I have a back log of post cards to send out to Elizabeth’s Crazy Little Thing and to post here. I’ve also got a back log of post cards she’s sent to me from various shows. And I’m looking forward to getting a bunch of blanks in the mail, hopefully in time to give away at our August 3rd show.
This post card was presented to a fine group of fellows and ladies at last night’s Moth Story Slam. And with kindness and a trepidatious kind of gusto they took it upon themselves to write! This short missive was the collective work of four or five good looking friends who, after writing it gave it back with the instructions, “You absolutely can’t read this in front of us. Wait till you get home. It’s short.”
I don’t know how to read that. One, there was only one black storyteller. (And a white guy certainly won.) Two, what about the women who told stories? And finally why do I get my own line? I feel like I’m in third place. I guess that means I beat out the women? Ahh Chicago open mics, you never know what you’re going to get.
After being handed the post card, I was let in on some juicy gossip and back story to one of the earlier stories. And I actually ended up sitting on the stoop with Andy swapping stories till near 2 am with three of his friends. I’d met Andy at the first moth I ever went to and then later he became an important part of my last Journey to the End of the Night exp. A good long night.
