Life in the White House, December 2018

I speak good English

Fawlty Towers is my favorite television program. The acting, comedic timing and writing are perfection. Andrew Sachs, who played Manuel, died today, aged 86. This is one of the best scenes from the show.



Almost 40 years later, it still makes me laugh.

So i will walk without care, beat my snare, look like a man who means business

Been a shit couple of days, even without the Brexit. My Son is still not transitioning well between his caregiver and coming to my house afterwards. There's a lot of shrieking, hissing and general unhappiness and it takes him a long time to calm down. Even today he greeted my cheerful, "good morning!" with shrieking and pounding on his bed. I know I'm not the cool parent, but this does not inspire me.

While prepping his lunch, this song came on iPod shuffle.



My Aunt was on the one who got me onto Rufus, he was on Geffen and she sent me his first record. That was the first song I heard and I have been a fan even since. Even went to see him live at the Newport during a sad period of my life when I was single. Imogen Heap opened, and Jon Hopkins was in her band. Things do go full circle as Hopkins and King Creosote have come into my radar.

This was on my Aunt's wall, so this show of his that she saw meant a lot to her. She would not have framed it otherwise.



So even with the small blow to her planning that Brexit took yesterday, and with everything else happening, maybe she's trying to cheer me up a little. I'm still not sure what to believe anymore.

Take care of those who are there, not those who did not show

We buried my Aunt today. It was a very fine service that had fewer glitches than the last Catholic mass I attended. Her viewing on Friday was sparsely attended, the storm that brought a lot of snow to Long Island on Friday kept a lot of people away.

It's getting tiresome only seeing family at funerals, so we have to so something about that. I am putting a moratorium out there right now.

Nobody I know dies for two years. Got it?

I spent a good part of Thursday in her apartment. Gathering pictures for the photo board at her wake. There were hundreds of pictures to assess, so many people I did not know, so many family members I do not recognize - and now there does not seem to be anyone left who can identify them.

This is very sad to me. I cannot take charge of all the pictures and I do not know who will want them. As a cataloger it makes me cringe. I did find a lot of cool pictures for the board, and for my own research. It was unsettling being in her empty home, knowing she was not coming back. My Brother is in charge of her estate and I can't travel back and forth to help clear her possessions out. His work is cut out for him on so many levels. He did a fine job in arranging her services.

What I did find in her apartment was rather remarkable. My Great Uncle's wallet that he had when he was killed in WW2, along with a stack of letters he wrote to my Grandfather. I have not even begun to process these yet and have no idea what to expect. I am also in possession of his Purple Heart, which I had never seen until today. She saved so many things from her life and career. It got so overwhelming I had to get out and walk around the upper west side for an hour or so. Ok, I stopped in a cool Irish bar that had a bartender with a splendid brogue and one hand.

At the end of the day I had a bag of framed pictures in one arm and my satchel full of pictures, paperwork and a binder of family genealogy she had done twenty years ago. There is so much to organize.

It was good to meet a lot of my Aunt's friends. Been hearing about them for years but never met them until this sad day. She was loved, admired and held in high esteem by those close to her. She did live a full life, but the last years, too darn cruel.

Saw this episode, went out and bought the CD the next day

Thank you, Van

One of the great broadcasters, Van Miller, died today aged 87. He was the longtime voice of The Buffalo Bills. His work was terrific. His enthusiasm for the game came across whether the team won or lost. Here are some of his calls for The Comeback Game.



He coined the term 'Fandemonium."

You can listen to more of his calls here.

He retired in 2003, his successor, John Murphy does a fine job as well.

Rest in Peace, Van.

A Coronation is Not an Election

On Tuesday, those who vote in Columbus will be voting in primaries for Mayor and City Council. I will not be voting. Mainly because in order to vote in an Ohio primary, you have to register for the party whose primary you will be voting in. My views belong to neither of these parties.

For most of my voting life though, I have been a registered democrat. No more. They abandoned any form of progressive ideas in favor of banking, insurance company and military support. Great for them when they’re able to swim in donor cash and give them influence. Bad for me who does not have the financial means to purchase my own political candidate. That’s the way it seems now though and I do not foresee a time when that will change. And I’m fed up with voting for the lesser or two evils, even with the supreme court set to change dramatically in the next decade.

Locally, there are three democrats running in the mayoral primary and one republican. All male.

Terry Boyd, the republican, is being sent out by the local GOP as the under funded sacrifice as Columbus’ current political climate will have a democrat as Mayor. This is not a prediction, but as nearly solid fact as you get today, barring major scandal - and I mean major.

