Corpus Christi
Tito picked me up from the airport in his immaculately clean car. I was instantly guilty about the dust-draped buggy waiting for me at home. We drove directly to a restaurant; I knew Tito and I would get along famously. And we did. He told me about the lives he's changed through his work as a ... life coach. That's not his actual title, but when you show grown folks how to manage their anger and guide young folks to explore their own celebrity, nothing else should really fit. We talked about career climbing and confidence and love and fair fighting and forgiveness and tolerance and introspection and nurturing children and, of course, poetry. He also told me about this "revolution" that's coming ... but you'll have to wait for that wave to keep rising.
Stefan is a piece of work. No other way to say it. He was all at once intriguing and ridiculous, profound and eccentric. Over everything, though, he was thoughtful, protective, engaging and honest. Despite what most of us claim, not many of us are wholly at ease in our own skin. Stefan is. Long, graying ponytail. Heavy Polish accent. No chairs or bed frames in his apartment. Floor to ceiling collections of classic jazz. A brass bowl and one of those little Zen sand/pebble trays for meditation. He loves both the Detoit Pistons and being smitten. I can just imagine, too, the joy he derives from being mistaken for a lifelong student instead of the professor (he holds a PhD in philosophy and teaches all levels at Texas A&M, though the freshman intro course is his favorite). What impressed me most about Stefan was his uniquely-precise conversation. He would accurately discern the most subtle of nuances. I found myself thinking, "That's it ... exactly!" or "Ohhh ... she felt that way ..." The only way to describe our exchanges without trying transcribe the hours is to compare his perception to a color wheel. It's easy to start chatting about the color green. If you're diligently honest, however, you will eventually distinguish emerald green from jade green and celery green from sea foam green. There's a difference. And Stefan likes to talk about. Write about it. Move in clockwise circles around it. Oooohhm about it. See? He's a great piece of work. I can't wait to see him again at SMasters in April.
San Antonio
Phil is battling overachiever-itis and sleep deprivation; two conditions with which I am all too familiar. I appreciate the slot at the all-famous puro slam and for his coming through in arranging a ride Austin and crashpad. I'm also glad that I had a chance to witness the spot's legendary Heckling. I thought it would have been, like "revolution? revolution?! we don't wanna hear about no stinkin' revolution!" Puro's "heckling" puts me more in the mind of the Green Mill, where the host isn't shushing the crowd all night or chastising them to "respect the mic." The poet's gotta bring it right and make --convince--the audience that their cell phone conversations can wait. Gott love that. Unfortunately, this night's main heckler was just a drunken boob garbling insults toward the stage. I'm happy to report that he got fired in the mouth by another poet before the night closed out. Yes, boys and girls , there are still heroes in the world.
Austin
Not that anyone is keeping score, but Ego's was -hands down- my favorite stop. The energy was thick; Andy was an amazing and agile host (if I had to host and keep time and tally scores and banter with the deejay, our set would be in t-r-o-u-bb-l-e); Big Poppa E/aka DJ Hot Wings was like precision on virtual ones-and-twos (spinning from his laptop, y'all); and the audience was all about good, engaging poetry. Not a single dud on the list.
Speaking of crashpads earlier, I was honored to be a guest in Mike and Lynn's new house! Very smart two-story, open space, lofty joint. The cat was a bit demanding and the fleet of Hellraiser figurines made me ... well ... make sure that my people knew how to get a hold of me. But, of course, Mike was an absolute hero, driving me from San An (check me out, using the local lingo!) to Austin in the middle of the night, putting me up in their guest room, letting me have all the oatmeal I wanted, escorting me to Ego's and to the last portion of a set called NeoSoul. He got me to the bus station on time and sent ahead e-flares to the hosts in my next city stops. Enough about his grand hospitality, already. Mike is funny as hell! What's best is that you'd never suspect it: he's all polite and quiet and small-voiced at first. And then he has me chatting away (like that's hard, right?) and cracking up by being all polite and quiet and small-voiced. I love a man with wry, smart humor. We chatted and chuckled easily about heckling etiquette, the science of buoyancy, rap freestyles, eye-hand coordination, the hierarchy in Halloween candies, rush hour driving games, strategies for getting fired from bad relationships and acceptable timelines for deciding to stay in love for eternity. We bonded, as you can see. Not a lot of genuine people left on this sphere; I'm glad I had a chance to enjoy one of the really good ones.
Houston
Well, I gotta be honest. Things were not looking good for Houston. I tried for months --literally-- to set up a feature ... find out about an open mic ... anything. No one from the Houston returned my messages and the other city hosts didn't seem to know what was going on over there. As an 11th hour try, both Stefan and Mike try to patch me resources. No luck. So I board a bus to Dallas, prepared to spend the the night and following day holed up with my laptop. As it turns out, I get a call from Michael Guinn from Ft. Worth. This cat offers to rearrange his work and travel schedule to meet me in Dallas, drive to Houston, share a feature he had scheduled at a new venue there, feed me, and get us back to Dallas by 9 am. Then that damn Mike Guinn started giving away items off of his product line (yes, product line) to everyone who bought a book and CD. "I know how it is ... I want to make sure I can help you move product." Selfless. I've known Mike for a few years now and have always found him to be generous of spirit. He's the type of guy you can't help but want the best of everything for. He's passionate and sincere about everything he does --his work with youth, commitment to slam, pursuit of absolute and true love. Big ol' bald chocolate teddy bear is what he is. I'm really glad that we had a chance to have a continuous conversation (as opposed to years that have been segmented into five minute chats and brief email posts).
