“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…

‘Cause we have the experience

2003 is on its way out and I say good riddance! This last year was the worst year of my whole adult life. Hyperbole? Maybe, but then I haven’t been, shall we say, revealing in the entries of the blog. Not sure if I am going to change that but I will say this- “If you have a question about what happens outside of poetry- just ask.”

Thinking of how this last solar cycle is wrapping up leaves me wondering as to how the hell I capped off last year… and I honestly don’t know. It did involve Eric’s house and spending time with the fam but that’s about all I can muster at this point. The end of 2001 is pretty clear as I was in David Scott Levi’s apartment hanging with him, Franklin Leonard and Rachelle Street wondering what the future held for ‘a lil bit louder’ as Guy had just departed for Virginia and we weren’t sure what was going to happen to the reading series we were calling home on Mondays… Damn! Shit sure changes quick don’t it?

I think that might be the beginning of me actually caring about the future of Mondays and what my role would be in it. Well, at least that’s how I picture it since I find the beginnings to be much clearer than the endings. I can see points where people enter my life and their subsequent transformations but sometimes it’s hard to envision the last moments.

Well, here is a big ending that won’t leave me anytime soon and one of the highlights or rather lowlights (Time will tell) of the last year— the end of Vision Network. Even just looking at the name leaves me a little spooked. VN was the business that I had for ten plus years before my internal demons began to take over and I found myself just showing up for work and counting the minutes till closing time. NOT the right thing when it’s your OWN business.

The end came on a June Monday morning with me packing the last boxes of stuff into Tina’s car and quietly saying goodbye as the kids that populated the local high school just marched right by. A part of me was hoping/dreading that the close of a local landmark (we were in the same spot for over a decade) would make someone pause but they didn’t and I just went home unpacked the last of the stuff into my house and had Tina drop me off by my friend Ali’s place. The rest of the day was marked with some walking around the Bronx and then finished with a louderJAM at 13 with no one the wiser as to the fact that I had just said goodbye to the biggest accomplishment of my adult life.

Not that anyone had a reason to ask, for me it was just another Monday and it was easy to put on the face that I have learned long ago to put on. Hell, I even read a piece with Jai on back up. The poem dealt with everything except what was going on in my life. Another constant, writing about shit I don’t know about and passing it off as authentic.

I can picture the beginnings of Vision clear as day. The phone call from Eric while I am in the Collins’ kitchen. The proposition from Daric as we are in the Boston Road Mickey Dees. The first day and the next door neighbor reconnecting his beeper. The first sale to Tasha. Daric leaving me and Eric with the biz. All of it is like yesterday.

It seems like I have a lot of beginnings on my mind. The first time I walked into 13. The first night I hung out at the Blue Ox. The first synonymUS jam. Meeting DSL and Franklin in front of the Nuyo. Thinking in my car about my boy John getting dissed by a girl at the Copa. Tina almost leaving my life. Lynne forcing me to read a poem in Spanish. Seve asking for a favor. Guy mispronouncing my name because I wrote it phonetically. Fish reading. Lynne being up front as I read. Guy’s fateful after thought to the back-to-back debuts- “That was the first time you BOTH read? Hhhmmm…”

Seeing Guerrieri read for the first time. Omar hating on LA, post Nats. The word hibiscus. Buying my first chapbook (lost to a girl that I lent it to). Hanging in the back and being able to come and go without a trace. The first night at the Nuyo- my first “That’s poetry?!?” moment. A 20 below zero Bowery Poetry Club. Ed Garcia reafing “Mind of a Dreamer” The first slam. Bonafide giving me a low score. All this shit is WAY more vivid than the last night at 13.

I guess it’s cause the story between me and poetry is far from over. Then again, there are some things in my life that I have never let go of and of which I should have. I can still see Jeanette walking into Vision and me casually asking Carlos to the back.

“Who is THAT?” ‘My wife’s best friend and by the way— Don’t try it! I got everybody and their father asking me if she’s single.” This would lead to a chapter in my life that has never really closed because I sure as hell can’t picture the end. Even though there were a lot.

The Bronx, 1973. My father picking a piece of glass from my lil sister’s foot. (Added into a poem this year.) My first Christmas in the BX. Yeah, I still remember shit from when I was three. I remember going to Ecuador that year and seeing my grandmothers for the first time. Coming back to a shitty apartment with no bed. My baby sister waking me up from a dead sleep. My stepmother being introduced as ‘the baby’s nanny.’ Hearing that I had a new lil brother. And while I can remember the day my mom died and seeing her drive away in a VW rabbit, I can’t picture the first time I really saw her.

All the people in my life that my ‘other’ friends rarely hear about. Tom smashing a soda can on his forehead. Mike’s fringe deerskin boots. Keith with a sunburn. Jota Love in an arm sling. Jose’s Saturn. Angel in an ankle cast. Padilla playing pool.

Walking Linda home from Vision. Bumping into Wanda on the dance floor. Letting Alisande ‘marinate for a minute’ at Vision. Being in a sweet sixteen with Tina.

Paging Fish for my sister. Playing pool with Fish. Telling Fish I wanted to start a new reading series. The first Acentos show. Crying the next day when I read the guest book folks left behind. (The first big cry I had for this year but not the last) Meeting Nina and having her introduce me to her friend in the leather jacket and hat. You’ll know him when you see him, she said and she was right. Rich was easy to spot. Rich introducing me to his sister. A woman who would make me walk WAY too much from the word go, in order to show me more kindness than I deserve. Right, Maria?

