My Ugly Mug at the Ugly Mug

As I've shamelessly plugged on my blogs for a few weeks now (and what else are blogs for?), I was the featured poet at Two Idiots Peddling Poetry last Wednesday, December 16, at the Ugly Mug in Orange, California. As I've mentioned before, I've been an avid attendee and frequent participant in their open readings for a little over a year now, so I was honored that they'd ask me to feature -- and ecstatic when the host, Ben, decided to dub the night "Two Geeks Peddling Poetry." Both Ben and Steve (the idiots, but hardly) are comic book fanboys like me, so they were happy to pick my scheduled feature night to experiment with the geeky format. Mission accomplished.

To celebrate the "Geek Extravaganza," Ben gave open readers an obscure geek reference to quote before sharing their poetry, and some attendees were kind enough to donate superhero action figures for a toy drive that benefited the Boys & Girls Clubs of Fullerton. Many of my friends and co-workers attended, as well, which was initially intimidating, as I knew a crash-and-burn failure behind the mic would be something they'd never let me forget, but in the end it helped me be myself, rather than the pretentious young poet I could easily become with a stage and fifteen minutes of local fame. I was most grateful for the chance to read a poem about -- and essentially to -- my girlfriend, in attendance all the way from Arizona! It was a national affair!

I read poems from my 2009 Poetry Zine series, which concludes this month with nine out of an initially conceived twelve tiny volumes (one for every month, but I combined the summer and holiday months) and a few other "bonus tracks." Indeed, as an open mic and karaoke enthusiast, an open mic poetry gig is the closest I've come to having an "original gig," complete with "set list" and even "groupies." It was both an exciting and humbling experience, and in the end I actually made money from pimping my creative efforts -- something every artist dreams of. I've considered 2009 my most productive year creatively, from the poetry to Karaoke Comics to the other KaraokeFanboy Press stuff I've self-published, so this was a great way to wrap it up and anticipate a hopefully equally inspired 2010. Who knows what a change in scenery might offer . . . but more on that later.

In the meantime, my sincere thanks to everyone that checked out my ugly mug at the ugly mug, and here's "The Difference," the poem that concluded my set and which is whole-heartedly dedicated to my girlfriend. It's wintry, to boot -- just in time for the holidays!

The Difference

The falling snow is a silent symphony
of endless possibility,
each unique flake a crystalline doorway into
a parallel world.
If I could shrink to their size,
I could walk through their icy thresholds
and behold different you’s and me’s:
like wildly successful corporate you,
and drunk and homeless me.
Country music fan you,
jailed political activist me.
Crazy cat lady you,
underground street fighter me.
Religious cult leader you,
crazy cat lady me.
Playboy bunny you.
Eunuch me.

My every instinct to ruin this moment
with what-ifs and where-we-could-be’s
is hushed by the sound of these worlds
colliding outside the window,
little crescendo cymbals crashing, playing,
and laying the groundwork for this world.
Now the only one that really exists.

Upcoming Poetry Feature

I'll be the featured poet this coming Wednesday, December 16, at the Ugly Mug's Two Idiots Peddling Poetry. The hosts were kind enough to agree to coordinating an action figure toy drive with my reading, specifically to celebrate our corporate geekness. All the info is in the flyer above. If you're in the area, I hope to see you there!

Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About

I love talk radio. When done well, talk radio has the uncanny ability to transport the mind from the confines of one's car in rush hour traffic to the edges of the world, with topics ranging in importance and influence. From Octomom to Tiger Woods, from the economy to terrorism in Israel, good talk radio is a no holds barred discussion of global proportions. More than once, it has saved me from boredom and closed-mindedness.

My first and most consistent exposure to talk radio is Southern California's KFI 640 AM. Many years ago, one night in my old dorm room, frustrated with the repetition of mainstream FM radio, I switched to the AM dial and struggled to mind the clearest signal. Enter: Phil Hendrie. Initially, Phil's format seemed pretty standard: a sarcastic personality fielding phone calls from listeners about the day's most persistent topics and news stories. I quickly saw the proverbial man behind the curtain, and while I won't reveal the magician's tricks, I strongly suggest you visit Phil's website and listen to his archives. While he isn't prominent in the Southern California market anymore, I still haven't heard anything quite like him, but I was amused enough to keep my radio tuned in long after his show was over.



I'm reminiscing about talk radio because I had the pleasure of seeing it in action yesterday, as KFI hosted a radio-thon to raise money and collect nonperishable goods for the Salvation Army. They facilitated two broadcast/collections sites, one in Orange and another in Glendale, California. Since I live close enough to the Ayres Inn in Orange, I dared to wake up early for the short morning commute, and I watched Bill Handel and his morning crew push their audience for donations while quipping about Tiger Woods and another recent headlines. Bill interviewed a head honcho from the Salvation Army, and chapters of local Star Wars fan societies arrived in costume to attract a crowd, so I particularly appreciated the emphasis on the non-profit world and geek culture. To see these things I love collide for a worthy cause was more entertaining than I imagined.

