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

Throughout most of my twenties, I went through a few self-created "mid-life crises," unsure of what the hell I was doing and what I wanted to do next. The common thread running through that decade was avoidance. Avoid responsibility, avoid maturity, and avoid anything that might inadvertantly lead to either of those outcomes. "Act first, deal with the consequences later." My first "crisis" actually came at 19, a few months after I'd snuck out of my mother's house in the middle of the night, leaving my family and the Jehovah's Witnesses behind. Having been given three weeks notice of being…

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

Pumpkin Seeds: Randomonia Edition

1. Salomé doesn't want her own blog because she hates those that are of the self-absorbed, "Today, I went to..." variety. Between that and her complete disdain for politics, I'm starting to believe she really does only use my blog for the links to other people's blogs. That's what she tells me, at least! Meanwhile, she's bugging me to post my To-Do For 35 List. [Which is coming as soon as I figure it out!] 2. Five days into my 35th year and I'm sleepy, still recovering from the open bar and late night out on Tuesday. Between the two-day…

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

Pumpkin Seeds: Wizard of Oz Edition

1. I have no problem with anonymous comments – not everybody wants/needs to sign up for a Blogger account – but to do so maliciously, purposely hiding your identity so you can make hurtful or inflammatory statements is just cowardly, petty bullshit. To go so far as to create a fake Blogger account for the express purpose of tormenting someone you have issues with is even worse. Have the courage to own up to your shit or shut the hell up. 2. This has nothing to do with me directly as I couldn’t care less what an anonymous commenter has…

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

Weddings

When Salomé and I got married back in 1998, it was a step into completely foreign territory as none of our close friends were married, few even in serious relationships. Not counting my father’s shotgun second marriage at town hall 18 years earlier, I’d never even been to a wedding before! Our wedding was a relatively simple affair, with 90 or so family and friends attending a no-frills, non-denominational ceremony, and a well-catered reception with a DJ. We avoided as much of the traditional stuff as we could get away with – one friend jokingly called Sal's father the "wedding…

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

It's been four days since my last confession, Blogger, but in a rare switcheroo, I was busy talking smack over on my little-used LiveJournal account, commenting on the debacle that was the 2004 National Poetry Slam. I won't get into it here other than to say, while I feel bad for those who attended and got screwed over in one way or another, you get what you pay for. If I were you, I'd think twice about renewing that PSI membership next year. Mind you, this is completely separate from my opinion on the concept of slam itself, which I…

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

Best. Feature. Ever.

Thanks to everyone that came out to the Blue Ox last night. There's no possible way you could have enjoyed it more than I did but I hope it came close. Having family, both blood and chosen, and friends in the audience along with a nice mix of complete strangers helped make it a truly special moment. Other than the night I proposed to Salomé at the Nuyorican, nothing else I've ever done on a stage even comes close. At the beginning of my set, I mentioned Tony Brown's approach of what if this was the last time you ever…

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

Aniticpating Acentos

I don't usually get nervous about a reading until 10-15 minutes before it starts so the premature butterflies that have been floating around since last night have me feeling really dizzy. I found out last night that my aunt, youngest on my father's side and more like a cousin, is coming to the reading and got a little freaked out. A couple of my cousins from my mother's side will be there, too - who haven't seen me read since my first couple of slams at the Nuyorican - as well as a handful of non-poetry friends, turning it into…

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