Sturgeon's Law

I just got back from David Foster Wallace's reading at CC. It was a blast--Dave Mason said he was half-worried that Wallace would be a reclusive nerd, but he (Wallace this time) was very engaged and engaging. He read some funny new draft pieces (he called them "chunks") and then answered questions which, with the exception of one, avoided the terrible lunatic level of questions you get at these things (though they were sometimes involved and very specific to individual works of his). He also half-giggled at points in his pieces, which I suspect means they're relatively fresh drafts. That sort of thing usually sucks at a reading, but it went along with the spirit of the whole thing tonight.

I got to sit right behind him because I was one of the first people into the hall--actually, the front door to the hall was locked, and I found the side door and informed Chris Bachelder about it, so I saved Christmas. My friend Aaron suggested I should tug on DFW's hair while he was sitting right in front of us. Anyway, a good time all around. I've been thinking that maybe I should write some good prose to get over the poetry burnout I'm feeling right now, and this could be a spur to that.