Poetry and Pasta

My friend Betsy Clark has been taking on an ambitious project this week. She's been doing a feature at someone's house each night the past six. There's also a spaghetti dinner involved. Last night I was one of the opening acts. It was a small intimate gathering in Alexis and Jay's living room, and Sam the dog was loving on everyone. I did these poems.

This Poem Will Never Be Buzz-fed
Terra Nova Pantoum
Is Gun
All Time None of the Time
Unlatching
The Wine List of the Overlook Hotel
The Real In-flight Announcement

The Word and Spaghetti Tour concludes tonight. Congratulations in advance to Betsy for completing this project!

In other poetry news, local poet Will Evans and former local poet Hanif Willis-Abdurraquib have both made the finals of the Individual World Poetry Slam in Phoenix. Best of luck to the both of them as they compete tonight.

Poetry 2012, what I remembered

I doubt that I'm going to write anything close to Howl in the next week so here's a recap of 2012, from the poetic view.

Not sure how much original work of any quality I wrote. Work was done, most of it average at best. I did finish my first sestina, not saying it's decent but I completed one.

I was published a couple of times. Once online by New Verse News about the wedding of Kim Jong Un and in Night Ballet Press' - Buzzkill: Apocalypse - An End of the World Anthology. This was good news and showed some growth. More hard work is needed though.

The film Street Poet was so horrible we gathered and took the piss out of it one afternoon at the library. It inspired my poem, Kabuki Condom, that helped me win only my second poetry slam.

A more memorable gathering of poets occurred in March on the steps of the Main Library as we celebrated a Great Day in Columbus as the snow smacked us all in the face.

I made three appearances on the show Speaking of Poetry this year talking about autism, IWPS and phoning in to give Izetta a goodbye Haiku.

Writers' Block brought on the usual shenanigans and coy racism along with new regular Erik the Viking, his height, his Mormonism and wind sex. It was also awesome to see Aaron appear in his first Grand Slam.

One of the big surprises for me was winning my second IWPS title and representing Writers Block in Fayetteville. I was a bit nervous and not as pumped as I could have been but being in the coolness of Fayetteville rejuvenated my enthusiasm. That and I was 28th after the first night! Ended up falling into 45th out of 67 but I had an absolute blast. So happy to have this experience under my belt.

The other big surprise was getting involved with the Columbus Arts Festival as a volunteer. Working with such a great group of people was inspiring. Then I was asked to be the Chair of the Poetry Committee for 2013. I'm humbled Scott Huntley and Shana Scott have so much trust in me. A good group of people are on the committee and I'm excited to be working with them. And hey poets you can apply to appear on stage right here!

Been a heck of a year, looking forward to Arts Fest and what the rest will bring.

In closing I urge you to give a listen to this. Jack McCarthy on IndieFeed.

IWPS - Final verse

The alarm woke me on Saturday morning and I felt horrible. I wish I could say I was hungover, but I did not have any booze the night before.

Took a quick shower and got soaked on the way to Little Bread. Got a bagel with cream cheese, coffee, and a chocolate croissant then headed back to the room to follow the morning's soccer action.

Happily, I found a great audio link via talksport.com to get a live audio stream of all of the matches. Free!

But this is not about Everton getting a draw at Wigan.

The food did not make me feel better, it was not staying in its place for the right amount of time. Lied down and tried to sleep some before J.W. Bazillo's workshop. It was not going to happen.

Ended up watching Arkansas beat Auburn, hey Auburn are really terrible!

Began to feel a little better, possibly able to leave the room without need for a restroom every fifteen minutes so I went to Rogue to check out the comedy open mic.

It was hosted by The Klute, a wickedly funny guy sporting a fez. I signed up, ended up going first and read Spam Folder of Love.

I have no idea how it went over. There were not many people there at first. By the time I was to read again there were more people. I got called up and read An Obscene Phone Call From Mr. Potato Head. This was better received, I think.

There was some wit with a bite, as a work poem by a guy named Toaster demonstrated. Ethan did Toast and river danced on the stage. The second half was much improved on the first.

