I went to a poetry reading last night. I was feeling a bit better after a few days on the flue followed up by struggling to comprehend humanity and Robin's death. I had promised a friend earlier in the week I would attend his reading. additionally, I am signed up for a writing course this summer, and the instructor was also the lead poet. I wanted to get a feel for him.
While I got home too late and am rather tired, I'm glad I went - I definitely got an idea as to who he is his, and hopefully how class will be - and am grateful I will be taking it. However I am not looking forward to sharing my work with others - it's an uncomfortable experience for me.
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