Waiting

Down the high traffic hall of university,
a heedless payphone rings
like a prisoner whistling in formation.

I know no one will answer it,
though it may have a calling
for each and any one of us.

Instead it rings on as if to say, “hey,
can you spare a some cents” to the pockets
who pass by, or, if feeling introspective,

“Change is the chisel with which we chase freedom.”

Right now nowhere near the city,
near signs that tell her not to pick up
hitchhikers, my mother is looking at Plexiglas

images of my brother as he looks back. Both
with big black receivers holding up their crack-of-dawn
heads, wearing happy-to-see-you smiles.

The phone—a sort of dysfunctional umbilical cord,

though the glass is so distorted
it is unclear who is being fed
this intravenous form of comfort.

A yard of pale linoleum separates the two
but what they hear sounds like it has been bounced
off several satellites

and their ears are chasing words
through an asteroid field of static.
This is a Friday—well spent.

When time is up, they part.
Maybe there’s a movie shot of empty phones
held to overflowing hearts,

of hands pretending to touch,
but they part, both in shackles.
His are made of arrogance, chain-links, and time.

Hers are made of his. Hers are made
of four hour drives every week in the desert;
of old age and forgetfulness;

of a handicap insignia
that hangs from her rearview mirror,
whenever she remembers to bring it.

Hers are made of waiting.

As he lines up with the other orange cell-mates
of self-defeat, ready to take on day number
nine hundred, forty…whatever, with clenched fists,

I want to believe I can hear his soul scream
like a stranded, roadside payphone
wringing the world for an answer.

Things I Learned in the Shower

So our common understanding of the mind and what it is and its relationship to the brain and our consciousness is totally fucked. If you didn’t know that, you know it now. I came to this understanding last year, what I figured out kinda blew my mind. You may not understand what I’m talking about, and I’m not really gonna explain THAT, but you basically just need to know that WE do NOT understand WHAT the mind IS. And because of that our use of it is totally handicapped. Aka fucked. Particularly because of our consciousness. And I think I’m about to shed some light on that. Thanks, in part, to a 40 minute shower.

The mind is like a ball. The mind is like a steel ball spinning inside another steel ball. Spinning freely. At times. Now regardless of whether you are dumb or smart, the mind is awesome. It’s awesomeness really doesn’t have much to do with intelligence. It is mostly effected by awareness. Awareness allows us to use the mind like a tool. And the more awareness we have, the more dexterous we are with that tool. But never mind that, let’s get back to the mind being awesome. When the mind is most awesome is when it is most free. It can do amazing things. Many a world changing idea came from a very free mind. A ball spinning and spinning to its heart’s desire. But what is it spinning in?

The mind is spinning inside our consciousness. I’m not equating consciousness with awareness but they do relate. The mind is spinning inside our consciousness and our consciousness is more of a part of us than the mind is. The consciousness is more personal. You could almost think of it as…the consciousness is an extension of us and the mind is an extension of EVERYTHING in our awareness, and it all meets in our head. We think or act like it’s all trapped in there, mixed up, and it’s all 100% our own, but it’s not. It’s very layered, and when we talk about awareness, we’re essentially talking about how many of those layers you are conscious of and then can even control or influence. With your very own consciousness. 
 

Your consciousness has a lot of affect on “your” mind. So much pull. So much weight. Sometimes that’s a good thing. A lot of times it is not. The mind is a ball spinning around inside your consciousness. And when you let the ball spin freely, amazing things can happen. The problem is we rarely do that. 
 

If you let your mind wander, it is like a wanderer taking a walk down a wondering path. A nice, evening, evening stroll. The minute you become aware (self-conscious) of what your mind is “thinking,” it is like flipping on a spotlight on that thoughtful, walking pedestrian. What do you think is going to happen? This is where we’re fucked. Cuz it varies so much from person to person. Depending on all the factors that made you who you are.