Felt even better so I went to the Hawg Haus for a burger and some bourbon before headed to finals.

Four of the finalists I had been in bouts with during the tournament. Three of them in my Friday night bout. I thought the quality of the work in these finals was much higher than what I saw in Berkeley. Most of the poets were outstanding. More on that in a bit.

Thuli Zuma's work is heartbreakingly beautiful. Her second poem about feeling guilt for the color of her skin knocked me out. 6 is 9 did a frantic and clever reading about cocaine and why it really became illegal. Franny Choi's Letter from Jessica Alba to Her Father turned the tables on some cliches. Seth Walker's poem from the persona of a tree that tries to prevent a suicide was an amazing example of body use in performance poetry. He also came up to the stage for his third poem, realized he had the wrong paper - ran back to his seat, found the right paper and sprinted back to the stage. Yes, there was a time penalty! It was a pleasure seeing G. Yamazawa on finals stage as he had been in both my bouts.

Ed Mabrey won it all, by just a tenth of a point over Thuli. So close! Ed was one of the first poets I saw in open mic in Columbus in 2006. The man has a voice, a set of pipes that always amaze me. It was so cool to be on the same stage with him on Friday and then to see him win his second IWPS title.

One poet has evoked some controversy. She read a letter to a person who raped her friend. The accused rapist was a poet in the room. I've been thinking a lot about this over the past couple of days. Read more than a few Facebook status updates and a good blog about building a safe poetry scene. Still have not really come to a conclusion. Not sure if that was exactly the right forum for this to be read. Not sure if it was the perfect forum. Wondering what an audience member, who may have been attending their first poetry slam thought about the poem. Would continually seeing poets beefing on other poets bring an increased audience of non poets into slam events or open mics?

There's a lot to digest. A lot of conversation is still necessary concerning safe spaces for women in poetry. It's ugly, but should not and can not be hidden.

But it's not going to be solved on social media sites.

Here's the part where I name drop the cool people I met. It's hard for me to meet people. I'm not an extrovert and rarely engage in deeper talk with people I have just met. Introducing myself to new people, even if we're in the same field, terrifies me.

I'll start with my driver, Josh. Thanks for the ride, and the tour on the way to Fayetteville from the airport. Your volunteering was much appreciated by many.

The people of the Little Bread Company. Your spirit and support of poetry was well respected. The baked goods you make are nothing short of delicious on a level that is not of this world. I have no idea if I ever will return to Fayetteville. But if I do, keep a cream puff for me. And if anyone reading this has to go to Fayetteville, you must go here!

Greg Bee. I met him at the Last Chance Slam, which he won. Such a kind and open man. A poet with a huge heart. He's an older poet and we bonded over being of a certain age, and in slam. Not too many of us out there.

Elizag. Another poet of a certain age. I did not realize she was from my home state. She reads tough. She talks smart. She's just getting started and is eager to learn. Maybe we will start the poets over 45 support group!

Leah Noble Davidson. Another poet just getting started. She has a farm girl's style and the soul of someone very wise. I predict we're going to read big work from her.

Jesse Parent. I wish we talked more. I had no idea he was Sonnets the Clown at Extreme Championship Poetry until he took the wig off. I still have not seen him read. This has to change.

Dogmatic. Saw him read and the comedy open mic and we had a good conversation about funny poems at the after party.

Wish I stayed more at the after party, but it was a smoking bar and I had not been in one in years. My eyes were freaking out on me.

Jenith Charpentier. Another first time poet at a national event. She asked me to take pictures of some good luck charms her daughters made for her. How could I refuse?

Cynthia French. It was good to finally meet her and see her skate around during Extreme Championship Poetry. She also read some good work at the comedy open mic.

Tapesty. Read some of the most gut revealing work I've experienced at a slam. This man has been in war and told stories. Deeply revealing. Then he plays Jack Deadman at Extreme Championship Poetry. Very cool!

