Weekend Roundup, 4 May 2025

Leave the gun, take the cannoli

The past few weeks have been pretty jam-packed and that’s when I start to lose track of Substack. Silver lining is, it’s been such a busy few weeks that I’ve got a lot of good things to choose from.

Here’s a flight to sample:

Cool people doing cool things

Some stars aligned a little while back and

Amy Lyons

came to town to launch the Rose Books Reader, Vol. 1 at Philly’s own Neon Clown Dream Lounge, which is exactly as weird a vibe as you would expect and features cocktails named after Captain Beefheart lyrics, which is straight up my musical street. We went straight from there to a gig at the Met (more about that in next week’s Hot Wax Wednesday), which was the best double-feature a gal could ask for. Follow that up with a trip to the Italian Market and some Sunday cratedigging and that’s just about my ideal weekend.

Last night, I got lucky again and helped my pal Chuck Wendig launch his excellent new book The Staircase in the Woods. It’s a weird, wonderful read, and Chuck and I have had a great time both times we’ve been in conversation—what my agent, who knows both of us, once referred to as “morbid comedy hour,” which I will be running with if ever I get into radio.

Leave the gun, take the cannoli

Because tour is always exhausting, when someone’s coming to my city, I try to give them a little something to refuel. Happily, I live in walking distance of the legendary Termini Bakery, so I ducked in to pick up some goodies for the Staircase event, which I then left sitting on my kitchen table like an asshole. So Chuck never got his baked goods and now I have a whole bag of biscotti and cannoli that SOMEBODY is going to have to eat before they get stale, I GUESS.

Happy accidents

Forgetting desserts and having to eat them yourself is one kind of happy accident. Another is when a dear, dear friend you’ve known since you were sixteen but haven’t seen in five literal years because you both move so much happens to get stranded in your city for ten hours waiting on a standby flight. When that happens, you drop everything and have her over even though your house is a mess and you have no hospitality to offer and you sit in the backyard and talk about everything that’s happened since you talked last and it feels like no time has passed at all. You make plans to make sure it’s not five years next time, because what matters more than sitting in the backyard and talking to an old friend, actually? Not a whole hell of a lot.

Hope the week ahead holds fun surprises—but if not, quality baked goods never hurt.