For some of us, when that spotlight goes on, the wanderer stops wandering. Naturally. “Wtf is this big light?” When that happens, depending on so many things, the thought (wanderer) will either resume or be stopped all together for ANY NUMBER OF REASONS. And then even if the thought does continue, it may NOT continue as freely as it was before. If that spotlight is still brightly on it, then it may continue very cautiously/slowly. Again, “Wtf?” If the light dims, the wandering thought may continue on its merry way like nothing ever happened. THAT is VERY ideal.

Because, the thing is, when we let these wandering thoughts wander without interference, they can go and Take US to some interesting places. Some places such as newfound knowledge. Some places such as greater awareness of any number of things. Or people. Some places such as INSPIRATION. Some places such as a completely new idea. Or perspective. These are REALLY good places. Places we all should go to much more often on our own two feet. But we don’t. And the reason we don’t? Our consciousness. More specifically, our self-consciousness.

When the mind is spinning in your brain, spinning like a ball inside another ball, and it starts rolling around one particular track of thought, it starts off slowly. The longer it is allowed to go on uninhibited, the more speed it picks up: speed usually leads to awesomeness. Speed leads to the wanderer walking down the wondering path quicker, which is better because he might find something fantastic at the end of the road. A veritable pot of gold. But that doesn’t usually happen because the spotlight goes on. But in the “the mind is a ball inside a ball” analogy, it’s more like the consciousness (outer ball) acts like a magnet whenever you become self-conscious, stopping or interrupting that rolling thought in its circular tracks. (Yes I’m using two analogies that parallel on the same thing, in order to highlight different aspects of it visually. Hopefully you can see that. The mind itself is like a ball inside a ball. The thought itself is like a wanderer that the ball is…conjuring I guess.)

Now, when that outer ball (the consciousness) becomes aware of what is going on inside of it, it USUALLY affects the flow of the mind in some way. Sometimes a lot, sometimes a little, it really depends on the person AND what that thought is. It’s just like the characters on REAL WORLD. Yes we’re supposed to believe that this is how those people would behave “naturally” if there weren’t cameras on them. But most likely they are being affected consciously or subconsciously, for better or worse by the cameras' presence, by that new layer of consciousness. How much depends entirely on that person AND how much that new presence is Felt by them.
 

It’s the same exact thing with that rolling ball when your fears, doubts, insecurities, skepticisms, issues, biases, inhibitions, and built in defense system come On-Line. “Self-consciousness___ARMED.” Odds are one of those things is going to impede the flow of thought in some way. One minute the ball is spinning an interesting hypothetical tale inside what you call your mind, the next minute you’re like “wait, why am I thinking that?” And boom, the thought gets derailed. It happens a hundred times a day to each of us, and maybe you didn’t know it before, but know now that it’s a small tragedy. We need to let our thoughts go. WHEN THEYRE POSITIVE. We need to Let them go on, even if they seem silly, let them go. Let them go on if they’re positive in anyway. Or at least if they’re not hurting anybody! This is a huge part of creativity.

It is also a huge part of self-awareness. Among a dozen other things. Stop interrupting your own thoughts! Free your mind! But not in any fuckin philosophical way! Just let it be free to do it’s own fucking thing and wander around a little bit! Geeez!

We have lost this as a skill! We have lost this as a valuable commodity for ALL of us. The ability to let our mind do its own thing just for a few minutes at a time. Really!! It doesn’t need to be much longer than that. You can cover a lot of ground in thought in a few minutes. I think most trains of thought don’t survive longer than a minute and half before they get blasted off the tracks. Sadly, on average, I think the negative ones live longer, are allowed to spin around and around, over and over and over again, unchecked and get repeated a lot more. The more true this is for you, the more fucked you are. No doubt.

The end.

That’s the point of all this. I just wanted to tell you what I thought but also put that visual in your head. Because, in case you don’t know, when you are able to visualize something abstract, it gives you the power to manipulate it more easily. Or be more aware of it. And possibly change it.

