I see Butch-Femme.com is FUCKING UP again this morning. I fear our little hometown has outgrown the server capacity… yet again.
I am up before the sun this AM. I have had a sinus headache for about… oh, ten years now. They are going to drill my skull soon to fix it. Joy. I need to quit smoking before the surgery, but I admit I just crushed out my fourth Marlboro of the morning. While I make my to-do lists, all my jones steal the better of me.
N-E-wayz…
I was in a smoky dive the other night checking out the Dallas poetry slam championship. Christine and Gee thought the work presented was mostly Velveeta flavored, but I thought it was mostly great. There was a time when my own pen sang for its supper, but now I am old and well-fed. LOL I value those creative souls who will sit alone - think - scribble - cross-out - try to find the intensity of language… and then have the courage to emote penned lines as if the words were absolute truth.
Oblivious to eyes rolling in the audience, several white male poets chose to wax about the plight of black folk in America. One uptight lookin’ wordsmith in very conservative office-wear steadied himself with a dignified pose, and then suddenly started hollering into the mic about EATIN’ AAAAAAAASS. (!) Good lord. Justice mostly prevailed, however. The nerd who took the big trophy was soooo homely. (HOW HOMELY WAS HE?) When he stepped into the spotlight there were collective gasps and groans from the audience, amidst one definite swoon for our hero from his geeky girlfriend. Yes, this poor little Dilbert was well aware that he had teeth and hair shootin’ ever’ which way, but no one could deny the boy was mightee mighty. Rawk ON, thinka man.
Funny. Yanno. Chris and I share a strange culture in our life together. Spanning nearly a decade from the moment we joined hearts and minds, we have found ourselves holding our breath and striving toward something that seems vaguely pressing, but neither of us really know what that might be. I don’t mean the business we are trying to launch. I don’t mean our web site. I don’t even know what I mean. See? THAT is what I mean. Every moment we steal away from the faceless frenzy seems like time squandered.
We hang.
We hang.
We.
Hang.
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