Zach Scott is the county sheriff. His plan is essentially hope for the best and continue the status quo, which is a great climate for developers to line their pockets. Not so good for the neglected parts of the city, which includes my area of Briggsdale in West Columbus.

James Ragland’s enthusiasm masks his political inexperience. I have not been impressed with his arrogance on social media and local message boards. He comes off to me as a theocrat, even though he’s backed away from his stance against gay marriage. He may challenge Scott for second in the primary and you may not see the last of him in local politics.

Andrew Ginther is the party endorsed candidate. Mayor Coleman has all but given him the job, especially since Ginther has become Coleman’s shadow. Ginther has developer support on both sides of the political line, a school board scandal in his open closet (as does Boyd) that most do not give a crap about and will be the next Mayor of Columbus. I’m still trying to figure out what exactly the man has done for Columbus besides ride Coleman’s coattails.

Regardless of who the next Mayor is, life in Columbus will continue as we know it. The boners of the developers will point to what they want the Mayor and city council to do next. And they will abide, oh yes they will. Little will be done for the neglected parts of Columbus other than lip service and some asphalt in the occasional pothole. The casino the west side did not want is not bringing in the expected revenue. Sure, we have some interesting ethnic food available but Four String Brewery joining Dirty Franks West and Cream and Sugar is far from enough to make West Columbus the vibrant community other areas of the city that have benefited from tax reduced development and gentrification have become. After living here for twelve years I’m tired of waiting. My patience is done, and my vote is for none of the above.

Edit: I was mistaken about having to declare allegiance to a particular party to vote in this primary. It was an open primary. Also, Ginther won handily, with Scott coming in a very close second to Boyd. So two democrats are going to be running for mayor this year.

Books 2014

The embarrassingly low number of books I've read in the past year. I got nothing. No excuses.

1) Pat Conroy. The Death of Santini. 339 p.
2) Carol Conroy. The Beauty Wars 124 p.
3) Jay Stringer. Lost City. 301 p. ***
4) Emma Donoghue. Frog Music. 405 p. ***
5) Bill Campana. Said Beauty to the Blues. 137 p. ***
6) Scott Martelle. The Admiral and the Ambassador. 310 p. ****
7) Stephen King. Mr. Mercedes. 437 p.
8) Greg Baxter. The Apartment. 193 p. ***
9) Denise Mina - The Red Road. 297 p.
10) Amanda Petrusich - Do Not Sell at Any Price. 260 p. ****
11) Haruki Marakami - Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage. 386 P. ****
12) Peter Matthiessen - In Paradise. 256 p. ***
13) Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz - Dr. Mutter’s Marvels. 372 p. ***
14) Ken Sharp. Starting Over: the Making of John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Double Fantasy. 262 p. ***
15) Randall Maggs. Night Work: the Sawchuk Poems. 189 p. ****
16) Michel Faber. The Book of Strange, New Things. 500 p. ****
17) Scott Saul. Becoming Richard Pryor. 586 p. ***

Back to East Main Street

It was really sad to click on the link that revealed one of my former bosses died over the weekend.

He was the same age as my Mom, had four kids, a few grandchildren. Weird that neither of his wives were mentioned, so I'm not sure what happened with his wife who owned the liquor store with him.

They bought the store in '87 or '88 and kept the staff. Somehow I was promoted to manager, more of a title than a pay raise I can assure you, and got to figure out the ins and outs of ordering product. He gave me a good learning opportunity and that's when I really got my start drinking and appreciating wine. He bought into one of the first point of sale systems in any business and that was a cool thing to learn.

He was not the most generous with pay, paid time off was not in his mindset so I came to work hungover, sick or both too many times to mention. He knew how to have a good time though and could be very gracious. After one trade tasting they took me to Salvatore's Italian Gardens and I was too wasted from the booze I had already taken in to really enjoy it.

I cannot call him the best boss I ever had, far from it. He was not an addict or idiot though, not going to rank my bosses here. I probably was not the best employee or manager either. Mistakes were made, as can happen when you're in your early twenties. He trusted me though, and I was honest enough to not betray that trust.

Trying to contact one of his kids through Facebook to express my condolences a bit more than in this blog post or a message board on a website. I hope I can thank at least one of them personally to say what a good man their father was. Rest in Peace, Don - and thank you for the opportunities you gave me.

