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balance (2): wings

Tuesday, June 9, 2009


so cold tonight i could see my breath (in june?!), and all i wanted to do was to curl up and watch movies- but alas my internet connection was mysteriously down, so my netflix account was sadly inaccessible. rather than sit in and mope about being lonely, i made myself ride my bike a few blocks down to the coffeeshop, to watch a poetry slam i have been hearing about. i was a little hesitant not only because i am very shy to enter a room full of curious people alone, but because i assumed that the poetry in a place like boulder would be bland and unimpressive... however i'd forgotten that boulder was once a great hub for a lot of the poets of the last century- most prominently the beats- such as jack kerouac, and bukowski, who drank and smoked and coughed up their lines urging people to live their insides out from the very street i live on. i am happy i made myself go out, it was a great night. some of the men there had been reading for four decades! there was great prose, a few hilarious short stories, and poetry set to swing beats. and it wasn't this "woe is the black man" stuff you get ad nauseum in NY. anyway... afterwards, buzzed on hot chocolate and with words dancing skittishly in my head, i raced home with cheeks flapping, through the dark empty streets on my bicycle, to my cozy home which smells of garlic from the raviolis i made myself earlier, and have started a hot bath with smelly fuming salts in which i will lounge with a glass of wine and contrive poetry of my own into the wee hours of the night, which i will never have the courage to read in public.


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