I have two trivial but deeply personal artistic problems this weekend.

The first is that I do not know when the hell I am going to get to see Sin City. I got no car so I wasn’t able to catch any midnight shows last night. Tonight, I am up at the Hudson Writer’s Center to check out Jack McCarthy (who I have never seen live but have seen his work on the page, CD and video and am ULTRA impressed) and Roger (who I have seen – in performance – maybe close to 100 times but Rog always manages to add something to each performance). Tomorrow has me workin, then checkin out a reading up in Hostos, then it’s Raj’s birthday and Sunday has me celebratin Eric’s birthday.

How is a comic head supposed to get to see one of his favorite serials get the major star treatment? Is it really fair to wait this long to see Jessica Alba?

(I bet you any money the strip club scene is only gonna last 30 seconds but Lawd(!) it’s still gonna be a great 30 seconds.) On the real, Sin City is shaping to be THE comic book adaption of all time. And with a cast that hits almost every major demographic expect incredible crossover appeal which should lead to some well deserved praise for Frank Miller who is a genius in the comic book genre (Batman: Year One /Daredevil /Ronin / The Dark Knight Returns… for right now we will ignore the abysmal DK2: The Dark Knight Strikes Again)

Next up is that Monday is the anniversaryFEST at Bar13 and I still have not decided what I am actually going to read that night. Maybe I’ll pull a Profe and write something at the bar 10 minutes beforehand since I don’t think I can pull another o.b. and write something new and (hopefully) interesting the night before. Let’s see. If anybody wants to make a request, hit the comments section or email me back channel.

leaving the bronx museum of the arts reading, i tell maria that i could not be happier about the whole thing. from top to bottom, i was completely satisified.
“you really are totally pleased, arent ya?”
yep, i believe i am.
“wow, i am so not used to this from you”

from the jump i knew that last night would be a beautiful event. the cynic in me disdains such moments of confidence since high perches are synonymus ;-) with high falls but my instincts were saying 5×5, mofo, 5×5. i got to the BXMA on time and was happy to see tony and rich there. eliel and kyra soon followed so we have features and host all in place but very little audience. for a hot second it looked like it was gonna be an open mic of me, rich & maria but then here come the belgians!

thats right, ya heard correct, the belgians! almost forty of them came to hear some poetry and at this point, we were all ready, i jerked the curtain and hit em with the warm up piece (a very silently received version of MotB) and we were off…

eliel delivered an amazing 10 minutes of poetry. on the advice of luis cartagena, he asked for no applause (remember yesterdays topic?) until the end of the set and it worked perfectly. as a true professional, he stayed true to the time constraints and crafted an uplifting but realistic portrayal of a soul in crisis, on the verge of complete despair that finds momentary peace in the beauty of the city. a brief respite that is just enough to survive till the next day which, in reality, is all we need. this is the biggest leap i have seen in eliel’s development since he debuted “Platform Plea.” he tempered his natural theatrics and replaced it with an even steady reading that let the language carry the brunt of emotional impact. complete with a sylvia plath cover, this feature displayed a daring side to his manic ways and signals the arrival of a poet comfortable in his own silences. fans of eliel should definitely check out his next feature at spoken word cafe where, i am sure, he will pull out some more surprises.

next up was kyra wolfe and she delivered all the goods. here is a poet that can feature at any venue in the country. she has an amazing perspective that allows us to see situations from both the insider’s and spectator’s point of view almost like hearing the director’s commentary over a really intense movie dvd. the gypsy spirit propelled kyra’s poems as she led us through nyc in both its glories and tragedies. i am moving into loudNOTES territory now so let me step back and say that i am envious of kyra’s talents and hope to hear more of her work since all it does is challenge and inspire me. she certainly takes the “candle light hiding under a bushel” award cuz everybody was floored by her poise and command of the stage and her words. she has been consistent appearances at Acentos and bar13 but i think she should be out and about a lot more than she is now cuz her work is the shot in the arm that people need. i have seen a good range of her newer work and she has enough material to fill a half hour set. at this point i would love a peek at her older material to see the evolution of her writing.

the open mic was a mix of sure fire poets (rich, maria and dawn saylor), some local voices that brought the flavor and one aspiring rapper that attempted to demolish any connection that rap may have to spoken word. when he was informed that we couldnt play his music a full panic hit his face.
but your lyrics are tight, right? you got your flow and some proper verse, right?
“yeah”
then no worries, right?
“i dont think these people are on my vibe, ya know”
you an artist? you got fire?
“yeah”
then make them vibe with you

what a waste of breath. money hit the mic with an entourage of four that did nothing through both(!) his raps and then his manager tried to plug his young charge. as soon as they finished they went back to the doorway they were hiding in the whole night but before they left, i let the manager know that he should teach his artist’s some proper audience etiquette and i let the youngsta in on a lil (not so) secret- if you never get a feel for the crowd, the crowd will never feel you.

