To All Teresita Fans:


The Hummingbird's Daughter is now available at!!!
For all of you who pre-ordered it, watch your mailboxes. It will be coming soon!

We were just at the Los Angeles Times Festival of the Book at UCLA. It was fun spying on celebrities like Eric Idle and T.C. Boyle. I was surprised that my panel drew a substantial audience, if only because we were competing in our time slot with some big names (Maria Shriver, etc.) Perhaps the best thing about the weekend for me was that Michael Pietsch, the big kahuna at Little, Brown, not only attended but managed to have a couple of boxes of The Hummingbird's Daughter available. I hadn't even seen it. When we heard it was there, Cindy and I hightailed it over to the Cultura Latina booktent. There, my loyal homies had set a pile of the book at the front of their display so that the C-Span camera set up across the plaza would show it every time they'd pan the festival. As we were admiring the book, a vato in big shorts said, "Hey ese, is that you?" I said it was and he bought the book out of my hands. He had me sign it to "La ChaCha." I considered this a good sign.

Not such a good sign was one of my "famous writer" cohorts who turned his back on me when I tried to shake his hand when we were introduced. Ah, I thought, it's a diva war. Sadly for him, after our panel, my signing line was quite long and not a single person spoke to him. He stormed off in disgust while I happily chatted with all the folks who had picked up all the available copies of the book. All in all, a good day.

We did all kinds of really great cheesy Hollywood things. Like driving to Ozzy Osbourne's house to see if it looks like it does on MTV. It does. I also had the thrill of spying on Michael Chiklis (Vic Mackie!!) having a serious chat with a woman. We ate at Barney's Beanery and we bought CDs at Tower Records and Cindy accidently became friends with Jacqueline Mitchard at the gym in the hotel while I was sleeping.

We're gearing up for book tour. Check the schedule since it will keep on developing until we head out in June. Hope to see you. Drop me a line and tell me if you liked the book.


La Bird (not verified)

hey hey hey! Back from the dead is right. I gave up on you, homes/homebird de la Tierra del Condór. Been near dead myself. And moving to & fro without a wooden soul. But sabes qué? We're like those barrio puppies that keep bobbing to the surface & it's ok 'cause nobody wants to see them drown anyway. Don't worry. We swim and we'll get something good to eat. *Pulitzer nomination for Nonfiction* Hijos de la...universidad! Can I pick 'em or what? Too bad for the shutout play. So well. Upward & onward says kemosabe. La Lorna dice....

Good mangos all around. Love you, but you know that. Just missed you in LA but my father passed away on the 27th after a sudden 6 week bout with stomach cancer. We bid his Spirit along on his journey with our love and remembrances on May Day, a spectacularly sunny day in the Mission. Time to do something. Time to yield to the pull of the land. I hope our book tour paths cross. I still gotta do that research in ChiTown - hey, do you know a Chicago native cabbie I hired to drive me around Memphis Minnies old neighborhoods told me that Chicago was actually named after Chicano, that it was the end of the line for Mexican workers in the slaughterhouses so it was known in the 1880s as the Chicano place both there & in México. Makes a good story. As do you.

"California/ I'm coming home...". Got Joni on the head as the stream plays my favorite low down blues: "Before I'll be your dog/ I'll get you way down here/ Make you walk that log/ Baby please don't go. You know I love you so..." yeah

yeah yeah

I'm on sick leave now after almost 4 years of intermitent chronic vomiting. Poetic, eh? How's that for a metafour? Been relaxing, yoga, learning Navaho weaving, digging holes, bloggin' it up with buds, buggin' bugs as I get to know this stamp of land we bought on a boulder a nickle ago. Back to the land: my own backyard. Married on a Blue Moon - used to be an ironic thing the crystal-crusted classes muttered to their concubines. We did. On Green Mountain, other side of the ladybugs. On rock. A silent vow and sign. The trees officiating for they have memories longer than our own. A warm wind carrying it out to the masses as our intent. We want to celebrate everyone's love on every once on a Blue Moon. You know my house is always open to you. And now, you can find me! I can find me. I know what address to put on the envelope. Gimme an addy, I'll put you on my holiday love list. (and anyone else, if I know you. Do I know you? I've lost all those little scraps of paper, each attached to a laugh. But my 2nd NY's revolution is to stop procrastinating—as I wipe out "was" in a field of blue).

I can't believe it. Baby please don't go streaming again from this field of blue (c-coat: 3 gold stag in a field of blue). Blues therapy. This time the downhome version: just a geetar, piano & a tap. Priceless. Even through the nicks & snaps. Got traveling on my mind & it's not the Billie kind. Hey, what a whata if mi casa really IS tu casa? Swell. And surf.

Did I tell you I'm planning a course, at any level, called "The Celtic Lyric Then & Now?" And a seminar on The Four Quartets. Its really what's charging my cards these days at the theatre. & speaking of the shake stage: my 5 books are due for a coup on Columbus, my pentic pentyc. One of the last things my father wrote was the number 5. But it doesn't stand without the mandala at the end.

You know, been staring so long at that pop-up bison, Ferdinand the Buffalo, I had to write a "Poem for the Trundling Buffalo of Maryland". And as for buffs, write on cue blues sings it, soulfully: "Have you ever loved a woman?/ Have you ever loved a woman?/ Then caught her runnin round? .... Well, you might as well pack your one bag/ Cause he's draggin your Roll-It home."


final line of song: "you know we could live so easy/ Turn up ALL THE LOVE!"

Much love to you and yours & back at ya & what goes around can go get lost. And when you can come out & play y'all come on out to my place, hear? Bring the brood.

"When you lose your money/ Please don't you lose your mind/.... I'm gonna buy me a bulldog/ just to watch my woman sleep/ ... Cause that woman's so crooked/ Make a pretty good creek...."

"I'm gonna bring it on home..."

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Book club members have been some of my most enthusiastic and careful readers. I’m thrilled to share my work with you, answer your questions and tell you some of the stories behind the stories. This is our spot, just for us. Here, we can chat:  If I’m nearby, I’ll come and visit your club. Otherwise, we can Skype, talk over the phone or email. Sometimes, I’ll send surprises or hold contests.

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