A Tuesday evening at Barbes in Brooklyn. I'd been invited to participate in a reading hosted by Be More Chill author Ned Vizzini--Caren Lissner, author of Carrie Pilby and Starting from Square Two had suggested me because Caren has a strange, inexplicable affection for my work. Since I have little else to do, I agreed to show up and dazzle the crowd with a piece concerning summer camp--that was the theme of the evening, and by ridiculous coincidence I'd actually just written an essay on summer camp for the June issue of The Inner Swine.

This turned out to be one of the best readings I've ever done. There were a lot of reasons for this: First off, I had nothing to do with the planning, which is a key element of any event's success. If I plan the damn thing, everything goes straight to hell. I get drunk, no one knows who the fuck I am and so doesn't bother returning my phone calls, and I have a tendency to think that hand-scrawled signs taped up on telephone poles an hour before showtime will attract crowds. Since this event was planned by people with half a brain, it was well-advertised, well-attended, and well-organized.

Second, it was fun. Most readings aren't fun. This is because a) the people doing the reading are self-important wackos who either believe they are the second coming, or b) believe that they must 'challenge' every audience, audience being defined as anyone they are speaking to, even if you just paused to ask them if they're in line for the bathroom, because you have to puke. Usually your choice is a deadly serious series of boring-as-hell congealed hunks of literary grease, or the literary version of Gallagher smashing watermelons, with arch admonitions that you 'don't get it' if you duck the flying melon.

This reading was fun. I was bought a drink by the bartender upon arrival, and had three more before hitting the stage. All the readers were encouraged to ask trivia questions about our pieces and to give away prizes. People got jokes, and, most importantly, jokes were told. And also too: I was halfway coherent, for a change.

Here's the evening in a quick series of pictures, none of which show the large crowd that actually showed up, so you'll just have to believe me that I wasn't reading to the staff and a bunch of empty chairs.

My name in, er, marker. But my name! ON A SIGN! (Jackie Corley read that evening also, but was left off for some reason).

This is Jeff before having several beers.

Ned Vizzini, our rockin' host.

I'm a fine handsome man, I am: Jeff ready to rock on stage.

Caren Lissner rocks the mic. My minions didn't take any pictures of the third reader, Jackie Corley, because they drink.