>
>
>It would be a great place for an IPTW event.
>
I support that notion.

My experience of Glen Echo Park in the late 70's was going to the
writer's center for open readings. I met there a woman that on first
encounter I took for being a half-crazed bag lady. Several times after
my giving readings she asked me if I would join her writer's group. I
finally accepted. Turned out she was daughter of the Ambassador to
Turkey and a Georgetown socalite, as well as a half-crazed bag lady. For
the next two years I met with her and the small and intimate group of
writers that she had brought together. Once a month we would gather at a
member's abode to read our work, gossip, plot our brilliant (sic)
careers and drink bottles of plum wine. It was through this group that I
had the opportunity to sit on Hawthorne's couch, for about 3 seconds
before I was informed where my buns were settling to and then jumping up
to take a less precious seat. I also remember a rather bizarre transit
from point A to point B with a few fur clad Daughter's of the... one of
them a descendent of Thomas Jefferson, with myself crammed between them
like a pet poet in the back seat of a limo and our having to stop at the
Watergate where one of the gracious dames resided. I also became friends
with a bisexual male poet, a very creative guy who had undergone a great
deal of electroshock treatment, who gave some very weird parties. And
there was the black woman, I do not remember her name, who was an
incredibly good pet and a very supportive soul. When I moved to NYC I
sought out similar groups and adventures, but have never found any
experience quite as socially democratic, adventurous, and fun as the
arts underbelly romp I had started upon from Glen Echo Park. My poetic
experience of NYC, which culminated int eh grand act of my giving a talk
on behalf of the Writer's Union to the writer's group at the United
Nations (they wanted to know how to get published), was mostly an
experience of troglodites wanting to engage pissing contests with
tabasco, spraying out their angry angst and flame wars. It was then I
decided to spend more time fixing old buildings.

I went to Washington and to Glen Echo Park partly because my mother had
lived as a girl in Washington. I was brought up with her stories about
the place and the people.

][<en

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