Really, there are no Mummies in my Basement

The assessment on my house arrived in the mail from the county yesterday. The auditor lowered the value of my house by $22,000. I'm a bit stunned, but not completely surprised. We're not in a desirable neighborhood, but we're not in the middle of urban blight here either. This part of town has no real amenities, no coffee shops, no movie theaters and it's not walkable.



Last night at Writers' Block was the final qualifying slam for IWPS. I was prepared as it would be my final slam of the season since I will not be in the country for finals. Drew the third slot out of six poets and brought out a debut. If you were not there you missed out on "Crispus Attucks Speaks through my Oujia Board" which does little to extinguish the flames of the Race War that Scott Woods is trying to start. Must be experienced to be believed.

Went into round two in first place. Asked Gina if we could end it there, she was not able to. Read "My Thunder" and I brought it like a weak cold front as three other poets passed me and I finished fourth. Congratulations to Rose Smith for winning it all. Vernell finished in second, Megan in third.

It was a good slam season. I respected the "No Repeat" rule and adhered to it, even counted the two poems I read at Rust Belt even though I did not have to.

A couple of months off from slam and it all starts again in January. Got to improve the writing, always.