Okay. So I was going to be all literary and blog about the poetry reading, but Heather has forced me to face my aging.
First, we blog the CPCC Literary Festival (oh wait! I mean, the CPCC Arts Festival because after Irene Blair Honeycutt left they gutted the literary bit and threw in some other arts). Since there are fewer lit events and I have the hell schedule this semester, I only got to A. Van Jordan's reading, which was well worth it and gives me a little hope for the festival--the sparse crowd cast doubts on that glimmer. Beyond the fact that I have a special place in my heart for people who use an initial for their first name--so many people drop it or think its pretentious to hold on to that initial and to them I say, screw you, that's my first name and it's not going away. Anyway. A. Van Jordan gave a great read with personas from Einstein to Richard Pryor.
Anyway, so that was all literate and whatnot. But then, Heather goes on and on (Heather resents this representation) about this noise kids (kids these days!) are using for cell phone ringtones because it is at a frequency too high for old ears to hear, so they could be sitting in class and get a call without the teacher knowing it. First, as a teacher--those bastards! Secondly, I was very afraid I would not be able to hear it and thus old and thus closer to death, etc. But I heard, thank God Almighty, I heard it. That's right I am not old. Or I am at the very least not deaf. You hear that Death! So here is the noise.
Just kidding, here's the real noise. If you can't hear it...you my friend are old. My condolences.
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