The long and short of the last few days is this—

Poetry is the only thing in my life that I can fail at and not feel like a complete loser.

It seems like all my other battles are the total sum of the war. I only view retreats as a marathon that never ends. My defeats seem like death. And even some of my victories only feel like a mad gasp of air in the middle of the ocean.

On the other hand, I have had a ton of roadblocks in my poetry life. Long bouts of writers block, booking failures, lost slams, rejection letters, bad features, ugly poems, etc. but none of those things ever stop me. Shit, they revitalize me! And I don’t even know why I’m fighting so hard.

I have no idea what my personal Grail looks like. I used to think it was the BOOK. One day seeing my name archived in the Library of Congress would be the last rung on the ladder but then I see the people around me, my peers/mentors/heroes and know that the day I get a book, I’m just going to start planning for the next one (actually, I will probably sit down and write a long list as to what is REALLY wrong with the book).

Outside of the serene white walls of this illusionary world I have built for myself, one person told me something that felt harsher than any barrage of critiques could feel like. They hit me in my Achilles Heel and I was done.

you know that i’ve become a poetry snob when i look back at the week that was and completely blank out on finally hearing piri thomas read. if i really want to cop a plea, i’ll say that the event at fordham university was so well run that i cant play the critic and dog it out.

piri was equally as chill. i was able to sneak in some words with him before the event began and he was that mad suave senor that always has a smile and kind word for everyone.

and then there is the arrogance… he asked for some questions during his reading and i wondered out loud as to what books – other than “Down These Mean Streets” – should every latino have read. he responded by listing the other books hes written. if it was anyone else, this would have been the height of selfishness, but its amazing what a great smile and exhuberant joy of life will do to change that to just a simple statement of opinion- i am a great writer that wants the whole world to read his story.

and, on the real, if you dont have that arrogance about your work – tempered with some humility on life – then whats the point?

– Friday Night Dynamite the “Till Next We Meet Again, Mariposita” Edition
fun with RAC up in her crib. puff pastries. sayin bye to dawn. talking mad trash as i turn into the human history book and recount ‘a lil bit louder: the early days’ as told to me by guy
– rockin with ray at the nuyo for Words: Hip-Hop & Poetry Showcase
I may not have won over all the crowd (actually, i can practically guarantee i will not be invited back) but i had an awesome performance that saw me shed just a lil bit more of my inhibitions
– Spread the Word @ the Bowery
aka louderSUNDAYS(!) a fun time for sure with me havin mad fun on the mic as host (i told one of THE worst puns ever, got chewed out by the crowd)
– Picnic in the City
eating on fucked up grass surrounded by smog and highrises is NOT communing with nature. Sharing food and laughs with the people i love IS
– Pete’s Big Salmon
skipped the death match at 13 to check out Cynthia Cruz at this great Brooklyn reading. Ada Limon & Jen Knox hold it down but don’t expect to hear rants and diatribes, most of the poems are short and to the point, blink & you will miss the metaphor
– CHARMED!
this may be the last season so i gotta enjoy it while its here
– Las Gallas
do NOT call them hens. i get there late (like always) but catch the ladies rockin it out lovely. synonymUS is on a roll, kid! 3 yr anniversary is comin up, get ready for the hotness
– Wu-Tang is for the Children
wake up at six ay em(!) so that i can do a poetry presentation for the kids at PS/MS194 in the Bronx. talk about a rough crowd, these lil kids will eat you alive if you let em. i make some new friends and not only survive but hear this at the end of it
”can we start a poetry club?” yeah, i am mad HAPPY wit mahself
– Martin, Jack, Mark & Me
i get to hang with not only Martin Espada but also Jack Agueros. these two are HYSTERICAL. i cant even tell you how hard they had us crackin up. speakin of- roger, rich and i were in ULTRA jackass mode. in the middle of all this i get to chill with Mark Doty and start asking him some crazy questions about poetry… and he answers all of them. (IMA ASK FOR THE Nth TIME ON THIS BLOG- WHY ARE ALL THE GREAT POETS SO COOL AND THE MOFOS THAT ALMOST(!) GET ON DEF POETRY SUCH ASSHOLES?!)
– Robeson
off to see Abena rock the party on stage!
– Go Shawdy!
then to Fiona’s B-Day Jam to read a poem i have still NOT written! new hotness? i don’t know but i am going to write ONE of these two poems
LETTER TO MY FUTURE EX-WIFE
or
POEM TO THE WOMAN I AM INFATUATED WITH IN THE HOPE THAT YOU WILL SLEEP WITH ME

love ya like climbing the stairs of the aztec pyramids

Originally uploaded by oscarb.

thanks to raj (which is ‘i never post on my blog’ in syrian) for this photo that proves this city can embrace the world…