[2 days late — oops]
One poet offers to commune with then write in his book of poetry for 18 buyers.
Okay — The offer seems to have less to do with amping up sales than with creating more poetic writing with a performative aspect. CA Conrad writes:
For the price of the book I will carry your copy with me 24 hours, to meditate with it, argue, freak out, have sex (not on it, unless you special request) then write on the few blank pages in the back of the book about the day.
And CA Conrad published number 4 and 5 in SHAMPOO. Here’s some of what one Dorothy Lasky got written in the blank pages of her book:
After my fifth martini I forgot this is San Francisco instead of Philadelphia and lit a cigarette to the exclamation of several voices around me, including the bartender, who had just about had enough of us. I put it out in my martini and declared there can’t be a law against drinking tobacco, then threw the drink back, laughing. Stupid fun. If I had a video camera I would record this fog tonight, hours and hours of it whipping past the lights. Have you ever loved an element as much? I want to climb the pole, undo my pants and suck fog inside me, my sphincter, my gulping, fog-swallowing sphincter.
Remember not to smoke in Californian bars, and check out more of SHAMPOO to find out what it’s like to go grocery shopping with Mayakovsky.