Many thanks and much love to my newly-adopted little sisters Authentyc and Trinity. We chatted late into the night (way too late, really, considering the 4 drive in front of us ... in front of me) about perserverance, karma and dreams. I told them to stand firm on their vision, regardless of the support they get or don't get from other local organizers. From experience, I know it's about defining your path and building a home for a whole new family of poets. It was inspiring to see their excitement and kinda cool to feel like wise old guru.
Dallas
I'm pretty sure that I did some poetry in Dallas and had a chance to hang out with an old friend of mine, but what rattles the loudest in my memory is much I liked the city! I could soooooo live in Dallas ... in about 15 years. See, there's too much to do and my girls are too young. It's hard enough for me to find pockets of "unbusy" here in slow lane Milwaukee. If I had all of that playground ...? Sheesh!
But I did do poetry in Dallas. RockBaby and Militant X did an impressive job with their advance promotion and Mili had even pulled a quote from my website for my intro. It was cool to see Twain in action, too. Y'know putting a poem to the face? He reminded me that he'll be traveling next year, so I look forward to showing him off to my folks.
The funniest thing came in hanging out with my girl, Dawn. She's a Milwaukee transplant who's hot stepping toward stardom (national theater tours, national movie screenings, music demo ... she's literally one degree of separation from Diddy, Tyler Perry& Jerry Buckheimer). I say all that not just to give her cheap props but to frame a poignant observation: We were exiting the expressway toward Rock Baby's venue and she tells me I should call ahead and to make sure they've blocked off a parking space out front fo me. Yes, she was serious. Yes, I laughed out loud. We were both laughing once I explained that poetry doesn't quite work like that, not yet anyway. A drink tab --maybe-- is presently the extent of our VIP perks. One day, us poets will have celebrity status and all of the lucrative contracts, televised award shows, endorsement deals, sexually liberal groupies (oh ... check!) and a stronghold on pop culture. Just not this past Friday.
In All
Texas was smooth. Thanks to everyone who helped make it fun and important. Yee.Ha!
Tito picked me up from the airport in his immaculately clean car. I was instantly guilty about the dust-draped buggy waiting for me at home. We drove directly to a restaurant; I knew Tito and I would get along famously. And we did. He told me about the lives he's changed through his work as a ... life coach. That's not his actual title, but when you show grown folks how to manage their anger and guide young folks to explore their own celebrity, nothing else should really fit. We talked about career climbing and confidence and love and fair fighting and forgiveness and tolerance and introspection and nurturing children and, of course, poetry. He also told me about this "revolution" that's coming ... but you'll have to wait for that wave to keep rising.
Stefan is a piece of work. No other way to say it. He was all at once intriguing and ridiculous, profound and eccentric. Over everything, though, he was thoughtful, protective, engaging and honest. Despite what most of us claim, not many of us are wholly at ease in our own skin. Stefan is. Long, graying ponytail. Heavy Polish accent. No chairs or bed frames in his apartment. Floor to ceiling collections of classic jazz. A brass bowl and one of those little Zen sand/pebble trays for meditation. He loves both the Detoit Pistons and being smitten. I can just imagine, too, the joy he derives from being mistaken for a lifelong student instead of the professor (he holds a PhD in philosophy and teaches all levels at Texas A&M, though the freshman intro course is his favorite). What impressed me most about Stefan was his uniquely-precise conversation. He would accurately discern the most subtle of nuances. I found myself thinking, "That's it ... exactly!" or "Ohhh ... she felt that way ..." The only way to describe our exchanges without trying transcribe the hours is to compare his perception to a color wheel. It's easy to start chatting about the color green. If you're diligently honest, however, you will eventually distinguish emerald green from jade green and celery green from sea foam green. There's a difference. And Stefan likes to talk about. Write about it. Move in clockwise circles around it. Oooohhm about it. See? He's a great piece of work. I can't wait to see him again at SMasters in April.
San Antonio
Phil is battling overachiever-itis and sleep deprivation; two conditions with which I am all too familiar. I appreciate the slot at the all-famous puro slam and for his coming through in arranging a ride Austin and crashpad. I'm also glad that I had a chance to witness the spot's legendary Heckling. I thought it would have been, like "revolution? revolution?! we don't wanna hear about no stinkin' revolution!" Puro's "heckling" puts me more in the mind of the Green Mill, where the host isn't shushing the crowd all night or chastising them to "respect the mic." The poet's gotta bring it right and make --convince--the audience that their cell phone conversations can wait. Gott love that. Unfortunately, this night's main heckler was just a drunken boob garbling insults toward the stage. I'm happy to report that he got fired in the mouth by another poet before the night closed out. Yes, boys and girls , there are still heroes in the world.
