How I Spent My Summer Vacation
Well...
Austin turned out to be an excellent trip for me, and one of the best Nats I've been to (just can't seem to match that 1st hit!). I learned ALOT - about myself, about people I know (partly 'cause we finally had time to talk, partly 'cause I'm apparently CLUELESS), and about us as human beings. I won't go into any long stories, so here's my li'l highlights list:
-- Texas is hot. Hotter'n a hellhound's asshole.
-- In Austin, TX, you can strip down to yer tatas and yer short an' curlies, and it's perfectly legal. Now, If you even appear drunk they'll take you to jail, but as long as they can't see the crack of yer ass, you can give the nice police officer a strip show. Go figger.
-- Entourage, entourage, entourage! We don't want it to, but it makes a difference at the slam if the whole first & 2nd row are hollering for another team, and the cheering section for you is...your coach and whoever didn't get to perform. Makes a HUGE difference at early bouts, 1st night, especially when you're far away from home. Especially directed at folks from slam dense areas, but cheer for your home folks as long as you're here. For all the criticisms everyone has for the Deep South (where I was born), they came out thick as gumbo for any and all Southern teams - Charlotte, Atlanta and Richmond as well as the TX teams. And on the same note,
-- Put yer fucking petty differences aside when you go to Nationals, no matter what the role you play. And play nice - you're on vacation. Folks are getting old and crotchety - lighten up people, it's only a game.
-- Spray bottle misters are cool to bring to the desert in the middle of August. Not only are they hydrating and refreshing, but they're the FriendMaker!
-- I know at least 1/4 to 1/2 of the poets at Nats this year by either name or piece, and I'd seen half of who was left at least around. That's scary, on so many different levels.
-- After 8 years of performing, 6 years of hosting & countless impromptu performances both for and by me, I find myself utterly repelled by cyphers...yes, I know, I have just blasphemed, my immortal soul doomed to the eternal Poet Hell of Shame. I still love cyphers, and the energy they bring. I am, however, old and crotchety, and the LAST thing I wanna do after talking to some poets about poetry and practicing poetry and watching poetry and performing poetry and coaching poetry is...LISTEN TO A BUNCH OF POETRY! So my apologies to the poets whose cyphers I so slyly slunk away from into the night - I've witnessed thousands and thousands of poems. I'm not yet full up, but I've also got years of hosting, shows and performances ahead of me. I'll see you again.
-- If your only reason for going to Nats is Finals Stage, you will be profoundly disappointed. Everytime. Because, to wrap your whole good time at Nats up in whether you win or not is to assume the following:
1. That you and your team are better than 300 other poets from 60-80 other teams;
2. That your solo performance on either prelim night will be a good strategic move for your team;
3. That your solo performance on either prelim night will actually be the highest scoring piece of the bout;
4. That you will draw “5” every night, and be judged by thoughtful, sober, intelligent, multi-gendered, multi-cultured liberals;
5. That the Devil will actually honor that deal y’all made fer yer soul. Dumbass.
Even if you and your team make Finals Stage, that’s 4 bouts total. 4-5 hours of competition in 5 days. Maybe one more bout if you make Indie Finals, which is never going to happen at Nats again. Why be on a team, T.O., if you only want to play with yourself? Grab some lotion and find a quiet room instead.
-- One finger does not a hand make. Several teams (including 3 Bay Area teams) lost a team member this year on the road to Nats. Most weren’t as dramatic as in the airport the day of, but there were a surprising number of those, too. Now, I understand unfortunate circumstances, but if you wanna be a Diva - well, that just makes it glaringly obvious that you weren’t really a team member anyway. Which, incidentally, just makes your team that much tighter and bonded. So you’ll be glad to know, everyone will always get along fine without you - your loss.
-- Can’t nobody pimp like a woman. Yes, people, I personally watched a certain female member of Team 41510 straight talk 5 women out of their blouses, on the street at the Poet Prom. I mean, she had male poets gathered around her taking notes on technique and shit! Hit me up back channel (if you don’t know already), and I’ll refer you - for a modest fee, of course.
-- I like beer! $2 beer is my favorite. Gets you nice and drunk, so you feel like going outside and taking your shirt off.
-- And my most important (self-) discovery: Slam is STILL just a game I play at bars with my friends. Cause when it comes right down to it, we all just want to conversate, and debate and smoke with and drink with and joke with and make out with and commune with like-minded people we can relate to. This game is how we find each other, but that’s all it is - a game. Not to quote a certain other winner, but hey - you play, you win, you play, you lose - you PLAY. Then you get fucked up, and celebrate the game (my version. Ha.).
*Special shout-outs to: Austin Neo-Soul (made us feel SO welcome), Kris (Charles’ friend), Hashley, Kai Moon, Mike Henry, Lee Knight, Jr. (you fuckin ROCKED Indies!), Amy Weaver (ditto!), Bob Whoopeecat (he FED us, yo!), Karen Finnyfrock (Big Booty!), Ashara & PodSlam.org, and the Mayor & City of Austin. This would be a GREAT place to have Nats next year - oh wait…
luv, naz.
