Monday was the day of rest, trying to let my much-exercised body recuperate (and it being a day of many closed museums and restaurants anyway). In the evening I went to Spoken Word. How very strange, having only ever attended it in the fall, to be walking through full daylight, to come up out of the earth even after the second Métro, and find it still light. The cellar where it takes place, has for a number of years, now, is overly warm even in cold weather, so is sweltering now. The featured reader was Skye Jackson, an MFA candidate at UNO in New Orleans. Of course: it seems at least every other year I cross paths with Louisiana writers who have made the trek over. I enjoyed her poetry, as well as that of her boyfriend, Ben Aleshire. I stayed through two sessions, then left. It had finally gotten dark outside.
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