Austin
Not that anyone is keeping score, but Ego's was -hands down- my favorite stop. The energy was thick; Andy was an amazing and agile host (if I had to host and keep time and tally scores and banter with the deejay, our set would be in t-r-o-u-bb-l-e); Big Poppa E/aka DJ Hot Wings was like precision on virtual ones-and-twos (spinning from his laptop, y'all); and the audience was all about good, engaging poetry. Not a single dud on the list.
Speaking of crashpads earlier, I was honored to be a guest in Mike and Lynn's new house! Very smart two-story, open space, lofty joint. The cat was a bit demanding and the fleet of Hellraiser figurines made me ... well ... make sure that my people knew how to get a hold of me. But, of course, Mike was an absolute hero, driving me from San An (check me out, using the local lingo!) to Austin in the middle of the night, putting me up in their guest room, letting me have all the oatmeal I wanted, escorting me to Ego's and to the last portion of a set called NeoSoul. He got me to the bus station on time and sent ahead e-flares to the hosts in my next city stops. Enough about his grand hospitality, already. Mike is funny as hell! What's best is that you'd never suspect it: he's all polite and quiet and small-voiced at first. And then he has me chatting away (like that's hard, right?) and cracking up by being all polite and quiet and small-voiced. I love a man with wry, smart humor. We chatted and chuckled easily about heckling etiquette, the science of buoyancy, rap freestyles, eye-hand coordination, the hierarchy in Halloween candies, rush hour driving games, strategies for getting fired from bad relationships and acceptable timelines for deciding to stay in love for eternity. We bonded, as you can see. Not a lot of genuine people left on this sphere; I'm glad I had a chance to enjoy one of the really good ones.
Houston
Well, I gotta be honest. Things were not looking good for Houston. I tried for months --literally-- to set up a feature ... find out about an open mic ... anything. No one from the Houston returned my messages and the other city hosts didn't seem to know what was going on over there. As an 11th hour try, both Stefan and Mike try to patch me resources. No luck. So I board a bus to Dallas, prepared to spend the the night and following day holed up with my laptop. As it turns out, I get a call from Michael Guinn from Ft. Worth. This cat offers to rearrange his work and travel schedule to meet me in Dallas, drive to Houston, share a feature he had scheduled at a new venue there, feed me, and get us back to Dallas by 9 am. Then that damn Mike Guinn started giving away items off of his product line (yes, product line) to everyone who bought a book and CD. "I know how it is ... I want to make sure I can help you move product." Selfless. I've known Mike for a few years now and have always found him to be generous of spirit. He's the type of guy you can't help but want the best of everything for. He's passionate and sincere about everything he does --his work with youth, commitment to slam, pursuit of absolute and true love. Big ol' bald chocolate teddy bear is what he is. I'm really glad that we had a chance to have a continuous conversation (as opposed to years that have been segmented into five minute chats and brief email posts).
Many thanks and much love to my newly-adopted little sisters Authentyc and Trinity. We chatted late into the night (way too late, really, considering the 4 drive in front of us ... in front of me) about perserverance, karma and dreams. I told them to stand firm on their vision, regardless of the support they get or don't get from other local organizers. From experience, I know it's about defining your path and building a home for a whole new family of poets. It was inspiring to see their excitement and kinda cool to feel like wise old guru.
Dallas
I'm pretty sure that I did some poetry in Dallas and had a chance to hang out with an old friend of mine, but what rattles the loudest in my memory is much I liked the city! I could soooooo live in Dallas ... in about 15 years. See, there's too much to do and my girls are too young. It's hard enough for me to find pockets of "unbusy" here in slow lane Milwaukee. If I had all of that playground ...? Sheesh!
But I did do poetry in Dallas. RockBaby and Militant X did an impressive job with their advance promotion and Mili had even pulled a quote from my website for my intro. It was cool to see Twain in action, too. Y'know putting a poem to the face? He reminded me that he'll be traveling next year, so I look forward to showing him off to my folks.
The funniest thing came in hanging out with my girl, Dawn. She's a Milwaukee transplant who's hot stepping toward stardom (national theater tours, national movie screenings, music demo ... she's literally one degree of separation from Diddy, Tyler Perry& Jerry Buckheimer). I say all that not just to give her cheap props but to frame a poignant observation: We were exiting the expressway toward Rock Baby's venue and she tells me I should call ahead and to make sure they've blocked off a parking space out front fo me. Yes, she was serious. Yes, I laughed out loud. We were both laughing once I explained that poetry doesn't quite work like that, not yet anyway. A drink tab --maybe-- is presently the extent of our VIP perks. One day, us poets will have celebrity status and all of the lucrative contracts, televised award shows, endorsement deals, sexually liberal groupies (oh ... check!) and a stronghold on pop culture. Just not this past Friday.
In All
Texas was smooth. Thanks to everyone who helped make it fun and important. Yee.Ha!
Comments
take care,
Mike