world of litcraft part 2

What I've got in my dead ahead is a windmill, tiny, outside, rooted among a very well landscaped delight of Central California garden paraphernalia. We're at Jamie's parents' house down near Monterrey. The last time I checked in, we'd just checked out of Ashland, where I was so stoked to eat the best omelet in the history of the form. At Morning Glory, which would be funny if that were the only thing I linked in this tour blog, but I'm sticking to a strict too-lazy-to-link policy. The omelet in question had Applewood smoked bacon, Fontina cheese, and caramelized red onions. Yeah. Yeah.

After Ashland, we drove south through the Siskiyous, peppered by snow, beautiful, Shasta strange and looming as ever. I told Jamie about Lemurians and people who have emotional attitudes one way or another about the mountain. Mr. Mountain, you have to call it. It's a high school principal of a volcano. We managed to make it to San Francisco in 5 1/2 hours because the Sac Valley is a warp zone. In SoMa we read about homeless people who have opinions about the internet. The place where the reading was, Rancho Parnassus, made a great turkey pesto sandwich. It was awesome to read with Patrick Duggan, who read some poems about walking around. Jamie and I have been talking the whole tour about a philosophy of overarching aesthetic and ideology, in which nothing anyone does doesn't factor into everything they are. Patrick's an inclusive, generous, democratic poet: ipso imp pasta, he's those things as a person. It was great to see him and great to see Elliot Harmon, who put on the reading and was as tall and gregarious and warmhearted as ever. Plus other Bay friends: Chelsea & Ian, Jimmy C, bearded Jesus. I read the tiny baby story and some advice for babies. Jamie read about San Franciscans, dreadlocks, and other thicknesses of hair. Afterwards, we tried to eat at a laundromat, but all they had was detergent, so we went to a diner, and then we drove uphill very fast with Jamie's friend Todd.

We backtracked from San Francisco to Davis, hanging out with Jamie's bro Bryan and Bryan's fam in Elk Grove. Bryan and his wife Julie have very cute kids. The daughter, Torie, invented a new kind of baseball with lemons. Dylan, the baby, has a zen language of grunting. Jamie and I waved and said we'd meet up with them later and then had dinner with my parents at an Italian restaurant. We talked about celery pills and Russia and tenant trials. It was very kind and supportive of them to drive down and listen to us read. We read at a gallery with a lot of great art up, like a man wearing his shirt for a turban and doing a still life Watusi. Jamie did his best reading yet, I think—he really nailed it and railed on hippies—and I read the beginning of a long sad story about dead wives and R/V roaming. Afterwards, we found out that Davis doesn't really have any bars, just pizza places that serve liquor. Jeremy Spencer, of Scrambler Books, is like some shining polar cherub of niceness. He is a really fucking nice guy. If the world were full of Jeremy Spencer, nobody in the NCAA would make officiating mistakes.

After Davis we drove down to the home of Jamie's uncle and aunt (we're both from Nor Cal, so this is very much the family tour) who were totally ridiculously cool and fed us cake. No joke. Jamie's Uncle Dave talked about engineering and all the history he knows, which is a lot, and Jamie's Aunt Liz was hilarious and kind and made a really great joke at the end about all of us living together in a compound when the apocalypse comes. She made a finger gun joke, which is one of my favorite kinds of jokes. Also their house looked like a mission.

Then it was off to do a radio show with JP Dancing Bear. He talked about consulting with many countries on how to superconduct. Jamie and I read poems, and Bear was very kind and even had poems pre-picked he wanted us to read. I read about not owning a door, and Jamie read about orange carnations. Bear said it would be up as a podcast at some point, so I will link to that when it's live. Beer Run Bobby, a sign let us know, is not allowed in the KKUP station.

Last night we stayed with Jamie's parents, I saw some embarrassing childhood photos, and this morning we ate delicious artichoke omelets. The tour of omelets. Tonight it's off to Cal Poly and craft talking, and then sunny Los Angeles to sun-set ourselves. Jamie and I just washed our clothes together. What a trek, what a grandfather clock, what a beautiful way to eat so much trail mix.