Stephen Sargent. Energetic man from Austin. We met during his first bout, which was after mine on Friday. Pleasure to watch him work the stage.

The Klute. Bill Campana suggest I meet him. I think if I saw Klute and Campana together I'd need to wear diapers. These two are extremely dark, funny men. I was honored to be asked to be an audience of one for him rehearsing his one minute piece.

And I again thank Ethan Rivera for making himself available for me to vent my stress at him during my first bout. He did not have to be there, but it was good to have a person I actually knew for assistance.

Thanks to everyone at Writers' Block, especially Louise Robertson and Scott Woods, who dealt with my angst filled emails. And a big thanks again to everyone who assisted me financially. Give me time to get cds and other gifts together.

The biggest thanks goes to my wife, my biggest supporter, who painted the living room in my absence and watched my son while I was out of town. I love you.

To all the organizers, drivers, names I have mistakenly omitted and volunteers of IWPS: a big thank you and well done. I admit to being skeptical about having to go to Fayetteville, but came away really enjoying the community. You have a great scene.

Got back yesterday after a delay in leaving that required a push back of my flight from Atlanta. No other problems. Even had the exit seat legroom on the trip home. Shared the row with a young man who works for Abercrombie & Fitch, whose travel reading was the latest by Tucker Max. No fight broke out, we talked about our fantasy football teams.

Final word: Champions

The temperature dropped about 30 degrees yesterday from Thursday. Storms rolled through and it rained a bit. It is seemingly impossible to find an umbrella in this part of town. Dodged the mist and damp to find a place called the Little Bread Company, which is a short walk from the Hotel.

This place was fantastic. Everything made on premises, from scratch. Almost like Stauf's, but smaller and friendlier. I had my breakfast sandwich in a seat directly across from the display case, and was enticed by a huge plate of cream puffs. These cream puffs were different, as they were covered in chocolate. I told the cashier I'd be back for one of those cream puffs after my walk.

Hit Dickson Street in the vain attempt at umbrella shopping. Got some souvenirs at the campus bookstore and went up the big hill that would take me to Clinton House.

In the mid 1970's Bill Clinton was (as was Hillary), for a brief time, a law professor at the University of Arkansas. And he already lived in one place in Fayetteville. As he was driving Hillary to the airport she noted how much she liked this house. When she got back from the trip, Bill told her he bought the house and asked her to marry him. They were married in the living room. Until they bought the house in Chappaqua, it was the on;y home they ever owned.

Not the best of presidential homes I've visited, but the guide was very knowledgeable and friendly, and I washed my hands in the same sink the Clinton's used.

Got soaked on the way back. Still went back to Little Bread. The cream puff was other worldly.

After a beer sandwiched by two whiskies the night before, I was not in the best shape to attend an early workshop, but did save up my energy to attend Extreme Championship Poetry. Rob Sturma did a great job organizing the event. There were costumes, bad guys, heels, baby faces. It was like watching a night of RAW, but poets fought with words and not steel chairs.

Oh yeah, I was in a bout last night. Two and three minute rounds. I was in the three slot. Did Nine Bullets at Qimchok, got a score I thought was ok. Then, two poets later, the scores burst open and I was last in the round. Poets brought their game. Tables were turned. I went last in the three minute round did To My Son on His 10th Birthday and called it a weekend. Got seventh in the round. Was very happy how I did despite the whoszitwhatheheckjusthappeneditz of the first round.

How tough was my bout last night? Three of the poets ended up on finals stage. All deserved. G. Yamazawa (Who I was in the bout with on Thursday), Cameron and Ed Mabrey will all be onstage tonight. I was also in the bout on Thursday with Melissa May, who is also in finals. I like competing against the best, it brings up your own game and gives the audience a entertaining show.

Went to Matt Miller's Art Studio to see how Ethan did and to see the late bout there. Between rounds one of the judges abruptly left, flipping off one of the organizers as he left. Still not quite sure what happened there. A little spot of drama that did not effect the results.

I kept checking the overall results online to see who would end up in finals. One bout's results were late being posted. I'm sure a few poets were sweating it out. Then the scores were released. It's going to be a very good final.

