Said Auntie Mame, and I concur: Live, live, live! OK, fine, don't, but you do like a good red wine, right? How do you feel about Nutella crepes? Or crostini? Ah, I see you're feeling a little better about leaving the house now. Well, when you wake up this afternoon head to the historic West Village to historic MacDougal St., right across from where Bob Dylan used to live, and set a spell. What are you getting me into? you say, and rightly. Well, there are six, count 'em six, poets reading, and they are Richard Allen, Kirsten Andersen, Michael Broder, Steve Roberts, Jason Schneiderman, and Maureen Thorson. They'll take turns reading for a lively surprise-gift sort of atmosphere. The theme is Adventures on the High Seas, though likely only a few poems will adhere to it. But I hate poetry! you say. And I hate sculpture and jazz and gardens and fashion and papier-mâché, also! Well, it's understandable that you should be suspicious of the fine arts, but don't be afraid. These poets are comely, clever, profound in a good way, and I like them all personally very much. Plus, it's free; plus, there's lemonade. It's from 5-7 at CamaJe bistro, which is not one of those MacDougal dumps you avoid, but the one with good food that all the neighbors go to. Like Bob Dylan. Well, he would if he still lived there.

MacDougal Street [Edna St. Vincent Millay, American Poems; the landscape is unrecognizable, except for "And everywhere I stepped there was a baby or a cat."]