Be aware of what’s going on in your heads friends. One of my favorite words, METACOGNITION: thinking about thinking. I know it can be confusing at first, I know it can seem like stop and go driving, every time you stop and think about what you were just thinking and then think about whether or not you are ABLE to let that ball roll on its merry little way, but the stop and go driving is already happening! It’s already happening, all the time, but if you can become aware of it, eventually you’ll be able to control it quite easily and once you’ve controlled it for long enough…you won’t have to control it any more. You can let go. It’ll become second nature. Which was probably first nature, but your first nature got fucked up by…abusive parents, poor self-image, emotional neglect, whatever! So now you know, and that’s how you go in and retrain your mind. Roll on.

Rolllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll onnn.

Right now I am thinking that huge differences in our individual personalities may be directly related to how long we let our thoughts drift on their own, on average. In other words, I may be so different/creative compared to some people simply because I let my thoughts wander farther out away from me, i.e. more often and for longer periods of time. Or more “effectively.” Hmmm! That all just came to me. I’m gonna have to think about that one myself. Wouldn’t that be interesting though? Cuz that could almost be tested. If you taught people this SKILL, you could observe the difference it made on their behavior and lives. What if what we call daydreaming is the cure for all creative blockage?

Hmph.

Regardless, give your self permission to “daydream,” to wonder, to imagine, to say “what if?” to think aimlessly for extended periods of time, to remember, and I guarantee you’ll enjoy where it takes you much more often than not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All right. Now Here’s a bonus DROP of a deep thought. I don’t really need to throw this in, but….it fits, and I’m curious to hear what people might think, and I’m thrilled to have accidentally written up something that can serve as the foundation for this one THOUGHT. This I already knew. This I realized late last year. It’s something I’ve never heard or read anywhere. I was just thinking and thinking and thinking and I figured this out/stumbled upon it and it pretty much blew me away. And I’ve yet to commit it to writing. I believe what I am about to say to be true, not because of any kind of fanciful theory combined with faith, but because reason and deduction from personal experiences dictates it to be true. If I were writing a piece on this alone, I would probably explain it a little differently, put it in a slightly different context/analogy, but it connects enough to everything above that I think I can drop it on ya and you’ll understand what I mean. Hopefully.

What I have been describing for a couple pages now: that ball spinning around freely inside your head; letting the mind do what it does, which is not very mental, because it is not thinking, it is more like flowing. Letting your "thoughts" flow. This ability is huge. And could easily change your life over night. I’m sure it does everyday somewhere in the world. This ability is an art. But it is not just an art, as far as

I can tell, it is THE Art.

It is the only art. The original art.

The art through which everything we call art comes to be. Our consciousness, our unique personality is the filter/the lens/the “mind” through which THE Art comes into our world.

Basically there is only one art and everything we call art is just us channeling The Art into reality. EVERY OTHER ART is just an offshoot, shooting out of our patchwork life. And we are the instruments, life is the canvas. We have Sooooo many different kinds and variations of art because each of us is a completely unique composition of experiences. When we pull The Art through that composition of experiences, it comes out different looking every time. Just as one clown might pull a bouquet of daisies from his sleeve and another will pull out a dead bird. But what we are all doing, at the very beginning, when we first had the idea to put something up our sleeves, is the same. We are tapping into, or allowing the same thing to take place up in our heads, whatever you want to call it. It only becomes different because we are different. And the more different we are, the more original the art is when it is manifested into our silly, self-important world.

 

The Rewired Receiver

4-7-03

                                                                            Imagine what
                                                   the perfect consumer
                                                   would be like:
                                                   mindless and rich
                                                   in
                                                   debt
 

I have been killed by commercials

I have let the speaker
suck my skull in like a plunger and
twist the vice of small-minded ideas
on my head one too many times

My life has been inundated
with millions of wasteful waves
that translate well within the ear
without the eye
and kill the brain

in an overdose that climaxes
with a seizure
and leaves me foaming at the mouth
with slogans and jingles

I have been taught so well
to listen accept and do
as if all words were gospel
and questioning is the
work of the devil