As for my overall ranking, I went from 28 to 45. Would have not liked to have dropped that far but what can you do? I'm pleased with my work. Had a great time. My main goal was to finish in the middle of the pack, and not near last place like Berkeley. It happened. Again, thank you all for your thoughts and messages of support.

Winding down today. Listening to Everton vs. Wigan, getting ready for the poet picnic. Hope to read at the comedy showcase this afternoon. Then the finals and after party. I do not think I socialized as much as I would have liked, but damn, my energy is limited these days. Staying up late is hard.

I'm at Scarpinos at seven.

Made it to Fayetteville with little fuss. Delta flights were on time with no drama. The flight from Memphis to the Northwest Regional Airport was surprisingly short.

After a brief wait, my ride to town arrived and I got a quick tour of the Northwest Arkansas countryside before getting to the hotel.

The hotel rooms are too good for poets. Large, comfortable beds. Amenities. Clean. The a/c unit is not very quiet but it's a minor complaint.

Got myself registered, realized I had no idea who more than 3/4 of the poets competing are and got myself some food. Found a place called Hugo's, which is a dive burger joint, just the place I needed.

Dickson Street reminds me of Byers Road in Glasgow. A lot of shops, bars and eating establishments. Since I'm in a college town, there is a lot of fast food but the powers that be try to keep it interesting. It's kept fairly clean, which was a pleasant surprise.

The University itself is a mish mash of old and new construction. It's also set on some hills, some are steeper than others. Good exercise.

On the way to the student union for the Last Chance Slam, I looked down on the sidewalk and saw many names carved into the pavement. This is called The Senior Walk, and it celebrates all of the graduating classes of the university. This tradition has been happening since 1906. There are miles of names on the sidewalks of the University of Arkansas, a very cool tradition.

The slam was lengthy. Seventeen poets competed for what turned out to be two slots in IWPS. Thankfully there were only two rounds, with a cut to seven after the first round. It was won by a Seattle poet named Greg Bee, who I met before the slam as we recognized each other as "old poets." I'm pretty sure he and I are the same age. He's been involved in the scene since about 2004 if I remember right.

The other poet who earned a slot in IWPS is Lauren Zuniga, for Oklahoma City, I think. I've seen her on stage at WoW in Columbus and her work is solid.

Could not stay up late as I was exhausted, but I was also disappointed the hotel bar closed at 11PM. Would not have minded a night cap before going to bed.

Woke up around 5:30AM, tried to go back to sleep. Said the heck with it and took a shower then wrote this.

Off to find breakfast, take a walk before the cold front blasts through and most importantly, get ready for tonight's slam.

There is work to do at seven.

That other song by the Deutschendorf fellow

Now that I've found a kicker for my fantasy football team, I can go.

I leave for Fayetteville, Arkansas in a couple of hours to represent Writers' Block Poetry in the Individual World Poetry Slam. As ready as I'm going to get.

Unlike Berkeley in 2009, I have a better idea of what to expect. I plan to socialize a little more, which is very hard for me to do and I want to finish a bit further from last place this time. Fair enough goals?

Will try to update as much as I can. We'll see how the hotel wifi is. I'm guessing Facebook and Twitter updates will occur too. It's a college town, of course there's wifi!

I want to thank everyone at Writers' Block for their support as well as those who have contributed to my trip. I really want to thank my wife the most. She'll be watching my son for a couple of nights and has a project of her own that she's going to be working on while I'm out of the house.

Now, to get the kid on the school bus.

Really should start packing, or pacing

Today I am home with a sick child. The boy has a cold and cough. He got some rest last night, but needs more - and for the cough to diminish some more. Hoping I do not get what he has because I'm going to IWPS tomorrow and having a voice is kind of important in a poetry slam.

Yesterday was also his IEP meeting, which is always an hour of lost hope for me. I'd go on about it, but it's too damn depressing. I also had my goals and objectives meeting at work, which is all I'm going to say about that here, too. A double whammy I do not recommend anyone having to go through in a day.

