That there po-tree
This is Big Poppa E, a slam poet. He's cool. I wish I could describe him better than that, but I just downloaded about an hour's worth of his performances and I think he used up all the words. All of them. I dare not even try.
I actually met him last Wednesday at the poetry thing. I had had a few beers, so I went up to him and said "Hi, I saw you perform something about a Canadian phone support girl at Open Screen night a while back" (But it was actually called "Oh! Canadian FedEx Lady!" and it's good) and he said "Thanks, I'm Erik". That's about it. I took advantage of my drunken boldness to say "hi" to two other poets, Mike, who had performed "Short Girl Army" at my creativity class that afternoon, and Krissi, who also performed in class. Her poem started out "I saw an old man eating alone at a Taco Bell the other night" and went on to say some very poignant things about love. It really spoke, and I told her as much. She went on to win that evening's poetry slam with that very same poem. It kinda made me smile to think that I know good poetry when I hear it.
To Mike I revealed that after class I went and did a google search for "jagged invective" (because it was really catchy - if I had been a savvy slam-goer, I probably would've shouted "REWIND!" but I digress) and found his blog. He seemed appreciative of the sentiment, and not at all offended by my actions' stalker qualities. Thankfully, he also didn't seem to mind that I had struck up this conversation in the bathroom where we were both waiting for the sole urinal.
I'm such a monkey. When I see it, I'm overcome with an urge to do it. Of course that's hard when they're so good and I get easily intimidated, as in the above case with Mister Poppa E, comma, Big. Maybe, if I'm worthy, it'll come with time. In the meantime, It's 3am and I must be lonely.