Poetry Spam
Last night TJ and I went to the Olayas for the second annual Poetry Slam on Hazel Avenue. Now, the Teej was a little skeptical at first. I guess I was too, given my college experience, where poetry was anything read angstily while heavily emphasizing every seventh syllable.
Anyway, it was very fun. The evening opened with a reading of a poem called "Church" by young master Mattheo (5 years old). The poem went on and on about how church (pronounced chuh-tch) is good for you and church is fun and church is where you go to get food and church is all sorts of great. At the end of it, his mom (Amy) leaned over to me and whispered, "We don't go to church." That made me crack up, because kids can be so freaking weird sometimes. Later on Mattheo read another short one about potato chips; this one was very advanced and contained a simile comparing the waviness of the chip to the ocean.
Amy read a sad one about the premature death of her brother. Not too much to be said about that except that it was a good poem, and that it was very sad when her brother died 3 years ago.
Then Brett played some songs he wrote. Brett is a member of the songwriting school that Anna has dubbed, "Let's All Bake a Compost Cake." It's only natural, he's a primary school teacher and a guitar-playing crunchy hippie-type, so he would naturally write songs containing words like "hegemony" and "suburbia" and "privilege." He also sang a song called "You Little Shits." I like Brett - he reminds me of the Bay.
Rich read an extended poem written in Spanish by his late father. Joe read from Rudyard Kipling while his son, Isaiah, climbed on top of him. Some hipsters from Brooklyn came down in a posse and one of them recited Neruda. Another one did a dramatic recital (from memory, at that) of several wikipedia entries discovered by hitting the "random article" link on the sidebar. This last reading would be categorized, of course, as "found art," something close to my own heart and a good topic for segueing into telling you about the selections that I read.
I called my set "Poetry Spam." (Yeh, I thought this was pretty clever until I just googled it and realized that it has already been dubbed as such by others.) I didn't write the poems, nor did I even alter them. I simply read spam emails in their unadulterated form. You ever notice how some spam emails seem to be generated by computers using random phrases fed to the machine; the blocks of random prose get chopped up, rearranged and regurgitated for the purpose of fooling spam filters into letting them pass through as regular discussion material? I used to get these absolutely all the time. Now I get good ones less often, but when they are good, they are very good. Anyway, here's my set - the only thing added by me are the titles.
I Prefer Liberty
What Did my Hands Do?
Artificial Intelligence
Briar Patches and Hockey Players
Pianist
-fin-
Anyway, it was very fun. The evening opened with a reading of a poem called "Church" by young master Mattheo (5 years old). The poem went on and on about how church (pronounced chuh-tch) is good for you and church is fun and church is where you go to get food and church is all sorts of great. At the end of it, his mom (Amy) leaned over to me and whispered, "We don't go to church." That made me crack up, because kids can be so freaking weird sometimes. Later on Mattheo read another short one about potato chips; this one was very advanced and contained a simile comparing the waviness of the chip to the ocean.
Amy read a sad one about the premature death of her brother. Not too much to be said about that except that it was a good poem, and that it was very sad when her brother died 3 years ago.
Then Brett played some songs he wrote. Brett is a member of the songwriting school that Anna has dubbed, "Let's All Bake a Compost Cake." It's only natural, he's a primary school teacher and a guitar-playing crunchy hippie-type, so he would naturally write songs containing words like "hegemony" and "suburbia" and "privilege." He also sang a song called "You Little Shits." I like Brett - he reminds me of the Bay.
Rich read an extended poem written in Spanish by his late father. Joe read from Rudyard Kipling while his son, Isaiah, climbed on top of him. Some hipsters from Brooklyn came down in a posse and one of them recited Neruda. Another one did a dramatic recital (from memory, at that) of several wikipedia entries discovered by hitting the "random article" link on the sidebar. This last reading would be categorized, of course, as "found art," something close to my own heart and a good topic for segueing into telling you about the selections that I read.
I called my set "Poetry Spam." (Yeh, I thought this was pretty clever until I just googled it and realized that it has already been dubbed as such by others.) I didn't write the poems, nor did I even alter them. I simply read spam emails in their unadulterated form. You ever notice how some spam emails seem to be generated by computers using random phrases fed to the machine; the blocks of random prose get chopped up, rearranged and regurgitated for the purpose of fooling spam filters into letting them pass through as regular discussion material? I used to get these absolutely all the time. Now I get good ones less often, but when they are good, they are very good. Anyway, here's my set - the only thing added by me are the titles.
I Prefer Liberty
I prefer liberty to chains of diamonds.
I never know how much of what I say is true.
Part of being sane, is being a little bit crazy.
The long habit of living indisposeth us for dying.
New Penis Enlargement Patches!
