed until he had to do it all again five more times before we finally made it to our destination, only about an hour and 20 minutes late. Hail to the bus driver.

At Shaman Drum, Kyle and I got a short but rousing joint intro from the poet Ray McDaniel, pictured here, leaning against the shiny tiled table that made it feel like maybe we should be doing a cooking show: We read with Dzanc Books' very own Dan Wickett, pictured here, coaster-faced on the left, and I stayed with Rose Metal Press' Elizabeth Ellen, pictured on the right: In addition to being an all-around chill and courteous host, Elizabeth has two small Boston Terriers who are incredibly adorable, but almost impossible to photograph: On the way from dinner to the reading, we ran across the following sign in downtown Ann Arbor, which I am including here because keeping a fart joke all to yourself is selfish: Elizabeth and Aaron Burch do a lot of cool things, but one of the coolest is publishing Hobart magazine and running Short Flight/Long Drive Books which just released The Sicily Papers by Michelle Orange and Big World by Mary Miller, pictured here in a small stack in this self-portrait in a borrowed bedroom mirror: Thanks to EE for having me, to Dan for reading with us, and to everyone at Shaman Drum who came to listen!