Expectations vs. capabilities

Today I attended my son's last Shakespeare and Autism class. It's a fascinating idea to get autistic kids communicating through the work and exaggerated facial expressions and gestures of Shakespearian plays. This is a video about it that was released last year, my son is in this video.



The play the facilitators chose was The Tempest and the kids and actors were jumping around, calling themselves Caliban and having a good time. I met the person who has been my son's acting partner for the past two years, a very sincere and devoted actor and teacher. This is them on the program's webpage.

Today my son came into the gym with his partner, saw all the people and chairs set up (there were about 15 people watching, which does not happen) and said, "Why did you do this?" He does not like crowds. That he would say something about it speaks volumes.



About five minutes into the session, my son got up and walked away. His partner followed him, kept him in the room and they sat away from the group for the rest of the session.



And they stayed there, I'm sure the crowd did not help, my presence was probably a distraction as well. It's one of those times you want your son to participate, or even watch from the close sidelines instead of stress and reluctance. It's hard to watch, and harder to balance your own expectations with what your child wants to do, and his capabilities.

I am not an avian landlord

In a frenzy on Saturday, I organized my record albums for the first time in well over a decade. Mostly in alphabetical order, spread out among some wood, plastic and cardboard crates in the back room. I counted them yesterday. 473. There used to be more, but I got rid of some to goodwill, sold some others and lost quite a few in a basement flood about six years ago. I was looking for some yesterday. Where's my copy of U2's War? Where Procol Harum's Greatest Hits? What was Born to Laugh at Tornadoes by Was (Not Was)?

All gone. I do not think I had the opportunity to mourn the loss.

We all got together and met the young women who will be my son's caregiver this summer. She's a junior at OSU, a special education student who came recommended by my son's teacher. I think this is going to work out for everyone, she promised not to bite him. He was bitten, twice, last year at day camp.

Tonight I got the lawn mower back from the shop. It needed servicing, a blade sharpening and other fixes. After I wrote the check and handed it to the guy I mowed the back lawn and will finish the front tomorrow.

There may be birds living in the underside of the gutter on the back of the house. Not cool with this. They knock out the siding under the gutter and set up shop. I cleared out some nesting materials out of there earlier and sealed it up (though they keep opening it) and noticed some birds looking a bit stressed out. God, I hope there are no eggs in there.

All I've got is a photograph

In a week of death, cancer and breakups there had to be a time to get away from things, and even in the middle of that I found a sense of sad finality.

We went to our first Ohio State Hockey game of the season last night. The Buckeyes were playing the #6 ranked team in the country, the Western Michigan Broncos. The first period was a back and forth match that had the visiting side up 2-1 at the end of the first period.

In the second the Broncos went up 3-2 but Ohio State fought back and went ahead with the final score being 6-3. I was very impressed with both sides and the play of senior OSU goaltender Brady Hjelle, who did some rather remarkable gymnastics making a few saves. He even picked up an assist.

The star of the game was Junior winger Alex Szczechura, who scored a hat trick. The third coming off a play that had some dandy passing. It was a game I enjoyed watching, and in between periods the band came out and did Script Ohio on the ice.



Toward the end of the game I realized this is most likely going to be the last CCHA game I ever see. The conference is being made redundant after this year since the Big Ten conference is being started up. I really enjoyed seeing the smaller schools, Western Michigan, Ferris State, Lake Superior State, Alaska-Fairbanks, Bowling Green and others play the so called larger school and often play them well or even better the home side.



I've been following the league for about 15 seasons now and it's odd to know that it is all going away, all the history of the league will simply halt. The Big Ten will start with at least six teams, Ohio State, Michigan, Michigan State, Wisconsin, Minnesota and the newly started Penn State. It will be different and I'm sure we'll see a few of those familiar teams, such as Miami, come through town to fill out the schedule. The rivalries will be changed though.



Maybe The Buckeyes will have a home playoff game in March I can attend.

No resolutions, but must improve

Probably the worst year of reading than I can remember. The quality is there, but the quantity is missing. Could not even read a book a week in 2012. For me, that is ridiculously low. Plus, I included a number of shorter poetry books. They seem to merely pad my count, but you should all check out Jack Gilbert's work. Yes, I can do better.

There were a few books I started, then got about 25-50 pages in and gave up. Those do not get listed here. If I finished it, the book is here. Three stars is a cut above average, four stars is a very good book.