I don't really trust a sane person.
What Did my Hands Do?
Top software brands and Independence you can trust.
Buy Cheap PC Software from Special Reserve.
Everyone dies. Not everyone really lives.
What did my hands do before they held you?
Artificial Intelligence
A frustrating paycheck assimilates the steam engine.
Some pork chop over a grand piano pees on an inferiority complex,
living with the garbage can.
A knowingly dirt-encrusted photon falls in love
with the fruit cake.
An umbrella brainwashes another parking lot.
Some pork chop for the mortician, some globule,
and the fractured industrial complex are what made America great!
Briar Patches and Hockey Players
Sheriff around take a peek at hydrogen atom beyond curse,
but clock for a change of heart about toward anomaly.
Polar bear defined by sheriff, toward trombone,
and about briar patch are what made America great!
Vern and I took around microscope
(with behind tornado, near fruit cake).
He called her Vern (or was it Vern?).
He called her Vern (or was it Vern?).
Behind tuba player, wedding dress around skyscraper,
and for hockey player are what made America great!
Pianist
We decided to return there for the foodgasm
worthy pesto sauce!
How are you going to use it?
I actually beat him at mini golf!
:::daydream believer:::
:::daydream believer:::
If you see something wonderful,
you confidently embrace it.
But it should also be remembered that this
is a card of great creativity,
of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition.
It also describes some of the additional features
available if the software is upgraded to
Data Protector Express.
Check the recipes at.
We waited a little longer to sit on the same patio,
and this time we ate early enough
to catch the sunset during dinner.
They're just as good as money in your pocket.
Basically the poor little guy had food poisoning!
Check the recipes at.
We know how to make each other laugh
and just have a good time wandering about.
They're just as good as money in your pocket.
Maybe if I had seen the first night,
they might have introduced people
and expected you to remember.
It also describes some of the additional features
available if the software is upgraded to
Data Protector Express.
This time however, can also result in great creativity,
psychic powers, visions and insight.
Don't waste it; it's still good food.
Maybe if I had seen the first night,
they might have introduced people
and expected you to remember.
They are partnering with Restaurants.
Basically the poor little guy had food poisoning!
Then the plan was to head to the city for SOS.
The list goes on and on and on
:::daydream believer:::
If you see something wonderful,
you confidently embrace it.
And it's getting close to Christmas,
with even more candy on the horizon.
They are partnering with Restaurants.
We decided to return there for the foodgasm
worthy pesto sauce!
It also addresses common backup and recovery scenarios
to assist in disaster recovery planning.
It also describes some of the additional features
available if the software is upgraded to
Data Protector Express.
But regardless, the hype about the movie seemed to be
about how it was designed to influence people
to feel pro-Republican
and anti-Democrat.
I was supposed to meet some friends.
I was supposed to meet some friends.
I decided to go to sunset, bring the puppy, and just catch
the last
hour or two.
-fin-
posted by Dubin at 6:00 PM
5 Comments:
Is there a generalized correlation between "bean mashers" and songwriters of the "Let's All Bake a Compost Cake" genre?
-amanda
Excellent question.
In general, the Compost Cake genre attracts a jollier sort, and a more literal-minded individual. He or she is not afraid to go to a protest and sing "Wade in the Water" or other black spirituals (even though he's the only white guy there and you'd think he be conscious of that and get all bashful). He also generally isn't afraid of high school kids and likes to take underprivileged ones on trips to the outdoors. He might call himself an "eco-radical." He writes contemporary labor songs, and he may have a website up where you can go buy a 2004 CD compliation of various independent artists' (his friends) anti-bush songs. He might be found in the kitchen of a youth hostel, making hummus and singing along to a tape of Dancing on the Ruins of Multinational Corporations.
The Bean Masher is more self-conscious and perhaps more interested in pop-culture and/or irony. His ego is a bigger part of what he does. He makes girls mixed tapes with obscure things on them. He might have Kerouac and Bukowski on his bookshelf. He owns a motorcycle, or at least is seriously thinking of getting this one particular vintage one he saw on Ebay. He will casually say things like, "Well, when I was in Ecuador, the people there did eat a lot of lard, but none of them got fat because they understood portion control." He also will wax poetic and tell you about the most beautiful things he's ever seen on his travels, and that there's no experience that beats swimming naked in clear mountain tributaries...
Finally, I think a Bean Masher has to be a guy, whereas the Compost Cake Baker can be either gender.
Oh god, Dubin. You make me hate my people.
You forgot that the Bean Masher has Indonesian face masks up on the walls of his apartment.
Would you please start blogging again? Just maybe like once in a while? Please?
Aw, shucks. Ok. I will. Starting soon.
Who are you, Anonymous?
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