Last night's show was on the stage at the old Diamond Bar during EVENTgelical's latest art show, Dreaming. It was a fabulous crowd and I even managed to have a few pieces of art in the show that sold to local people. :) Our stage was set up for the fashion show so we rigged the Samurai mic for streaming and performed in front of the back lit, gauze-white curtains. Too cool. It was like poetry in the afterlife. :D
Anyway, I managed to write three new pieces for the show and did a short cover of a piece written about us by a fan on the Samurai of the Spoken Word Fan Page. (Thanks, Rick!)Two of my three original pieces were about specific people in my life and they both happened to be there in the audience Saturday night and I got a really positive reaction from both of them.
If you missed it and you want to see my set, it is posted here from UStream. This is Part 2 of the video we took last night, and I start at about 10:25. Eventually I will get clips for the blog, but I also like that the links I post here enable you to check out other poets, authors and performance artists, too!For my 2nd piece, "Golden Years", I slowly grew an East Coast accent and had a "ringer" in the crowd who was yelling out phrases as part of the overall piece. Way too much fun.
If I had thought it through, I would have gotten her a mic, too. Ah well. Next time. Since you can't really hear her lines on the video, I thought I would post it here. And big thanks to Michelle, who inadvertently helped me write that one on her balcony one sunny afternoon when I almost peed myself from laughing with her. :)
Golden Years
Why
do so many people retire to Florida?
I
have no interest in knobbly knees, women’s golf and lawn maintenance.
When
I retire, I am taking my friend Mary and moving to New Jersey.
In
my older years I want to be where I can cultivate an accent,
grow
my hair big,
talk
loud and
NEVER
BE
WRONG.
At
age 65, I plan to take up smoking again.
(inhales)I
will use it
(exhales)As
punctuation.
I
will refuse to smoke Marlboros or any other halfway decent brand.
I
plan to base my smoking choice on how irritating it is to have the smoke,
blown
in your FACE.
I will smoke
Doral 120s.
Not
only do they taste terrible, but they smell even worse.
I
will blow it at you constantly, (inhales)
Because
second hand smoke kills (exhales)
But
not reliably.
I
will drive a 1986 Monte Carlo SS with baby blue leather interior,
a chrome
chain for a steering wheel,
and a snow white paint job with a detail of little bluebirds
flying across the trunk.
We
will ALWAYS talk about taking down the T-tops on sunny days,
but never will,
knowing the wind will just fuck up our hair.
We
will spend Saturday afternoons in the corner beauty parlor getting our nails
sculpted and our eyebrows DRAWN back in.
On
alternate weekends I will get the all the hair pulled from my chin.
I
will insist the beautician call it “tweezing”, not plucking.
What
do I look like here? A chicken?
Mary
and I will gossip about all our friends the very SECOND anyone leaves the
parlor.
We
will say things like,
“Did
you see the attitude I got from her?”
“I
mean, don’t get me wrong, I love her like a sister – but that skirt?”
“Pfft.”
“Dollars
to doughnuts says she’s really a man.”
We
will then return to our four-hour primping session.
We
will refuse all modern technology and convenience.
I
will find it much simpler in our older years to simply park on the street below
your open apartment window and yell up,
Heyah! You comin out or what?
She
will yell back down to me in return, saving us the expense of cell phone
charges.
(From
girl in crowd:) “I dunno. I got nothing
to wear.”
“You
look fine – What, we’re goin to the White House?”
(From
girl in crowd:)”No, but you shoulda come by earlier – Now you’ll look better
than me.”
“That’s
stupid. Just come out to the car. We’re gonna miss the party.”
(From
girl in crowd:)“Who you calling stupid - - Why don’t you just go by yourself if
you really think you are.”
“Oh
come on, you’re skeeving me off -- you got more clothes than I got hair on my
head.”
(From girl in crowd:)”Why
we gotta do this every time? If you weren’t
late, I could go. Now? Forget it.”
“Oh
forget it, yourself! Why don’t you just
go see where you gotta go? I’m leaving.”
Our
husbands have REFUSED to go to the Garden State with us.
We
don’t know why.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Last Night at the Slowdown!
I had a fabulous time at the Slowdown last night!
