ok, forget poetry for a minute-

ROGER CLEMENS IS THE BIGGEST LOWLIFE IN SPORTS.

i go to double check when pitchers and catchers report and i see that the hilbilly is going to sign with the astros?

for the record, i have NEVER been a fan of clemens. he is a thug. plain and simple. and not even a good one. a real thug would take his chances behind the plate and not try to take the whole worlds head off with the shield of the AL in front of him.

now that he is going to the Astros i cant WAIT for the retaliations to begin. in fact, i am GLAD that he is coming out so that he can get his clocked clean but good.

rant:over

“Now I’m cycling all my video tapes”

We have a new louderCHAMPION and I am SO fucking spent. Rachel Hyman asks me, “Did you have fun?” and all I could say was, “No.”

Even as it came out of my mouth I was in that weird space where it makes all the sense in the world but you still can’t believe you said it.

Sunday at the Pietri Tribute I was all over the place. People had no idea when they would be going up and some folks didn?t show up. I just juggled all the balls I had and tried to make it look like magic. It worked but it can get taxing to deal with that shit.

This last Monday was the same shit- squared. With the louder showcase being put together in just a few days. Concept, performers, length of time, affect on the show, all the details and the closed mic was also put together in the same way but with less detail on flow and more emphasis on personality.

On to the Slam? this has been my baby for a few weeks and I tried to nail all the details especially the time issue. Slams at 13 start monstrously late and the third round can be a chore. The normal Slam format doesn’t sit that well with me as I am not a fan of having people prepare work and take a chance on getting bumped in the first round.

The original version of the Slam had TEN mofos going at it but when I crunched the numbers and came up with a time table on how long it should take, the powers that be were not too thrilled. A compromise was reached and we narrowed it down to eight.

The next trick was making it different from the regular semis or finals at 13 and I came up with the 3-2-1-2-3 idea not even realizing that the iWPS was using a similar formula. (Trust me, if you saw the knuckle headed e-mails from the SM list serve you would stop reading most of the shit that comes across the board.)

I came up with a couple of other twists in regard to cumulative scores advancement and tiebreakers to spice up the pot a bit and the end result was (in hindsight) a bit too much for most. Oh well?

The simple breakdown was eight poets in the first round (3 min, 10 second grace period, regular slam rules), six poets in the second round (2 min, 10 second grace), five poets in the third round (1 min, 5 sec grace) and three poets in rounds four and five (2 mins in round three and no clock in the last round, cumulative scores of the last round determines the winner).

I was really high on deading the clock in the last round to allow the poets to go out in a blaze of poetic glory by focusing on the performance of the piece and taking their time to convey the truest sense of the word. Well, that was a good thought but in the end Fish, Mahogany and Cirelli all went Nuyo and took their time to promote their poems beforehand and then delivered them in the same style. Live and learn.

The scoring was the most stressful thing as I always triple check my figures to make sure that we are all on the same page and nobody gets jerked. If I had let somebody else take care of the math I may have enjoyed the Slam but it has all been lessons learned.

Quick thoughts- Rich did amazingly well as he was fighting the #1 draw the whole time, Elana gave a BEST ever performance but the audience (and the clock) wasn?t feeling her, I was surprised to see Morgan get cut so quick, Fish put together a great game plan and went all out to win with his choice of editing older work, Mahogany on the other hand took some chance with newer, shorter stuff and almost pulled it out, Abena got bit by the clock and would have easily made the final three but that?s the breaks,

and Michael Cirelli is kick ass! When Rog (our #8) found out that he wasn?t able to make it back in time, I placed my money on Cirelli. Tapes of him from 2000, the work he?s done at 13 and the amount of energy he puts into the actual WORK of poetry makes him an awesome champion for our venue. The fact that he is a genuinely nice dude (except for the fact that he is a Red Sox fan) only makes the cake that much sweeter.

Typing it up now, I can say that I had a fun time putting the show together and I was really happy that we accomplished everything we set out to do as the crowd was into the ?closed mic? (Rachel, Chavisa, Roberto Ascalon and Mara really came through for me on short notice), the louder showcase was a nice step in bringing the Wizard out from behind the curtain and the audience stayed for the WHOLE slam which clocked out at 10:50 (mind you this was a five round, eight person slam and it is Bar 13).

And did I mention the drunken fool that got all belligerent on me in the hallway after I asked her friend to keep her quiet? Ah, yes! Memories of the Spic incident reverberate in my mind but that?s a story for another day.

“You can’t leave cos your heart is there”

From Jump St, I think it has always been about community. 13 provided me a place that I could regularly interact with more polished performers and newer voices. Urbana is another great family but they were on hiatus in my early days and the Nuyo didn’t provide that same open environment (though things are changing).

Yesterday was one of the finest exhibitions of art, affection and support I have ever been a part of.

The Pietri Tribute was just amazing and if their was a weak line I would probably guess it was my hosting but that’s just how I always feel about great events. It didn’t go perfect, we started on LT (Latino Time) much like a regular Acentos show. I get there on time (thanks to Fish) and find Fish, Lenny, Grisel, Toro, Greg, his girl (damn, i keep fucking up her name) and a few other folks to a house of less than 12. Inside, I knew that LT meant that folks would show up around 1 and I didn’t start shit in earnest till 12:20 which worked out well since we had a few no shows and that put us right back on schedule.

The biggest props to Grisel for starting off the night (actually, afternoon, a mistake i would keep making) and staying for the whole thing! All three and a half-hours! She is a diva in verse and appearance only otherwise she is all lady, all the time. Much love to Toro as well and the whole Crepe Suzette crew.

