In Zanzibar for Book Salaam, Busara and assorted stuff with assorted bods. There are worse places to hang out. 

Last Thursday, we rocked Mercury's. Some diners seemed a little thrown by the written word, but we soon got into the swing. Highlights for me were Andreya's loop station magic and Walter Bgoya's tale of youthful employment selling encyclopedias around Kansas in the early '60s. He's a charming man. Ty dropped tunes at Book Slam and then two live sets at the festival. I love the fact that he makes hip hop fun. I hate the fact it's a rare talent. 

Hanging out with French and Bobby Love, of course. Journeyed out to Bobbylon, which is slowly taking shape. It's an undertaing of astonishing ambition - to think I struggle to patch the plaster in my living room. Their relative good spirits are relatively amazing.

Currently, I'm working on City Of Tiny Lights. That too is taking shape. Still finding the scripting process a bizarre one. Maybe it's
because it's a story I've already told, but I can't help feeling more
artisan than architect.

Have decide to stay on a couple of days to prepare myself for creeping oneliness. Unfortunately, delaying tactics barely qualify as tactics at all. Ho hum.