Last night was epic. I got on a stage at 851, an underground poetry venue in San Francisco, and read in front of a crowd of 40-50 people. I haven't done anything like that since college, and it was completely exhilarating.
Seriously. The last time I performed anything in front of a crowd, besides karaoke, I was 20 years old and still trying to find my voice. I'm still on that search, but I feel like I get stronger with every word I wrote. More critical of my choices. And hearing others recite their work is all the more inspiring to me. I feed off of that, their energy. I'm a literary vampire. Except, perhaps not as parasitic. I just like vampires.
I wanted to ask someone to take a video of it, but I was so nervous before I went up on stage that I forgot to ask. I brought a camera and everything. Maybe it's better that it didn't get filmed, though. It's burned into the memories of those who were there.
Some of my friends came to watch and to support me, and I was entirely grateful for that. It gave me the courage to rock the house.
The poem I chose? Well, I did a dramatic recitation of JJ Fad's 1987 hit "Supersonic." I started off slow, and changed some of the lyrics around, but I did the fast rap at the end and even though I flubbed a line, I kept going through and I don't think anyone really noticed. People applauded, some came up to me afterward and told me they loved it. It made me feel happy. I was the first to go up, which felt appropriate because I was the nobody among a bunch of established writers-- Suzanne Scanlon of Dorothy Books, Carrie Hunter, Jess Dutschmann, and Ivy Johnson. They were all really awesome, and we each had our own style and kept it short and sweet. My poem/rap broke the ice and lightened the mood, which I guess was our host and curator's, Janey Smith, intention.
Since it was not documented, please accept this video my dad took of me singing "Self Esteem" by The Offspring last weekend while I was visiting him and my uncle in Las Vegas. I got a bunch of high-fives afterward and strangers coming up to me telling me I killed it. I was literally choking while singing because the bar-- Dino's, an awesome dive that's been getting Las Vegas drunk since 1962, as the sign says-- was so smoky, and I had been smoking Newports and cloves. "I need a glass of water," I pantomimed to my dad.
Seriously. The last time I performed anything in front of a crowd, besides karaoke, I was 20 years old and still trying to find my voice. I'm still on that search, but I feel like I get stronger with every word I wrote. More critical of my choices. And hearing others recite their work is all the more inspiring to me. I feed off of that, their energy. I'm a literary vampire. Except, perhaps not as parasitic. I just like vampires.
I wanted to ask someone to take a video of it, but I was so nervous before I went up on stage that I forgot to ask. I brought a camera and everything. Maybe it's better that it didn't get filmed, though. It's burned into the memories of those who were there.
Some of my friends came to watch and to support me, and I was entirely grateful for that. It gave me the courage to rock the house.
The poem I chose? Well, I did a dramatic recitation of JJ Fad's 1987 hit "Supersonic." I started off slow, and changed some of the lyrics around, but I did the fast rap at the end and even though I flubbed a line, I kept going through and I don't think anyone really noticed. People applauded, some came up to me afterward and told me they loved it. It made me feel happy. I was the first to go up, which felt appropriate because I was the nobody among a bunch of established writers-- Suzanne Scanlon of Dorothy Books, Carrie Hunter, Jess Dutschmann, and Ivy Johnson. They were all really awesome, and we each had our own style and kept it short and sweet. My poem/rap broke the ice and lightened the mood, which I guess was our host and curator's, Janey Smith, intention.
Since it was not documented, please accept this video my dad took of me singing "Self Esteem" by The Offspring last weekend while I was visiting him and my uncle in Las Vegas. I got a bunch of high-fives afterward and strangers coming up to me telling me I killed it. I was literally choking while singing because the bar-- Dino's, an awesome dive that's been getting Las Vegas drunk since 1962, as the sign says-- was so smoky, and I had been smoking Newports and cloves. "I need a glass of water," I pantomimed to my dad.
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