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“so you’re a poet, huh?”

yeah

“then prove it, write a poem about me”

this is the general shallow type of online conversation i have with a lot of woman. i dont even know why i bother kicking it to women on line any more. i know it will not materialize into an actual real world encounter. a friendship? yeah, sure- i met alexa and nina on migente but then again both of them saw me perform first so i dont even know if i can actually say that i solely met em online.

as for my version of the shallow online conversation-

girl:”you’re kinda cool”

when we meeting up?

i do not know how people can fall in love online. sorry, the idea is totally alien to me. once you’ve engaged me online then i need to talk to you and after a while talking to you i need to meet you. and i do not think there should be a big lag in time between all these processes.

the only people that i can have fun with on IM are peeps that i know and are familiar with me and my sense of humor otherwise, fugghed aboud eet.

last night louderarts sixth anniversary jam

the kids are on spring break so i dont have to go to the third j.o.b (ah, the song of the tragic mulatto!) and decide to go back to where it all began. start by meeting rachel at a diner before hand and catching up. rachel, as nina will attest to, is the bomb. she is so past the slam shit and i wish i could get to that point but i know that wont be happening any time soon. lovella from philly is passing through new york and chills with us listening to equal parts of catch.up and hateration.

in comes nina and now we add some litigation to the mix as well. enter raymond daniel and we are almost ready to start our own damn open mic!

but it aint about that. i will say this- it looked like an anniversary and felt like a jam. something thats been missing for some of the last few such events. this is the part where i am supposed to say how good it was to see everybody again but i have either seen or talked to most of the folks that i really care about anyhows so we can skip that bullshit.

maureen did let out an “oscar?” and hooked me up with my first drink… i’m home, kid!

my overly cynical ass will tell you that there was a lot of shit that coulda gone better. real simple shit that human nature and experience will help you figure out. this is where i come out really bad cuz i have so little faith in humanity “dont worry, people will fool you” whatevah. in the end, the positives outweighed the negatives and the night felt damn good.

then i had the real cool flashback as the acentos crew starting getting down on the dance floor and was showing folks that we young and sexy and not wasting time. i musta said it a million times- thats what it was like back in the day. after a hard night of poetry, we would get down and act like if we knew that we was beautiful and loving life.

nowadays. its “shows over! go home!” and then its a trip to res to more deflate than anything else.

fuck dat, acentos was foot stomping and hand clapping.

mara: “in my heart, you know i’m acentos”

they called last song three times before they finally got us off the dancefloor.

then off to res, where i actually had fun for the first time in a long time with inane conversation and some down low hate that should be saved for res and not the back of 13.

it felt good coming back to what felt like home. i only hope it stays like that.

lats night was registration for nationals. the 2003 night of registration ended up being crazy drama as PSi’s first experience with online registration led to all the open slots for chicago getting filled up in a matter of days. previously, with in.person and snail mail registration, the process of filling up nats took weeks. the drama came down when many “established” venues were left in the dust and had to give way to the newer squads to come to the bg game.

the point isn’t the points/the point is getting there. some folks flipped, others stayed cool on the public side of things but there was many an unhappy poetry camper. rumors of “another nationals” started to make the rounds and it looked like civil war was about to hit. PSi bent over backwards and scrapped the tournament set-up that was universally praised as effective (as universal as the slam family could get) and went witrh a whole different structure to allow more teams to come.

in the end, everything worked out. more teams got to go to nats. PSi made more money on registration. the fear that the new tourney point system would freeze out teamsn that never lost didnt come to pass. in fact, the opposit happened- a ton of teams that won the first night met again the second- leading to undefeateds meeting for all the marbles. (the last few sentences only appeal to the most die hard of slam geeks)

proving that you don’t have to create drama to make drama.

