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

Westside Rhyme

What Shawn Randall and Karen Rockower pull off every Sunday with Westside Rhyme is nothing short of inspirational!

I had the privilege of being one of their features at the Bowery Poetry Club last night – my second reading since I’ve been back – and had the most fun I’ve had outside of Monday nights in a long time. The snow had already started falling an hour before the show kicked off but they managed to pack the house anyway with an enthusiastic crowd. I’m a firm believer in a venue taking on the personality of the host/s running things and that’s what makes Westside Rhyme such a pleasure, the energy that Shawn and Karen put into it. It’s obvious they love what they’re doing and they do it well. Over time, that translates to a loyal audience that believes in what you’re doing.

The lineup included Mara Jebsen, the relative “newcomer” that several of the louder people have been raving about. Finally seeing her do more than one poem was a treat. She’s got great stage presence and this husky blues voice that handles poetry and song equally well. If our audience has even half the intelligence we give them credit for, she’ll be representing for us at Nationals this summer.

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

Charging the choir for a sermon

Call me cynical – you wouldn’t be the first! – but I’ve got some issues with this Lincoln Center Anti-War reading next Monday. And no, it’s got nothing to do with it being ON a Monday. I’ve encouraged people to check it out and even sent it out to our mailing list. It was actually a response to that mailing from a friend in Seattle that got me thinking, though.

The CONCEPT is wonderful. A bunch of poets covering the spectrum from establishment to street coming together to speak out against the war is a good thing. A VERY good thing. But what’s with the $10-100 ticket charge? I’ve looked around the Not in Our Name and Lincoln Center web sites and read through the promotional emails I’ve been sent and there’s no mention of this being a fundraiser. Who’s this money going to?

My wife – former event planner that she is – says Lincoln Center is an expensive place to hold an event. I don’t doubt it and that’s what confuses me even more. It makes no sense to me that you’d hold an event like THIS somewhere that isn’t donating the space, much less an expensive one. Who are they trying to reach out to? Why isn’t this a free event held somewhere that could ensure maximum exposure? Even @ $10/ticket, it’s a POETRY show, and all you’re doing is preaching to the choir if that’s your audience.

Don’t accuse me of pulling a post-9/11 O’Reilly on a good cause, either. Seriously. If it’s a fundraiser, it should say that SOMEWHERE. If it’s not, then it’s nothing more than capitalistic opportunism. If the poets themselves are being paid for reading at this thing, shame on them. There’s several names on the lineup that I know personally, some of whom I respect greatly. There’s at least one whose politics have proven rather convenient over the years, aka if there’s cameras, he’ll be there.

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

Quien es Dame Edna?

Dame Edna… My goodness.

If I get one more email sent to me about boycotting Vanity Fair because Dame Edna made racist comments about Latinos, I think I might lose my mind! I mean, really!

First of all, it’s a dipshit magazine with great photos and the occasional good article, packaged for people that think they’re too good for…well, People! Second, it’s obvious that anyone that forwards the email in question neither reads the magazine or has a clue who Dame Edna is.

How exactly do you boycott something you don’t patronize to begin with anyway? And how do you convince those that actually DO patronize it to boycott when they know from jump that you don’t what the hell you’re talking about?!?!

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

The signs were everywhere

My Daily Horoscope for February 05, 2003 (courtesy of AstroCenter.com & Yahoo!): “Dear Guy, As a Leo you are probably quite comfortable in a group of people, Guy. Your gregarious nature tends to attract a lot of friends. But today you might feel a greater need for some time to yourself. Don’t hesitate to tell those around you that you need to be alone for a little while. Feeling the need to perform every day can wear a person into the ground until they reach a point where acting up becomes so second nature that even they don’t know what they’re really feeling. Take some time to yourself.”

I’ve always enjoyed reading horoscopes for their entertainment value and random appropriateness but the last few months of 2002, I became hooked on this particular series of horoscopes. While the Virginia experiment was coming to a head, the ‘scopes were getting eeriely more specific, like these people were watching me and trying to send me warnings of the approaching iceberg.

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

5 Past 13

The first six months in Virginia weren’t so bad but, when August came around and I missed my first Nationals since 1998, things began to shift. I came up to visit in the beginning of September, hosted the show that Monday and realized how much I missed it all. I’d not only walked away from my baby, which was hard enough, but I’d walked away from my friends. Mondays were my second home, my living room that welcomed all sorts of random people in every week, mixing with the people I held most dear.

When we decided to come back, I knew a big part of getting myself back to normal was getting myself back to Monday nights. When we left, I was extremely burnt out and desperately needed a break. I realized later that it was predominantly my increased involvement on the national scene, and the resulting frustration, that had finally pushed me over the edge. The whole PSI experience left me even more cynical and jaded than usual, but with the proper distance, I realized what a small part of my world it really was. It was the poetry that had gotten me in the beginning – seeing how it could change someone’s life, giving them a voice they never knew they had, or just never knew how to use. That’s what was important. The rest of it was either icing on the cake, or the crusty burnt shit stuck to the pan.

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

The Virginia Curveball

Sometimes life can throw you some curveballs. You expect it. It’s the fastballs that get you, though. The high heat an inch from the tip of your nose that makes your life flash before your eyes. Those are the ones that knock you on your ass.

Two weeks after we got to Virginia, my wife realizes she’s pregnant. High heat!

It threw us for a serious loop that we’re only now coming out of. For those wondering how the hell I ended up working as a Financial Advisor, there you go. The call came out of nowhere – a recruiting call via Monster.com – and I was made an offer two weeks later and it came with immediate benefits. The pay sucked but there was that whole building your own business angle that was appealing. It meant paying some serious dues the first couple of years but, with a baby on the way and one $1000 trip to the ER under our belt, beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, I’m always up for a challenge and the daunting task of getting three licenses – Series 7, 66 and Life & Health – in 12 weeks ranked up there with the best of them.

The exams were a bitch, probably the toughest I’d ever crammed for, but I got through them solidly, scoring 87, 85 and 86, though I forget which were which. Not bad for having ZERO prior financial experience. Their training resources were everything they said they’d be. Unfortunately, that’s about all that was.

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