I have bought into it all
like a born-again Christian

THE STOVE IS HOT

I BELIEVE YOU

TELL ME MORE
 

Estranged

You spoke of sore spots
You told burnt up dreams
that fester like skin cancer
or look like you have been
injecting the carcinogens
of lit cigarettes
straight into your arms
unsuccessfully

The smell of singed flesh
makes your skin crawl
but it is the incense
of your life insisting
its strange beauty upon you
like your incestuous father

This was the point
where you looked in the mirror—
picking the black flowers blooming
across the lowland of your body—
and evaluated your worth
one shortcoming at a time

And you wondered
what dreams are really made of
—their beauty is lost on you—
but you do not feel alone
in this wanton despair

“For most people,”—you sell yourself—
“it’s dreaming you are Hercules
with a boulder lifted over your head
when you are just another bug—
another mite—living under a rock…

that’s crushing you.”

Every Piece of Art has a Feeling

Every piece of art has a feeling. Every abstract shape or impressionist painting, every single song, each story: there is a feeling imbedded in its essence. It is something that vibrates off of the whole of a statue or from the center of a sonata. But it is at a wavelength barely detectable to the human mind, yet sensed it can be. It is just as real as any chord, but of a frequency most in the room cannot or will barely notice. Past the people and movements, past the instruments and notes of color, deep within the sound, the feeling can be felt. How much or how little is as much up to you as it is the artist. Awareness of this invisible thread running through our existence is not taught to the masses. It is rarely even discussed. It survives on our world because artists, often unwittingly, keep carrying it in, keep making it manifest. The way some species of trees and flowers survive because of dogs. Artists continually open little windows of opportunity and those who are able to feel the feeling gather and take in. It may not be more than a candle in an enormous dark room to some, but to others it might swell the inside of the mind so much it pushes out tears. A river running over into fields. Not because of sadness per se, but rather because it was real. Alive. Intense. Present. True. Pure within their being, expanding like a glow. When you look over as someone has a visceral reaction from an inanimate object, from a unique combination of sights or sound, know that it is an ability. They are receiving something you are not, fluent in a language that is unspeakable yet understood, caught in the middle of a transfer of vivid sensation that is beyond what you can “know.” Some can control it, some can not, and some are deaf and numb to its existence. It is up to you though. It might not have been before you read this—if you’ve never had an experience like the one above—but now that you know where it exists, it is up to you—whether you ever let the feeling in. Whether you take the sandstone of awareness and rub away the calluses of this self. Peel back the caked layers of falseness and fear and faked strength. It is there, the potential and possibility to feel like you’ve never felt before, to communicate with a dance floor, to dovetail a brushstroke, to be the microphone of all that is. The cup that runneth over need not ever leave your hand. To resonate with the world around you couldn’t be the worst of fates. Those who do might cry easily, but they laugh the most for sure. And who could look at laughter and not see it’s full of life? Just know that when art speaks, it conveys a world within a world: one that is full of wonderful details, and one that is full of gold. Most never get past the obvious or open up unto the whole, but for some it as if the art were alive—and they are communing with its soul.

The Night I Owned the Mic

That's right! OWNNNED!

(this picture may not seem like it belongs here cuz it was taken back in Thailand, but it really does belong here :)

I did it. I accomplished a landmark goal for me. Something I was hoping for, something I believed I could do for the first time in my life and I did it. But it did not come easily or quickly.

I already wrote about Santa Cruz and what happened at that slam and how it was more of a warm up than anything. Not only did I not come out with my best pieces, it wasn't even a full slam. Only two rounds and a one-minute time limit on the first round. I think they had time constrictions on the space they were using, ergo less of a slam than you might expect. Seattle though was a whole nother story. I went up there with full intentions of taking the gloves off and SEEING What could/would happen when I did just that, for the first time! I was there to bring my best, I was pumped, I was all UPPER CUT UPPER CUT, JAB JAB...and I got castrated.

