Helloooooo fine people.
This here is the first blog post I am writing totally wasted. Let’s see what happens. I pulled a muscle in my chest, which I truly don’t advise, because it hurts when you breathe, which is, like, you know, most of the time. Anyway, the nice people at Kaiser put me on Vicodin. I have not been awake for more than 30 minutes at a time since Sunday morning. Even my cats are impressed at my newly found marathon sleeping abilities. Also, a warning: being high makes me maudlin. I apologize in advance for what may come out of me before the end of this post. (Yesterday I asked a friend, all dreamy-eyed, what he is like when he is in love. Seriously, I am dangerous.)
I had an awesome reading at Lit Crawl on Saturday night, before I was felled by the Gods. It was great fun; the room was packed and attentive, and they applauded me with gusto. An author’s dream, which contrasts beautifully with those readings one occasionally has to give at bookstores to like one employee and one old lady with a broken hearing aid.
AND… I have smashing news. Drum roll… The story I had performed at Sacramento’s Stories on Stage, “Commuting,” sold to Zyzzyva. Awesomepants, no? I do not yet know what issue it will be in, but will of course keep you posted so that you can all run out and buy it and then run through the streets proclaiming the transcendent benefits of my prose.
Damn, I am so wasted.
I have to go back to sleep momentarily. But, it seems unsportsmanlike to leave you without the maudlin display promised earlier. So, I will say, I very much like what is happening in this country right now.
I missed you, America. I love you, America. I believe in you, America. Be your promise. Rise.