Happy sexin’ day, everyone!
This isn’t my favorite holiday, so I’m gonna let the Book Bench do all the talkin’ about it with these Dear John letters and some blogging on emails and romance.
Carolyn Kellogg at Jacket Copy points us in the direction of another person calling some sort of fiction dead. The next person who calls any sort of fiction dead is getting a wet willie from your’s truly. Go Carolyn. You tell ‘em.
In Philly, a “sensual literary salon.” (via Bookninja)
At GIANT, writing and smoking.
And finally, made up drugs in literature.