Anine Boston Day Three. today all three of us went. lovely day in Boston, bright and springy. Erin rushed to a workshop on Photoshop while Beth and I parked and moseyed in. looked in on the artist's gallery, where artists hawk their wares. there was someone who made metal bracelets and such. he had a chain mail vest on display, a handy piece of clothing. and I'm sure there are people hankering for it. I saw a tshirt that I misread as Harvardtard which just seemed too wonderful, so I got it. turns out it reads Narutarded, a pun on Naruta, an anime. but I stand by my reading, those Harvard Tards. we got a few other shirts. I also got a messenger bag with Samurai Champloo graphics. I don't know what Samurai Champloo is, but thought I came away a winner. Beth engaged the security guard at the convention hall entrance about the festival. he agreed that there was plenty of weird on display. he has a 12 year old who's mighty into anime. he was concerned with the sex and violence of some of them. I haven't seen much anime, nor manga neither, but I see a range of tastes. the offence of s&v depends on how stupidhead it is um done. there's a Japan=exotic equation that enters a bit. some of the exoticism is romantic, some an excuse for the lurid. I don't mean to generalize because I can see generalities here don't have much meaning. I mean, I was labouring to distinguish an anime crowd (being as I knew little about it), but that generality died on the vine. from what I've seen, not a lot, anime partakes varyingly of fantasy, sci fi, noir and other tributaries. as I looked at the crowd--and why do I sound so anthropolgical?--I wondered what was style and what was costume. I'm sure some percentage of the attendees to the con were let us say overly committed to some fantastic ideal. but mostly it looked like a lot of fun, and I'll reiterate that it seemed like a Phish concert in it's cheerful vibe of community fun. something bracing there for the younger ones, the teens, in that community. common language, common sensibility, a reassurance. I'll cease with the Oprah report. I feel strongly how teens need empowerment, a pat on the back okay. not to say my own efforts with a teenager have been shining, in fact I don't know how I can be so thick. but guilt aside, for now. Erin got these cat ears to wear, along with his sunglasses, wristband, headband, styling. yesterday, I asked Erin what character he'd dress up as, were he to do so, and he replied dude, I am a character. which he is, plus 6'4" and 250, a big sweet kid. Erin saw a chess match performance, kinda like the chess game in Harry Potter, with live pieces, while Beth and I savoured the sun and tall buildings around us. last bit was video awards. and then to home. I know I've transmitted my interest poorly here. it's fun to see the committed interest. plain enthusiasm is rare in the poetry crowd. cripes, I was introduced to Bruce Andrews once, and he gave me this competitive crapoo that was not indicated by anything I offered. some kind of careerist thwarting or poopoo on his shoes, ker-rist, where's the love? so, I suppose it's a boring question, why poetry is such a precious connection. I mean, why so scenic, if you get my drift? why the barriers? why isn't poetry exciting? why would the minority of Bruce Andrews feel so secure (where secure=insecure)? oh I know, anime and manga are highly commercial, to the yuck degree, but still. love's love, finally. I respect that love. I have my crankiness, and ignorance, my limitations, but I do feel I can support. I can hold back my anxious side to see the energy of excitement. I commend the excitement. I'm not an anime proselyte, but I appreciate the openness evidenced by those who do love anime. looking for that in poetry world.