Trying to get my act together for the trip to Fayetteville, it's tough with all the other stuff that is going on. All I can say is that I'm going to do my best.

Ego boost after fighting traffic

I was on internet radio last night with Ethan Rivera to talk about our coming trip to IWPS. Just before the show started, Vernell took this picture of me with her phone. I gave a panicked smile.



When I looked at it later, I was surprised. It does not suck. I hate pictures of myself more than my poetry but this one does not make me squirm.

It's as if I had stayed in radio and this was my head shot for the afternoon drive show. I like the little halo of light over my left shoulder. Yes, it swells my skull a bit so the headphones have to be adjusted. Thanks again Vernell!

Speaking of IWPS, thank you all so much for your support. The hotel room is more or less paid for now. All I have to do is get on the stage now and I can't wait! Departure for Fayetteville is Wednesday.

One More Time

In nine days I'm off to Fayetteville, Arkansas to represent Writers' Block Poetry in the Individual World Poetry Slam. If I did not have a major car repair last month I would not be asking for donations.

If you can spare some cash, any amount will be greatly appreciated.

Those who donate $20 or more will receive a copy of my "I'm Not From Here." CD.

Here's the link, thank you all!

I swear this will be the last time I ask, it's not going to be like this.

Learn That Poem

About where I'm at for IWPS.

The Link is Here!

Good people have asked the question, "How can I give you money for IWPS?"

So here is the link where you can donate money for my trip to Fayetteville, Arkansas next month.

The plane ticket has been paid for, the hotel room is booked. Yes, I'm getting nervous and excited about this trip and competition!

I know times are tough financially, but if you can give anything it will be appreciated. If the car's brakes had not died last month, this part of the process would not be taken. I'm not going to hard sell it like 2009. You may only deal with me asking one more time before I leave.

Plus, as added value, everyone who donates $20 or more will receive a copy of my "I'm Not From Here" CD.



Have to add that cash is accepted too!

As always, thanks for your support!

Hardware in the house

The attempt at balance begins. Inquiries have begun in getting people and programming together for the Arts Festival. Timelines are being sketched out. The ignition has been turned on. My responsibilities for a committee at work are lurching ahead. It's hard for me to reach out to complete strangers, even when I'm seeking the tiniest of information or a modest but painless commitment of time. Comfort zones are being breached.

Very little has been done in preparation for IWPS, I have no clue what to read, that will change. I have booked the hotel room and will get plane tickets this weekend.

A number of people have asked if there will be a way to donate for my trip. The answer is yes, and a paypal link will be posted soon. There will also be added value. Details are on the way.

Last night at Writers' Block, Vernell Bristow the reigning IWPS Champion passed on the IWPS trophy. She read a lovely haiku during the ceremony.



It's called The Uni and I bought the item toward the end of my year as IWPS champion in 2009. I thought there should be some tradition passed on, and a green jacket had the one size fits all problem. Thus, after some be-dazzling by Veronica Sawyer, The Uni was born.

I'm exciting and proud to have The Uni in the house for a year.

Holiday angst

Still unmotivated. Pointing the finger at no one but myself. It's humid out there, but that's only an excuse. Did a bit of Arts Fest administrative work. Some initial contact will be make in the next few weeks. The process has to get going, and soon.

My mother got my son a car track for his birthday. It's all good, eventually it became that way. Once I figured out how to snap the track together it was a struggle. Figuring out how to put the batteries in the cars was a pain in the ass that led to some behavior I was not proud of. The boy has been paying attention to it though, which is great.

Tomorrow he has an appointment with a new occupational therapist.

Given little thought to IWPS. Did book my room, will make plane reservations this weekend. Wondering how the heck I'm going to get from the airport, which it 40 miles out of town, into town. I hear scuttlebutt of shuttles. Hope the organizers have them in place.



Suppose I should get to work figuring out what I'm going to be reading. At least four poems, one to four minutes in length. Do I read one poem I did in 2009 in Berkeley? How deep are my pockets?

