Some Name Dropping

Figuring out what to wear to a poetry reading is a lot like figuring out what to wear to a high school/college/family reunion or a first date or party where you know your ex will be attending. You want to look good, but you don't want to look like you're trying to look good. You want to give that I'm just naturally fabulous vibe.

And one does not want to admit considering such things. Last year for the Carrboro Festival, I inquired about the dress to Ken Rumble -- and also requested his advice regarding handjobs (in a poem). His response was something along the lines of "Christ, whatever you do, don't ask Patrick Herron (the organizer) what to wear!"

Ken was only trying to help me not make an ass out of myself.

Ken enthusiastically encouraged the reading of the handjob poem.

The last reading I gave, in Ithaca, I wore a (what I considered) casual gray dress with flat black sandals. The first thing Aaron Tieger said was "Wow, you're going to be the best dressed poet to ever read at Soon!" Yes, I looked nice, but the outfit was a failure exposing the wretched I'm a fraud! fears. I looked like I was trying too hard. Funny thing, I wasn't even trying that time. It was August and a snap decision to be breezy.

When I go to NYC I always forget I'm going to NYC and show up in something colorful, like a floral pink jacket. In a room full of black and muted shades, you can always spot me, I'm the freak in the clown gear.

Well, enough deep thinking from me tonight -- time to hit the closet.