I have not slammed in 8 or nine years, so each place I've been to thus far has taught me something. I've been analyzing the whole experience and reaping as much as I can from it to prepare myself that much more for the next chance. I assumed Seattle would be a hotspot for Slam, I expected that they would have a community and tough competition every week in the form of seasoned slam team members, and I was right. Still, I felt, no, BELIEVED the three poems I had lined up could hold their own in the face of any adversary. Well, I was right and I was wrong at the same time.

What Santa Cruz and Seattle taught me was that there are two significant hurdles I must overcome whenever I step up to a mic in unknown territory. I must overcome the local favorites and I must overcome the particular bias in that place, whatever it may be. Every place has its own bias for any number of reasons. And there's NO WAY to know what that is until you've had a chance to observe a crowd, the judges and performers in any one setting. In other words, goin in COLD Sucks. But what that all means is that I have to be THAT Much better than everybody else cuz QUALITY is the only thing that can trump those two variables. My stuff has to be SO Good that they cannot deny this stranger goin off on topics that most the performers there may not be slammin about AND possibly in a style that they don't normally hear/like either. Cuz if they CAN deny me, they will, straight up! And if I'm only just as good, or a little bit better than the house favorites, I will lose to them. Naturally. Make sense? Hope so.

Seattle was crazy! It is easily the "COOLEST" event I've been to out of the three. It was in a big darkly lit bar, with a big stage and lots of seating space and they pretty much packed it. It was well organized, well hosted, a dj playing in between performers and rounds and so on. They never missed a beat and the energy was perfect. Being that it's a weekly event, I knew the audience were probably regulars so they knew what is UP! What does that mean? Well, if you've never been to a slam, it's hard to explain, but let's just say that audience..."participation" is definitely welcome.

Think of the Rocky Horror Picture Show (if you've ever been to a live performance or screening of said show) except less rehearsed/staged. People are encouraged to respond vocally, noisily to what they hear and how they feel. They were on top of all that in the Emerald City. For me, it was dope as fuck. Think of it as LIVE Feedback the whole time you're performing, it's really cool as a performer when people tap into their Immediate reactions and just let em out. And then as an audience member it's just....it defies the prescribed conventions of formal events and performances. By doing so it allows you to relax and become a part of the experience, and even, dare I say, have fun. I strongly encourage anyone who's never been to one to give it a try. If you're in a major city, I guarantee there will be one and I guarantee you'll get your five dollars worth. AND you'll be supporting an art that is so easy and fun to support and be a part of.

Anyway, sitting there, waiting for it start, watching the open mic portion of the nite, I was stoked. This is what I would love to be a part of REGULARLY. This environment, this audience, this level of slam. People really came out for it. I had no idea how my work might be received but I was excited to find out.

The bar is called Re-bar, and according to Josh, though he had never been there before, it was kind of a gay bar, or at least gay friendly. After casing the place and seeing some of the slam contestants, I think we can more specifically describe it as a very lesbian friendly bar. There were a lot of them, a couple gays as well. But it became pretty clear as the night went on and scores went up that that is where the bias was leaning. By the end of the three rounds, the three contestants still standing were all lesbians. 2 of them were great and certainly deserved to be up there, one em had us scratchin our heads though. But hey, not only were they the local favorites, they fit the favored demographic. Coincidence? I think not.

For example there was one old guy that went up there who was clearly an experienced poet/slammer. He did an amazing piece. It was funny all the way thru, while being poignant and beautiful. Somehow this guy got a lower score than me. We looked back at the scores in disbelief. What gives? Well, that's the bias at work. It's kind of sad or frustrating sometimes but...to each his or her own. The judges are picked at random and it's totally up to their arbitrary assessment of what they just saw.

Here's my buddy's take on it, he came out to see me perform in Seattle so I wrote him to tell him what happened in Phoenix and this is what he said :)...
He didn't even stay for the whole thing and that's his (somewhat humorous) assessment of that particular scene. And yeah, the first and last points are kinda true for any slam anywhere, writing IS Cathartic, BIG TIME. But that 2nd point was definitely unique. Nevertheless, that is what I had to overcome and overcome I did not.