Austin turned out to be an excellent trip for me, and one of the best Nats I've been to (just can't seem to match that 1st hit!). I learned ALOT - about myself, about people I know (partly 'cause we finally had time to talk, partly 'cause I'm apparently CLUELESS), and about us as human beings. I won't go into any long stories, so here's my li'l highlights list:
-- Texas is hot. Hotter'n a hellhound's asshole.
-- In Austin, TX, you can strip down to yer tatas and yer short an' curlies, and it's perfectly legal. Now, If you even appear drunk they'll take you to jail, but as long as they can't see the crack of yer ass, you can give the nice police officer a strip show. Go figger.
-- Entourage, entourage, entourage! We don't want it to, but it makes a difference at the slam if the whole first & 2nd row are hollering for another team, and the cheering section for you is...your coach and whoever didn't get to perform. Makes a HUGE difference at early bouts, 1st night, especially when you're far away from home. Especially directed at folks from slam dense areas, but cheer for your home folks as long as you're here. For all the criticisms everyone has for the Deep South (where I was born), they came out thick as gumbo for any and all Southern teams - Charlotte, Atlanta and Richmond as well as the TX teams. And on the same note,
-- Put yer fucking petty differences aside when you go to Nationals, no matter what the role you play. And play nice - you're on vacation. Folks are getting old and crotchety - lighten up people, it's only a game.
-- Spray bottle misters are cool to bring to the desert in the middle of August. Not only are they hydrating and refreshing, but they're the FriendMaker!
-- I know at least 1/4 to 1/2 of the poets at Nats this year by either name or piece, and I'd seen half of who was left at least around. That's scary, on so many different levels.
-- After 8 years of performing, 6 years of hosting & countless impromptu performances both for and by me, I find myself utterly repelled by cyphers...yes, I know, I have just blasphemed, my immortal soul doomed to the eternal Poet Hell of Shame. I still love cyphers, and the energy they bring. I am, however, old and crotchety, and the LAST thing I wanna do after talking to some poets about poetry and practicing poetry and watching poetry and performing poetry and coaching poetry is...LISTEN TO A BUNCH OF POETRY! So my apologies to the poets whose cyphers I so slyly slunk away from into the night - I've witnessed thousands and thousands of poems. I'm not yet full up, but I've also got years of hosting, shows and performances ahead of me. I'll see you again.
-- If your only reason for going to Nats is Finals Stage, you will be profoundly disappointed. Everytime. Because, to wrap your whole good time at Nats up in whether you win or not is to assume the following:
1. That you and your team are better than 300 other poets from 60-80 other teams;
2. That your solo performance on either prelim night will be a good strategic move for your team;
3. That your solo performance on either prelim night will actually be the highest scoring piece of the bout;
4. That you will draw “5” every night, and be judged by thoughtful, sober, intelligent, multi-gendered, multi-cultured liberals;
5. That the Devil will actually honor that deal y’all made fer yer soul. Dumbass.
Even if you and your team make Finals Stage, that’s 4 bouts total. 4-5 hours of competition in 5 days. Maybe one more bout if you make Indie Finals, which is never going to happen at Nats again. Why be on a team, T.O., if you only want to play with yourself? Grab some lotion and find a quiet room instead.
-- One finger does not a hand make. Several teams (including 3 Bay Area teams) lost a team member this year on the road to Nats. Most weren’t as dramatic as in the airport the day of, but there were a surprising number of those, too. Now, I understand unfortunate circumstances, but if you wanna be a Diva - well, that just makes it glaringly obvious that you weren’t really a team member anyway. Which, incidentally, just makes your team that much tighter and bonded. So you’ll be glad to know, everyone will always get along fine without you - your loss.
-- Can’t nobody pimp like a woman. Yes, people, I personally watched a certain female member of Team 41510 straight talk 5 women out of their blouses, on the street at the Poet Prom. I mean, she had male poets gathered around her taking notes on technique and shit! Hit me up back channel (if you don’t know already), and I’ll refer you - for a modest fee, of course.
-- I like beer! $2 beer is my favorite. Gets you nice and drunk, so you feel like going outside and taking your shirt off.
-- And my most important (self-) discovery: Slam is STILL just a game I play at bars with my friends. Cause when it comes right down to it, we all just want to conversate, and debate and smoke with and drink with and joke with and make out with and commune with like-minded people we can relate to. This game is how we find each other, but that’s all it is - a game. Not to quote a certain other winner, but hey - you play, you win, you play, you lose - you PLAY. Then you get fucked up, and celebrate the game (my version. Ha.).
*Special shout-outs to: Austin Neo-Soul (made us feel SO welcome), Kris (Charles’ friend), Hashley, Kai Moon, Mike Henry, Lee Knight, Jr. (you fuckin ROCKED Indies!), Amy Weaver (ditto!), Bob Whoopeecat (he FED us, yo!), Karen Finnyfrock (Big Booty!), Ashara & PodSlam.org, and the Mayor & City of Austin. This would be a GREAT place to have Nats next year - oh wait…
luv, naz.