I was invited to read in a monthly series called Plasticine Poetry last night hosted at Paupers on Bloor St. in Toronto. Proper literary types came, were civilized and heckling wasn’t par for the course. Far cry from what I’m used to in comedy clubs- boozy audiences and loud (but ah-mazing) hip-hop intro music. I didn’t bring poetry, I brought a liar’s memoir piece and scream-read it through tears. “LOLOLOLZ”- my mom via text.