I pretend like Burbank’s poetry makes me want to vomit, but it’s a front because I’d hate for his florid Latin-based words to overshadow my purely plot-driven Germanic-based text.
And anyway, we’ve arrived here in Lyon, so I’d better start talking to Burbank again as we have to set up for the event. It’s an outdoors event at a park. Sort of a carnivalesque festival with games and plays and whatnot. I’m one of three special guests. The other two are a musician and a kid’s TV show presenter. Even if nobody comes to get their book signed, I’m sure we’ll still have a great time. Provided I’m not planning on ruining the day by continuing this immature blank I’m giving Burbank.
6/17/10
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