Misuse of Magic

Now that I'm becoming a bit more familiar with my surroundings and there's no more curfew, I might just go and catch a show this coming thursday at Drink! Wine Bar on Roberts Street

We are Both Trembling Things

mojgani: 30/30, two

Damn.  People seem to enjoy my poems.  Invariably, these people are my friends so it sort of makes their opinions...questionable.  If they didn't know me; If I were, perhaps, just some random guy who happened to pass them a poem on a napkin, what would they think of it then?

Call me a wild thing. I run sometimes. Sometimes I sleep
beneath the ancient tree. My belly is softer than my back.
There are things inside of me that are overgrown with blackberries.
They are plump with the sun, ready to stain the fingers.
There is a room where a woman with a loom weaves.
She is making a fabric white as skin. The light passes through it.
Her body is like lace. The light passes through it.
Its corners curl into shapes and beautiful patterns.
She lays herself before me on top the table
and places my teacup on to her chest.
They are both trembling things.
She covers her body with teacups.
I lay at her feet.
We are both trembling things.

I don't know Anis Mojgani.  I never shook his hand or teased him about his height.  I've never dismissed the snarks of homophobes while embracing him, man to man, in a crowded restaurant.  We are not friends.  But I'd like to be.  I'd like to meet Anis Mojgani the way some people would like to hang out backstage with their favorite musicians.  This man is my rock star.  I hear he hangs out at the Bowery Poetry Club.  Last time I was in New York I went out in search of it, only to get lost and give up hope.  And just as we were about to descend down into another subway terminal I look up...and there it is.  Right across the street.

Next time, I'll be able to find it a lot easier.  Maybe they'll have an open mic night or something.  Maybe I'll read.  Maybe Anis Mojgani will be in the crowd.  Maybe he'll clap.

That'd be awesome.

What have I learned today?

"Silence is not a natural environment for stories. They need words. Without them they grow pale, sicken and die. And then they haunt you."

From The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

Full disclosure from here on out. Can't stand to be haunted. Besides, who's reading that would be offended?

Besides. I get to be selfish. At least here. This...is for me.

Anancy Song & Ask me how my weekend went

"Anancy Song" by Geoffrey Philp

Which reminds me that I have yet to read Neil Gaiman's 'Nancy Boys'. And which reminds me that I am a child of the Caribbean and that I have to hold on to that. A lot of people have this misconception that Anansi's adventures are all about deceipt and opportunism when really, Anansi teaches us what we've needed to know since civilization opened its eyes: How to Survive. And how to do so using nothing more than your intellect, and what you have at hand.

I don't know why I'm so maudlin. Technically, i had a pretty great weekend. I read at the closing of Book Week, an event entitled 'Literary Night'. Interestingly enough I was...possibly one of two sane, non-eccentric writers in the room. Though, I hold myself slightly to blame for that perception. I'm almost certain that 'River of Fire' was sitting in the crowd debating whether or not he should read his 'Three things thrive in the darkness: Snakes, Scorpions, and Battymen' poem when, out of the blue, he hears the fellow at the mic describing Sea Hag nipples and wet tongues circling red lips. I think that's the moment he decided 'This seems like a crowd I can whip out the battyman material in front of'!

But all in all it was well received, I think. The crowd had me nervous at first. I got through the first lines of 'The Fortunate End of Jonas Black' and kept thinking 'this is way too corny to be taken seriously.' There were murmurs at the mention of mermaids, tittering as I went through several paragraphs describing their breasts (What else would you describe on a mermaid?), but by the time I got to poor Jona's actual descent into death there was rapt silence.

'I Could Call you Brother' was a bit better received, though I'm not sure people got that first stanza (It was a dog in the first draft. Now its a horse. Point is, though, its an animal, then a man.) And 'Dreaming of Flying' got me a crowd of 'Aww's. So, good for me! I just had to sit through the crazy a bit longer. Not too bad with Jon and Sean there to make me want to guffaw every eight minutes.

Lets see...what else?

Women are generally confusing. That doesn't change. I consider making grand gestures. Then...I consider whether or not it would even be worth it. What if i did sweep her off her feet? She'd still be the girl who drunk dials exes on her birthday. But maybe that's a good thing. Is anybody going to Drunk dial me on their birthday this year?

Ah. That's why I'm maudlin.