It was my first time on that stage (we had the smaller one, I am told) and although it was slightly less intimate than Pizza Shoppe Collective, lots of regulars came out to watch and it was really awesome to see them in the crowd.
I performed mostly original pieces, although nothing new since the last show.
I have been working on my art (multi-media paintings) for the Dreaming Show this next weekend, so my creative time has been invested into that recently.
I have about four new poems that just need some final edits to get finished and I'm hoping to have some new pieces to read at Dreaming on Saturday night.
So...three things:
HERE is info on Dreaming this weekend if you are interested.
And HERE is the link for the video from last night. (I am the last performer on April Assault, Part 1, but be sure to check out Part 2 as well!)
and now...
here is a piece Ephemily has been asking me to post:
In Fear for My Life
I used to live in a thick brick apartment
right next door to a half-way house half-way down the block.
The broken pavement
leaking pipes and
cracking walls
fell down into
our hair our showers our beds.
cockroaches ruled the kitchens
and feral cats stalked back alleys with the ferocity of cruel children.
alcoholics paced the streets drinking from paper bags
and neighbors sat on stoops
waiting to be institutionalized.
early one morning the police showed up
and put clear
plastic
cups
over the bits of shot-out human lung
lying bloody on the front steps.
I lived there through four years of rent-hikes rats and roaches,
two drive-by shootings, and three break-ins.
now I live in a beige-sided house in a beige-sided neighborhood.
everyone smiles and waves from their minivans and trucks.
roses and peonies litter the sidewalks and perfectly trimmed lawns obey every rule.
no one is shot dead in the street
I’ve never washed the face of a lost child
no one knocks on my door trying to sell me magazines or Jesus
no one threatens their wives in the front yard EVEN THOUGH the weather is warm
no one is selling drugs from the back seat of their rusted Pontiac Sunbird
and if I leave out bags of empty soda cans for the homeless
NO ONE picks them up before garbage day.
children laugh in the park,
there are no fights to break up
and families GARDEN together
on the public grass
along the boulevard.
I stand in the center of the traffic-free street
staring at all of this.
too terrified to move.
...
It was my first time on that stage (we had the smaller one, I am told) and although it was slightly less intimate than Pizza Shoppe Collective, lots of regulars came out to watch and it was really awesome to see them in the crowd.
I performed mostly original pieces, although nothing new since the last show.
I have been working on my art (multi-media paintings) for the Dreaming Show this next weekend, so my creative time has been invested into that recently.
I have about four new poems that just need some final edits to get finished and I'm hoping to have some new pieces to read at Dreaming on Saturday night.
So...three things:
HERE is info on Dreaming this weekend if you are interested.
And HERE is the link for the video from last night. (I am the last performer on April Assault, Part 1, but be sure to check out Part 2 as well!)
and now...
here is a piece Ephemily has been asking me to post:
In Fear for My Life
I used to live in a thick brick apartment
right next door to a half-way house half-way down the block.
The broken pavement
leaking pipes and
cracking walls
fell down into
our hair our showers our beds.
cockroaches ruled the kitchens
and feral cats stalked back alleys with the ferocity of cruel children.
alcoholics paced the streets drinking from paper bags
and neighbors sat on stoops
waiting to be institutionalized.
early one morning the police showed up
and put clear
plastic
cups
over the bits of shot-out human lung
lying bloody on the front steps.
I lived there through four years of rent-hikes rats and roaches,
two drive-by shootings, and three break-ins.
now I live in a beige-sided house in a beige-sided neighborhood.
everyone smiles and waves from their minivans and trucks.
roses and peonies litter the sidewalks and perfectly trimmed lawns obey every rule.
no one is shot dead in the street
I’ve never washed the face of a lost child
no one knocks on my door trying to sell me magazines or Jesus
no one threatens their wives in the front yard EVEN THOUGH the weather is warm
no one is selling drugs from the back seat of their rusted Pontiac Sunbird
and if I leave out bags of empty soda cans for the homeless
NO ONE picks them up before garbage day.
children laugh in the park,
there are no fights to break up
and families GARDEN together
on the public grass
along the boulevard.
I stand in the center of the traffic-free street
staring at all of this.
too terrified to move.
...
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