So, back from the LA Festival of Books. So, here’s where LA’s Festival differed from other book festivals I’ve attended:
1. Many more cults. You name it, that wacky religion was there passing out tracts.
2. I would say 2/3 of the booths were not in any way related to books. Curious.
3. Way more Alyssa Milano!
Got to see three terrific readings by Carol Muske Dukes, Frank Bidart and Marie Howe, and that was wonderful. Missed Victoria Chang and Matthea Harvey because the book festival was laid out in the most confusing way possible, including the fact that all the poetry stuff was at the top of about two miles of stairs, which of course I couldn’t do with the old limpy foot, so we had to get the wheelchair out for the horrible, backtracking setup of ramps that don’t take you directly anywhere, but instead, maze-like, lead you to all parts of campus except the ones you want to get to. It took us an hour, from trying to park to the poetry stage. I found exactly three literary booths out of hundreds and hundreds of booths: Red Hen Press (hi Tim Green!), Black Clock and Bookforum, and Tin House. These booths, by the way, were not together, or even in the same block. Neat! But, on the plus side, I saw Alyssa Milano. Then I thought, Alyssa Milano wrote a book? My next thought was, Alyssa Milano can read? No, I kid, I kid.
Also, it was very windy, and the poetry tent swayed and creaked during the three readings (I sat outside the tent, under the shade of a blooming bottlebrush tree.) After I left, a tent actually collapsed during a reading and sent some people to the hospital. Spring for the sturdy tents next time, LA Festival of Books! I also got to say hi to recent Pacific U professor David St. John. He’s a peach!

The rest of the trip was just lovely – the hotel we stayed at sent up a bottle of wine for my birthday and later that night, milk, cookies and ice cream! The pizza at Pizzeria Mozza was very unique (thin crust in the middle, big puffy crust on the outside, and most of the pizzas have cold, but excellent, toppings placed in the middle of the pizza like a little plate – ours had burrata and olive tapenade.) The pizza was good (although the salad was small/overdressed and the the drinks overpriced) but I’m not sure worth the hype? I’m awfully picky about wood-fired pizza. The desserts, on the other hand, were mind-blowingly awesome – if you’re not into pudding (the specialty of the house is the butterscotch budino with sea salt) try the caramel ice-cream with marshmallow and warm salted peanuts. You also need to make reservations in advance, even for lunch. (That mini-review was for you, Michelle and K. Lorraine!) We went to a little Santa Monica restaurant called Fig, too and were sent complimentary champagne. When I went to a magazine stand, I was given a free newspaper. And the bellhop told me I had a great aura! Yes, a magical weekend away.

I love Santa Monica and Westwood was nice – UCLA is a lovely campus, if a little ramp-challenged – but I was reminded of how much more beautiful – and affordable – San Diego is compared to LA. So much traffic, and even the prettiest parts of LA have that seedy look, as if something bad – or fake – were about to happen. Parking is impossible and expensive, and everything, including groceries, is taxed at the highest possible level. LA beats San Diego hands down in terms of museums, shopping, “scene-havingness,” and hip factor, but I’m grateful to come home here, to my uncrowded beaches and egret-strewn marshes.

Yes, this sucks, but in order to fulfil some bit of my NaPoWriMo assignment, I wrote this on top of my schedule: [poof!]