Hearing Quincy Troupe, Bob Holman and Cheryl Boyce-Taylor talk about the early days of the Nuyo movement was amazing! I love stories! Real stories… not hype, not bigger-than-life, just real life and that is what I got (with some dope poems). I also got to meet some new folks as Danny Shot became my nemesis for the night and then we got to have a great laugh when he left. Having Juan Valenzuela of the ‘Latin Insomniacs’ come up and talk of his friend was just a movie type moment, for me.

Things actually went a little too well as it was approaching 1:30 and we had gone through seven of our ten features readers and I was afraid I was going to leave Guy an Open Mic format to work with for the last two hours- “Anybody want to read? Anybody?”

Instead, I put myself out there and asked if there were any extra readers and just like that (SNAP!) we had four more beautiful people adding to the night… errr… you know. Tom, Stanley, Emilio and Sandra had great Pedro stories and made the event that much better.

Fish enlisted some other people to feature in part two of the night and now Guy had a great feature line up to close out. LT kicked in BIG TIME as Papoleto, Mariposa and Willie showed up and the list just kept getting bigger and bigger… and we still finished on time!

Guy was great and I still think he is one of the best hosts I have ever seen on a poetry stage.

Yeah, very Acentos-like… slow start, great regulars, awesome features, genuine readers, a great finale… and a host that tries really hard to let everybody have fun.

Bob Holman went out of his way to point out that this was an inter-generation effort.

Original Nuyo meeting their new brethren with a bridge of elder poets making it all happen.

Yeah, I will be proud of this for a minute or two.

Then off to the Nuyo to catch Rich’s feature.

Quick recap- Rich was dope, Brasil was hot, Arkansas rocks, Oregon is brief, the BX invades again!

Interesting- there is an attempt to foster more community at the Café but not necessarily craft. Are the two co-dependent? Can they remain separate and still promote good poetry? We shall see.

More love as we finally get some food and kill a few hours at the corner pizzeria.

Time check: 8 pm. This means that some of have been going a third of the day on straight poetry! You know you love it!

There was talk of time travel, critique, workshops, first encounters, Keanu, MG and poetry.

If I tried I couldn’t give you the full recap but it was awesome and punctuated with special guest-star Celena Glenn dropping in for a second.

Yeah, it was one of those days, the ones that make me happy to be part of a community.

“It was once upon a place sometimes I listen to myself”

Many months back, Leslie Shipman sends out an invite to her Bronx poets to see if they would be interested in performing at a New Years Day reading. My duality creeps up again as my grounded side says-

“You are going to troop down to the Bowery to read for eight people early on a New Years afternoon.”

and my mercurial side responds-

‘yeash! it’s something youve never done b4! lets go for it, sun!!!’

Luckily, I was slated for a 6-8pm slot which eliminated the rise and shine and my estimation of attendance was way off- the Bowery was packed! As packed as I have ever seen it and when I got to check in I was told that the schedule was behind by 45 minutes.

Todo bien. I got to wish Reid Harris a Happy New Year, headed to the bar and goit to hang out with Leslie for most of the night.

They had a great system to keep the poets in check- if you were approaching the three-minute mark– a dude would start waving a flag. If you got real close, he would start acting like Mel Gibson calling in the Scots in Braveheart. Nice… except they didn’t announce it!

Enter the poeta, approaching the stage thinking he has time to plug the Pietri Tribute and do his poem.

(Side Note- I HATE plugging! I love the events I am associated with and really do believe in them but the act of marketing and then performing has always left me dry. A necessary evil, I know, but I wish I would get better at it because I never feel that I pull both off well.)

As I approach the end of “MotB” here comes William Wallace- “Freedom!”

(and I am wondering if it was the fact that he wasn’t feeling the poem)

and as I break into the home stretch… they hit some music to drown me out.

(and I only had ten seconds to go… I swear!)

I would have felt worse but I gave up my ten seconds to the Rev and that’s what counts.

I am a bit worried about the Tribute because the gathering of the scribes on the first was resplendent with ego and self-importance. All around me, muthafuckas in love with their work and beefing as to what time they would get to read, creating a bad environment that made listening to the current poet a real task.

The funny thing is that the bigger names on the bill were wonderful and didn’t disrespect the spirit of the event, it’s always somebody that gets one feature or appears on their own website and they start believing the shit they wrote in their bio. I hope this shit doesn’t happen at the Tribute because the jerk in me may come out on the Host stage and I will tell people to shut up.

“See the Bedouin fires at night”

At the apex of a bitter wind overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge, distant fireworks, the clink of a wineglass, the digitized sound of a camera shutter and the company of friends- that is how the New Year came in for me.

Not a bad start, me thinks…

Before hand, we were sharing in a most awesome meal of salmon, asparagus, basmati rice and mesculin greens. Damn! Elana can cook! Jai was our gracious host. Mara lent her smile. Matt showed me some amazing pictures of peace in wartime and the city we love. Ray provided the dry wit and Elaine was the anchor that kept him tied back to earth.

Me, I was just trying to be the quiet Oscar- Listening, observing, noticing lines in people’s smile that I may not have seen before, catching side glances to private moments and generally, happy to be in a different type of New Year celebration.

Ray recounts today’s subway story as a general passerby stumbles in to the train in the middle of the afternoon-

“You see this red collar?

You aint ever seen a red collar like this.

This is a whole new type of sexiness.

See, these?

Not kicks… sneakers!”

(The train starts to mumble and giggle at the general air of vanity.)

“Oh, what do all of you know about sexiness?

You know what?

Assholes… stay in asshole town.

Teachers… stay in teacher town.”

(And he gets out at the next stop.)

–The real funny thing was that Ray transcribed the entire monologue on a brown paper bag in fear that the world may lose the words of the prophet. ;-)

2004, hhmmm… not bad… I may stick around and see what happens next…