madness at midnight

So why iin the world do I accept readings in places I know naught of? I LOVED reading in New orleans, would do that like a shot again, but without looking at a map, I seem to have accepted something  in Manchester, thinking, oh you know, Manchest-by-the-sea, as in where my frien dLee lives or Manchester, Vt or somewhere, but this one turns out to be about 3 hours drive from my tiny home town of Manhattan and I won't be through reading and signing and all that until late at night AND of course I don't drive AND of course why did I accpet, except that I accept ALL  readings, I think whether from my beloved modern art cookbook or any traslated book because I love reading from poetry, etc., oh heavens above, AND it will be near Thanksgiving and various children of ours may be arriving and why iin the world, oh, that kind of I should go back to bed except that I am reading all these nex to unreadable things for my modernist singularities course and will replunge into Gide (oh you know, Paludes and Voyage d'Urien and Strait is the gate - course in English, oof) etc and would rather stay up except that we are leaving EARLY in the morning to get to Ossining (here is that?) to get on a Riverkeeper boat with a friend so I am lucky to live the way we live, really, will get back to reading and unworry about that thing people do when they lie flat and pass out, I'd rather read anyway, aloud to just plain with a glass of rum and some nuts, oh yes, I am LUCKY to live the way I do