Back from PT. I had a nice trip. The weather that day was AMAZING. I had a really easy drive up, the highlight of which was crossing the Hood Canal Bridge after about a 15 minute delay for submarine traffic (the fact/irony that it was 9/11 and there were submarines moving in and out of the the canal was not lost on this liberal left wing pinko fag).
I got to town mid-afternoon and took a walk around. Then had a wonderful meet-up with Kathryn at Siren's, out on the deck, way up over the water. Perfect weather. Scintillating conversation. The kind of day that makes me want to leave Seattle for good and retire up here.
The reading that night at Northwind Arts went over pretty well. Rebecca and I had a full house -- I think they said 55 people -- which is pretty darn good for a poetry reading in a small town (Port Townsend is a bit bigger than Wasilla, AK, but not by much). I read just a couple poems from WWotB, and the rest was all new stuff. Not from the Expedition of the Vaccine poems (which are not quite ready for prime time) but from the poems I've been writing the past year or so. I was a little freaked out that Copper Canyon had a table set up to sell my books, and here I was not really reading from them. Hopefully the new poems went over well, and word will get back that Peter needs a new book. ~grin~
Rebecca also read just a couple poems from her books, and the rest was all new stuff from her forthcoming Cadaver Dogs. I love Rebecca's poems, but they are not usually "easy listening," and these were no exception. Intense, feral, menacing, erotic, surreal. Not at all for the faint hearted. I think a lot of the people in the audience were either puzzled -- perhaps a bit disturbed -- by them, or totally won over and blown a way.
After the reading many of us went to Ellie and Carl's place. I had way too much wine, and was so happy to crash at K's. But I had to get up at 5:30 AM to make the 7 AM ferry back to Seattle, to be at work this morning. And I paid for it: Ouch -- busy day, double-booked with patients, tons of paperwork waiting in my inbox. Ah well. Who said one didn't have to suffer for art? (groan)