1) Haruki Murakami - 1Q84. 925 p. ***
2) John Doyle - The World is a Ball. 330 p.
3) Frederica Sager Maas - The Shocking Miss Pilgrim. 264 p.
4) Gil Scott-Heron - The Last Holiday: A Memoir. 321 p.
5) Jim Walsh - The Replacements: All Over but the Shouting. 304 p.
6) Annie Liebovitz - Pilgrimage. 246 p.
7) Stephen Fry - The Fry Chronicles. 438 p. ***
8) Kent Hartman - The Wrecking Crew. 292 p.
9) Susan Senator - Dirt: a story about gardening, mothering, and other messy business. 270 p.
10) David M. Wilson - The Lost Photographs of Captain Scott. 191 p. ***
11) Kate Winslet - The Golden Hat: Talking Back to Autism. 284 p. (mostly pictures)
12) Jack Gilbert - The Dance Most of All. 60 p. ***
13) Guy Delisle - Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea. 176 p.
14) Johnny Ramone - Commando. 174 p.
15) Francesca Woodman. 224 p. (mostly pictures)
16) Carole King. A Natural Woman. 489 p.
17) Mike Doughty. The Book of Drugs. 252 p. ***
18) Will Hermes. Love Goes to Buildings on Fire. 368 p. ***
19) Jack Gilbert. Refusing Heaven. 92 p. ****
20) John Irving. In One Person. 425 p. ***
21) Buzz Bissinger. Father's Day. 242 p. ****
22) Jack Gilbert. The Great Fires. 90 p. ***
23) Ken Calliat & Steven Stiefel. Making Rumours. 362 p. ***
24) Frank Langella. Dropped Names. 356 p.
25) Mark Haddon. The Red House. 264 p.
26) Gillian Flynn. Gone Girl. 419 p. **** (best fiction)
27) Christopher Coake - You Came Back. 416 p. ***
28) Ian Rankin - Black and Blue 397 p. ****
29) Dori Hadar - Mingering Mike. 192 p.
30 Joe Oestreich - Hitless Wonder. 293 p. **** (best non-fiction)
31) Natasha Trethewey - Native Guard. 64 p.
32) R.A. Dickey with Wayne Coffey - Wherever I Wind Up. 340 p. ***
33) Jay Stringer - Old Gold. 236 p. ***
34) David Davis - Showdown at Shepherd's Bush. 308 p.
35) Alexandra Scott - If I Could Be Louder. 20 p.
36) Jamaal May - God Engine 2.0. 30 p.
37) Paula J. Lambert - The Sudden Seduction of Gravity. 57 p. ***
38) Pete Townshend - Who I Am . 538 p.
39) Tadashi Ago, Shu Okimoto. The Drops of God. 423 p.
40) Christopher Hitchens. Morality. 104 p. ***
41) Susan McAllister (et al). A Bigger Boat: the Unlikely Success of the Albuquerque Poetry Slam. 327 p.
42) Jack Gilbert. Tougher than Heaven. 24 p.
43) Richard Russo. Elsewhere. 243 p. ***
44) Michael G. Ankerich. The Sound of Silence. 260 p. ***
45) Kurt Vonnegut Jr. We are what we Pretend to be. 161 p. ***
46) Soccer and Disaster: International Perspectives. 193 p.

I do not know how to stop a monster

The events of yesterday's shooting at Newtown are still raw. The details are still a bit sketchy but the fact is that twenty kids are not going to have a Christmas this year. Twenty sets of parents have to bury their children. These things are not supposed to happen as Aurora was not supposed to happen, as the Jeffords shooting was not supposed to happen.

All these mass shootings have a couple of things in common. A lone man, and guns - and I have no real answers how to prevent either from doing horrendous acts. I do not think turning a school building into an armed camp is an answer. I do not think arming everything and everyone to fulfill a Walter Mitty heroic fantasy is the answer. It's the reluctance to try anything but the status quo that continually baffles me after these murderous events occur. We sure took care of Four Loko quick though.

It's being reported that the shooter may have had Aspbergers or some other mental disorder. Another quiet kid, who kept to himself then exploded. How do these kids get treated? What psychiatric and medical facilities were available to this family, who were not poor? And did they take advantage of them?

Twenty people were wounded by a man with a knife in Shanghai yesterday. Those people are most likely going to recover from their injuries. The kids in the kindergarten classroom, not as lucky. I do not usually go to writing a poem after such a disaster has happened. Could not help it this time though.

So I've been hugging my son often, even though I'm a bit put out since he's been awake since 4AM. At least I can hear him singing, and happy, unlike twenty families in Connecticut whose homes are infected by a cruel silence this morning.

