First Reading, Drinking

Walked six miles through the countryside in rain mixed with hail, our wool coats with their hoods pulled up, the leather attache being carried over-shoulder heavy with a quantity of books there was no way would sell, and dark spots showing on the leather as the scary possibility of rain seeping through and ruining all those brand new books so toiled over; we walked six miles, my brother and I, just to get to the pub for the First Reading, feeling like peasant Irishmen and announcing that feeling for good measure because we felt it was needed. "There's my man with the freckles," said the grocery store clerk, jogging by. "Must need a pint real bad ta be walking in this weather!" So it was. We could've driven into town and not drank, but we preferred to walk--that pint was sounding good.

Followed Ashland Creek past green fields with smooth stones where beasts graze, broken down Yeoman homes with outhouses and all, signposts that said "Loafers Lane," the busted screen door swung wide open and stuck that way; and there's the sheep there looking like they needed to be sheared, so whispered, "Don't be scared, fluffy sheep, I'll steal your wool slowly" while also being whispered was the threat, "I'll slaughter ya and cook ya in the ground for eight hours then throw ya over a giant bed of basmati rice!"; and there's the llamas there not doing a damn but staying dry under noisy tin roofs--make faces at 'em, you're just kids; and there's the families in the dog park and the old man dumping the water pooled on the lid of his trashcan; and finally there's the train tracks, crossing which means you're "in town" and up ahead is the big clock on that old building just around the corner from the pub. Clock read just past four--of course, we were late. But what matter when we find that the doors to the pub are locked? No answer on the phone. Only four of us standing outside in the cold. Not a good turnout. No reading.

After a short period of vexation, the bartender showed up. Regular bartender got sick--this guy had to come fill in. He poured strong drinks, gave some for free, and a few more people showed up. Half-cocked at 5 o'clock, the reading was back on. Sold six copies of the book. And take this as it is, because six months from now that six miles will probably be twelve, that rain and hail will be snow, those few people will be a bunch, and those six copies will be, if I'm feeling alright, twenty--saying nothing of a year from now, two years, and so on.

Thank you to those of you who showed up for my first reading, and for being attentive, and for buying books. It was a good time.

Enjoy yourselves.
Benjamin Font & The Poor House


Next scheduled reading:
Wednesday, 31 March. 5pm
Sacred Grounds Cafe
2095 Hayes St., San Francisco, Ca.

Copies remaining of "In Full Bloom": 64