Excuse me, I think I'm a romantic

Last night I went to a book reading. At about 6:30pm, Francine Prose stood in front of about 80 people in a conference room at The New School off Union Square to talk about an obvious favorite topic. Reading and writing.

Her recently released book Reading Like A Writer is currently No. 18 on the NYT Bestseller's List.

While she read passages and shared her thoughts on creative writing and reading as fuel for writers - i was delighted by a sense of communion shared by her and the individuals gathered together. Laughter roared in unision with perfect timing, as with grunts of disapproval and smirks of agreement.

here's a classic case of birds of a feather flocking together...

cliches are power packed lines of wisdom frequently brushed aside as too common and therefore boring ... sometimes we are warned to steer clear of them lest we be tied to being unoriginal in our ways of speech, work and art.




In this instance - as the cliche of the moment emerged... i felt connected and understood by a group of individuals i've never seen before and in all likelihood will never see again.

yet in a fleeting moment and for a shared space of 60 minutes of a book reading, we arrived at the same point...each coming from our own streets, our daily chores, worries, families, jobs, time and countries. to share this communion... this common interest that binds us all.

moments like these make me bow to the greater force (whatever religion you subscribe to.) the congregation at the reading last night, to me, was as much like a Jackson Pollack painting as a dancing to progressive house. As i type away at Starbucks on Astor place, i'm heartened by the music i hear. Everywhere.

Excuse me, but i think i'm a romantic.