Saturday, November 12, 2005

Saturday November 12, 2005 - Chicago, IL - 2:19PM CST
I should have sent this out last week and now i'm in Chicago. Spent some time last night with the goodly Mssrs. Coval and Lansana and talked nuff tall shit. Today in a couple hours, Trinidad and Tobago's national Football team (soccer for those of you who are confused), affectionately known as the Soca Warriors, begin their final leg of qualifying for the 2006 FIFA World Cup. It is a home and away series against Bahrain, today's match being in Trinidad. If we prevail in this series, we make it to the world cup for the first time ever, after having had such collosal let downs as losing to the US in Trinidad in 1990 1-0 when all we needed was a tie to make it to the Cup Finals, and in 1970 when we were outright cheated against Haiti in a match we were supposed to win. If we prevail we will also be the tiniest nation ever to send a team to the World Cup (a million and a half people on a good day when everybody isn't clamoring to be here...). So wish me luck as i sit in front of the TV and scream and laugh and throw beer at the screen and strip naked and run out in the streets when we score... all this in Marty's parents' house. It should be a hoot. I'll let y'all know how it went... Below is my account as it were of last week's stint in Providence...

Friday November 4, 2005 – Leaving Providence, RI – 10:42AM

So last night I featured at the Providence Slam at AS220, run by the inimitable Jared Paul. It was an excellent time with quite a good selection of good poems/poets. By far the night’s highlight was Max who came to the stage bareback and proceeded to lambaste everyone in the Providence scene. It was a rant of brilliantly epic proportions. He impugned everyone’s character and called everyone (by name – no clever allusions to individuals here) on his/her bullshit. He even dissed the DJ. It was about 7 minutes long and everytime you thought well enough of that he dropped a brilliant genius level type line like the one about everyone’s self-doubt swirling in the air (and) don’t you wish it would alight on the shoulders of the stupid. All of this delivered in Iggy Pop-esque craziness and abandon with his pants hanging off his ass to reveal his boxers and crawling across stage reading from pieces of paper that he’d dropped on the floor; all of this at ear-shattering decibels. There was also the poem about dating a woman whose mom you thought was hot and it was well-enough written that it didn’t seem disgusting at any point and I was like, well… I think it was just a matter of time before poetry slam spawned a MILF poem.

So after a couple beverages and hanging out with Nicole Bazelais and Jared’s friends back at the house had pissed on the pumpkin (don’t ask – I got back to the house and a bunch of folks were running arund the house and in the street and folks were wondering who got the piss pumpkin; I just walked into the house and got myself some camomile tea. I couldn’t handle all the implications of the piss pumpkin at midnight) I’m on amtrak heading back. I wasn’t feeling the Greyhound 5 hour drama either so I’m going with the comfortable picturesque route.

1 Comments:

Blogger Queue said...

Congrats on Trinidad's WIN - I would hve paid to see you running screaming naked down teh street after the win- you did run naked down the street right?

6:37 AM  

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