John Yamrus		i don’t know what it was either the crowd was wrong, or i was wrong… or both. but, it just wasn’t working. i read poem after poem. nobody laughed… nobody clapped… and i couldn’t blame them. i was shit, they were shit, and it was all falling apart. the walls stunk and the floor was cracked. when it was over i sold some books, grabbed my coat and ran. i got in the car and put in a cd of me reading on another night. that night they got my jokes, they loved my poems and i was handsome and tall. the world made sense. but it didn’t matter, because that was then and this is now. so i took out the cd and put in one by Hank Williams. it was a live recording and Hank was good. Hank was a god and in his entire career he never ever had a bad night… did he?		reality check… i had just picked up the mail and found that it contained a check and a statement from one of my publishers. more than a little pleased with myself, i took it in to my wife who was watching her soaps on tv. she looked at the check… looked at me… then turned back to her soaps and said: “whatever you do, buddy, don’t quit your day job.”