I got cut in the first round. Just like that, "Have a seat bub, we'll take it from here." From ten poets to five in the second round and I missed it by one. I really didn't see that coming. I know that poem isn't the best of the three I picked, it's the relative worst in fact, but I thought for sure it was good enough to get me into the second round. I was wrong. Between the three lesbians and two dudes who were all well-versed in slam, I didn't come strong enough. I did the "World Where We Don't Care" piece and I did it well, Josh and my other friend were impressed but my scores were just sorta average. Obviously.

And that really blew. Mainly because the other two pieces I was gonna do were potentially so good! And I really wanted to try em out on this crowd! Such a good crowd, such a diverse crowd, way more diversity than I'd seen elsewhere. Not to mention Josh and David who came to support me and see me do this thing I do. It sucked, but I didn't feel defeated or anything, it wasn't a blow to my self-esteem, I was just bummed that I didn't get more of a chance.

I left there feeling very unsatisfied and it did plant a seed of doubt as to whether I COULD win a slam with these pieces. And it had me thinking that maybe I'm overestimating that first piece, maybe it's not as good as I've come to think based on reactions I got in Bangkok and so on. Yo no se. Mai roo. I tried not to think about it too much. After all I did have one more solid chance to ROCK IT and prove it to myself that this can be done.

A few days later it was time to slam in Mesa. I accepted the fact that I didn't know how it was gonna turn out, but I was confident that I was at least prepared to do my best. The biggest difference between this slam and all the others was that I actually had a slew of support in the audience. It was probably the best turn out I've had to anything I've invited people to in years! In the states that is ;). Nine people came out to see me shout, and it was a helluva drive for pretty much all of em! I was stoked and impressed. Thank you all again for bein there, what a treat and what a pleasure to be able to share that with all of you. FINALLY.

(The first of my peeps to arrive)

They bore witness to one of the best nights of the whole trip and certainly a memorable night in my life. The night I won my first poetry slam! WOOHOO! Thank God I was able to put a show on for em and didn't get cut in the first round like Seattle! Lol. Man, that woulda sucked! But no, I knew that wouldn't happen, I was prepared and prepared to be flexible with the order of my poems to ensure I stayed in the cream on top. In the end though, I didn't have to change anything. I did the same three I WOULDVE done in Seattle had I been given the chance, and I did em in the same order. The difference in reception was exceptional though.

I did that first poem, the one where I'm talkin like a flight attendant, and they loved it. Got a couple tens right off the bat. It was tight. After that I did the New Years Eve poem and...yeah, I think it's safe to say that's one of the best pieces I've EVER written. Which is ironic for so many reasons! But I got some really high scores for that one too. Then I closed with a piece I'd never performed before, THE MATTER, and...it went off and went down well I think. I didn't do it perfectly, I rushed it a little, but...it's a challenging piece to do, my most challenging yet, I didn't get any tens for it, but I got a LOT of nines I think. So I definitely did consistently well.

Numbers aren't my thing, as you may know, so I wasn't exactly keepin track of scores but...there's a chance I was in the lead from one round to the next. That isn't to say I didn't have any competition though. There might not have been as MANY strong competitors at this one as there have been at the others, but by the end of the night, the poets on my heels were comin out with some really strong pieces. I WAS LOVIN IT! Great stuff, had us all up in laughter between waves of beauty and insight. What a show overall, I was proud to be a part of it, much less to take the win! Damn that is SO COOL though. To come back and win one, in the same city I sat and watched and studied and learned and got schooled in, the art of slam!

The other cool part is that all my prior experience in Mesa taught me that one of their biggest biases was against rhyme. They Did NOT Like Rhyme! All the team poets wrote in free verse, all the guest poets performed in free verse, I was one of the only people who would get up there and regularly spit in rhyme. And over time they made it clear, through judging and those who would speak to me, that they liked me, liked my content but didn't like the rhyme. Which I didn't take personal, I wrote in every form, it's not like rhyming was my "THING," the problem was and always has been...free verse is fuckin hard to memorize! I got stuff, I just never took the time to get it down. So yeah, point being, the other night, my big win...ALL RHYME baby. Every piece. In Mesa. Word.