At least it's not Branson

I'd be a lot more enthusiastic about things if I had not sank a lot of money into the car a couple of days ago. I knew the rotors were pitted, braking was similar to bronco busting, but when there was a lot of loud metal on metal banging during acceleration I knew I'd have to give in and take the car to the shop.

So I got to sit around the house and stress, do some editing, stress some more then watch Celtic win their soccer match to get into the Champions League and stress. The call from the mechanic came in, turns out the brake pads were not clipped on right by the people who put them on after I got the car last December, and they froze up the calipers. Scorecard was new brake pads, new rotors and calipers. A sickening total.

This was Wednesday, the same night as the Writers' Block Grand Slam in which the winner would go to the Individual World Poetry Slam. Five poets, including myself, were competing.

I was determined to compete and have fun, with no other expectations. Had my poems pretty much set. A one minute and two minute poem and two three minute poems of which I had to choose one.

Drew the five slot, which meant I went last in the round. That strategy did not matter much, not with only five poets reading.

Read a new poem that I finished the night before, To My Son on his 10th Birthday. You never know what is going to happen when you debut a work, especially during a major slam. After reading it, I got to my seat and my wife was bawling. Guess I struck a nerve in a few other people too as it was the highest scoring poem in the round. This meant I was to read first in round two.

There was no time to settle down, and I had another new poem, this one called Nine Bullets at Qimchok, about the taliban atrocities in Afghanistan. Got the judges verdict, then Gina read her poem and sailed past me in the scoring.

Going into round three, the one minute round Gina was in first, I was in second, Vernell third, Alexis then Aaron.

Gina did her thing then I came up and did, well, An Obscene Phone Call from Mr. Potato Head which brought the house down. I was in the lead and Vernell needed a near perfect score to catch me. That did not happen.

So I won the slam and a trip to the IWPS finals in Fayetteville, Arkansas in October. It was a great night of poetry and all five of us were outstanding. I've accepted the trip. Never been to Arkansas, deep in the Ozarks. My room is booked, the plane reservation will be made next week. I am thrilled, but the money issue and timing was not the best.

That said, I'm looking forward to representing Writers' Block Poetry. Now I have to figure out what to read there. Tough task. I hear there are only going to be 72 poets in the competition this year, so I'm guaranteed a better finish than my 90th in Berkeley three years ago. Also, like 2009, Ethan Rivera will be representing Writing Wrongs Poetry.



Columbus is coming Fayetteville, be ready!

Oh, and next week I get The Uni!

Right Poem, Wrong time? Wrong poem, right time?

Fascinating evening of poetry and slam at Writers’ Block last night, Erik the Viking seems to be becoming a regular and should get his card soon.

Seven poets competed in the slam. A couple needed to get their second slam in to be eligible to compete in the Grand Slam, others were competing for practice, others for shits and giggles.

I did not need to compete for points, had a rough day and needed to let off some steam. That’s why I took part. Really had no idea what I was going to read. The phone going off during open mic was a perfect set up for me to read my I’ll Serve You if You’re Phone Goes Off While I’m Reading a Poem, poem. Since I drew the one, and accepted my fate, I figured I’d burn it, get an entertaining slam going.

It went over well enough, but at the end of round one I was in seventh place.

In round two poets were getting serious. Vernell and Hanif were bringing it. Getting their chops developed before they headed to Nats. A guy passing through town named Ryan scored huge in round one with a witty poem that reminded me of Jonathan Walters’ computer love poem I heard in Berkeley three years ago. He tried the same thing in round two, but while punning off of car names he lost the poem. The awkward silence of a poet who forgot how the poem went was in the room at Kafe Kerouac. Eventually he picked up his own thread but drew a large time penalty.

Bryant did well in his first slam, even though he had to profess his love for Justin Bieber.

I was the last poet in the slam and was clueless what to do, so I found one I’ve never slammed with before and had only read one time in the four years since I wrote it. Sommelier of Justice is very foul. A lot of four letter words. Smug and angry, but the energy from all the cussing seemed to work in the room last night. You never know what kind of response you’re going to get and last night stuff clicked together. It took me from seventh into fourth place which was quite the surprise.

