All right. I've got to write this really really fast! I went to writing group tonight. It was my 4th meeting. It was Valentine's night, and two of the guys weren't there. One was in Brooklyn. The other was having Valentines evening with his wife. Why did he have to do that? Couldn't he have celebrated Valentines Day on Saturday like Tom and I are doing? And Sarah was missing too, because she had to cater.
There was a box of Valentine candy on the table that Eric had brought. He and June were dancing in the kitchen to Holly Golightly, so I didn't think anyone would notice. I chose one of the dark chocolates and took a little bite. I put it back. Mary Ann saw me do it and got upset. But it was vanilla on the inside!
Mary Ann read a great piece about a guy playing "My Funny Valentine" on the piano at the Salvation Army store on Valencia Street. Jane and Rudy read some strong poems–strong in different ways–and Eric read a tender piece about living in the Tenderloin. (You won't believe this, but Eric grew up in Jasper, Tennessee. That's where my grandmother was born.) Hedi read an amazing piece, a heartbreaking piece, about a 14-year-old boy who finds his way to San Francisco from Mexico. I read a poem about spaghetti.
