The Box Monster

There's several milestones in your kid's life that you look forward to, some happily, some with dread. This morning, Isaac hit one of the those. Last night, he discovered the box our latest shipment of Green Mountain Coffee came in (Fair Trade, ahem...) and started playing with it, standing in it, putting his toys in it and finally, putting it on his head. When he started walking around playing his own version of blind man's bluff [remember that game, best played with girls you wanted to feel up?], I decided to cut some eye slits into the box so he…

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Remember the Open Room?

Been sent some interesting names for the show so far, with early favorites Performance Anxiety, Breaking Form and Word of Mouth. Send more.

Haven’t heard back from Jackie Sheeler yet about the length of tomorrow’s feature so I’m getting a little antsy about my set. There’s a big difference between 20, 30 and 45-minute sets. I don’t like 20-minute sets as I never feel like I get in a good rhythm and always have to leave out a couple of my favorite poems. 30-minutes is solid, enough time to present a range of work without feeling rushed. 45-minutes can be daunting as you have to really nail your flow to keep the audience engaged but it’s also a fun challenge. The longer the set, the better feel for a poet’s style and range you get. Three-poem slam wonders generally flounder past 20 minutes as the bombast gets old and the lack of depth becomes more and more apparent.

I’ve been reading through a lot of my old stuff recently and was surprised by how long it’s been since I’ve read some of them out loud. Read Celluloid Childhood at Acentos on Tuesday and, despite the obvious rust, remembered that it was one of my favorite pieces at one point. The combination of pushing for the new in slam with allowing my own output to take a back seat for so many years has left me in the weird position of having to reconnect with almost all of my work as if it were brand new. Hopefully tomorrow is at least a 30-minute set so I can do a nice mix of the old and new. Well, newish! 😉

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What’s in a name?

It's raining again here in NYC. Serious, thunder and lightning, shake the building kind of rain. Got my ass soaked heading up to the Bowery earlier. Everything but my crotch and my hair got wet! Two hours later and I'm still not completely dry. Anyway, I have a favor to ask all you random people that read this thing. I'm working on a new show idea, a monthly format with poets & musicians plus a lot of audience interaction. Think a combination of Pardon the Interruption, Politically Incorrect, Who's Line Is It Anyway and Arsenio Hall. Something like that. It…

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RIP: Celia Cruz

Salomé on Celia Cruz: I just got back from the funeral procession for Celia Cruz. They left the funeral home on 82nd street at 12:30pm and I figured I could wait a little while (since I'm on 55th street) before heading to Fifth Avenue to see her be carried to the mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral. But when I heard on the news that there were 75 THOUSAND people following the procession down Fifth, I decided to just head over there to make sure I could at least get a glimpse of them passing by. When I got to Fifth…

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Buckshot

1) I'm so over Angelina Jolie. Caught pieces of her interview last week and couldn't help but be irritated. Salomé nailed it: "She's a spoiled, overprivileged brat that craves attention." Or something to that effect. Seriously, though, she's got big boobs and lips (but no hips or ass at all!) and has done a couple of decent movies (Gia and Girl, Interrupted) where she got to act out. Everything else she's done was lame to sucky. I feel sorry for that Cambodian kid she adopted. How the hell do freaks like her get to adopt a kid anyway? 2) The…

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A poem for Mr. Wayne

This might end up over on Gotham City News once I figure out what exactly I want to do with it. The blog, I mean. Wrote it today at lunch, sitting in Battery Park, having completely forgotten I was supposed to be at the the dentist! Gotham City Suite Untitled, #1 somewhere in the city when night blankets the streets and evil comes out to play a man with too much money and too little hope battles demons real and imagined he is neither cure nor salve merely a tourniquet sacrificing limb for body peace of mind for soul his…

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