Silverblatt: Tod, I am struck by the power in
your prose, the way words tumble from the page like mercury, like
Jupiter, like Pluto, once a planet, but no more a planet, now just a
bit of stardust, like your words, floating, inexorably, through, time.
And yet, I find that your words are also like play-dough, in that when
I eat them I find them at first…salty…yet…plain…and I found
myself yearning for…bite…verve…only found in the works of people
like Rilke, like Rick Springfield, whose girl, while Jessie's, was, in
fact, no longer, like Pluto. Yes?
Me: I'm just happy to be on the show, Mike.
His account of his trip to the Vegas Valley Book Festival is pretty funny, too.