For 34 of the past 39 weeks, I've gone up onstage and read my poetry in a local pub, Ye Olde Orchard Pub at 1189 De La Montagne in downtown Montreal. It starts on Wednesday and ends on Thursday. And Thursday tends to be when I read...but that's okay, I ain't complaining about that.
If I were to complain, it would be about...but that sounds to negative.
There are the nights, although too few and far between where they listen attentively Then athere are the other nights where...not so much, to put it mildly. And on the worst of those nights...I might as well not be reading my poetry.
Like this past reading...though at the end a friend commented on the poem. I didn't thank her. That nirked at me, that I didn't offer an easy thanks as I asked which one. So to make myself feel better about it, I'm going to poemify about it.
So yeah...it's still worth it, even though it is to sigh.
Sigh.
And yes, I noted the lack of even perfunctory clapping after each poem. Sigh again.
Next when.
Charles Petrie
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