Monday October 5, 2015
from a slam poem
Kel frames it like, “Have I got a story for you!” Like, there’s actually something I’m gonna get out of it. What a jerk! I love that guy but he’s a jerk, right? He jumps around from thing to thing, like some kinda rabbit, and expects to be the best every time. Pretty wild. Pretty wild. I’m like, “Shoot, Kel…” I forget what we were eating, maybe Thai? No! No, Chinese. Kel ordered in. Moo Shoo this and that. Right? So, he tells me he’s going to become, wait for it… Wait… He’s going to go to Pastry School. KEL. The guy who just worked on the rigs. I almost choked on my Egg Roll. “What?” “Yup,” he says, like it ain’t no thang. “I met this group of chicks and they are all bakers. It’s an untapped market, man, you should really join me.” I laugh. I laugh my ass off. And then he shows me his, like, enrolment letter or whatever and it’s true. He’s doing it.
Thursday September 24, 2015
There was a moment I didn’t think you were going to make it. No, seriously bro, you looked like you had tapped out. But I’m glad you didn’t because I get to be the one to tell you that you… you’re a hero. You’re a god damn hero and I’m impressed. So it brings me joy to relay that to you, man. So how’s Nancy? Oh man, she’s so nice to you. You’re a lucky guy. She puts up with a lot of your crap, you must be pretty damn lovable.
Sunday February 2, 2014 at The Fringe Creation Lab
these five minutes: writer’s workout
They were brothers–not really–well, really, but not really. Not blood. Just blood brothers in expression–when you open up an old paper cut, or scratch a patch of skin back to make it bleed–rub your wounds into each other’s and promise something of yourselves to the other. For example: I’ll always be there for you, man. Or: No matter what, bro, no matter what.
It feels like when two dudes do this kind of thing they also automatically repeat key phrases like the MSP on a triple A baseball team…Atta boy, atta boy.
TJ and Sam were like that–only contrary to common belief, they didn’t say anything when their blood was mixing together. They both closed their eyes and just felt it. TJ and Sam had that kind of bond where they could sit in an open space with their blood dancing–with another guy’s blood, and feel a connection without having to say “No homo” just to ease the silence, the magic. They gave it its space–they gave their blood a minute before they said a single thing.