I have not, regrettably, spent altogether too much time in Provincetown since my move to Boston about three years ago (read: I HAVE NOT BEEN, WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?), so you may or may not find me at Marc Jacobs today drooling over the photographs in the compendium.
Whether I decide to have my copy autographed will pivot more on to what extent I can contain my aforementioned drooling. Historically speaking, not so good.
The real point of my blathering? COME TODAY. OBVIOUSLY. I’ll be the one in the corner furiously attempting to clear my schedule, book a room, and order my friends around via text. Yeah, THAT guy.
As if a book signing and an opportunity to turn my penchant for mocking myself into a group activity were not enough, ALL Proceeds from the sale of the book are going toward the Provincetown Art Association and Museum. SO COME. AND BUY A BOOK. Or, actually, BUY SIX and tell them I PAID FOR FIVE.
* The title of this post has been lovingly pilfered from the poetry of my lord and savior Adrienne Rich.
EDITOR AT LARGE:
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