Eileen reads well and has a wonderful Boston accent that I'll hear in my head when I finally get the book. All those flattened "arhs" that seemed so full somehow while she was reading. Boxcar sold out, which was fabulous-- so I put my name on the special orders list. Sat with Alyce and Mary- and watched a man eat a complicated meal of pita and hummus, fastidiously breaking off little pieces of pocket bread and smearing it with the chickpea spread while Eileen read. Reminded me of André Breton's description of the Surrealists eating in the Parisian movie houses. The guy even looked liked an old Surrealist.
Afterward, talked to Eileen, whom I know through another friend. She's driving back to NY from the West Coast. Strange night-- exhilirating, but there's a strange feeling in the air. Warm and thick, like a storm coming.
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