Tough times on the west side

In the ten years since we've lived on the west side, the house next door has had a slew of tenants. Some of them leave after a month or two quietly. Others have had plenty of backyard drama with a lot of yelling and weapons being discharged. Who knows what else has gone on in there? Hydroponics and basement lights that were on 24/7? Various sizes of dogs sadly chained and penned up.

The most recent tenants had three kids. And they were kids who played a lot in the yard, made kid noise with balls going into our yard that I threw back because I always vowed to not be that neighbor, the ball keeper. One afternoon one of the urchins rigged up a skateboard as a swing in a tree. Trouble was, the tree is in my yard and having been a kid, that contraption would end with something breaking - and I'm not going to pay for that. Went over and met the mother of at least one of the kids, a fearful, once pretty young woman who may be in an overwhelming situation. She was quite apologetic when I went over and said my case, and the dangerous object was taken off my tree.

The last few weeks were tough. There was more yelling than usual and the police were on the front porch at least once. The backyard was a mess, with the kids using tires and an old crib we threw out that became co-opted as some form of fort. You have to give them credit for being creative.

Sometime during the day yesterday they were evicted.



Checked for court cases on the county website and confirmed that they were, in fact, evicted.



Really not keen with what was left behind for everyone to see though. Hope the kids are ok. You can find out a lot of sad, unfortunate things from the Clerk of Courts website.



This is the part I really do not like. The house has been trashed, gutted and who knows what is on the lawn. I heard some people out there earlier, throwing some of the crap into a pickup truck. If this is not cleaned up by Monday I will be calling the city to get the landlord to clean up this mess.

Feel like I should be doing something

I sometimes get antsy around this time of year. The holidays make me anxious even without my retail past. Used to be a very busy time of year for me. A lot of hard work making sure folks got their booze. Had to make sure there was enough, without breaking the budget on inventory. It was a difficult balance but there were times the last four weeks of the year were nothing but profit. There were also times we had to sell enough to make payroll, and to buy merchandise.



I'm not sure when this picture was taken on Main Street in Fredonia, sometime in the late sixties is my guess. But that sign that says "Liquor Store" was still there the last time I visited.

Business was a bit more successful in Fredonia. Mr. B. had been running the show for awhile. Thanksgiving was always the busiest holiday of the year, with the day before being the day that brought the biggest receipts. Mr. B. even went in for a few hours by himsef on Thanksgiving Day morning. He seemed to enjoy taking care of people getting their last minute wine and liquor.

For the life of me I cannot remember if Mr. S., after he bought the business, went in on those mornings. I can't remember if I went instead. The late eighties were a bit of a blur to me.

Things in Columbus were no different at first. We blew out so much wine at the Holiday. So much Beaujolais Nouveau and Champagne went out the door. We really kicked ass for a couple of years. We'd drink good wine the night before each holiday. Sometimes Perrier Jouet, Dom Perignon one year, we worked hard and drank well. I miss the pre-cooked shrimp C. would bring from Johnson's downtown.

The year I ran the place my ex-wife helped out a lot along with a man who used to be a bar regular. He spelled me on the floor and did quite a good job at it. The extra hands were needed. We made a little money that year. I honestly cannot remember if we were open on Thanksgiving Day at any of the shops I worked at in Columbus.

At the other eponymous wine shop I worked at, the tone shifted. Because the owner was screwing up so much we did not have basics to sell, especially in home brewing supplies. More than a few people left empty handed and disappointed. Hundreds, if not thousands of dollars in sales lost because he did not know how to buy and would not listen to reason from the co-owner or myself. The pressure was immense, selling merchandise just to make payroll instead of profiting from our work. Holidays sucked in the later part of the nineties. I got tired of saying no, it hurt.

It was vastly different at the bookstore. Even with all the craziness, and it was nuts, there never seemed to be much pressure. The stuff was going to sell, it was just those damn loyalty cards that management wanted sold. Luckily, I did not work the register much.

At the library, it's another world. From my desk I barely see the change from quarters to semesters - maybe a little bit in how the books flow into the building but that's it. I barely miss retail and have little desire to be out in it. I'm seeing Black Friday push back into Thanksgiving Day and it's a matter of time before Thanksgiving Eve comes into play. It's tough when so much business is done during one four week period of the year, but when did the the joy of shopping and giving become a obsessive fetish instead of a pleasure?

Even now though, many years removed from the madness, I get a bit triggered about what transpired, and try to find the good things that happened during my time in the retail wine scrum. I can still pick an awesome wine to go with turkey.