closing out the night was tony brown who made me happy to be a curator. tony loves nyc and i was happy to bring him down especially to the bronx. in return tony dropped a set of classics and new hotness that showed me all the promise that slam holds. i was seeing a samurai blade, time tested and steel proof, of poetry that cut through all in lightning fashion. not only was i happy to host/curate but even happier to be a part of an audience that heard poems that tony doesn’t use so often these days which is something I definitely understand y’all know that i am all about the new hotness but sometimes the fan boy in me steps out and wants to experience some of the performance i keep reading about. lets say the fan boy walked away extremely giddy.

and we got a wonderful sendoff from one of the belgian tourists as he thanked us for a wonderful initial exposure to american performance poetry. is this a fuckin beautiful life or what? we were the first voices of poetry in these peoples lives. whenever they think of poetry in the states they will think of this night. cool shit, huh?

the afterparty was at the local cuchifrito spot where we celebrated world peace (“thanks to us, the belgians will NEVER attack the US’) over coronas, cafe con leche, mofongo, cubanos y mojito.

i can continue going on about how amazing the night was but i better stop before i lose my hatah status, tu sabes?

love ya like poetry on the concourse

Another interesting night at Bar13 where I walk in all pessimistic – I mean, c’mon on! It was a miserable day outside! – and walk out feelin aight.

The Slam was capped off by Peter from England who not only brought his own documentary crew but nearly took the whole Slam with a third round poem that only required him to move his eyebrows. (A fact that adds credence to my theory that the third round of a slam is more heavily judged on personality than content.)

The feature, Jason Schneiderman, was tight. His voice could’ve had a lil more range but who am I to talk about monotone poets? His poems were more hit than miss and once he shook off the academic style of reading, where you don’t expect ANY applause at all, he was right on track. He even did a countdown to applause technique that I may just have to go out and steal.

The personal highlight was seeing e(g) back in the house and with Guy & Seve already rabble rousing in the back, it was like 2001 all over again. Dude, we’re getting the band back together! Bonafide helped reunite the West Side highway trio and somebody even dropped a midget joke! Rumor has it that it may have been me but don’t be believing that shit.

I broke out a lil bit early so I didn’t get down with the Reservior talk which I am sure was ri-cock-ulous!

Back to more serious concerns, watching Jason on stage I started thinking that our community has it really good. Our audiences are trained to clap on command for anything from a haiku to a sestina and back again. Then you have the NYU type reading where the person goes up, reads 12 poems almost with out pause and then walks off stage to the golf clap. I’ve been at both extremes so here is the question I ask y’all- Which would you prefer, wild automatic applause (which most times is more reflex than actual feedback), no applause (where everybody can hear every single word you say and any actual applause would be hard earned) or – option 3 – a venue where the host told the audience to only clap for what they liked?

The floor is all yours…

You know the day is not going to be good when you measure the amount of sleep you got in minutes as opposed to hours courtesy of an all night hangout at the Nuyorican. Things started on the good foot as I met up with Scott Woods before his feature for some eats down at Mama’s Soul Food and who should happen to be there but Patricia Smith. Well hot damn. Good eats and even better conversation. Rich meets up with us and we trek down to the Café. Once we get settled in we find out that Roberto Ascalon is also in town for a minute to see hs sister Lisa with girlstory and is going to be in the Slam. Can a brother get a WEPA?

Scott blew my mind with an amazing set of page poetry. His cunnilingus poem may be the best I’ve ever heard and he hit way to close to home when he brought up the need for the family poet at a eulogy (the way I was thrust into poetry). An amazing set of poetry despite the drunk heckler (twice in one weel/what up wit dat?) and the fact that Mad (the performer) felt a need to let the whole Nuyo know he was in the house.

The Slam was proving to be uneventful. Other than ‘berto, I had heard it all already and was anticipating all the key OOO and AHH lines but then one slammer decided that a combined score of 40.5 was an insult and left before the third round. Me thinks someone has lost their Nuyo privileges. Patricia rocked the Sixth Poet slot, if you’ve seen Patricia that’s all you need to know and if you haven’t… what ya waitin’ for?

Exit Scott and Patricia/Enter Omar. The Open Room was just wild with one dude going so buck wild on his near incoherent tirade that I actually started getting uncomfortable. Put it to you like this, I would not have been surprised if he had pulled out a gun and blasted his head off in the last stanza. All the while the haterade is flowing free and loose from the tap in the back of the bar.

