Memory already sketchy. Up around 6-7, can’t recall accomplishing much before leaving around 10. Listened to some of the peermusic “Latin” disc. Wrote in poetry notebook over coffee. Therapy. Lunch. Poked head into Housing Works and Salvation Army on UWS, no finds. Lunch - overpriced Cobb salad, missing avocado. Read some McMorris - trots out that trope about the “invention of zero” as the abstraction that made, I don’t know, rationalized exchange possible; there’s some standard critical work on this that may of filtered into poetry through R. Waldrop. Called dad. Went back to Italian coffee place on B’Way, worked on “form” section of preface 2:30-6 — really struggled, spun wheels. No real progress. Pretty dispiriting. Went up to Bookculture on 112th for an event for Florence Dore’s book on rock ’n’ roll and Southern fiction. Rick Moody interviewed her; I held my tongue during Q&A, though Laura and Jay asked questions similar to those in my head. Then Will Rigby, Peter Holsapple, Mark Spencer, and Jeremy Chatzsky played a set, highlight’s being the ancient dB’s song “The Death of Rock” and a Bryant/Bryant tune “Hey, Sherrif,” I’d never heard. rec’d by the Kershaw Brothers. Lots of acquaintances showed up - Todd Abramson from Maxwell’s, Eric Lott (who I keep running into). Bought a book of criticism with a chapter forthrightly titled “Brecht’s bad poetry,” and a chapbook, Feeling on Arrival by Saretta Morgan. Went for a bite and drink w/ Jay, Laura, her friend Rachel, and Pete Galub; Rachel drove us back to Queens, which seemed on this occassion take as long as the train. Home near midnight, much later than I’d intended. Did read quota of DeVeaux over the course of the day, but had to skip W&P and Brecht.