Touch Me I’m Sick

I’ve been sicker than shit this week.  This is nothing new to me—I’ve always had sensitive lungs.  The most minor irritants turn me into a itchy, wheezing, hacking asthmatic freak—seasonal allergies, mold, mildew, dust, pet dander, aerosols, you name it.  Thus colds are always a potential tipping point.  And working as a bartender—as I do—is the worst job to have when you’ve got a cold—you’re often too busy to blow your nose or hawk up sputum, not to mention that doing so tends to gross people out.  So viola!—I’ve got pneumonia.  I spent today trying to be a good convalescent and lie low: I cracked open the living room window, then kicked back in my recliner and watched Dorothea Lasky’s Tiny Tour (the Closet edition).  I recently met Dottie at the trnsfr issue 3 launch at Pete’s Candy Store in Brooklyn—Her partner, Thom Donovan, was one of the readers.  Seriously, she’s one of the nicest—and funniest—people I’ve ever met.  (Fun fact: We have the exact same birth date.)  She is also one of my favorite poets.  (Why the fuck it didn’t occur to me to have her sign my copy of Black Life I do not know.)  Anyway, after looking at the Tiny Tour stuff, I went over to Bomblog’s Phoned In, which is, like, the best thing ever.  I just sat there in my ugly green recliner smiling and wheezing and listening.  I listened to Ben Lerner, who fills me with equal parts envy and joy.  I listened to Ben Mirov.  I listened to CAConrad.  I listened to K. Silem Mohammad.  Which was pretty rad because he reads Sonnagram 40, which was published in trnsfr #2!  How did I not know about this?  Who cares!  It made my day.  So, um, buy trnsfr #2, okay?  While you’re at it, buy #3.  Folks, they’ll blow your socks clean off.  Just sayin’.