We held our second edition of Flood Stage on Monday night. It was OK. and I sat with my colleague B., from school, for a while. There isn’t much else to do in Putnam on a Monday night than hang with colleagues. About 7:30p he left, and at about 8p a man and a woman came in, who it turned out were there for the poetry reading. More specifically, she was there to read for the poetry reading.
We didn’t read any of our own stuff. It felt a bit raw, somehow, to read your own things to an audience of three. I’d brought some poetry books and journals, and we read aloud to each other from John Keats, Marge Peircey (sp?), Octavio Paz, May Sarton and more. We had a good time, I think. I guess the real proof is whether someone comes back; so far I’ve been the only ‘regular’.
says that at first, it’s going to be about holding space more than holding poetry events. The woman who was there, A., thought we might have some workshops. My colleagues from the neighboring school thought they could come, but didn’t; and that they would invite their creative-writing teacher to come. He didn’t show, to my knowledge, either.
The guy was ill, so they only stayed until 8:40 or so. and I stayed another twenty minutes, then went home.
So, some progress. No repeats from before, but not a complete loss of time and energy, either. I’m glad.
Today was a long day. I ran standardized testing in the morning, followed by classes, and then an early dismissal from school to drive a team to a game, followed by the game at Avon Old Farms (Man, they have a nice gym!) followed by the drive home, and dorm duty when I got here. I’m tired.