Not feeling it, projecting?

Holidays are tough. I get asked what my son is doing for Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Halloween, etc. and it's a hard answer I have to give. One that makes me feel like I'm not doing anything for him. An answer that shuts down any further conversation.

If he gave me any indication of interest, I'd be all over it. Right now though, it's all about bouncing around on a yoga ball and waiting to be given the iPad.

This weekend we're probably going to go see Wreck it Ralph, to try something new. I have taken him to a movie before, a Sesame Street one, but this is a bit different.

Right now, I'm at a loss about what to do for him. And it's making me withdraw.

A Stand Up Man

Jack McCarthy is one of the best American voices out there. He's been in the public eye since he started reading in Boston twenty years ago, when he was in his mid fifties.

Since then Jack has been a part of the Poetry Slam community on two coasts and has published books and cds. All of them to nothing but positive acclaim.

He came to Writers' Block in 2007 and his tone and demeanor switched a light on in me, one that blinked that a poem does not have to be shouted to have impact and power. Since then I've lost sight of that light more than a few times but Jack's work has resonated in my head ever since.

I've posted this poem before, but it deserves another view.



Jack's website, gives you plenty of information about him, and includes some of his poems and videos.

Jack's health has been fading, but he's still able to attend an occasional reading. Susan Dobbe Chase recently conducted a bittersweet interview with him by phone that you can listen to here.

I'm glad I got to see him once, but sad that the opportunity will most likely not happen again.

An overwhelming series of events

Saturday, after my son's swimming lesson, we came out of the locker room. We walked by the head of the swimming program for the building, and she was visibly upset. She told us she just found out that the mother of one of the lifeguards died very suddenly a few minutes before. The lifeguard was working and got the phone call from her father. The woman was watering flowers in her garden and dropped dead. Just like that, not much older than me. As we left the building after I expressed my condolences, I heard people sobbing.

This morning I saw the name of a coworker in the obituary column. I knew she was ill, but few knew it was cancer. She was always friendly and professional in my dealings with her. She led me to get my Christmas through the OSU farm every year. Going to miss her. Only fifty seven. The workplace was numb today. I suspect it will be for a brief time.

My expression of skepticism regarding my son's appointment with the nutritionist resulted in a strongly worded six page letter from his OT. She pointed a bit of blame toward his caregivers in her reasons to send this letter. That we're not doing the work. Said that he has shown little progress and has she's essentially given up on him unless me meet certain conditions. The conditions are not unreasonable, but she made other statements, including her belief that my son will never be able to chew food and get nutrition from it. How can you trust a therapist with that much pessimism? How can you think she's willing to invest in any more improvement for him? We have an appointment with his behaviorist on Wednesday. Could be tense.

So questioning the methods of a medical professional results in a six page diatribe. Yes, there is a problem.

In happier news there are a couple of good records out right now including this one from Beach House.



This is lovely dream pop. really fine record with nary a bad cut on it.

I'm also pleased with the new one from Admiral Fallow.



Have a feeling this band is going to increase their audience a lot this year.

Tear Drops on the City

The moment I walked into Kafe Kerouac I was asked to emcee a Haiku Death Match. There were four poets, three judges, and me. A few more people did show up.

Later I did the feature. My time on stage benefited the Writers' Block Poetry Slam team for their trip to the National Poetry slam in Boston this August.

For posterity's sake, here's my set list.

To the Women in my Spam Folder
Pantoum for a Child with Insomnia
To the Poets Young Enough to be my Children
Isotopes of Despair
Gaythiest
Jim Morrison's Twitter Page
What Should be Done in my Absence
Started While Flying Over Cincinnati
Days of the Week is I was Emperor
Naismith Laughs
If Tracy Can Emulate Joel, I can do this. That's the Title
Spam Folder of Love

A mix between the old, new and recent. Dusted off the last poem, only read that once in the last two and a half years.

In the news tonight is the death of Clarence Clemons. With his recent stroke and other medical problems it's not unexpected, but still quite a loss.



He was an integral part of the E-Street Band. The Master of Disaster. The King of the World. Saw them in Buffalo during the Born in the U.S.A. tour. Jungleland was a standout memory. During his sax solo Bruce controlled the crowd during the wave. This was when the wave was still new, and not cliche. A powerful rock and roll moment of my life.

This clip is from Buffalo in November of 2009, the last show the E-Street Band as we knew it will play.



Rest in Peace, Big Man.