Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Not Quiting My Day Job, BUT....

I got a call yesterday afternoon from a guy that runs a poet writers forum. I've done some business with him in the past, and have, a few times anyway, drug Mark with me to an open mic night that he has put on for poets to get a chance to try out their poems and get some experience in reading and performing them in front of a "friendly" crowd.  Anyway, he calls me yesterday to see if I can perform later that night with 4 other REAL poets.  I guess someone canceled on him last minute and was looking for someone with a little "different' voice.  

Great, who doesn't want to be the "different" poet.  Is that anything like the "token" homo?

Needless to say I was both excited and nervous as HELL! The guy gave me 12 minutes to read anything I wanted, and afterward there would be a question/answer session with all of the poets and then an after show party.  I completely freaked out!  I had less than 5 hours to finish a project I was working on AND figure what the FUCK I was actually going to pick to read AND practice my delivery!  I really just couldn't pass it up, though.  I mean, I doubt I will ever actually be a writer/poet but, this was a chance to be heard with a real audience that was expecting to hear from a real poet, not just some slump on an open mic night.  

Fucking Mark, per usual, wasn't around, so I forced a couple of my friends (Mark is always supportive, but these guys were not happy) to come along for support, and did my reading.   It was unbelievably nerve wracking!  I was third to go, and the two before me were real polished and real serious.  I wasn't so much worried about the content of some of my poems, as it was an adult enough of an audience and I wouldn't be the first to throw out some blue language, but my stuff is a bit more fun oriented and a little more rhythmic and lyrical, not so stoic and/or angry or delivered so staccato like.  One was sort of a big bull dike looking chic, that seemed super angry and, definitely didn't seem real high on the male gender much.  When she came off, she kinda grunted and growled at me. When I smiled at her, she told me to FUCK OFF.  Needless to say,  she frightened me a bit.

I'm sitting back stage, one friend slumped down as if he's napping and the other just fidgeting about, seeing if there are any cute boys in the audience, when the dude that invited me starts in on my intro.  I start sweating bullets as he really starts hyping me up (dude totally wants in my pants, btw), telling the audience that I'm fairly new poet with a fun, lyrical voice, on and on... Needing it to stop, out I go, completely embarrassed and ready to just get it over with already.  

You guys need to understand, I'm a pretty normal guy; I'm not artsy or flamboyant, nor am I the typical angry poet full of piss and vinegar. I'm just me, full of smiles and a bit of a kooky sense of humor with a love for words and rhymes.  So I go out there, HUGE fucking smile on my face, a little taken aback by the size of the audience and a blaring light right in my eyes, where I take my seat on a small stool.  Thank GOD I have a drink in my hand, as we all need a little extra courage sometimes, and I stand, to get out of the blaring light, take a sip and put it down on the stool.  From there, no place to go but forward, so, I started in on my first poem.  I started safe with some stuff I wrote back in college, and increased the sexuality as I went along, sorta feeling out the crowd.  People seemed to warm up to me pretty fast, and laughed where I hoped they would, so I flipped through some stuff and came to "soul to see" and went from there with newer stuff I've been writing for my blog.  As I got to the "steamer" stuff, both of my friends ears perked up a might, which was nice to see.  Feeling comfortable with the response, I also did, "Ode to Spartan", "I'm pregnant", "Home on the Range" and I ended the night with  "DYN-OOH-MITE".  As I did some of these racier poems, I also took a little time to go through some of my sexuality stick, which got a ton of laughs.  I think I might have run a couple minutes over, but everyone seemed fine with it, as I wrapped things up.  

Needless to say, the question/answer session was pretty interesting.  One real pretty girl just couldn't quite believe I was gay, so she actually had to ask me, straight out.  Oye, she seemed so sad when I answered her.  There were several boys frowning, when I added I had a boyfriend.  

I doubt anything will actually come of this, and, believe me, I'm not giving up my day job, but it was such a great experience and something that has really gotten my creative juices flowing again.  I've been feeling a little bit of a writer's block as of late, so I hope this will motivate me to get some new and better material for next time.

I hope everyone knows, what a huge help all the positive feed back from what I have written these past few months has done and meant to me.  Much of what I presented has been created with this blog in mind, so it would never have been written without you.  Without Spartan, would "Ode to Spartan" even exist?  Without Corey Jo's warmth when I was feeling down about not having kids, would I ever of thought of "I'm Pregnant"?  All the great poems that FFB has written me, has always motivated me to create and do more with what I am doing. And sweet, anonymous Denis, who actually said my writing "isn't all bad", THANK YOU, I needed that!

Sorry for the long winded self-suck, but wanted to share.  See below for some great pics, and have a FANTASTIC time!  

Also, I have another sorta fun experience/happening that I have been holding out on you  all with, but I plan to post that one tomorrow.  It's also a bit long, so bring your reading glasses!























Monday, February 7, 2011

Charles Bukowsi...My All-Time Favorite Poet/Writer/Drunk

I don't claim to be a writer or a poet, but, if a boy can dream (I am a boy and I DO dream) I would have a thimble-full of the sauce this guy had brewing from deep within his talented balls.  He was, I believe, a true genius, that, in time, was finally acknowledged for his talent and his words. God Bless his filthy, drunken ass!  He will live forever in the thoughts and words that he created and, then, blessedly so, shared.


Following, is just one of my many favorite poems of his.  If you like, look him up, if you love, buy his work. If not, scroll on down, there's many a nice pic for your perusal.

 

 trouble with spain

by Charles Bukowski

I got in the shower
and burned my balls
last Wednesday.

met this painter called Spain,
no, he was a cartoonist,
well, I met him at a party
and everybody got mad at me
because I didn’t know who he was
or what he did.

he was rather a handsome guy
and I guess he was jealous because
I was so ugly.
they told me his name
and he was leaning against the wall
looking handsome, and I said:
hey, Spain, I like that name: Spain.
but I don’t like you. why don’t we step out
in the garden and I’ll kick the shit out of your
ass?

this made the hostess angry
and she walked over and rubbed his pecker
while I went to the crapper
and heaved.

but everybody's angry at me.
Bukowski, he can’t write, he’s had it.
washed-up. look at him drink.
he never used to come to parties.
now he comes to parties and drinks everything
up and insults real talent.
I used to admire him when he cut his wrists
and when he tried to kill himself with
gas. look at him now leering at that 19 year old
girl, and you know he
can’t get it up.

I not only burnt my balls in that shower
last Wednesday, I spun around to get out of the burning
water and burnt my bunghole
too.