So last night I was supposed to go to this reading at Teaism in downtown D.C. showcasing work from a few local poetry mags: 32 Poems, Barrelhouse, Potion, The Dissociated Writers' Project, and The Potomac. I meant to go. Really, I did. I got into my car in plenty of time and made for the highway. But for some inexplicable reason I got into the south-bound lane instead of heading north, and I soon found myself criss-crossing the back roads of Stafford County, Va.
So I apologize to Mr. Gargoyle who invited me. And I apologize to the two people I know from grad school who now run one of the above mags. I meant to go. And I know it's important to maintain contact and mingle with the local writing community, especially since I don't know any other writers in my day-to-day life. Maybe I needed to wander, or maybe I just wasn't up for the sushi, tea and beer Teaism has to offer. I don't know.
On the good side I closed my journey at Alda's in Fredericksburg, one of the older and more authentic BBQ places in Northern Virginia. And so, with a pulled pork sandwich and a glass of coke on my table, I wrote a page for this story that been plaguing me and figured out some of the next steps I need to make with it. Some of which include researching Celtic and Norse myths, but that's all part of the process, right?