Slam Recap

For well on eight years, I've been a sort of tangential member of Seattle's Poetry Slam community;  slamming occasionally, meeting people in other spoken word contexts-- Poetry Night, Breadline, Cheap Wine and Poetry-- hanging out as my friends -- Ryler, Lohafer, Lashley-- feature at the Slam and so on. Reading at the open mic. Never being a weekly, but feeling a bit odd if I went too long without popping my head in. Consistently, every few years, having this idea that this would be the year I really polish up my set and start competing. Make a name.

Well, that hasn't happened; the urge never takes hold strong enough, and the longer it goes the less I write competitive poetry; I haven't ever truly written "slam" poetry, but I used to more regularly write performative pieces that could, theoretically compete. These days, while I believe myself to be a better performer than I used to be-- more controlled, more range-- I write less and less to performance, more and more to page or internal rhythms.
So it was not without some trepidation that I featured at the Seattle Poetry Slam last night; for me it felt both like a long time coming and a bit out of left field (despite the fact that yes, I had brooched the subject with them.) I did the following setlist: foxes of bainbridge/seeker friendly/story problem/rite aid/charity pledge drive/ambition is critical/love and breakfast/rules for riding the king county metro.
I felt good; got some good feedback. The crowd was small, but a few good friends-- Kris Hall, Bryan E, Chelsea Rose, Karen K, Adam showed up and that helped it feel like a party. As did the shots of fireball afterward. I need to cut that from my diet, or just stock up on ibruprofen and red beers.

Ambition still feels like home when performing it, and King County Metro remains an effective set ender. All in all I was stoked to read.

Yeah, no big revelations there. But trying to blog again.

"Does no one else notice the way you disappear whenever you go to the bathroom? I do, dude, YOU TOTALLY DO THAT AND I NOTICE."-Kris

Myself and Kris Hall are The Collectibles. A, erm, "troupe" consisting of two writer/performer/drinkers. This was our first show. We read inbetween a chilean sound poet and a darkwave/synthpop band. Thanks to Bemster for the video.

#30: The Drinks We Aren't Buying

Who knocked
                          over
the water tumbler?

It was all goldfish out the doors into the spring wind,
all flakes again in difficult lazy mornings.

Let me nod, or sigh, or grin
whichever keeps you most company.
Let me refill and refill and one too many
and cut you off. No one is ever cut off
at just the right moment.

Who is

shout

ing?

Let me ride with you in the passenger seat
until I have to drive, let me leave the flask
at home.
I know you have enough for the both of us.

#29: Merman

There is no use for tenacles on a community college campus. The muscles for walking and muscles for swimming are unique to their elements and suction only goes too far. The day I sprouted four had also been the day I donned my three piece suit for an interview with the dean about possible improvements to the enrollment structure. I couldn't walk anywhere, just flail at passing students, three of whom thought they were doing a favor when they tossed me in the campus fountain, just starting to fill for spring.
But my lungs hadn't gone fishy, my skin wasn't scales, my thirst remained untouched. Obviously, I missed the meeting and my suit was ruined. There'd be no promotion in my future, no raise, no commendations or plaques. Some people started crumbling up crackers and dropping them on my face as the suit tore and night fell and it inevitably started to rain. That was so stupid. Crackers are for goldfish, get it right, I yelled, shocked at the pride I had in my new traits. I tried to dial my phone, but it was ruined, tried to beat people away, but even with flailing I wasn't too good. These were brand new and I didn't know how to use them yet.

#27 & 28: Problematic Ally/Problematic/Problems.

Because I can only sustain the anger indefinitely
after a few whiskies, and
that's such a cowboy thing to drink,
and the anger gets indiscriminatory,
criticisms unconstructive,
the swears start flowing ripe
and even sober
I'll always think 99 problems
is a pretty good song.

* * *
I did not want to get gin-shitty
at the family restaurant
on a sunday afternoon
and flirt then apologize
then flirt
with the bartender

but there are no proper bars near
this train station, I have seen all the movies
and I'm terrified what would happen
if I went home and got online.

* * *
Tamales. Across the street.
I want one, but am so full.

The Special Session is in special session,
a little more time to fix the state's problems,
and I will not watch The Wire, despite
my second of two housemates' insistence
because who has the time

when the other stuff I want is mainly
to be twenty pounds lighter,
a couple grand richer
and trains
to anywhere in the city.

#24 is in the back of a notebook, at the bottom of a bag. #25 didn't happen. #26: There Is No Right To Privacy in this System

each click,
dash,
space,
full stop.

each name, number, initial, monetary amount.
shot
through
open
sourced.

now we are being completely honest. now we are being truly vulnerable.
now we are returned to sender. now we are pinging back. now we
are the thought in the lobe, traveling to the other side of the mind
via brain rail. no we are a flat bed truck carrying fruits and jewelry
open to the wind and pickpocketing monkeys. now we are the swimming
pool for everyone to dive into.

each angry tap,
each key,
each address change,
each medical condition,
real or imagined,
scattered,
dis-s
seminated
and you just clicked okay.

#23: A Clean, Well Lit Place

After the takeover I felt far less hostile,
arranged my goldfish by seniority
along the edges of the windowsill,
sprung for the gourmet fish flakes.

Put on a soothing Whale Songs ep,
and cracked every single one of
my toes. To win, I'll begin my memoir--
tomorrow-- requires a certain clenching

of one's balls. Tough, when one has
Balls of Steel, but that brings me to my
Second Magnificent Feature: ingenuity.
These words came to me in the bath

the day before the Swordfish Scandal
and the leverage it provided the company,
I'd always been a company man. It is
a cold swing in a dark golf course what happened next

--let's just say there weren't many stops for
tea and it took all eight of my magnificent features
not to cave at the inquiry, not to drown in Drug River
and not to show mercy when The Office At the End

became the Hall of Swords. In retrospect,
maybe the Purge of Fire wasn't entirely necessary
and the tension in my elbows seems to be permanent.
This room is quiet, but I need my music to drown

the sort of bubbling gasps I keep on hearing.
Still, now, I have plenty of time to write
and even the mistresses are terrified to enter
so I hope someone buys this book.