Sound Check

Recently, FAB attended a reading in one of Brooklyn's finest independent bookstores. While waiting for a friend to get her book signed by Famous Author, we decided to kill time browsing through the front display of literary and artsy magazines or publications or whatever you call them. This had the multiple advantage of a)making FAB look intellectual, b)making FAB look, like, all indie and shit, and c)giving us something to do other than kinda shuffle about awkwardly, staring off into middle distance while people milled about with great literary purpose. FAB was pleasantly surprised to see the newish literary mag published by none other than MCOotSWIPMO (whom it is safe to conclude we are TRULY over, that being 2009 and all. We were all younger and far far stupider then. Or something.)

Quickly running my eyes over the list of contributors to see if I recognized any names and therefore gauge in a totally narrow-minded and reductionist kinda way whether the magazine was "Doing Well" from the point of view of someone who has very limited contact with the literary world.

Well, limited contact, my ass! I quickly discovered that I had had quite intimate relations with not only the founder and publisher but also at least two of the contributors to that particular issue. I wasn't sure whether to cry or pat myself on the back. Instead, I carefully replaced the magazine on the rack and indicated to my friend that actually, I think I'd rather wait outside.