...for typos and maybe some less than smooth transitions, because I forgot to bring my keyboard and have to type on my phone, not yet fully powered up by coffee, me, the phone is charged, here at Steeplechase Coffee on Ft Hamilton Parkway.
Because Anne was fierce. The people sitting on the floor in front probably had a hard time getting up again, floored. Jen said "It's like a pistol whipping," and Anne stood there, sometimes swaying a little, and assaulted us. She never excused anyone: "When a man walks the street he is a flaneur, but when a woman walks the street she is a whore." "Since then I've learned 6 people are a riot." "The police haven't had a raise in 3 years. [...] The police are hugging Guy Fawkes." "Scott Walker." "The Brooklyn Bridge." So many lines from the history of the future.
Then she floated us a revolution, a smile. I hugged my purse tight. For a long time after, we'll nurse our bruises.
Tonight we'll do this again, in Philadelphia. Nice segue: Ryan Eckes is of Philly. This morning I'm reading Ryan Eckes's book /Old News./ (How to make italics in this phone app?) And I will have more to say about this later, but for now here is a poem from it, which he read:
Jen has this postcard in her bathroom:
This coffee is so good I'm getting another.
I can't place the images where I want them.
