No longer can I be called a sissy.
So I was drunkenly staggering back to my apartment about a half hour ago, and I looked up and, amazingly, could see the stars through the shitty city smog.
And Orion's Belt's was spread perfectly across the sky, which automatically trigger's the lyrics, "there's a changing constellation/of balls as we are playing/ i see Orion and say nothing/ the only thing I can think of saying/ is fuck you/ and your untouchable face/ and fuck you/ for existing in the first place/ and who am I/ that I shoud be vyiing for your touch/ and who am I/ I bet you can't even tell me that much."
So I paused for a moment to enjoy brief and rare moments of solitutude to stargaze. And for the first time since May of 1997, I looked at those three stars all in a perfect line, repeated the above lyrics before my mind could tell itself not to, and laughed in the face of that bitterness.
I didn't feel it. I didn't want to say "Fuck you." Seems trivial, but is as much of a milestone as the evenings events.
Jess and I went to the Shadow Lounge tonight and heard some really amazing and inspiring poems, beats, songs, music, (dot dot dot) humanity being humane and raw and true.
And I got egged on. I purposefully didn't bring anything that I wrote for the very reason that I'm chickenshit and didn't want to get on stage and read.
So in the most irronic of cases, I ended up reading two poems from Jess's iPhone.
And God. People clapped for me. They shushed each other so that my words could be heard. They hugged and kissed me and demanded that I come back next Tuesday and read something else. They gave me their emails and phone numbers and requested my myspace/blog/facebook. They spoke in terms of raw, they whispered confidences. They stood when I was done.
I lost my passion, became cynical and bitter, feared my own meaningless words after spending some time researching a life as a poet. I had lost something that was essential and core to my being: hope, passion, faith, and the middle finger I had been giving to the capitalist driven purpose of life. Tonight it was regained.
I'm half smiling and can go to bed tonight, for once, feeling like I fucking did something, anything, made a movement in any dirrection.
Thank you Jess, Bill, Jake (who ever you are), MC Mickedy, beautiful girl with dreads, bartender Jim, Rooney (as long gone as you are), Suncoco for inspirational customers and receipt paper to write speed poems on, and everyone who has caused my heart to crack, to beat, to skip, to hitch, to feel.
And Orion's Belt's was spread perfectly across the sky, which automatically trigger's the lyrics, "there's a changing constellation/of balls as we are playing/ i see Orion and say nothing/ the only thing I can think of saying/ is fuck you/ and your untouchable face/ and fuck you/ for existing in the first place/ and who am I/ that I shoud be vyiing for your touch/ and who am I/ I bet you can't even tell me that much."
So I paused for a moment to enjoy brief and rare moments of solitutude to stargaze. And for the first time since May of 1997, I looked at those three stars all in a perfect line, repeated the above lyrics before my mind could tell itself not to, and laughed in the face of that bitterness.
I didn't feel it. I didn't want to say "Fuck you." Seems trivial, but is as much of a milestone as the evenings events.
Jess and I went to the Shadow Lounge tonight and heard some really amazing and inspiring poems, beats, songs, music, (dot dot dot) humanity being humane and raw and true.
And I got egged on. I purposefully didn't bring anything that I wrote for the very reason that I'm chickenshit and didn't want to get on stage and read.
So in the most irronic of cases, I ended up reading two poems from Jess's iPhone.
And God. People clapped for me. They shushed each other so that my words could be heard. They hugged and kissed me and demanded that I come back next Tuesday and read something else. They gave me their emails and phone numbers and requested my myspace/blog/facebook. They spoke in terms of raw, they whispered confidences. They stood when I was done.
I lost my passion, became cynical and bitter, feared my own meaningless words after spending some time researching a life as a poet. I had lost something that was essential and core to my being: hope, passion, faith, and the middle finger I had been giving to the capitalist driven purpose of life. Tonight it was regained.
I'm half smiling and can go to bed tonight, for once, feeling like I fucking did something, anything, made a movement in any dirrection.
Thank you Jess, Bill, Jake (who ever you are), MC Mickedy, beautiful girl with dreads, bartender Jim, Rooney (as long gone as you are), Suncoco for inspirational customers and receipt paper to write speed poems on, and everyone who has caused my heart to crack, to beat, to skip, to hitch, to feel.