I won't lie, that is a confidence boost I could totally use! This is still really new to me in lots of ways. I still get reasonably nervous up there. And I got really nervous after they announced me as the winner, HOLY SHIT, I was shy and speechless as can be, I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH APPLAUSE! I just wanted to crawl under a hole! That is a crazy foreign substance to me, along with praise and anything else that comes with it. I am so not used that part of the experience, and I hadn't really prepared myself mentally for it either. Even though I've been vying for the win for a month now, as soon as I got it I was like a bumbling idiot! Seriously, my only regret of the night came AFTER I won.

(The host up there doin his thing)

He called me up there to give me the money and I went up there and got it and turned around and wanted to just rush back to my seat so people would stop clapping, but I knew I had to do something other than stare at the ground and scurry away, so I made a silly gesture wavin the money in the air to get a quick laugh and then beelined it for my seat. Before I could go back there though, the host said somethin about a....oh I forget what they call it, like a victory lap but with a poem instead. And THIS I was able to anticipate cuz I've seen em do it before, so I stopped and was like....alllllllll right. And I went back up to the mic, but instead of doing the one thing I shoulda done up there, I just picked a poem, went into it, did my thing and sat down! Cuz THAT'S THE ONE THING I'm good at and confident enough to do, whereas I SHOULDVE Said "HEY, THANKS FOR LIKIN MY SHIT PEOPLE! Geez, Real nice of you!" But did I say that? NO! I didn't say thanks to the audience, I didn't say thanks to the judges, it didn't even cross my mind til I finally got back to my seat cuz I was so overwhelmed and flustered by it all. What a rookie move! So disappointed in myself for that. Lame.

What I learned that night is, when it comes to me and microphones: performing pieces, no probs; AD LIBBING and just addressing the crowd, bloody hell, you would think I was King George! Especially after people were applauding me, so not cool! Lol. I need to find my inner AC Slater and Vjay the hell out of those moments! F'reeeeal!

It was QUITE awesome though. What a win. What a night. I did, after realizing my faux pas, make my way around and thank and tip my hat to my competitors and the organizers though. Some cool peeps there. It was an honor to face off with them. Kinda makes me sad that I won't get to do that on a regular basis. It's a GREAT way to hone your craft but it's also inspirational, motivational, and...humbling. Either way...I'M IN. This is something I will do for years to come. It will be a staple in my life. As time goes on, I foresee it becoming a bigger and bigger "hobby" for me, and as more times goes on it may peak and become and smaller and smaller part of my life as I move on to other things, new challenges. But I know the experience I pull from that plot line will benefit me wherever I go. I can't wait to see how many doors it makes manifest and how many I actually open.

SLAMMIN in Santa Cruz!

So as promised I did begin slamming again! First time in 8 years. A few nights ago. In Santa Cruz. It was awesome. But I didn't win. Not that I expected to, but...you never know. :)

Na, it was really cool though. I had some fierce/great competition. A couple members of the UCSC slam team (which got 2nd at nationals) were competing that night, so I really would've had to bring out my best poems to have a chance against em, and I didn't. I decided to try out an old piece I've never performed before. I already figured it wasn't anything amazing but...the timing seemed right to test it out, so I did.

Part of the reason I did that one though was because I got thrown off by how they do it there. They only have two rounds (normally (in my experience at least) there's three) and the first round is only one minute. When I found that out I was like" shit, what poems do I have that are under a minute?!" Again, it's been SO LONG since I've competed or even been to one of these things, I thought it best to play by the rules, stay between the lines and such, and since I happened to be the FIRST one up for some reason, I didn't have a chance to see that everyone else just says "fuck the time limit" (which they said many times actually) and does whatever! I woulda been better off doing that too (if I wanted a chance to win) but at the same time I'm glad I tested that one out. It got a decent score, outta five judges, it got one ten, a nine somethin, and an eight somethin and so on. But it got a low score of 4, so...that hurt. It felt good though, I didn't really care about the scores much, I'm mainly just in it for the experience, the rush, the practice. Everything else is gravy.

