That was some party. This post is going to be as cheesy and discursive as it gets, but it’s 8 in the morning, my head is a train wreck and my cat just brought me a cup of warm apple cider. All true.

I really can’t say enough about last night. Thanks to everyone who came out, and to those who came and had to wait in line or couldn’t get in when the Hideout was at capacity, I apologize. And thanks to Zach, Molly, Mark and Linas of the Featherproof crew for working the table while I flubbed my duties.

Let me also thank Christopher Piatt for destroying the stage as host last night, and for stealing the show with a phenomenal piece that showcased all of those things that he should showcase more often: A charming stage presence, a wealth of creativity and a hell of a singing voice. CP is the theater editor for Time Out Chicago, but he’s a solo performer of the first water, and I wish he did it more often.

And many many thanks to Jill Summers and Kumail for adding sophistication and hilarity to last night’s show. Jill’s piece is here, but you’ll miss her sister Susie Kirkwood’s amazing shadow puppets. And Kumail, well Kumail’s moving to New York on Sunday. It’s always sad when such talent leaves Chicago, but it’s time. I predict he’ll be on Comedy Central in six months.

You know, as a writer in Chicago, you’re constantly asked what benefits you think there would be to living in New York, whether writers should be on one of the coasts, etc. The obvious subtext is “In what ways is Chicago holding you back?” And as a Boston boy, I have to admit that when I moved to town in 2000, I thought I’d be here for a couple years and then head back to Beantown. (I certainly never thought I’d be in Chicago when the Red Sox won a World Series.) But after being here for seven years now, I have to say that this place is home, and the idea that somehow Chicago isn’t the place was blown out of the water for me last night. As one friend said, “This is how it should be in your hometown, your book release party should be selling out and people should be waiting at the door to get into literary events.” And as Zachproof was leaving the Hideout last night, he said to me, “It was really so nice how many people from so many different groups or scenes or whatever came out.” I felt that. I’ve always found Chicago to have one of the most supportive creative communities, and last night was a great reminder of that.

So thanks to everyone who came out, whether you were an old friend, a recent friend, a new friend from last night, the woman who read about it in the Reader and had me sign a copy for her whole family, a collaborator, a Switchbacker, a co-worker (big thanks to all the Time Outers who came) or a friend of a friend. Thanks to Tim, Katie and Michelle at the Hideout. Thanks to those who I know couldn’t come, whether it was thesis writing that kept you home or you now live in Champaign or Singapore or Birmingham. And thanks to everyone I don’t/didn’t know who showed up, whether out of curiosity or a desire to support or who just said that hell, going to a reading on a Thursday night wouldn’t be the worst thing to do. I hope it wasn’t.

Thanks again. And now, some ibu profen, and more bed.

Awesome review of Hiding Out over at the Gapers Block Book Club today. I really couldn’t be more pleased with it. Although, I have to admit, that first paragraph had me sweating bullets for a while. But in the end, it was great, Veronica really engaged with the book.

After writing reviews every week for three years, getting reviewed is completely melting my radar. But more thoughts on that later…

It’s tonight.

Great review in the punk rock zine Razorcake of Hiding Out. I scanned it in, so click on that cover image below, and it’ll take you to the review. And if you’re near Quimby’s or another respectable bookstore, pick up the issue. The interview with Dan Padilla alone is worth the four bucks.

To Stuart Dybek, who not only was announced as a MacArthur–anointed genius yesterday, but nabbed the Rea Award for the Short Story today.

I have a new story up at one of my favorite literary websites, Pindeldyboz. This is an old Dollar Store story, which took its inspiration from a Sammy Sosa–themed Hummer toy.

When I wrote this, I wanted to get at the same sort of thing that “Bicycle Kick,” in Hiding Out, was getting at—a sort of existential malaise brought on by deep, deep boredom and zero forward movement. With “Bicycle Kick,” it was the narrator’s mortality that was at stake, and that’s what caused him to suddenly turn reflective. In this case, though, it was the opposite, a sort of rejuvenation by past superstar athletes. At the time, Sammy Sosa was making a comeback with the Rangers, and Scottie Pippen was stumping for a position on a starting team. I wanted to write something that didn’t make fun of past-their-prime athletes for still believing they could compete. That seems like the sort of behavior and attitude we should admire rather than disparage (as sports radio talking heads love to do).

Of course, that was all before it became clear Mr. Pippen had blown a good chunk of change on bad business deals, which may have been his true motivation to start taping his ankles again.

One last note on this story: Whitney Steen, editor of Pindeldyboz, did a great job with the piece. Eventually, I conceded that we should cut was the original opening paragraph. But really, that was just me wanting to keep my favorite joke of the story alive, so in the spirit of Sammy Sosa and Scottie Pippen, I’ll bring it back around for one more go here. This was the original opening paragraph, which of course has no place now in the story. On its own, it reads like an elegy for Sosa. Maybe he’ll have inscribed on his tombstone:

“There was a time when it was the sweetest gig in town. Before the steroid allegations, before the cork, before he forgot that paper bag holding all of that cash in that hotel lobby, before they let him go to Baltimore, where corner outfielders go to die.”

You know that’s true.