Wednesday, August 4

Lost the post I was writing yesterday, blue screen before burgers at Halibut Point. No big loss. Birthing class and cleaning, basinette set up and laundry away. Rooms vacuumed, waiting for my mother-in-law to visit.

I should talk about the weekend.

Missed poetry on Friday, promised my sister I would take Caleb and Elijah. Elijah, 2, well-behaved and flirting with my friend Kelly, sitting in the evening on the back porch eating popcicles. Caleb, 6 months, fussy from the heat but still wanting no more than to be up against me. Kelly leaves at 10, door slam wakes up Caleb. Singing on the front stoop, sleeping on my shoulder, waking every time I try to put him down. One o'clock brings the parents through the door, followed by James and MC. Everyone happy with the evening but my body, tired from pacing and holding.

Saturday morning stayed in and rested, conserving energy for the evening's trip in for the Massacre. Shocked by the trade, worried about D. Lowe, driving into town listening to sports radio. Excited to hear and meet new people. Glad to see Tina and Matt again, and all my friends. Nice to meet Stephanie Young. I wish I had more of a brain these days but I haven't. If whomever is in my belly is a boy I want hand-me-downs from James-- that kid has style.

I enjoyed the readings on Saturday night. I wish I could give more details but right now I haven't got much left in me. I remember being relieved by xtina's political poems and knocked out by Dottie's reading. Being surprised at how quiet David Hess was both reading and talking. How I wish Kim Lyons had gone over 12 minutes. Being flattered by Joe's reading. And finally, Saturday night, being overwhelmed by the lack of care in Douglas Rothschild's game show.

Maybe it was because I am 9 months pregnant and can't sit still for so long anymore. Maybe it was because the poetry was so good to that point. Maybe it was hearing complaints about people going over time, which I had hardly noticed. But I think it is bigger than that. New York is New York and Boston is Boston. I like them both. But the game show tried to bring a New York event to Boston without acknowledging what an important character place is. If the audience were playing the game it would have probably been okay but scripted as such it felt a little like I was supposed to be seeing how much fun they have in New York. And after listening to so many good poets it was a bit of a downer to sit and watch people taking poetry so lightly. I was still deep in it, the words and ideas and the respect that made the evening go so smoothly. I could have gone out into the night with that in my head. By the time the game show was over I just felt hungover.

(I should note here that I don't mean this as a criticism Rothschild's performances. I really enjoyed his piece at MIT last year. The care and attention put into it, as well as the focus on the language of the city, were wonderful.)

Sunday tired, Frank from Gloucester at Donut Jim's and a boy sitting with his family rearranges his baseball cards to line up with the trades. MC, JC and I into the city again. I am getting too tired to get into readers but I think I really enjoyed them all. Charlie's after, happy to talk to Mitch, hoping I didn't scare David. Sunday driving home and into the house where the smell of orange blossoms fills the air. Quick bath and out for a drink (water for me). Ran into "family", a story for a later day. I'm going to bed now, the rest of the stories will have to wait for another day.

All my love to those I love.

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