NPS #5 - Wenesday Night
I'm glad people are enjoying these but really, I just do these so I remember later. My memory is for shit (can't imagine how that happened).
After the Feelgood's bout, I hiked down to Respectable St. again to catch the YCA/Oakland/Hampshire/Lizard Lounge bout. From jump, I could tell this bout would be fuckin bananas. Since my team was now eliminated I opted to curb my disappointment and just cheer like a fool for all my friends. This bout was chock-full of great poems and great performances. It was a shame that someone had to lose. About half of my list of poems that killed me came from this 90 minute stretch. It should be said that this was also the slam in which the local troll made her legendary appearance.
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, there was an older lady (a local) that I guess showed up to the Rookie Mic and didn't get a warm response. Her reaction was to apparently show up and offer to judge a bout. Normally, I feel bad for aging, lonely women who clearly are being swallowed up by us whippersnappers. This crotchety old cat lady, however, has earned my scorn. She was throwing around 4s like they were condoms of a Pride float. I'm all for honest, low judges but this shit was ridiculous. There are a lot of poems at NPS that deserve dogshit scores but I assure you this bout wasn't one of them.
Any damn way, after that bout was the Erotica Show. I was asked to be on the panel. I'm not going to go too far into it, but the show was not great. The audience didn't give a fuck, most of the poems were weak (with a few exceptions), and the whole thing felt like a sinking ship. Kat, Chris Lee and I did what we could to add some levity but really, that venue was just not good for the show. Also, I didn't really agree with the format. As soon as the list went up, around 40 people ran to the stage to sign up. To the best of my knowledge very few of the sign-ups made the stage. Most of the performers were hand-selected and Gabrielle made no qualms about making that known. And while I totally understand why this is the case, I think it inhibits what the Erotica Show can be. Personally, I'd like to see 3 or 4 pre-assigned slots and have everything else be a totally random draw. Sure, you'll get a lower overall class of performances, but ain't nothing more unifying than an audience collectively heckling. Just sayin.
There had been a growing rumble about the pool shenanigans. Apparently, the night before, the pool became everyone's collective jam. I couldn't confirm this as I was making love to cold tile all night, but all reports confirmed the rumblings. When I walked past the pool area, I knew this was going to be interesting. I went up to the room, started drinking, and grabbed my trunks. When I walked into the pool area some 20 minutes later, there was some sort of spontaneous cheer. I guess everyone was as excited to see me shirtless as I was to be so. That's sarcasm, kids. Regardless, I think I stood up on a cheer and yelled, "The Baz is back, muthfuckas!"**
But he wasn't. Not really.
The next 5 hours were....special. For starters, I took off my glasses and couldn't see but 6 feet in front of me. Which was all the more interesting when I had to get real close to see who was fucking in the hot tub. I didn't recognize either of them, proximity be damned. Though at first I couldn't tell exactly what was going on. They were both clothed and there was notable thrusting. From where I was standing it just looked like he was wrist-deep in her. Perhaps he was trying to retrieve his watch?
Shut up. You knew what you were getting into reading this.
The liquor was everywhere, awkward people in bathing suits, all the makings of a good party. Perhaps the highlight of the evening was sitting on the steps of the pool with the YCA kids. I say "kids" but they're all adults. Some of them have been around since they were 15 or so, so I'm not totally condescending. Truly, it was great to just sit there and talk about poetry and Chicago and really get to know each other. I've known most of the cats for quite a while but I realized that none of us really "know" much about each other. After an hour+ of hanging around, drinking a flask and saying "don't repeat that" every other minute, the bond was on. I'm rambling.....Thanks, YCA folk, you made my night.
Let's fast forward to the good shit. I stayed in that pool for the next several hours. I couldn't help it- people kept showing up and offering me drinks and jokes. At around 5AM, delirious with insomnia and only marginally drunk, I started a naked revolution. All parties involved will go nameless, but I will cop to the fact that yes, I was naked in the pool. Yes, it felt good. Yes, I still went to my room alone. Don't ask me how that works. We hung around until the sun came up and I toddled off to bed.
Overall, not a terrible day. "The Baz" made a brief appearance but ultimately there were so many other people acting like complete tools that he wasn't needed. For that I'm grateful.
Thursday, I was not so lucky.
