Question: what do you do when Wesley Stace invites to read with Rosanne Cash, John Hodgman, Eugene Mirman, Hamilton Leithauser, Craig Finn, Paul Harding and John Darnielle?

Answer: you say yes. You wear heels. You double up on the hair poufs. And then, when everyone else is somewhere else, coating their golden throats with whiskey or tea or mini hamburgers, you take a picture of yourself alone in the dressing room, wicked stoked.

Everyone was amazing. And, I must say, though Paul Harding was indeed Pulitzer-worthy, and John Hodgman and Eugene Mirman were both hilarious (HILARIOUS), I was most blown away by my compatriots who opened their mouths and let songs fly out. It is impossible to listen to Rosanne Cash sing ‘Seven Year Ache’ and not feel like you are in the presence of a truly otherworldly talent. Plus, her cowboy boots were the platonic ideal of cowboy boots, which helps on the otherworldly plane, I am told.

Should you not previously have had the pleasure, allow me.

Yours, still swooning,
Emma