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hung out with my boy eric the other day. hes recovering from some hernia surgery and asked me to help him with some slightly heavy house errands. hangin with eric is always fun as i bore him to death with conspiracy theories and talk of poetry and he rebutts with sports stories and letting me know all about the simple domestic existence i fool myself into thinking i want. i know i want the kid but i am FAR from ready to handle the give and take of being with a woman strong enough to keep a household together and put up with my shit.

the funny part to this is that most of my longer lasting relationships have involved women with children. one of the sad realities of todays dating. luckliy, i always loved the kids and developed some prtty good bonds with them.

i already spoke about frankie but you can also add ricky, jamie (the original “little.j”), priscilla, brianna and analise (who really really looks like me- scary!) one of the worst things ever said to me was when one baby.daddy flipped out when he found out his daughter was actually having fun and going out on weekends to the city and shit-

“tell him to get his own family”

baby.mama reported this to me straight faced and when i asked her what she said in defense she said nothing. which always made me leery about makin babies and lettin other guys possibly raise them. more than anything, i dont want to bully someone with the irefutable fact that the kid is mine and they got no rights. which i s what happened to me… a lot.

a few years back, i swore i would not get into a serious relationship with any single moms. the experience was becoming to draining and the goodbye to the kids (who were true innocents) was just killin me.

today, who knows? i’ve grown a lot more and might be up to making sacrifices and getting better balance. for sure though, i still want to have kids.

hot off the BNN (bonchiche news network)!

my sister is getting married. yes, jc will soon be a MRS and i am fuckin’ ecstatic. here is the cosmic kicker– her wedding date is august 6th. the weekend of nationals.

guess it’s a good thing i am no longer slammaster cuz it would’ve been a real juggling act to get both things done. now, it’s a pretty simple choice- bye bye saint louie. early this week i was debating whether or not i was gonna go at all.
2002, i was a simple happy rookie.
2003, doing the SM things.
2004, … could i have gone as just a simple poet observer? yeah, i dont need titles of being associated with a team to get by anymore and my association with louderarts is pretty deeply ingrained at this point.

well, all that is up for speculation now as i’ve been looking for some more balance as of late and letting the pendulum swing towards the non.poetry side of things. getting back in touch with that group of people that dont give a hit whether i wrote a good poem last week or not.

speaking of the poetry front…
louder than words- a great debut and the fact that so many people have so many opinions as to how to “improve” it attests to the potential the new show has. personally, i would not be so quick to implement too many changes at once. better to find loosen a screw here and there. i’ve already sent guy my thought on the one gear that he could play around with but it all depends on what guy really wants to do with this bad boy in the end.
bottom line- it was well worth the $6 bucks and the drinks i had at the bar and saturday should be just as much fun.

the great, great poetry debate- while guy is busy rustling feathers, here is some questions about poetry (courtesy of raina leon) that you may want to chew on for a bit. if you are really moved by the politics of poetry and really want to take a hard line stance (as opposed to just yelling shit from the sidelines) you can send your answers back to her at leon_info@yahoo.com

What are the origins of poetry or where did poetry come from?

Who invented poetry? What do poems have to be about? What does a poem have to have to be a poem? How do you interpret and understand a poem? What are all the kinds of poetry? Does poetry always express someone's feelings? Do you have to know your vocabulary to be able to write poetry? Does poetry always have to rhyme? How do you make a poem rhyme? How do you make a poem rhyme and still have it make sense? Does all poetry make sense? How do you know what is a good line? Is it hard to write a good poem? How do you write a poem? Can poetry be written without stanzas? How do I make a girl like me with poetry?

What is the true meaning of poetry?

the universe has an awful sense of humor- on the same date as the infamous triangle fire (check out nina’s post), the bronx also remembers the fire at the happy land social club.

a forgotten tragedy as far as slam poetry is concerned. other than the great job jack agueros did in his crown of sonnets, i never hear anything about this.

you dont hear about eleanor bumpers when it comes to police brutality but you should. i grew up in the same building and went through her fourth floor apartment about a week after. not too pay homage or reflect, i was just a kid rummaging through an empty apartment.

anthony baez is also another footnote in police brutality. maybe the fact that this cop actually did time, not real time but at least some, makes it different.

it would be safe to assume that this wont be the last great tragedy in the bx but lets just not let it go forgotten just cuz it cant fit into the standard slam poem, aight?