Guy LeCharles Gonzalez (aka glecharles) (aka loudpoet)

An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

Taking a breather from another whirlwind day at work that will conclude with the aforementioned seminar with the greedy but nervous (don't believe anyone that tells you the stock market has recovered) and me in a suit... Icewind Dale II is the shit! I'm not a big computer gamer - preferring the portability of my GameBoy Advance - but this one has me completely hooked. COMPLETELY! I finally made it through the second stage of the game last night, wresting control of a critical bridge from a ferocious assortment of baddies that would've allowed the evil horde to overtake Targos.…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

Last week came and went and I feel like I didn't get nearly enough done, at work or at home. With the new boss operating at half-speed - she's asked me to slow down three different times while explaining aspects of her job that got dumped on my desk in the transition - work feels like it's ground to a screeching halt. I think she's in way over her head as she's floundering already and hasn't even seen half of what she's responsible for! They really screwed us with the botched transition and I'm concerned it's going to change this…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

Charles Bukowski and I share a birthday. So does Madonna. Frank & Kathie Lee Gifford. Yes, both of them. Elvis died on my birthday. The roller coaster was patented on my birthday. Such seemingly random events occuring on August 16th explains a lot. I'm having trouble grasping the idea of being 34 years old, though. Not in some mid-life crisis kind of way; more along philosophical lines, trying to understand what being 34 means. Or should mean, at least. I'm married with two kids. I've achieved some modest success in my various pursuits. As I define it, anyway. I'm as…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

So the great blackout of '03 is fading into history and, while an interesting experience (and assuming the worst is really over), I can't complain. The lights went out at my job at 4:13pm, just as I was in the initial stages of wrapping up the loose ends on everything I'm juggling before I leave for vacation. The first 20 minutes or so was low-key confusion as the longer the lights stayed off, the more people started to worry that "something" had happened. With my office being walking distance to the former World Trade Center, and many of my co-workers…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

Ever seen a shitstorm? Head on over to the poetry_slam listserve for a peek at one. Woah! I didn't start it for once but damn if I didn't throw a few tough ones to the body! I really hate that list because it brings out the worst in me. I'm admittedly contentious and have rarely come across a fight I didn't think I could win but shit, this can't be good for my mental health! It's like a mutually abusive relationship. I really have to consider stepping away from it completely because I certainly don't know how to keep my…

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An arm with a tattoo: "I was made for the library, not the classroom."

Totally forgot to put this out there: Word Street has launched! That's the poetry/spoken word magazine I've been hinting at for awhile that I was writing the article on slam's relevance for. This issue is kind of a sampler, a web-only teaser, but the hope is for the first print edition to publish in October. Check it out at it's temporary address: Word Street Also, drop me some ideas for articles or essays. And tell all your friends!

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