Who, Me?

I went to D. Travers Scott's reading at Skylight books Friday night. Finally got to meet Matty Lee (35 Cents), and Tony Valenzuela from Lambda Literary, plus a few other people from the LA queer literati. AS they were started the reading, the guy from Skylight introduced writers in the audience, which was cool, but I was shocked when he said my name. All I can figure was that he asked Trebor Healey to point out people ahead of time, and Trebor generously added me to the list.

Afterward, Matty, Trebor and a writer I was just introduced to but can't remember his name (always have business cards on you is the lesson here) walked down the street to the Dresden Room for cocktails. Dresden room could be straight out of Mad Men. There was a jazz combo, and it was good, but it made conversation tricky. Several times we held a thought until a song ended, rushed out the words, and hoped to get a reply before the next song started. Every time we go there for drinks, I feel as if I've finally managed to sneak into one of those forbidden magical grown-up places. And I always regret not having dressed up a bit more. I may get flustered being recognized as a writer, but sipping my vodka on the rocks in a so-retro-its-chic hipster hangout, I almost felt sophisticated.