So. I’ll bet you thought you was done with the Slattern from Switzerland, the Teutonic Tart, the Helvetic Harlot, the… yeah. Aber nein! I’ve simply been– let’s call it– recovering from my escapades. And recover I have, and re-cover the same ground, I am fixin’ to (there’s the Texas slipping in) do. As in: I’m sitting in Zurich Flughafen waiting to board a flight to Berlin where tonight I get to see Mr. Cave. I am going with a girl I first met at a NC&TBS show in San Francisco (my second NC show). Her name is Eva and she is a seminarian. I was once a seminarian. Did you know that seminary and semen are etymological siblings? Sometimes I get the words etymology and entomology confused. Speaking of insects, myrmecology is the study of ants. Not the study of Ethyl Merman. Also, she was not a mer-person, though Ester Williams might have been, what with all the swimming. And ethyls and esters are both organic chemical compounds.
Then again, so is reefer.
If I blather it is only because I’m giddy with my pretend rock and roll life. I’m even sporting my just-bought from Camden Town beet-colored with snakes on ’em Doc Martens with a floral print dress that I am afraid is making me look hippy and also hippie-like. I may need to change.
The night before last, I was fortunate enough to be in Paris where with the luscious Lea Graham, the effervescent Evie Shockley, and the terrific Timothy Bradford where, as a group, we feted The Bedside Guide to No Tell Motel, Second Floor European-style. Which is to say, in the basement of a dimly lit bar and by reading the hell outta them poems.
I call this shot, Trouble Brewing.
Tomorrow, I leave for Chicago, where I will be attending and hopefully reporting on the Pilcrow Lit Fest, a gathering of small-press types. Of course, it’s not how small it is, it’s what you do with it. Or, so I hear.
However. I cannot leave off my duties as European Correspondent. So to that end, I leave you with a photo I took of a billboard in a neighboring town. Seems like I ain’t the only white trash in the zip code (of, if you prefer Postleitzahl)!
A tractor show!
Gotta board my plane.
Bis bald,
Jill