Tuesday, July 25, 2006
This article about the suspension relaxations in the Italian soccer leagues has a great ending:
"Hundreds of Lazio fans outside the hotel where the verdicts were delivered screamed in delight at the news their team was back in Serie A. Minutes later, they scattered when a sudden thunderstorm drenched them."
"Hundreds of Lazio fans outside the hotel where the verdicts were delivered screamed in delight at the news their team was back in Serie A. Minutes later, they scattered when a sudden thunderstorm drenched them."
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Great lines I failed to use, No. 743 and 744 in an ongoing series:
No. 743
After recapping how I ended up in Cooperstown to a complete stranger on the bus, to independent party hot girl sitting next to me
If I ask you out, can we skip to the second date because you know my life story?
No. 744
(smirking) I'm not hitting on you -- you're too old for me. ... The way I see it, you can either stay mad at me or prove me wrong. Your call.
No. 743
After recapping how I ended up in Cooperstown to a complete stranger on the bus, to independent party hot girl sitting next to me
If I ask you out, can we skip to the second date because you know my life story?
No. 744
(smirking) I'm not hitting on you -- you're too old for me. ... The way I see it, you can either stay mad at me or prove me wrong. Your call.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
(NOTE: If you were directed here from the d.a.y. at SLAMonline, the Knicks draft entry is here.
I checked out my first event in the Oneonta poetry scene on Thursday. It was a slam at the Black Oak Tavern. It was during the PSI/SUNY-Oneonta Poetry Cross Training conference, so there were an abundance of poets. 22 signed up to perform, so they staged a two-round slam, with the top five scores (out of 30.0) advancing to a second round. I drew a slot around 15 (kinda hard to keep track, and enough time to make me antsy.
Listening to the poets slotted in front of me, I thought the quality of some was quite high. Notably, one girl did a HI-larious comedy joint about being an obbsessive girlfriend, and another did a metaphorical one (her "why I write" piece) that kept coming back to space metaphors; new clothes for old hat, but sometimes that does the job. Oh, and there was a flipped love poem by this dude Bamboo MC that was funny, and got the room hot and bothered. But others I just wasn't really feelin'. Respected the effort, just not my bag. Oh, and a bunch of cats were reading and forgetting ish. Judging seemed kinda harsh -- scores were pretty low, due to judges being unfamiliar with the process, I think. Lotta low 20s early.
I was up third after a short bathroom break, and had pretty much committed myself to performing The Catch for the first time in front of an audience. The emcee flubbed my intro about four times and had a whole mic adjustment ceremony before finishing. I finally got up on the mic, said, "Some guys do this to get girls. I'm not one of them. See ..." and then I launched into the poem.
And I had these cats the whole time. I'm talking, they were listening so hard, they weren't even outwardly reacting because of the processing. I didn't even get a reaction on the Tetris line, which is definitely a flash point. If I were in New York, they would have made me rewind it. I did catch one older lady in the audience feelin' it, so word to you, ma'am, wherever you are.
As I walked off the stage, I definitely think I heard some girl mutter, "What an asshole." Which is what the poem's supposed to do ... if you listen superficially. I bet she remembers me, though. Then the scores came:
3.3
4.1
6.5
7.8
8.4
Drop the high and low and you get a combined 18.4. Now I know that's not the easiest poem, especially for the first time I was performing in a community, but that stung. That range is definitely ridiculous though. Worst part is, the next event isn't for a month, so I've gotta sit on that number. I'm not really mad, just disappointed because I believe in the poem. I don't know that they were ready for something that honest, or out of the normal cycle of "revolution/love/why I write" joints. So it goes.
I checked out my first event in the Oneonta poetry scene on Thursday. It was a slam at the Black Oak Tavern. It was during the PSI/SUNY-Oneonta Poetry Cross Training conference, so there were an abundance of poets. 22 signed up to perform, so they staged a two-round slam, with the top five scores (out of 30.0) advancing to a second round. I drew a slot around 15 (kinda hard to keep track, and enough time to make me antsy.
Listening to the poets slotted in front of me, I thought the quality of some was quite high. Notably, one girl did a HI-larious comedy joint about being an obbsessive girlfriend, and another did a metaphorical one (her "why I write" piece) that kept coming back to space metaphors; new clothes for old hat, but sometimes that does the job. Oh, and there was a flipped love poem by this dude Bamboo MC that was funny, and got the room hot and bothered. But others I just wasn't really feelin'. Respected the effort, just not my bag. Oh, and a bunch of cats were reading and forgetting ish. Judging seemed kinda harsh -- scores were pretty low, due to judges being unfamiliar with the process, I think. Lotta low 20s early.
I was up third after a short bathroom break, and had pretty much committed myself to performing The Catch for the first time in front of an audience. The emcee flubbed my intro about four times and had a whole mic adjustment ceremony before finishing. I finally got up on the mic, said, "Some guys do this to get girls. I'm not one of them. See ..." and then I launched into the poem.
And I had these cats the whole time. I'm talking, they were listening so hard, they weren't even outwardly reacting because of the processing. I didn't even get a reaction on the Tetris line, which is definitely a flash point. If I were in New York, they would have made me rewind it. I did catch one older lady in the audience feelin' it, so word to you, ma'am, wherever you are.
As I walked off the stage, I definitely think I heard some girl mutter, "What an asshole." Which is what the poem's supposed to do ... if you listen superficially. I bet she remembers me, though. Then the scores came:
3.3
4.1
6.5
7.8
8.4
Drop the high and low and you get a combined 18.4. Now I know that's not the easiest poem, especially for the first time I was performing in a community, but that stung. That range is definitely ridiculous though. Worst part is, the next event isn't for a month, so I've gotta sit on that number. I'm not really mad, just disappointed because I believe in the poem. I don't know that they were ready for something that honest, or out of the normal cycle of "revolution/love/why I write" joints. So it goes.