I returned in the evening to watch the final segments of "The John and Ken Show." I've seen John and Ken live before, as well, when they were protesting tax hikes in my own backyard last year. Essentially bookending my day with these experiences was highly entertaining and most importantly mind-opening, both reminding me of the inherent needs in society, made most vulnerable during the holiday season, and the power of the media when focused on something positive, like trying to meet those needs. I'm not so disillusioned that I think one man can change the world, but one man with a microphone can encourage others to try, too, and that militant effort is a powerful thing. If talk radio can reach into the dorm room of a lonely geek and change his life for the better, who knows what else it's capable of?

Five Flashlights for Christmas

I was in the dark
that I was in the dark
but four of my closest friends
can't be wrong,
and the office party gift exchange . . .
Was it a cosmic Black Friday coincidence
or the white elephant in the room
all year long?
The real question is,
if this is lost,
where am I supposed to be?
If this is dark,
what am I supposed to see?
Maybe it isn't about me --
with one for each hand, both feet,
one between my teeth,
I could be a beacon
for disoriented travelers
or lost freighters,
a search party leader
that combs that caverns and craters
for wayward wanderers
too unfortunate to have friends
as thoughtful as mine.
Who knows what I'd find
with these, a little torch
for every corner and the very core
of the earth?
Maybe the universe
is recruiting agents
for the day the sun inevitably goes out,
for the day wise men heed me
and I shout,
"He who followeth me need not
wander in darkness . . .!"
Maybe I just have cheap friends . . .
who in a flash have exposed that
all the riddles in the world
could never shed light
on where I should shed light --

Papa's Sweaters

In my grandma’s closet
was a trunk full
of shed winter skin:

folded arms-crossed
like a dead man’s wake,

musky with the cigarettey smoke
of the television Yule log.

How many times
did I wear these sweaters
as his arms around me?

How many times
did I ride piggy-backed
and his sweaters wore me?

They still do.

Cleaning her closet,
she was going to
throw them away.

She thought they’d be
too big for me.

She was right.

The Attacks on Santa Continue

I heard this on the news last night, but according to this article, it's been in the ether for a few months.

I hadn't realized until recently that Santa dropped the pipe because of "social concerns" regarding the dangers of smoking. What of Frosty's corncob pipe?

Soon enough, Santa will be reduced to knocking on your door, lest his sliding down your chimney be perceived as breaking and entering.

Prank . . . or Political Message, part 1

The attacks on Santa continue:

http://www.missoulian.com/articles/2007/12/01/news/local/news03.txt.

You call that a Christmas prank? This is a Christmas prank . . . or is it a political message?

Justice League Holidays

The attacks on Santa have begun.

I've explained the palpable connection between the holidays and comic book culture once before: in a nutshell, both are colorful cultural genres that hinge on selfless, sometimes myth-based icons conveyed via a childlike suspension of disbelief. I liken these politically correct attacks on Santa and his peers with Dr. Fredric Wertham's Seduction of the Innocent scare from the '50s. Indeed, St. Nick is as sexist with his "ho"-ridden chuckle as Batman and Robin are gay.

Yes, I'm a staunch advocate for Santa Claus and have been ever since I saw a TV special advocating his existence, which even included celebrity eye witness accounts from the likes of Stevie Wonder. (Figure that one out.) I consider the charitable work I facilitate around this time of year as direct marching orders from Kringle, because, in these days leading up to The Big Night, he's too busy to do everything. After all those years of He-Man and Super Powers action figures under the tree, it's the least I can do.

I even wrote a comic book about Santa Claus. Still have some copies laying around if anyone want to cough up the three bucks. I'm actually thinking about revisiting the material, if time and inspiration permit . . .

Incidentally, considering Santa's frequent cameos in comics, I've speculated that he should be an honorary member of the Justice League, but since I've established a roster of reality star Leaguers, I now feel compelled to do so with holiday iconography, too. So, sitting around the Watchtower, North Pole Branch would be:

1. Santa Claus. Of course. He's the Superman of the holiday season, boasting the most special abilities and even an Arctic fortress of solitude.

2. The Easter Bunny. Trapped in Santa's shadow, the Easter Bunny is the Batman of the group, particularly since his existence hinges around a holiday steeped in the implications of death.

3. The Tooth Fairy. Like Nancy Grace in my "real Justice League," the Tooth Fairy offers a woman's touch to the group and, when roundtable arguments get too heated, can always tell the boys to watch their mouths. Yes.

4. Cupid. The Most Powerful Baby Alive.

5. Uncle Sam. Representing Independence Day, Presidents Day, Memorial Day, and Veterans Day, Uncle Sam has the biggest burden to bear. More than upholding any one of these holidays, he carries the weight of The American Dream.

6. A leprechaun. Drunk. Like Aquaman must be. Also, rich.

7. The Halloween Chair. Halloween has a steady rotation of representative mythical characters, from vampires to witches to mummies to Frankenstein. I don't know if any one of them truly stand up as the ultimate liaison, though a classically sheeted ghost could conceal almost anyone's identity . . .

With Thanksgiving right around the corner, I'm tempted to include a turkey, but I don't think he would last very long.

Despite that article, I know Santa respects women, but I don't think he can resist a good meal.

Eulogy for September

Long before the leaves
have begun to fade,
department store aisles
embrace autumn's shade,
adorned with the yellows,
oranges, reds, and greens
of Halloween, Thanksgiving,
and even Christmas scenes.
In such a hurry
to savor the moment,
mankind loses the minutes
twixt the tide and current.
So long, September,
we hardly knew ye;
under autumn's heel
you'll forever be.