words, words, words
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
Saturday, June 07, 2003
next time you're feeling angry at the world around you or maybe your significant other, or want to let out some repressed energy, find a local slam poetry night and listen to the spouting rage at the world around us. I spent an evening at St Louis' grand slam, the night to choose four poets to represent the city at the national slam competition this August in Chicago. talk about words, they came at you like firepower, burning everything they could. And yet, I don't think it's unhealthy. They often have good points of view and express those liberal parts of you nobody else shares. I was brave or silly enough to stand up and read my poem to them, full of questions, self-meditation and longings for love, which they actually respected more than i expected. having not really been to a full slam before, i had a hard time guaging my own comfort level which changed through the evening, depending on who was speaking at the moment. I didn't have a chance to memorize mine; most of this pack had been writing for these events for years, seemed to live it with their breath, a niche society in the middle of the rest of us.
but that's how it always is, isn't it? we keep ourselves in our own groups, keep company with the same people, get comfortable in one situation. what i love most though is when you find a group that is both close-knit and welcoming to newcomers, when the spirit that moves between them can grow to accept more, as if you had always been there, as if you were suddenly able to be a part of their lives. hard to do, to leave you life open to the new, whether it be people or experiences.
but what experience for me to stand in front of them, and receive enough welcome that I might just come back. if only to hear some more spittin' words.
1:16 PM
|
|
| |
|
|
|
