From the random thoughts department: I can't help but think that there's something terribly repulsive about this Josh Gracin kid being on American Idol instead of with his Marine unit awating deployment, while thousands of RESERVISTS have been activated, dragged away from their families and their jobs to honor their committment to Uncle Sam. That just stinks.
Back when I was single and just starting out on the poetry scene, I quickly learned one rule of thumb: no matter how attractive, never introduce yourself to a poet until AFTER you’ve heard them read. There’s nothing more awkward than the moment they finish their poem, you realize they’re absolutely terrible – or, even worse, some sad variation on mediocre – and you’ve lost all desire to continue the conversation!
Curating a reading series that includes a slam, I’m always on the lookout for new voices on the scene to invite to read at 13. Whether a potential feature or a new slammer, whenever I’m at a show, I’m careful about who I’m introduced to and, more importantly, WHEN. It’s no longer about attraction but the logic is the same. If anything, it’s even worse.
The absolute worst is people who have established something of a name for themselves – not terribly difficult in these days of DIY PR, the internet and the overall spoken word bandwagon. Recently, I was at a show where one such person was reading. I’d seen her name around and was curious. Thankfully, I waited to hear a couple of pieces before being introduced. She wasn’t terrible, but she wasn’t very good, either. Great performance and stage presence but not nearly enough attention to crafting the words. Most annoying was her identity piece – everyone’s got at least one! – that ranted about the stereotyping of her people while simultaneously indulging in the stereotypes of another. Lacking any sense of irony, it just came off as ignorant.
“Third time’s a charm,” is how the saying goes. I hope so since I had my third interview in seven days this afternoon! It was a final interview with the one person in the department I hadn’t met yet and it’s apparently come down to me and one other person. Relatively confident in the interviews but who knows? They’ve already started checking my references which is a good sign. Cross your fingers.
It’s a return to publishing but, ironically, it’s FINANCIAL magazines this time! This would be the first time I’d actually known a magazine prior to working for it. It’s a bit more marketing than circulation this time around, which would be great, and it’s four magazines, a few newsletters and some web sites, which should keep things interesting.
Ask and ye shall be told. I checked with a colleague of mine at Refuse and Resist about what was up with the Lincoln Center event and here's the deal: "The sponsoring group for the event is Not In Our Name Statement of Conscience (you can see it at www.nion.us), and any money raised will go towards printing the statement in publications around the country. it has already appeared in 45 newspapers or magazines here and internationally, some of which have been paid ads, paid for by donations from people who have seen earlier ads. No one is being paid…
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.
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.