Molly’s studio
Dear reader, I hope you will consider buying a copy of The Melting Season paperback from WORD Brooklyn or from another local independent bookstore, and also suggesting to others that they do the same via twitter, facebook, tumblr, blog, or good old-fashioned word of mouth. (If you buy it from WORD, it will be autographed. Actually you can buy any of my books there and they will be autographed.)
It would mean so much to me that you support this bookstore close to my heart, as well as support my writing, my publisher, books, art, culture, Brooklyn, New York, America, the world, and the universe. (Even just supporting the bookstore would be enough, of course.)
Thank you very much.
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My paperback launch party at WORD was astonishingly fun. I had a grin on my face the entire time. Everyone was so funny, brilliant, and charming and also, as a bonus, pretty easy on the eyes. I think the audience had fun, but I was barely paying attention because I was so smitten with all the readers.
Afterward we went to Diamond Bar and I wandered around saying, “It was a no bullshit night.”
I really like my friends a lot.
The wondrous Maud Casey came to town yesterday and together we went to a dinner at Molly’s house with a few other women, including two charming ladies who live on a farm upstate. Molly made us exceptionally delicious lamb – I woke up this morning wanting some more – and we drank wine and plotted changing the world, one piece of art/farm share/book/dinner/public gathering at a time. Molly’s new work is just so incredible. Everyone was so excited about everything. What an invigorating dinner.
Later we went into the city to see Ann Craven’s opening at the Maccarone Gallery, and it was phenomenal. Her watercolors are bright and comforting and funny and smart. We were all so impressed. It was hard not to smile surrounded by all of that color and life.
Then, rather than run around any further in the cold, we wisely returned to Molly’s and drank more wine. I went to the bodega and bought some chocolate and seltzer. A bottle of whiskey surfaced. Somehow we made it home. My neighbor across the hall was having a party and I stopped in to say hello and my neighbor, possibly, maybe, definitely drunk, reminded me of something that had happened a year ago which had endeared me to him. The recounting of the story of course endeared him to me, and then I didn’t mind that new mustache of his so much anymore.
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I’m going to Barcelona on Tuesday. I will be posting from abroad here and also on my flickr page.
When I return I’m going to need a job because I am going to be broke as a joke, so if you know of any interactive copywriting work or want to see my portfolio, let me know.
