ser·en·dip·i·ty
ser·en·dip·i·ty the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for. Omar is a bad man. Bad. Appealing to the geek in me, he dropped the idea of a fan fiction-type project in my head – writing our own versions of comic books online – and it’s like the time I was
Ok, I lied. Quick fix! Ed Garcia is THE man! The CD (5 PAST 13) is going to be ready for Monday night’s show and it’s purely because he busted his ass to get it done. The mastering, the design, the production…hell, he even ordered the track list! (I’m #13.) Fuck collectivism, it takes individuals
So last night was the rather inauspicious relaunch of louderJAM. Light turnout, low energy and some of the most random MFs on the open mic. WTF?!?! The Impossible Home excerpt was interesting if a little sloppy in its adaptation to a different space. Reminded me somewhat of the erotica reading a few years back at
The Great Debate, #632: Is Freestyle Poetry?
Many say it isn’t. I say, it depends. One of the arguments against it that I hear the most is that it’s unfair to pit a freestyle against a poem that’s been crafted over time, edited and revised, etc. If you picked up some slam bias from the “unfair,” you nailed the issue. Freestyle is
America is stupid. At least the ones that watch American Idol and take the time to vote. I mean, really, what the fuck was THAT last night?!?! Ruben in the bottom two? Trenyce booted while Camouflage Doughboy lives on? That fake jarhead couldn’t even hold his head up while Ruben stood out there waiting for
Found parking quickly this morning! Yay! Salomé and the kids are back tonight! Yay! Going back to Hartsdale. Boo! Last night’s slam… Need another day to digest it. Maya Azucena: WOW! The slam took a back seat to her performance. Read my new poem (the end result from last week’s free write) at the end
In the breakup with my last girlfriend before Salomé, I left a trunk full of personal items behind that my ex threatened to throw out. She never actually did throw it out but I never got it back either. There were a lot of things in that trunk I’d like to get back, not the
Josh Gracin. Why does this twangy fool irritate me so? I’ve been Googling him to get some more information on his status and it’s all annoyingly vague and largely supportive. It’s disgusting that this guy is living it up in a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, “pursuing his dream,” supposedly using his leave-time to remain
I’m still awake when I should damn well be in bed. It’s a rare opportunity that I can go to sleep before 11pm and I let it slip, anxious about this war we’ve finally begun. The bombs have started to fall – a target of opportunity, apparently – and from here on out, the world
Selected Squares of Concrete
SELECTED SQUARES OF CONCRETE. That’s the name of my new chapbook that I just finished putting together last night. I’m going to release it at Acentos on Tuesday if I can get it turned around quick enough. “But, Guy…” you’re probably saying, “You’ve written one new poem in three years! How in the world do