2001-04-20

Well hell, I guess I'm not doing a very good job of keeping this thing updated, am I?

Today I paid a visit to the coffee shop that replaced the one that I used to call one of my homes. It occured to me that if you want to change the atmosphere of a place you should probably strip the old paint on the walls and ceilings before you try to paint it...especially with a lighter color. I also realized that no matter how many coats of paint they put up, no matter how much furniture they replaced, or what new books they put on the shelf, this was still the place where I wasted away a good majority of my time. It is also still the same place where I fell in love...right there on the front steps. It is because of thier half-assed job of covering up the old that made me realize that I could still hear the laughter and the voices of all who had passed through...at one point I could "see" the "ghosts" of the old furniture and the people who sat in the chairs and those that wandered through, never really sitting in one spot for any length of time...after I finished my overpriced Americana (which is misspelled on the menu board I noticed), I couldn't bring myself to get another drink or stick around another minute...I wanted to write while I was there but I just couldn't, as the past kept distracting me.

About the poetry reading yesterday... it bloody incredible... Spontaneous Bob made his return as host... everyone pretty much rocked... right until I got to the microphone. I read the one I posted here last, the new title of which is "this doesn't make a lot of bloody sense", and "New God", which is one of my older pieces. My delivery was way off and very few people got the jokes, I think. They clapped fairly loudly, but I got the impression that they were just being polite to a man who just fell on his face. I had no energy for almost the rest of the night, and neither did the audience it seemed... I also have a feeling that someone moved me further down the list, as I had gotten there early enough to sign my name at number 11 as usual. I didn't count them, but I'm pretty damn sure that there were more than 10 poets who came before me... it's very irritating in it's way... oh well... that's it for now... go shit a glass brick if you don't like it.

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