**If you don't understand this reference, ask somebody. I'm not starting this discussion again.
After the Feelgood's bout, I hiked down to Respectable St. again to catch the YCA/Oakland/Hampshire/Lizard Lounge bout. From jump, I could tell this bout would be fuckin bananas. Since my team was now eliminated I opted to curb my disappointment and just cheer like a fool for all my friends. This bout was chock-full of great poems and great performances. It was a shame that someone had to lose. About half of my list of poems that killed me came from this 90 minute stretch. It should be said that this was also the slam in which the local troll made her legendary appearance.
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, there was an older lady (a local) that I guess showed up to the Rookie Mic and didn't get a warm response. Her reaction was to apparently show up and offer to judge a bout. Normally, I feel bad for aging, lonely women who clearly are being swallowed up by us whippersnappers. This crotchety old cat lady, however, has earned my scorn. She was throwing around 4s like they were condoms of a Pride float. I'm all for honest, low judges but this shit was ridiculous. There are a lot of poems at NPS that deserve dogshit scores but I assure you this bout wasn't one of them.
Any damn way, after that bout was the Erotica Show. I was asked to be on the panel. I'm not going to go too far into it, but the show was not great. The audience didn't give a fuck, most of the poems were weak (with a few exceptions), and the whole thing felt like a sinking ship. Kat, Chris Lee and I did what we could to add some levity but really, that venue was just not good for the show. Also, I didn't really agree with the format. As soon as the list went up, around 40 people ran to the stage to sign up. To the best of my knowledge very few of the sign-ups made the stage. Most of the performers were hand-selected and Gabrielle made no qualms about making that known. And while I totally understand why this is the case, I think it inhibits what the Erotica Show can be. Personally, I'd like to see 3 or 4 pre-assigned slots and have everything else be a totally random draw. Sure, you'll get a lower overall class of performances, but ain't nothing more unifying than an audience collectively heckling. Just sayin.
There had been a growing rumble about the pool shenanigans. Apparently, the night before, the pool became everyone's collective jam. I couldn't confirm this as I was making love to cold tile all night, but all reports confirmed the rumblings. When I walked past the pool area, I knew this was going to be interesting. I went up to the room, started drinking, and grabbed my trunks. When I walked into the pool area some 20 minutes later, there was some sort of spontaneous cheer. I guess everyone was as excited to see me shirtless as I was to be so. That's sarcasm, kids. Regardless, I think I stood up on a cheer and yelled, "The Baz is back, muthfuckas!"**
But he wasn't. Not really.
The next 5 hours were....special. For starters, I took off my glasses and couldn't see but 6 feet in front of me. Which was all the more interesting when I had to get real close to see who was fucking in the hot tub. I didn't recognize either of them, proximity be damned. Though at first I couldn't tell exactly what was going on. They were both clothed and there was notable thrusting. From where I was standing it just looked like he was wrist-deep in her. Perhaps he was trying to retrieve his watch?
Shut up. You knew what you were getting into reading this.
The liquor was everywhere, awkward people in bathing suits, all the makings of a good party. Perhaps the highlight of the evening was sitting on the steps of the pool with the YCA kids. I say "kids" but they're all adults. Some of them have been around since they were 15 or so, so I'm not totally condescending. Truly, it was great to just sit there and talk about poetry and Chicago and really get to know each other. I've known most of the cats for quite a while but I realized that none of us really "know" much about each other. After an hour+ of hanging around, drinking a flask and saying "don't repeat that" every other minute, the bond was on. I'm rambling.....Thanks, YCA folk, you made my night.
Let's fast forward to the good shit. I stayed in that pool for the next several hours. I couldn't help it- people kept showing up and offering me drinks and jokes. At around 5AM, delirious with insomnia and only marginally drunk, I started a naked revolution. All parties involved will go nameless, but I will cop to the fact that yes, I was naked in the pool. Yes, it felt good. Yes, I still went to my room alone. Don't ask me how that works. We hung around until the sun came up and I toddled off to bed.
Overall, not a terrible day. "The Baz" made a brief appearance but ultimately there were so many other people acting like complete tools that he wasn't needed. For that I'm grateful.
Thursday, I was not so lucky.
**If you don't understand this reference, ask somebody. I'm not starting this discussion again.