Adventures in H-Town, GA

So.

It's clear at this point that I'm not going to be sharing (finishing because it was going to be garbeage) the piece that reflects my experience at Nats this year. But if you were interested it went like this:

Part 1:
The experience of competing against Roger and Jeanann and Adam and Trevor and Mo and Carlos (et cetera, et cetera, et cetera) is terrifying enough withough Eboni and Marty and Ink and Carrie and Jon (et cetera, et cetera, et cetera) being in the audience.

Part 2:
The points are not the point. Deep breath. Go get on stage.

Part 3:
I'm still awesome on stage.

Part 4:
Slam family picnic is awesome in a self-affirming kind of way. The afore mentioned names are reduced from poet-gods to just poets, and all is right with the world.

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Word.

So.

I've been at home for the past couple of days and have become increasingly more terrified by the air freshener my mother has placed in the living room. Of course, I appreciate it on the level that pop is going through man-opause and baby brother is nearly 16 - and so both bring a male funk that could be oppresive if it went unchecked....nevertheless...it sprays at random intervals that always freak me out....especially at 3am when I'm watching old episodes of True Blood.

Writing my iwps qualifier po-ems. Currently they suck....but hopefully i'll get them together before the slam off in September. I'm going to make baby brother video my 4-minute rehearsal...so I can see what Bob means when he talks about my lack of performance energy during the denoument of the po-em. If Bob is crazy....I'll post it.....if I've got mad work to do....then i'll just hit you with a copy of the po-em.

Alright. Enough of my rambling.

Peace Be