Readings—and any form of public performance, really—are a testament to human intimacy and innovation. They also reveal a great deal about our linguistic heritage. If you feel that this assertion is too broad, overarching, or excessive, consider Prehistory for a moment. Still lost? No worries, you’re rock solid, on the right path; let’s narrow down everything there is to ponder prehistorically and just focus on our ancestors: cavemen. And cavewomen. Okay, so cave people (in the end, political correctness will be our downfall).
Why, you ask?
Because they are the bud of human interaction (I won’t even bother with that one). And though many centuries have passed, their fireside chats and circum-spacial gatherings remain familiar spectacles. This similarity, though probably inaccurately propagated by films like Caveman and Hightlights pictorials, is something I considered while at the latest Glass Mountain reading; this thought will likely pervade my experience at others as well. Between the smell of cigarette smoke, Christmas mood lighting, and blaring fans, the simulation of natural elements was in full motion. However, these were only accents; the most significant measure of a prehistoric Kumbaya were the participants.
It should be known that cave people had violent tempers, bad manners, and ate each other. What’s more, they probably weren’t very considerate during their little fireside chats. Apparently, arm flinging and bonks to the head with turd-shaped clubs were the norm. With that in mind, I can safely say that our current public displays of thought, creativity, and contemplation receive less debilitating applause. And just as human etiquette continues to evolve, Glass Mountain’s reading series will continue to grow as well.
The following photos chronicle the night’s lineup, a far less hairy crowd than their prehistoric brethren. Better posture, too:
From one cave person to another: keep your calendars open for next month’s lineup of cave people.
Amanda Scott
Assistant Fiction Editor
