Valentine's Day
(I've manipulated my site settings - let me know if there's any immediate bad effects for all y'all - thanks.)
(Also, there are a couple new dreams.)
Monday night I went out to The Hideout to watch a couple bands and see some heart-based poetry. Well, you know, lurve poetry. The poetry was mostly good. This one guy was reciting a poem dedicated to his grandfather and it was very strange and discombobulating. The phrases were all very fragmented and his delivery really punched their fragmentation.
One of the poets remarked that there was some graffiti on the men's bathroom wall that said, "Scarves are for faggots." This poet was himself a faggot. He read from a series of poems which he called the Ira poems, that depicted the last time he was in love - in 1989. His were the best of the night, and if applause was an indication, then I think the audience agreed with this.
When I looked on the wall in the bathroom, I didn't find that quote, but I found instead, SOILENT GREEN IS PEOPLE! This made me laugh.
The poets inspired me to write some poetry, though my a.d.d. kicked in and I haven't yet except for a collaborative piece I'm sharing with a friend in San Francisco.
I may still start that poem tonight.
In addition to the readings, there were two bands. The first was Charlemagne. My date, Greg, and I couldn't figure out if Charlemagne was the name of merely the lead singer (as he introduced himself as such), or if the whole band was Charlemagne. You know, kinda like Winger. Either way, I liked Charlemagne. The music was catchy and pretty and dynamic enough. Their drummer was this chick with a mullet that I rather enjoyed. Their keyboardist seemed like he didn't belong. He looked like a tax adjuster. He also looked like in conversation, anything he'd say would be grumbled.
The second band was Chicago's own L'Altra. I liked them pretty well, also. They consisted of a cellist, a guitarist, a keyboardist and a second guitarist. No drums. Obviously, this wasn't high energy music, but I found it pretty and soothing and interesting enough. We were both hungry though, so we left to get some pizza at Santullo's. Mmmm. Yummy pizza.
(Also, there are a couple new dreams.)
Monday night I went out to The Hideout to watch a couple bands and see some heart-based poetry. Well, you know, lurve poetry. The poetry was mostly good. This one guy was reciting a poem dedicated to his grandfather and it was very strange and discombobulating. The phrases were all very fragmented and his delivery really punched their fragmentation.
It was-- It was like-- It was-- It-- It was like he-- It was like-- It was like he would start a sentence-- It was-- It was like he would start a sentence and not finish it over and over again and his delivery was so good I really felt like I was hearing this weirdly skipping record or some constantly interrupted transmission.
One of the poets remarked that there was some graffiti on the men's bathroom wall that said, "Scarves are for faggots." This poet was himself a faggot. He read from a series of poems which he called the Ira poems, that depicted the last time he was in love - in 1989. His were the best of the night, and if applause was an indication, then I think the audience agreed with this.
When I looked on the wall in the bathroom, I didn't find that quote, but I found instead, SOILENT GREEN IS PEOPLE! This made me laugh.
The poets inspired me to write some poetry, though my a.d.d. kicked in and I haven't yet except for a collaborative piece I'm sharing with a friend in San Francisco.
I may still start that poem tonight.
In addition to the readings, there were two bands. The first was Charlemagne. My date, Greg, and I couldn't figure out if Charlemagne was the name of merely the lead singer (as he introduced himself as such), or if the whole band was Charlemagne. You know, kinda like Winger. Either way, I liked Charlemagne. The music was catchy and pretty and dynamic enough. Their drummer was this chick with a mullet that I rather enjoyed. Their keyboardist seemed like he didn't belong. He looked like a tax adjuster. He also looked like in conversation, anything he'd say would be grumbled.
The second band was Chicago's own L'Altra. I liked them pretty well, also. They consisted of a cellist, a guitarist, a keyboardist and a second guitarist. No drums. Obviously, this wasn't high energy music, but I found it pretty and soothing and interesting enough. We were both hungry though, so we left to get some pizza at Santullo's. Mmmm. Yummy pizza.
posted by Brian at
2:27 AM
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