In a completely ill-considered/life-embracing Halloween night foray to two parties, a hostess-with-the-mostest had an outdoor open mic and personally encouraged me to read some of my poetry. I told her I'd read only one 'cause poetry's always a hard sell, and I had just one poem that was this year's blue moon occasion appropriate:
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| [it's actually written to be performed & read aloud, so imagine me tuning bunny ears with my hands, speeding up my reading as the car comes, hands giving a loud single clap to indicate the roadkill, the change in tenor as I say "but they fuck alot", and my existential downshift as I gesture upward to the moon to finish.] |
Not that the open mic was a competition (though on some level it always is [and there was a really super terrific interpretive lip sync sign language number]), but after reading I was the only one the crowd asked for an encore from after the applause, which I gave them.
It felt good to be loved for my words, to own a room, to give a shared experience and get that energy back in adoration for that gift in real time. Thanks Shanna for goading & giving me that opportunity.
Damn, it's good to be a skald.
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While a mostly happy bookstore fixture for over two decades, Guillermo Maytorena IV is currently willing to entertain your serious proposals for employment as a literary/cinema critic, goth journalist, castellan, airship pilot/crewperson, investigative mythologist, or assisting in a craft brewery. Should you be connected to any of the above or equally interesting endeavours, do contact him.
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