Live Reading from Brett Gallagher’s Bed

                This is the best reading I’ve seen of boykitten material. According to the event, seventy five people committed to seeing them perform live from Brett Gallagher’s bed. Of course, this is never the case. People randomly stumble upon it and those committed party members sleep in too late. Still, this ended up bringing nearly forty people together, no mean feat. Omar De Col, Aurist, and Crispin Best were there to give it a bit of British glamor. 

                Kat Dixon appeared. You may better know her as one of the best-known critics of the boykittens. It seems she’s willing to give these guys a chance. Whether or not she actually enjoyed it, I’m not sure. Throughout the reading she did appear to have fun and playfully commented on some of the silliness going on in their small space. 

                Is the internet vegan? Is water vegan? Omar knew how to ask the important questions. Brett Gallagher asked “Are Animal Crackers vegan?”  Brett had a larger issue however and it involved his penis. For his upcoming book “Vessel” he wanted to put a dick pic as the main picture for his collection. Those who were not Brett (Stephen Tully Dierks, Cassandra Nguyen, and Steve Roggenbuck) thought this to be the most obnoxious way of showing off his book. Members of the chat room had a different opinion. Since we’re on the internet we don’t have to give good advice. We expressed to Brett our unwavering support in favor of his proposal. Sex sells. 

                Omar De Col got some attention. Eyes gleaming, charming and drunken in a hot pink swimming suit he was covered in the Daily Post. Stephen read the report with a large amount of passion. Lacy Maxwell, a local reporter, spoke at length to Omar. I figure in the UK internet poets are given more coverage since there isn’t much going on there now that the royal wedding is over. Hopefully Omar and Lacy hit it off after the impromptu interview. 

                Let People Poems received at least one reading as is tradition. Reprobus has submitted a lot of stuff for the site, but he hadn’t been read before. Among other things, he discussed how he liked internet poetry when it was written in books. Basically Reprobus created replica of what an online poetry pissing contest might sound like, complete with other nonsensical references. Steve Roggenbuck’s chapbook “i am like october when i am dead” got a wink, Poncho a nod. Egyptian internet poets from the BC era, overlooked in my view, were discussed at great length.  

 

                “I don’t respect Female Expression”, Frank Hinton’s recently released chapbook received the proper respect. After the perfect reading, Stephen Tully Dierks said “Damn she can write”. Everyone agreed. While he read it I began to feel vestiges of my Catholic guilt coming in, reminding me I should probably get her book. 

                Crispin Best wrote a poem based heavily off of Aladdin. Disney clearly owes him money. I wonder how much money Crispin will get for his heartfelt tribute to the classic movie. Whatever the amount it is far too little. 

                Poncho could not make it. Unfortunately he spent the night in the Dallas-Fort Worth airport. He couldn’t even make it virtually. In honor of Poncho’s entrapment, they read “Today’s the Day!” on Metazen. To accurately capture the tone of the poem, Brett drank five beers. Completely in the zone he tried to get through the poem. Obviously his intoxication prevented him from finishing it. Stamina ended up not being there even as his mind tried sloughing through. We tweeted for him but alcohol proved to be stronger than his love of literature. Besides, