Arizona, Part Deux
Bill Campana's feature tonight was, no joke, mind-blowing.
Forget that he bought me genuine Mexican food yesterday or that he told me he liked my feature last night. Forget all that. I can certainly post in my journal without kissing anyone's hind parts. I could have bypassed his whole feature here if I wanted to. I don't want to. It was awesome and funny and wickedly smart. I was jealous!
When I see a feature I like it's generally because they have some good poems and then they build a nice set, a stream of poems that engages me and they keep my attention without making me feel like I'm being processed like a hundred other audiences. In the end, a feature that I walk away from that I feel has taught me something is realy what it's about. Bill's feature did all of these things for me.
I hereby pledge to write some funny poems. I used to do it all the time when I started out, but got away from doing it because I felt like I was pandering. Bill makes me want to write good funny poems again. That's the biggest compliment I can give right now besides "he was awesome."
Mad props to The Klute for a great MCing job, but more importantly, a wonderful Middle Eastern meal at a very hip place called [I don't recall the name. Lalaleya or something]. It was like eating at the wedding reception in Monsoon Wedding. I highly recommend the chicken kabobs. It was very cool to hang out with him (and the ladies Holli and Theresa) and talk, for once. We've mostly been relegated to passing greetings since we met, but tonight we got a handle on some of that in real time.
I don't know how Bob Nelson gets away with going to poetry shows 10 nights a week. I'd be living in the street, I did that.
My recommendation to any poets out there as this trip winds down: Make a Mesa pen pal.
These cats here are genuine, truly talented, decent cats, through and through. Even if you don't know Bill or Bob or Sharon or The Klute or any of the other fine cats I met or got re-acquainted with over the past 48 hours, hit them up in email and say, "Scott sent me. What can you tell me about poetry that might help?" I'm serious, do it now. It's not just me being romantic about old Slam heads; these guys may be able to help you find or develop the heart you're looking for in your art.
Signing off for the night. I've got 7000 more words to write or I'm a failure. This entry was about 300.
Forget that he bought me genuine Mexican food yesterday or that he told me he liked my feature last night. Forget all that. I can certainly post in my journal without kissing anyone's hind parts. I could have bypassed his whole feature here if I wanted to. I don't want to. It was awesome and funny and wickedly smart. I was jealous!
When I see a feature I like it's generally because they have some good poems and then they build a nice set, a stream of poems that engages me and they keep my attention without making me feel like I'm being processed like a hundred other audiences. In the end, a feature that I walk away from that I feel has taught me something is realy what it's about. Bill's feature did all of these things for me.
I hereby pledge to write some funny poems. I used to do it all the time when I started out, but got away from doing it because I felt like I was pandering. Bill makes me want to write good funny poems again. That's the biggest compliment I can give right now besides "he was awesome."
Mad props to The Klute for a great MCing job, but more importantly, a wonderful Middle Eastern meal at a very hip place called [I don't recall the name. Lalaleya or something]. It was like eating at the wedding reception in Monsoon Wedding. I highly recommend the chicken kabobs. It was very cool to hang out with him (and the ladies Holli and Theresa) and talk, for once. We've mostly been relegated to passing greetings since we met, but tonight we got a handle on some of that in real time.
I don't know how Bob Nelson gets away with going to poetry shows 10 nights a week. I'd be living in the street, I did that.
My recommendation to any poets out there as this trip winds down: Make a Mesa pen pal.
These cats here are genuine, truly talented, decent cats, through and through. Even if you don't know Bill or Bob or Sharon or The Klute or any of the other fine cats I met or got re-acquainted with over the past 48 hours, hit them up in email and say, "Scott sent me. What can you tell me about poetry that might help?" I'm serious, do it now. It's not just me being romantic about old Slam heads; these guys may be able to help you find or develop the heart you're looking for in your art.
Signing off for the night. I've got 7000 more words to write or I'm a failure. This entry was about 300.