Poetry reading went well today: lovely, in the library, with view of the mountains. Huh what?  You can talk aloud -- into a microphone -- in a library?  Who knew?  But in the middle of another poet's reading, this lady rushes up to me and goes, "did you WRITE all that stuff you've been reading?"  "Um, yes," I whispered.  Then she said "....................................!"   I couldn't understand her, so I just said, "why thank you!"  Afterwards, someone told me what she had said, which was, "You must be on drugs!" and since I had mumbled thank you,   --- she strolled on, announcing to library patrons, "she's on drugs!" Um, like, NOT!  What I'm ON is insomnia. And my weird writing, I guess.  Now then, if she herself is not a druggie, then I guess that was no compliment. If she is, then it was, as in, we speak the same language. Or I suppose it could have been totally neutral.   Anyway, too funny!  At least to me.  And by the way, this is how I introduced myself.  I think it's a keeper: "Hi. I'm Julianza. In my past life I was an albatross. The recincarnation program fatally crashed, so, you know, here I am."  Poetry readings, my friends, are fun to do. No matter your state of consciousness.