The Wild Tour Yonder
And now I'm off on my favorite part of the book-publishing cycle. The tour. For those of you who haven't been paying attention--and why would you, really?--I have several dates coming up in the next week. This Wednesday in Boston I'm doing a reading at Great Scott, with a musical performance by Harry And The Potters. On Thursday, I'm reading at the Free Library Of Philadelphia. On Sunday, I'm at the Tea Lounge in Brooklyn. Monday night, I'm at Mo Pitkins' in Manhattan. And next Wednesday, January 24, I'm at the Hopleaf in Chicago for the Bookslut Reading Series. Full details can be found on my famous Appearances page.
There will be West Coast dates the following week, and I'll remind about those later.
I won't be updating this page much in the next couple of weeks. I've got lots of travelling and I'll be apart from my main inspiration. We're trying to break Elijah into the idea that I'll be gone. He and Regina made a calendar today out of colored construction paper, writing in the name of the city where I'll be that day. They'll all be X'ed off as I get closer to home. Also, Regina drew a map of the U.S. with indicators of the cities that I'll be visiting. And there's a little daddy figure who Elijah will get to push-pin onto the map so he can "follow" me on my trip.
If you're not already suffering from insulin shock, let me add this detail: Elijah has his own copy of Alternadad on his dresser. I signed it for him thusly: "Elijah: You are my best buddy. This book is for you. You're always in my thoughts. God forsake bibs. Love, Daddy."
Elijah responded by telling me that Bhotman will accompany me on the tour, except that he won't be visiting Boston, because it's too cold. Instead, he'll be going to Minneapolis. A smart one, that Bhotman. I'll be glad to have him along as protection from the many enemies that my parenthood memoir has been accumulating.
Wish me luck, people. Even more than that, wish Regina luck. Tonight, Elijah sat up in bed and shrieked for two hours. It finally abated when I went into his room and laid down next to him for a while. After five minutes of silent pretending-to-sleep, I looked up and saw him picking his boogers and eating them, as usual.
"What are you thinking about?" I said.
"You," he said.
"What about me?"
"That you're going to be gone."
"I won't be gone for long."
"I know that."
Good lord. This is like Jon Voight talking to the little boy in The Champ. I guess it will take more than a book inscription to persuade a four-year-old that his world isn't being ripped apart. Swell.
I hope to see you all on the road.
Yr pal,
NP
Comments
When you're in Philly, I can totally hook you up with 'shrooms and a pitcher of water.
Posted by: PhillyD | January 16, 2007 5:54 AM
Or like Jon Voight talking to Dustin Hoffman in Midnight Cowboy.
Posted by: How About Two? | January 16, 2007 11:30 AM
You're at SXSW, right?
Posted by: Jonathon | January 16, 2007 6:27 PM
I'll be at SXSW INTERACTIVE. Should probably put that on the site...
Posted by: Neal Pollack | January 16, 2007 6:42 PM
listened to you on NPR - where the fuck were you guys when I really needed you (you and that woman from the Washington Post). My son is twelve now, but when I was pregnant and listening The Butthole Surfers and The Dead Kennedys, I would speak to him, saying "Honey, I'll lay down my life for you but I'll never hang out with other moms just because they have kids in the same age group. I live full time in the Hamptons - you think Park Slope is full of perfect mothers?! Please!! I didn't know any baby songs and would try and soothe his colic by singing 99 bottles of beer on the wall. Then we moved on to "Wig" by the B52's. He was almost 4 by the time he was completely toilet trained because it was easier to change diapers than wash shit and pee stained clothes and bedding. He hated going to school - I mean really hated it when he was three, so I took him out, sending all the local busybody earthmothers into a frenzy. I went out at night! Alot! When he was eight we took an impromptu trip to Australia. His father and I are now divorced and we share custody in a very loosey goosey way, like we both see him EVERY DAY! Now he's twelve and he's the kindest, most interesting, slightly eccentric relatively well-adjusted child. But I can still hear "Harper Valley PTA" playing in my mind every day when i pick him up at school.
Posted by: tara | January 17, 2007 1:46 PM
Aw, Tara. If I was the type, I'd say "bless your heart." We all feel like aliens out here. Raising an eccentric child is a total mitzvah. Shit. I'm starting to sound like a motivational speaker.
Posted by: Neal Pollack | January 17, 2007 8:53 PM
I loved the excerpt on Salon and I heard you on NPR yesterday(?). It's great that you're giving a voice to "our" segment of American society. I'm looking forward to reading the book. Good luck on the rest of the tour.
Posted by: Adam Stanhope | January 18, 2007 11:21 AM