Dorothy Allison was great. She was very funny and well-spoken, and when some white guy asked her what the monkey was a metaphor for, she said, "Hmm, well, it's not really my job to tell you that. But if you don't know what a warm, hairy, pulsating creature might be a metaphor for, then I guess I can't help you." In keeping with my new master plan, I didn't buy a book for myself, but I did buy Trash and get it signed as a Christmas gift. She said to me as she was signing it, "Yay, another redhead!"
The other thing that happened at the reading was that someone recognized me from the internet! That had never happened to me before. I felt vaguely famous. I don't really know how she did it, though--probably she just zeroed in on the goofiest-looking person in the room. With orange hair.
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I keep getting googled for "WHEAT PASTING." Do you think it's anarchists, or the FBI? Maybe the capital letters are a clue.
Thanks for the great miser tips, everyone. I really appreciate them. I even started looking for a second job, as per Monica's suggestion, but I can't say I'm all that excited about any of the options. Do you think I would be a better exotic dancer or vitamin dealer? Sure, vitamins are good for you, but dancing would allow me to express myself artistically.
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Can I just tell you how much I love my cat? I have the greatest, most amazing cat in the universe. Cat-haters come over to my house and leave saying that they LOVE my cat. Adam calls every night to tell me how much he misses her. She sleeps curled up in front of me, up against my belly, with my arm around her. Just like a stuffed animal! Only she's stuffed with bones and gristle instead of cotton!
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