In which I read my sweat story at Litquake Festival
Last fall the organizers of San Francisco’s Litquake Festival were kind enough to invite me back to read at Lit Crawl 2011. And by “invite me back” I really mean let me invite myself back.
But hey, why split hairs, right?
What’s important is that Lit Crawl is brilliant fun. A 3-hour intellectual orgy that’s spread across dozens of bars, cafes, galleries, stores and such in the Mission. I’ve read a handful of comedic essays over the years. Always alongside aweworthy talents… sometimes in odd and unexpected venues.
For instance, in ’09 — as part of a piece titled “Didgeridon’t” about opening for Marilyn Manson with the insanely underrated rock band OURS — I played the didgeridoo in the back of a jam-packed sneaker shop.
Odd and unexpected indeed. And exactly as I prefer it.
The 2011 event was named Lit Laughs: Parody, Satire and Humor, and was held at one of my favorite dive bars, The Lone Palm. I took the opportunity to debut the sweat story I was writing for the NYT. Once again, I was blessed with a spirited and sporting crowd, and I’m especially grateful that my friend Emmanuel Mota was on hand to film it.
The following clip represents an earlier draft of the essay. This was two months before it ran in the Times, and while this version is rougher in some ways than the published piece, it’s a lot closer to the tone and humor to which I aspired. And so it goes.
Either way, I hope you dig.
(There is one small technical hiccup 40 seconds in, but it’s only a few seconds long. Enjoy!)