{delayed post/technical mishaps snafus and such}

wrote this August 2, tried to post it to no avail: let's try again...

so I'm in Cape Cod. I left NYC at 3 a.m. this morning on an Amtraktrain, arrived in Boston around 8:30 a.m., got a ride to Cape Cod, took the shortest shower ever, and performed two shows with a nap inbetween.

During each show, the audience contained many small children. Which isOK, but not at all the point. Because 5-YEAR-OLDS CAN'T VOTE. Sigh.

During the second show, a little girl took the opportunity to dance in front of the stage. Which is all well and good until she startshowling a song. And neither parent quiets her or takes her out of theauditorium. Meanwhile, her brothers find Beau hilarious. Which he is, but not in the section of the show where we talk about heroin. These little boys have no idea what Beau's talking about, but anytime hespeaks, they crack up.

me: I don't blame the system. I blame the heroin.
Beau: if the junkies want to die, let them.
(giggling from the front row)

me: my brother was always too bright for his own skin, too smart not to be bored.
Beau: someone drooling on the floor is not a threat to society.
(uproarious laughter from the pre-schoolers)

And so on. It was special.

Tonight we are to miniature golf or bowl, it's still up in the air. It is, after all, Cape Cod. And rooms are apparently in short supply, so we're sharing them. Which cuts down on everyone's desire to simply sit in their rooms separately. I'd like to write a poem, but I'm just too tired. Several people wrote poems off my exercise on the loudpoet list, which makes me happy. I am eager to get my life back to a place of some clear significance. But bowling it is. Or maybe, miniature golf.