So the Grand Slam is going to have six poets: Ethan Rivera, Gina Blaurock, Vernell Bristow, Alexis Mitchell, Aaron Alsop and I. Aaron came in third last night, picked up a point and will be competing in his first Grand Slam. I’m excited as Hell for him and am really, really looking forward to taking part in this slam, which takes place on August 29th at Kafe Kerouac. It’s going to be a very intense night of poetry. Someone’s going to Fayetteville, Arkansas to compete at IWPS at the end of that evening.

Starts tonight

The Individual World Poetry slam is in Cleveland this week. I won't be going, but wish all the poets luck. Two Columbus poets will be in the mix, Vernell Bristow and Ellie White. Show them what Columbus poetry is about ladies!



in other news, I've been sick. Another case of strep throat. Ugh.

Until next time.

Random Friday

What can I say about Writers’ Block’s Founder’s Night? People brought new work, dusted off some old poems – dusted off themselves to come out for the first time in awhile. It’s family, and I’m honored to be a part of it. Scott and Vernell have sustained a loving and supportive creative venue for fifteen years and I cannot thank them enough.

Did a new piece called “Slam Poet Junction” in which I took a scythe to slam poetry topics and put a dagger to the throat of my own work. You never know how new work is going to go in such a crowded setting, and I went first so I got to set the tone of the evening. Yes, the title is Schoolhouse Rock based. Yes, there is singing. Yes, it would sound good with bongos, er, congas backing it up!

Wrote it after watching a DVD of the IWPS 2009 finals; There was some very good poetry read, but I’m not sure it traveled well. Kind of like really, really enjoying a wine during a tasting at the winery. Meeting the winemaker, seeing the vineyards, then when you buy a bottle of the wine you just had and take it home, it does not taste as good. Terroir matters.

The week continued with my son’s school bus not showing up on time, again, on Thursday morning. It finally showed up when he was supposed to be in school. Transportation heard from me. The bus driver heard from me. They know I am not pleased with their lack of punctuality.

I finally got the title to the car and went to the BMV to get license plates. There was no one there. No waiting at the BMV is a great thing to receive.

There was a snow event in the city yesterday so the drive home from work last night was an adventure. I took it slow and steady, as did most of the commuters. There was one mini-van that went into the ditch on Fisher Road, but no one was hurt. Wound up getting all my errands done.

On getting home I found my Scottish Wife in our parking space, shoveling a path for me to park. That was sweet. She even shoveled the back walk while I put the new plates on the car. I shoveled the front, and the sidewalk of my neighbor. We ended up with about six inches of snow.

The car was frozen shut this morning and I had to chip away and wait to finally be able to get in though one of the back doors, push open the front doors – great fun in single digit temperatures, in the dark. Scraping the car of ice and snow was finger numbing, even in gloves. It could be worse. Wanted to head out to the car graveyard and salvage a couple of small parts for the interior tomorrow morning, but temperatures are once again going to be cold. So I’ll end up back at work for a couple of hours and will hopefully be able to see my son in the pool too.

Writers’ Block First Draft tonight. Nuku Haiku, including the haiku death match. Starts at eight at Kafe Kerouac. Admission is a mere three dollars. You can’t beat that!

There was a lovely moon set in the west that I got to see from the large window behind me. Nice way to get the day going.

From the Finals Stage to Dead Last

The Individual Poetry Slam is happening in Charlotte this week. Results are posted here. Click on the results link for the scores and updates. A lot of familiar names in the mix. Local poet Will Evans is in the top ten and Vernell Bristow is in the middle of the pack.

Looking at tonight, bout number twelve is where I'd reserve my seat. There are going to be some fierce battles for spots on the finals stage. Nothing is decided until it's over!