And just when you think the night is going to end without incident some drunk preppie asks us for directions as we ignore him and he starts yelling some stupid shit at us. So I turn around ask him where he wants to go (Clinton St) and send him in the opposite direction. Point, game, set, match- o.b.

A quick peek into Spring Lounge to check if e(g) was still in the house – it was only 3am – but no go.

My haterade at the Nuyo has been waning a bit especially since some cat RIPPED it two weeks ago with some crazy imagery. Yes, Virginia, there is some metaphor!

walking into the blue ox on tuesday, i felt damn good. monday at 13 was a joy with a feature that really left it all onstage, abena making me love her even more than before and a pair of impromptu reunions.

work was solid that day. i got a lot done with a minimum of hassle and made a new phone buddy thanks to the “quito bus story” (ima have to drop that one on y’all sometime soon) and to top this all off, i actually got to the blue ox on time!

ray & the mona passage showed up early. meaning we had all the tools in place for sound.

the game plan for the night was laid out and it worked pretty damn well. we started 15 mins past our scheduled start time which was not unexpected. the first half of the open mic went a lil slow and that was also anticipated. so far so good with the only wrench in the machine comin from some loudmouth at the bar that was kind enough to leave when i came up to him and his friend. brave? nah, i had more protection than tom brady with me. ;-) this may be a good time to point out that the ox was packed to the gills. fire hazards, cool for the ego but not cool for a show, jus sayin.

the mona passage came up next. from the jump this was a chance to jump into unknown territory. i know that hard rock is not everyone’s cup of tea and i knew this was their first outing as a band. i also seriously dug it and would pay some cash to see bon and the crew on a bigger stage with better sound. the percussion was infectious, the bass was pumpin (but understated), the lead guitar was a bit ambitious (i.e. bon needs to chill a bit) and im damn sorry that we missed out on the vocals. mad respect to raymond daniel for keeping the sound together and balanced. he was lookin all poised and shit but the reality of it was that he was MAD sick and he was doin the job of three people. again, mad respect.

we go into the break still only 15 mins behind. nice!

ray gives up his feature spot so we can fit more people in on the open and he can recuperate. a true win/win situation. scot lee williams, who also lent a hand with sound, represented synonymUS lovely alongside vandana. still relatively on schedule.

open mic part two. 13 mofos in record time! hooah, bitches! and just when i was hittin a groove… a 2nd heckler. la hondurena was quite the fool. there always has to be something.

maya azucena was THE perfect capper for the night. this woman is a true artist. i’ve seen her rip it in front a rikers class of 20, a packed bar13, an out of control bowery poetry club, a loisaida speak easy and now the blue ox. wherever she goes, she always brings her A game. simply amazing.

so this bad boy is in the record books with a minimum of drama or stress. cool. this show was supposed to be a complete 180 from last years jam. on the real, i couldnt put together a pure poetry feature that would top miguel algarin and mayda del valle so i went with the music angle. i also didnt think we have fostered enough new voices in year two to justify a closed mic that didnt look like a clone from last year. hence, full open mic. A big step for ‘el manda todo‘ to let the universe dictate the flow like that.

and then here come the carpet-micers. in full effect, i may add. here is the deal, if you never come through as an open micer or audience member and then think that im gonna band backwards to get you on the mic, then you are just straight stupid. this isnt me flexing. a few weeks back at boricua college i got “mic blocked” (whats up with me and the new lexicon this week?) the host asked the organizer if the nice gentleman that trooped from the bronx could get down, expanding the open from 4 people to 5, and she politely said “no” they only scheduled for three and they couldnt push it further.

was i disappointed? hell yeah.
did i understand? sure.
should i have put her on my shit list and walk out cuz i wasnt going to grace boricua college with my profound words? only if i wanted to be a dick.
did i stick around and support? fuck yeah
is this me being magnanimous and bigger than life? no, its just simple courtesy.

when i announced that i couldnt fit anybody else into the mic i had one mofo give me the ‘you gots to be kiddin look,’ and that, party people, is the shit that makes my beard gray.

back to the positive, shouts again to ray and scot for keeping the sound in effect, ed garcia behind the camera, ditto for malo media, past features that came out to support, mic regulars that came out to support and the rest of the crew for putting up with my bossiness for another year.

the most important thing that i walked away from on tuesday was that anniversary shows are a necessary evil. we have to always remember to never put the cart in front of the horse. our shows are not an excuse to have a big jam where people can look at us and say ‘that was amazing.’ it is not the goal of acentos to put on a good anniversary show every year– our goal is to put on the best poetry showcase every second and fourth tuesday. punto. for me, this last jam was a tool to get people to believe what i believe, that a lil poetry can change your life for the better.