The masses themselves were not that enjoyable, and certainly not the parking, but the readings were cool. I joined some of the Witches and the Maidens in the celebration of the word—well, the word of James.
James was invited to read at the event at the Elbo Room, and was given the honored position of the final reader. The cavernous space was packed, surely beyond legal capacity, and literally rubbing shoulders with fellow literary enthusiasts spoke volumes to the cumulative brain power of those who choose to be San Franciscans.
I got to visit with Writer Nicole a bit, which is always nice. And an exceptional treat was that I got to rabble rouse with Maiden-Adjunct Nicole. Who brought her boyfriend (jealous!). Nicole introduced us, "Wilson, this is Brian. Brian, this is Wilson."
"Hi. Nice to meet you."
"Hi. I'm silently judging you."
Sometimes it's good to be up front about these things.
Brian, with an i (I checked), also brought his former roommate Ryan (visiting from SoCal) and they had a camaraderie bordering on adorable (Brian and Ryan) but stopped just this side of gay.
I liked them.
Luckily for us, our original perch was bar-adjacent. Shaking drinks, pouring ice, and rattling bottles, the bar staff were the only ones making noise. The crowd was focused on the readers. Trying to minimize the disruption by ordering a drink, I just handed the bartender one of my drink cards.
Yes, I have calling cards that read simply
Wilson Hardcastle
Mandarin & Soda
Every other time I have produced this card (usually when it is too loud to be heard), bartenders have been impressed that I have my cocktail preference preprinted on a calling card. This also often results in a free drink.
This bartender was perplexed, spoke loudly, and basically caused a scene. "What is this?!" He cried, holding the card in one hand and flipping the card with the other. "Why are you giving me this?"
If I thought this were a gay event in a straight bar or if there were any outward signs of my gayness, I would have thought he was displaying some form of gay panic. However, this was such a straight event and crowd, and I was lamentably dressed without flair, I had to conclude he was either illiterate or just a douche. Or maybe just severely myopic.
After I ordered orally, I pointed out that I was trying to be quiet in respect for the reader and that my order was printed on the card. He was suitably abashed and mixed our drinks with a heavy pour—something quite rare in my experience in straight bars.
Overall, the night was a great success, bolstered by the late summer warm weather outside.
James' reading was entertaining and very well received. He read the second half of a short story he has been working on—which was great for those of us who heard the first half at a previous reading.
When he polishes it, I hope he publishes it. At least online. I'd love to link to it here. It's a great local romp, and is even better when read aloud.
I love story time. Maybe I should host my own salon one night of my clever wordy friends. Maybe something December and fireside.
Who wants in?
No comments:
Post a Comment