The cop bust at Vision. Confessing to my family that I wasn’t perfect.

Hanging with Bassey, Lynne, and Rog in Brooklyn as Fish tells the ‘mother-in-law’ story. Seve coming up to me after I read ‘Capicu.’ Alexa IM’ing me the next day. Meeting Caroline. The UPHA repping hard and bumping into Chance- literally. Booking CR Avery for synonymUS, 13, and a gig with Urban Word (thanks, Marty) Guy guest hosting. Doing well in a slam. Mara’s birthday. Turning away Siegel from a sac goat spot. GK bidding on a Salsa lesson- never delivered. Getting Jayme to judge a Slam. Getting Jayme to read at Acentos. Getting Jessica to read. Hearing Juan yell at Acentos. Ray performing ‘Gypsy Hands’ Hanging with the crew later for some eats as Ray collects e-mails for what would become synonymUS. Talking with Ray on the pier.

Betsy hanging out with Monica. Taking her to the gym at 7 in the morning. Noel covering his eyes. Noel’s first black eye. Jackie’s long nails. Jackie saying ‘moto-otah’ My sister at the movie theatre pregnant with Jackie. My sister calling me to help her move out.

Eric in the staircase when my Mom died. I had known him for a long time before that but it wasn’t until that day that I knew I had a best friend. We parted during high school but met again in a different staircase and became inseparable. Started a business, had more fights, laughs, and revelations than any two people could. He was taller than me when we were young but I caught up- not much- but I caught up. He stayed my big brother anyways and was always the person who picked me up. In return, I almost ruined his wedding this year. The sad part is that he is still more worried about what’s going to happen to me than I am. Aint that some shit. I can single handidly fuck up a person’s most important day and still stay in good graces. A part of me wishes he would stop worrying about me but that part is the stupid part.

I can picture a lot of shit and it includes the last time I saw him. It wasn’t the greatest moment. Nothing bad happened. But it wasn’t the way I would like to go out. Ya know? So I have a lot of shit to clean up in 2004 and nothing is more important than that.

I leave this last entry with a tear in my eye and it may be the last one for the year. A year that saw me cry way too much and laugh way too little.

In the final analysis, I leave this year with almost all my old friendships intact plus many more that I never imagined. 2003 was bad, but in the measure of friendship it was a good year and that’s how I’ll end this.

To new friends! Meet my old ones! And I hope everyone has a good story to share…

“Jet City Woman, to make the clouds go away”

The banner ads have been acting much better as of late and without the mention of “that dude who was in a documentary and made a film about himself but called it something else.” (Side Note- I actually enjoyed said individual’s performances and interviews in the documentary and didn’t mind the movie that much except for the cheesy courtyard fight scene and the pseudo attempt to tie it all into the performance poetry movement at the end.) For some strange reason there is a consistent mention of this city’s iron horse and my new way to get around town. Hint- it rhymes with TWA.

What has me really laughing hard today is the search words that bring people to my neck of the cyber world. Thanks to Sitemeter I know that in addition to the regular keywords (geminipoet, oscar, bronx, ya get tha picture), these (not so common) phrases have gotten folks to hit up the old web journal-

chuito + bayamon

– ah, chuito will never die! he is the salsa singer that was the great hector lavoe’s hero and also gets a mention in a willie perdomo poem that was in my mind for weeks. willie tells me that he mentioned him to highlight the eccentricities of a woman that lives in one of his poems.

religious poems – just think

– what! sounds like something more for rich’s blog! hopefully they did go down that way because i keep the spiritual in the same place i keep the personal- to myself! but i’ll make an exception and let you know that for good or bad- it’s all about circles.

poems + diana marie + love

– ha! somewhere in the vast internet there is someone that needs a poem for DM and methinks they were trying to cheat and, uhmm, borrow, yeah!, borrow some prose.

learn to uprock

– no, this blog won’t teach you to uprock but it will let you know how to mambo…

regie gibson + whiskey

– talk about hitting the way back machine! from a night that feels like a decade ago, hanging with regie at “Mike’s” the bar/restaurant right by “Morgies Cafe.” thinking about it now, the irony is delicious because the series that rog had going at morgies was the main inspiration for starting Acentos. the idea was floating around my head for months but didn’t crystallize until leslie shipman invited me to feature at the blue ox and that was all she wrote. oh, when did i meet leslie- the night that regie gibson featured in the bX for her and we went out for whiskey later- circles, baby, circles!

“gemini” heather OR stripper OR pennsylvania

– this may be closer to the sprit of the blog. my suggestion to the individual looking for this dancer is this- keep going to as many strip clubs as you can and one day you will either find someone with this name or someone that looks a lot like her, either way. to quote the poet- “the names don’t matter”

ghetto boricua poems

– check it, sun! (assumes the b-boy stance) m’blog keeps it mad gully! top 5, no less! not bad for someone who rarely writes of the hood and isn’t even of la isla!

In my mad, mad attempt to keep the blog as impersonal as possible I may make this a common occurrence and see what happens. Or I may not and get to the underbelly of my hopes and fears. Who knows? Find out later- Same blog time! Same blog channel!