Between my internet connection at work being screwy all day and Blogspot.com seemingly on the blink, the post I started writing earlier was lost. It was about the difference between Batman and Superman and a comment director Wolfgang Petersen made about it. Petersen was apparently attached to a Batman vs. Superman movie that was scrapped in favor of separate movies. Can't say I'm disappointed. Petersen's also the director of the new movie, Troy, with Brad Pitt lamely delivering one of the corniest lines ever: "Immortality! It's yours. Take it!" No thanks, Brad. Between Gladiator and Return of the King, I have no interest.

Unlike Troy, I ignored my gut feeling about the Friends finale and watched it anyway. Predictable and uneven, it delivered the ending most fans seemed to have wanted with Ross and Rachel reuniting. All in all, it was a bit of a yawner, though not nearly as bad as the last over-hyped NBC finale, the lameass Seinfeld. It also didn't come close to the ratings they expected, just over 50 million viewers, less than half that of M*A*S*H. Good riddance, though. Maybe NBC will finally start showing Scrubs some respect.

Wednesday night found me hanging out with Eric and hitting Symphonics. A fun night ensued, full of spirited debate with Taylor Mali and Mike Henry and there's something I'm supposed to publicly acknowledge in relation to the slam but considering I got home at 4:30am, I can't remember exactly what it was. On a silly note, I do remember Taylor challenging me to a push-up contest at one point and I matched his 25. I forgot he gets in shape towards the end of the slam season so he can wear his tight black t-shirts on stage so it was a good thing I've recently returned to the gym. I guess he can slack off now as he ended up the alternate for Urbana, behind the McKibbens Duo, Celena Glenn and Anis. A truly remarkable team, perhaps the strongest ever sent from NYC. 79 other teams fighting for second place in St. Louis is gonna suck! (Anyone else not think Taylor will take advantage of the 5x3 format to get himself on stage if they make the Finals?)

Happy Mother's Day.

This is for Bassey.

Dear you,

Since mid-1997, the New York City poetry slam scene has been more or less at the center of my life. Though more right-of-center these days, and considerably less significant in the bigger picture, there's two things I will always cherish about the experience: founding a little bit louder, and the Friends I've made. While the reason for the former should be pretty obvious, I make a specific distinction in referring to Friends.

When I got married in 1998, there was a healthy contingent of poets at the wedding, including my best man. A year on the scene, I was still in the initial glow of finding a community of similar-minded people bound by poetry and, transient that I was, they became the majority of my friendships, practically like family. If I picture that day now, picture the table where they all sat together, the fact that I can't quite remember who they all were suggests none of them remain friends, never mind Friends. [After checking with Salomé on who was there, I'd say I consider a couple of them acquaintances these days, as opposed to those I've simply cut off or lost contact with.]

I first heard of you in 1999 from Al Letson. He emailed me, saying you were cool people and were either visiting or had just moved to NYC. As I remember it, he'd told you about louder and encouraged you to come through. In my book, if someone I respect vouches for someone - personally and/or artistically - they're good with me until they prove otherwise. Al was right on both counts.

A year or two later, you told me we had actually met earlier than I knew, at the Nuyorican, back when I was still hosting the Open Room. I think it was your first slam and you were mortified by the idea of the scores and ready to walk out, when I stopped you and tried to talk you out of it. Back when I still believed in the democracy of the slam and its value as a forum for new voices.

You were always a reluctant slammer. My favorite kind. It's why I begged you at times to slam despite your distaste for it. The slam needed your voice, your perspective, and the couple of years you spent on the scene are marked by your presence.

Beyond your considerable talent, you're "good people." Genuine. Sincere. Funny. Not afraid to be silly when you want to be. Or painfully vulnerable when you need to be. Determined to do things on your own terms, even when you weren't always sure what those terms were. Less interested in what others think of you than in what you think of yourself when you look in the mirror.

I've always admired that and wanted to say so.

Your attitude; your approach to life and love and heartache; your bizarre sense of humor; all of the things that add up to make Bassey are an inspiration for me. Other than the bad taste in men and the obsession with shopping, if India grew up to be like you, I'd be happy.

At a time when all of my 'poetry relationships' have come into question, it's been nice to know ours exists above and beyond the scene and that I can call you a Friend.

Love you madly,
Guy

What's worse?

A) An asshole boss who is extremely good at his job.

B) A nice boss who doesn't know shit about her job.

It's a tough call but I'll have to take option C:

C) I work for one and my wife works for the other.

Headed to the gym to work out the frustration on the treadmill. I really need to get back into shape so I can take a boxing class again. I need to pound something bad.

Grrrr...

You're a Dialogue/Character Writer!


What kind of writer are you?
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Fun with Merriam-Webster.

con-tra-vene : The feeling that life is moving too slow and your kids are growing up too fast.

sur-re-al-is-tic: Your mother telling your wife about finding the lingerie catalogs you used to hoard as a teenager, believing it's true but not really remembering it happening.

stul-ti-fy: Between louderARTS and Urbana's combined 17 finals slots for 2004, there's only 14 people filling them; 8 of those have been on at least one national team, including several championships.

ad-um-brate: "On the eve of the rollout of the new commercials, Mr. Kerry flew home to Massachusetts on Sunday for a few hours of down time in his Beacon Hill townhouse, but wound up taking a tumble during a 20-mile bike ride and suffered a minor scrape on his arm." (NYT, May 3, 2004)

en-nui: The intense boredom with work that results in one looking up words in the dictionary, finding interesting synonyms and using them to justify a pointless journal entry.

PS: Go to Amazon.com and check out my reviews of everything from The Rundown to Isaac's first stroller. Rate whichever ones you read as helpful - the review of Slam is one of my favorites! - and bump me up the Reviewer's rankings. I'm currently tied for 13979th!