Honestly, the best part of it all was getting to share that part of my existence with Erica and getting to see her reaction. Which was awesome! She was stoked by the whole experience, but also by my performances, and seein her surprise and joy was all the support and motivation I could ask for that night. Think I may have even made a convert out of her, she wants to go back and do it herself. MAD PROPS if she does!

I love bein able to SHARE this side of me with you guys though, that is easily one of the best parts of this trip home. As soon as I started doing it again, as soon as I felt that desire and the hunger to perform and then did that first time in Bangkok, it instantly became ridiculous to me that I ever stopped AND that so few people in my life even know that I CAN do this. I'm like a closeted heterosexual...poet. A very straight poet who's been in the closet for a very long time. For some reason. Even though I'm not gay at all. It's time to tear those slatted doors off the hinges! Or at least knock down a wall, make it a walk-in closet and invite all of you inside. "Pay no mind to the feather boas in the corner guys, those aren't mine, I swearrr!"

Back to the slam, regardless of my score in the first round, that little dinky poem I wrote in 1998 was good enough to get me into the second round! I made the cut, from 8 poets to 4. The second round was three minutes, much better, enough time to spread the wings a bit. And I brought what seems to be one of my better pieces, the one I performed at Anja's housewarming, my NYE poem, and it came out perfectly. Powerfully. I felt it, every step of the way. And it seems like I blew that crowd away with it. I GOT THREE TENS! I don't remember anybody else getting that many perfect scores all night. Those judges were not generous, but they couldn't deny me on that one. It was awesome. I think the low score was like an 8.6. So that one rocks for sure! I'll be bringin that one to Seattle, no doubt!

Oh yeah, I did that one without a mic too! Can you imagine?? :)
Well I hope so, cuz we did a terrible job of documenting the night!

I wasn't sure where I stood in the scores, I couldn't remember my own from the first round, so I was a little hopeful that the second one might swing me up there but...the competition was just too strong. These were seasoned pros for all intents and purposes, on their home turf! And their poems were excellent. In the end it didn't matter how great my second poem was, the first one had to be top notch too. If I hadn't gone first, I coulda cased the place and figured that out but...it's cool. I think Seattle would be a much cooler place to win it anyway! No offense Santa Cruz ;).

After it was over I had a couple people come up and talk to me and say some nice things, and then when it was one of the team members, I could tell they were kinda scoutin and wantin to recruit me :). It was cool.
They're all, "you should come back for the next one, really!"
And I'm all, "I don't live here, I'm just passin thru town, havin a little fun."
"Then you can drive back in a couple weeks, c'mon! Where do you live?"
"Bangkok."
".......Oh! ....Well that's not very close."
"No it's not" :)

It was cute. It was fun. It was really a great warm up and that's kinda how I see it. Cuz while I did do my best, I know I didn't bring my best work out so.....guess what I'm gonna do next time?! OH YEAH, GUNS-A-BLAZIN! Seattle's slam has to be even bigger than this one. And the competition has to be just as fierce, which is fine, I don't expect it to come easy. But I really do believe if I do three of my bestest poems and do em well, I can take the cake! And I'm lookin forward to the day that I do.

I'll let you know how it goes folks. The next one is Seattle on the 5th and then Phoenix on the ninth. Both of em could be bigguns. I'm gonna miss the one in Portland (unfortunately) it looks like and I haven't found out about Austin yet, but....if I place in the next two, I think I'll be pretty damn satisfied! Wish me luck guys, I do hope to make ya proud!

Peace out & Palabra!
(the featured poets doin their thing in tandem. Also the ONE picture I took while we were there. WHAT? I WAS FOCUSED!)