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Guy stuff.

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

What the hell, all the kids are doing it...! THREE THINGS THAT SCARE ME: Blind loyalty Apathy Money (as in too much of it) THREE PEOPLE WHO MAKE ME LAUGH: Michael Savage (you HAVE to laugh, o'wise, you have to take him seriously) Isaac (esp. when he's mad) Shappy THREE THINGS I LOVE: My wife & kids Our apartment Helping people THREE THINGS I HATE: Blind loyalty Apathy Money (when it's unfairly distributed) THREE THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND: How planes fly Third eyes Keanu Reeves' career THREE THINGS ON MY DESK: Pictures of my wife & kids Shea Stadium Replica…

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

Fulano, Live!

Have you ever heard me live? Fulano. Listen to the live version, recorded at the 1999 NPS Semi-Finals when we were facing the Nuyorican in the most intense slam I've ever been in. The studio version, done on minidisc in Soft Skull's original Shortwave store in Tonic, sucks. There's also the nycSLAMS and 5 PAST 13 CDs, with Prodigal Son and Breathless, respectively. Catch me in person in a rare NYC feature on Friday, July 25 at the Cornelia Street Café. That's the closest I get to self-promotion! Have a nice weekend. :-)

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

What ever happened to Surge Frost?

I met with Cristin last week for the interview for her upcoming book on slam and, after nearly three hours, we'd only gotten up to the 1999 Nationals! Hadn't thought in-depth about the early days in ages but sitting with Cristin, one thing led to another, one story uncovering another uncovering yet another, and I was both surprised at how much I remembered and, even moreso, at how integral a part of my life the whole scene had become in such a short time. The first two years in particular were some heady times, from my first slam in July…

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

“A metaphorically transcribed poem.”

"I Killed Biggie Smalls" UPDATE: one of the people emailed back saying my poem had been posted in a forum on www.notoriousonline.com - a fan site for B.I.G. - and caused a bit of a hubbub. I logged in to check it out and apparently somebody had come across the poem and posted it, asking "what's up with that?!?" to which someone else responded, "Could this be a metaphorically produced poem?" (Stop laughing!) Someone else posts my name and email address and says, "I say we email this sucka and ask him wassup." (I said stop it!) Two of them…

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

“Did u really kill biggie smalls?”

Now THIS is weird. For me, at least, who's more used to technical emails ("how do I get booked at...," "how do I get published...," etc.) than personal ones. Today, I got two separate emails asking about my poem, Confessions of a Serial Killer. It's an old poem that I wrote back in 1997 and have probably read publicly less than 10 times, and only once in the past four years, at Acentos a couple of weeks ago. Both emails asked why I wrote it, the first actually asking (jokingly, I hope), "did u really kill biggie smalls?" My answer…

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

Made it to the gym today. First time in…hell, before Isaac was born, at least! The convenience of it being right across the street from the job should shame me into going consistently twice a week. It should be noted that I don’t really know my way around a gym. Don’t know the names of most of my muscles or their corresponding exercises. The little bit of stretching I know comes from the Army and my old acting workshops! (Improv is great exercise, physically and psychologically; much better than preparing to die.) Mainly, I use the bike or the treadmill,…

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

The Freshmen

I love this song, although, reading the lyrics, I realized I had no clue what the hell it's about! Abortion, maybe? Definitely a suicide in there. THE VERVE PIPE The Freshmen When I was young I knew everything She a punk who rarely ever took advice Now I'm guilt stricken, sobbing with my head on the floor Stop a baby's breath and a shoe full of rice I can't be held responsible 'Cause she was touching her face I won't be held responsible She fell in love in the first place For the life of me I cannot remember What…

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