I am back
I'm finally back from Chicago. This is a good thing, but whenever I go away from the cube farm, the work continues to grow. Like corn.
Now I was gone from work for 3 working days but just because I wasn't there, it doesn't mean I could just pick up where I left off. Oh no. I had 400 emails, 30 voice mails, and a whole bunch of stuff that suddenly appeared and needed to be done while I was gone.
Oh, and somehow I had to attend meetings all day long - the very day I got back, so I couldn't get anything done.
By the time I got out of here late last night and because I had only 6 hours of sleep the night before, I just couldn't focus to update this here journal.
This morning I had off from work though, because I had a performance to arrange and do at Cranston West High School in Rhode Island.
Myself, Jared, Bernard, and Scott all performed. I had no coffee and no breakfast so I sounded like a frog and read close to one, but the other three guys were awesome. There were a lot of kids there - well over 200 in the auditorium and all in all it was very well received.
So my work day started today at noon. It's not bad, but the corn got a chance to grow even higher.
Damn cube farms.
Chicago... Ah Chicago.
Last Thursday night I arrived in Chicago around 7 at night. I went right from O’Hare to my hotel - a strange Howard Johnson’s on North LaSalle Drive - all for an amazingly cheap 40 dollar cab fare.
Right after dropping my bags at the HoJo I went to the Chi town classic poetry slam at the Subterranean. It's a three story cabaret club that smells like an ashtray.
The slam was fun. I got to see a whole lot of people I only see twice a year and Regie Gibson eventually won followed by Jack McCarthy. Both were from Boston. I didn't bother to read. Not because I knew Jack and Regie would beat me, but because I just wanted to spend some time listening to poetry instead of just running a show or performing in one.
Friday I explored the city, but didn't find a Kinko’s so I could update this journal thingy, and then Friday night I went to Phyllis’s. It's an old blues club with a patio out back and it doesn't smell too much like an ash tray.
By this time my friend Dave Blank had been dropped off in Chicago by his parents. He was visiting them in Iowa and eventually had enough. So he stayed with me for a few days in Chicago.
Once again I just enjoyed sitting in the audience and hearing poets like Danny Solis, Marc Smith, Dawn Saylor, and everyone else who runs poetry slams all year long and then spends an entire weekend every year organizing how the nationals will run.
Speaking of organizing how the nationals will run, Saturday started the meetings. The Slam master’s meeting held at the smells like an ash tray place.
I won't get into all the boring rule changes, clarifications , and other assorted stuff, but it took all day and around 6 we wrapped up.
Right after the meeting Dave and I went to the hotel and got ready for the night's performance. This night it was at the Note. A blue tinted jazz club that smelled the least like an ash tray. Dave decided that night was the night to drink alcohol for the first time in a year and a half and by the time the show ended and we both were at our third bar of the evening Dave was throwing up in the bathroom.
He left early and I stayed about 45 minutes more playing pool and by the time Sunday morning rolled around,
I. Was. Hurting.
Sunday morning. The morning of the killer hangover. Why? Because I made the mistake yet again of drinking beers from the tap. The horror.
I walked out of my hotel and started looking for a cab at 9 am after going to bed at something like 4 am.
Up pulls a limo.
"Want a ride for gas money?"
So I hop in a limo, get my ear talked off by a really weird guy who could have been a serial killer, and I eventually made it across town to the Subterranean for yet another day of meetings.
That night I went to the Green Mill for yet another poetry slam and well, you read about my Monday from Hell yesterday.
So that's it. I'm just about settled back in and soon
as in tomorrow
I'll be back on track with life, work, and even this diary.
Just in time to run my own slam. Jared Paul is featuring tomorrow night btw.