Does it reek of rivers of nerves, the cold shivers from my sweaty palm leaking into the microphone? Or does it exude a familiar warmth? A fuzzy feeling you can’t describe but one you know by its touch.
Two weekends ago, sixty-something friends and strangers closed their eyes while I read three excerpts from buttahbasted, my written album. If a friend had flown in from the future, and told me this is how my November would go, I’d have laughed at them.
What do you mean I hosted an event where I sold 75 (!!!) tickets for an experiential, multi-sensory reading of my book?? One where street strangers shopping upstairs at the vintage store crashed the event, bought the book, asked for signed copies saying “I want to meet the author now before they blow up!”
What do you mean…thirty attendees left sticky note comments on our “Living Response Wall” with comments like “Your words are an escape from the world.”
You’re telling me I delivered three live readings of my work? Slow, full-body readings where we reject the rush-a-mania of modern life, and envelope ourselves with the necessary enunciations. Where we chew each syllable. Whole and intact. Where we invite Vivid Storytelling to pry open the gates of our minds and paint the landscapes portrayed on the page.1
(if you’re reading this, i’d love for you to go back and read the last paragraph again from a slow & sonic perspective. did you try it? what did you hear this time?)
I’m still in shock. The event surpassed my biggest dreams for the evening. I’ve searched through the canals of my life, and I’m yet to find a more fulfilling moment than sitting down on the Sunday after the event, reading each of the handwritten guest notes. I’m framing them for posterity. These are my crown jewels.
Gas is starting to pour on these embers. The owner of the event venue gave me a generous discount because he “wants me to do another one soon.” 😉. A friend introduced me to a chef friend of hers who throws incredible food + wine events, and we’re talking about collaborating. Sensory writing and food are made for each other. Anthony Bourdain is one of my heroes and I’m so excited to pull on this thread.
Dozens have asked for the next event. So I created The Sensory Scene to turn this momentum into a social club. I applied to join BuildIRL’s second cohort for leaders in SF building communities IRL.
suggested I turn my “wine & prose” pairings into a “Prosé” series. Imagine fifty people in one intentional space sipping wine, pairing prose, and nibbling on delcious eats. Isn’t that the antidote to our doomscrolling??You guys here, my first readers, the first people who saw something in my words—all of you—from those who silently read the posts—to those who comment and share—I am immensely grateful to you. Without you, there is no buttahbasted. When I took a break from regular posting in January, I had no concrete plan. I felt a nudge to create something artistic. No deadline, no definition, just a little sway on a compass needle saying “hey you….yes you, pitch your tent fifty-seven degrees north. there’s a treasure there for you.”
I pitched forward in acceptance, but I would’ve run out of gas if not for your encouragement. Your comments in May to “Seduced in Condesa” blew my mind. Thank you💛.
If you’d like to support this burgeoning dream of mine, you can
Buy the book on Amazon. For yourself or a friend who loves food, travel, or vivid storytelling.
Follow The Sensory Scene where I’ll share event updates soon!
If you’re interested in multi-sensory events, tell me in the comments: what’s fun, what’s not so hot?
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