“My dick is a maniac depressive”. Rarely do I hear a line that good. It cut through all the noise. “Congratulations” introduced me to the newest line of iPhone. Who was this guy? All of us wanted to know, us being defined as the hippest guys in ustream. Please TIVO all your shows for the next day. Find all of your ex-lover’s hair and do something weird with it. Wasn’t that movie (Minority Report) the tits? This speaker, poet, crazy person given a microphone truly came at us as fast as he could. Nobody stopped him. He continued. Pieces of paper were murdered to death around him. I liked how he didn’t give a fuck. Even when his words hurt (how “Broken Flowers” sucked) I would defend his right to say it. At the end I learned it was Joshua Kleinberg, someone I am friends with on Facebook. Thank internet based God for that!
Heather Palmer came next. Meghan Lamb advised her to make out with the microphone. Unfortunately for us she refused. A black sun rose. That seemed bleak. Glitches occurred a bit in this reading. Not Heather’s fault, the phone of one Stephen Tully Dierks is to blame. Her work seemed extremely descriptive and some of the illusions were beautiful.
James Tadd Adcox looked like a poet, via his well-groomed beard. His computer was destroyed. Now his wine was pure dust. All his electronic devices were gutted. And he’s a ghost or something (spoiler). Everyone ran out of dreams in another poem. Man, these were some bleak-ass poems. I wanted there to be a really cheerful, sunny poem to balance to out the darkness. But that didn’t happen. Rather I heard about people changing sex back and forth, from male to female. At least that felt a bit less sad, means more sexiness.
A break came forth. Suddenly we were submerged in darkness. The battery gave up on life. It was depressed by listening to too much indie poetry. Or Stephen figured save the battery for when people were actually reading. No one knew. We had to sit there for the ten minute break to discover whether or not we’d ever see any of the great people from Red Light bulbs ever again. I mean, we’d see them through various Facebook profiles. But it’s not the same as seeing them pixelated, moving in real time.
Of course they came back. In the advertisement I learned about snorkeling. Upon the end of the advertisement I saw a post-impressionist glitch image of someone’s head. The back of their head looked beautiful, populated with grays, illuminated with bar light. My eyes welled up with tears at the sheer beauty of the stuck image. Occasionally I’m shocked by all the unintentional beauty in the world, kind of like that guy in “American Beauty” but with way less drug use or creepiness.
It started up once more, believing in itself. Nick Sturm read. Apparently Nick’s main job involves building fences. Good Fences make good neighbors according to Robert Frosty the Snowman. Seeing his ponytail made me realize this guy is for real. Being a man and having a ponytail usually means you’re a pretty intense bro. Towns were great. Everyone in his towns apparently rubs their genitals together. “A basic guide to emergency” came up, a hotly anticipated poem coming out in some ultra-exclusive press so exclusive I don’t even know it. “You had a great ass” is what I want more poetry to tell me. It feels nice having a collection of words hitting on me.
Russ Woods and Meghan Lamb gave me a shout out. I felt relevant. Whenever I feel relevant I’m usually disconnected from ustream. Today was no different. Lindsay Hunter greeted me back into the poetry reading. Her voice sounded impossibly American. The delivery, fast, near-crazed, was fantastic. Honestly I appreciate the madness of the poem, all fuzz, crackle and bust. “Show me your truck” is possibly the best pick-up line I’ve heard. Apparently the audience agreed, laughing at multiple moments. She killed it, literally and metaphorically.
Stephen Tully Dierks turned off the ustream. And it was good.
You also might be interested in
A lot of people might say not to judge[...]
Roxanne, you don’t have to turn on the red[...]
I remember when I first met Jack Gooding. There[...]