Had a bit of a health issue the past couple of weeks. Went to the doctor Wednesday and he tends to think it's a condition called BPPV. I've been lightheaded especially when going into and out of bed. Sudden head movements cause the room to spin. Bed spins while sober can be a bit terrifying, you think the bed is going to flip over on you. I'm feeling better, not because I've started the exercises, yet, but getting an extra firm pillow really helped. I shift a lot when I sleep and there were no bouts of dizziness last night. Felt more secure getting out of bed this morning too.

Dusting of snow on the ground today. Not sure what the weekend weather will be but it has to be easier than the nearly four feet that fell on my friends in Western New York. Even in Scotland, where nine inches fell in Glasgow, I worry that my Father-in-Law may have to eat his sled dogs.

No One Sleeps On the Yellow Lines, No One's That Alone

After the flood hit the basement, out of the vinyl that was damaged and had to be thrown away there were two records that I really missed.

One was George Harrison's 33 1/3, the other was Warren Zevon's The Envoy.

A few weeks back I went to the new downtown record store, Spoonful Records. I found 33 1/3 within minutes. After speaking with Brett, the owner, I felt confident that he'd find The Envoy for me.

Yesterday I got a Facebook message that he found it, and asked if I still wanted it.

This morning, I'm sitting in the back room, drinking juice with the sun rising to my right and The Envoy is playing on my turntable. All is right in the world for the moment.



That's what I call great customer service. He's won my loyalty. These are not valuable records, nor are they the greatest music ever made, but they both have some meaning to me and having them on vinyl again is such a thrill - and that's what being a music fan and record collector is all about.

Next time I go there, I'm playing a couple of games of pinball!

I did some other shopping in the recent past. After winning IWPS we always talked about having a green jacket to pass on to the champion. That could cause logistical problems regarding the size of the jacket. There's no one size fits all here and I do not think a green snuggie is going to fly.

So I went looking for an object, a Stanley Cup of poetry if I may say so. After looking in no less than five thrift shops one Saturday afternoon, the object came to me, in the last place I looked, in the last store I was to look in before giving up the quest.

I sent a picture of the object to my friend Beverly and asked her if she would be able to bedazzle it for Writers' Block. Happily, she agreed and did an amazing job adorning it. Really. I did not see it clearly until I opened it up in the bathroom at Kafe Kerouac. It's an amazing piece of craftsmanship.

Last night I got to present Vernell with the hardware, that is now called The Uni. I think she likes it.

There are rules and responsibilities to owning The Uni, the main one being that it must be handed down from Writers' Block IWPS Champion to the next. There is only one Uni.

No pictures yet, if you have not seen it I want you to imagine what it looks like, but they are coming soon.

A Recap

How close was last night's slam?

So close that the last poet on the mic had a chance to win it all.

Congratulations to Vernell Bristow for winning the Grand Slam. She will be representing Writers' Block at the Individual World Poetry Slam in Charlotte in December. She did her best and it showed. Pure class.

There was so much fine work on the stage at Kafe Kerouac. Dain and Marshall were both incredibly solid.

Scott Woods told us how much he dislikes someone's Bedtime Prayers. The crowd loved it.

Rachel Wiley had the high score of the night with a three minute poem that was edited down to one. It worked!

Ethan hit home for me with a piece about finding love away from the computer.

I hate going on after Rose Smith. She's too damn good to follow. She performed, using the whole stage. Really fine work.

I was the last poet to read. Thought I was out of it so I did An Obscene Phone Call from Mr. Potato Head to leave 'em laughing. If I had scored a 29.9 I would have won it all. It was not meant to be. Not this year. I did get the only ten of the night from the low scoring but consistent and fair judges.

Rachel Reid did a wonderful job as emcee, keeping the energy in the room up. Joanna was on the netbook, updating the slam live on Facebook.

The young lady whose cell phone went off during last week's slam came back. I was pleased to know I did not scare her off!

It's a bit of a relief that slam season, for me, is pretty much over. I think I'm doing it again at the Upper Arlington Arts Festival. Time to reassess, evaluate and ultimately, get back to work. I love what we do.

The streets is watching.