Stephen Tully Dierks and Ana Carrete are aware of most, if not all, online poetry happenings. By law they must be. Pop Serial is S T to the D’s baby. NewWaveVomit, Ana C’s testament to ‘anything you need to let out’ used to be a member of the Talking Heads. Growing tired of all the partying, drugs, and literal vomit, NewWaveVomit settled down to focus on poetry over the past year. Eventually NewWaveVomit managed to transform itself into a website and gave control over to Ana after she found a gold ticket in her bar of chocolate. It helps that Ana is an accomplished poet. Go here to learn more about her.
I eagerly awaited this meeting of the internet poetry powerhouses. Unlike countless other forms of media, I feel there hasn’t been a ‘poetry beef’ before between different parts of the country. By having this reading together Stephen and Ana prevented any ‘drive-by flarfings’ from occurring. They knew how much was not on the line here. Good thing they took the entire reading with seriousness more often associated with playgrounds or high-end bars than actual poetry readings.
We got thrown into the middle of things. Several people were walking. The chat watched as Stephen, Steve Roggenbuck, Ana Carrete, and Mike Kitchell along with other people walked around America’s heartland, Chicago, IL. I think other people might have been around. Really I couldn’t tell. Quickly everyone began making plans for pulling out ID cards to show they were ‘of age’ to purchase and consume alcoholic beverages. Steve referred to it as ‘carding hard’. Unfortunately we saw things only from a sideways angle. All I saw from a straightforward angle was a picture of a young Roggenbuck. Finally I can honestly say I’ve seen a picture of an artist as a young man.
“Congratulations you’ve arrived” some mysterious voice announced as they arrived at the poetry reading. Then we were treated to some shoegaze as in literally looking at people’s shoes. For an indefinite period of time we heard random conversations. Someone stated “That’s a bad angle. I think some of your viewers are going to get seasick” to which Stephen eloquently replied “Meh” or another equally innocuous response.
Ustream did not care for the venue they choose. We knew because of its frequent crashes. Towards the end of the week I tend to feel a bit tired, forlorn, and ready to call it a week. So I can’t be entirely angry at the liberal elitist social media. Perhaps it too got on a few uncomfortable conference calls during the week. It acted a bit too human for me. Negativity began to drag it down.
A poll came up. Without asking a question, it reaffirmed the positive. The poll didn’t even ask a question. Roggenbuck set up the poll knowing we’d answer ‘yes’ since we are his positive pals. Everyone in the chat knew how important this ustream would be. Never before had all these literary icons come together in the same place in real life. We were extremely excited about this event. So did the audience who clapped and screamed “woo” at Stephen Tully Dierk’s announcement.
Mike Kitchell (Impossible Mike) came up on stage. Wearing his trademarked white framed glasses (part of his ‘rebranding’ strategy) he began the session forcefully. Each time I heard a slight delay in the ustream recording I thought no. Apparently the technology heard my plea and came back. For me I liked the repetition of the square. The square was my favorite part of the poem.
Andrew James Weatherhead continued at great pace reading poems about Astoria, Basketball, and bits from the Economist magazine. Halfway into his own reading, he decided to engage the audience. Suddenly he put down the papers and began to talk. What it did was turn the reading into a conversation. Using this approach, he ruined any chance of hecklers to try and wreak the reading. Instead people began to find poetry a bit more approachable.
Right as everyone in the room was about to feel that magical charge, the charge you get when you finally understand art, when poets and non-poets come together into a big circle and sing around the campfire, it ended. Steve’s phone battery died. I guess a phone can only handle so much poetry ustreaming before it thinks to itself “This is intense. I better go into sleep mode and contemplate my existence.” That’s what the phone did, I’m absolutely positive.
Everything might have been fantastic!
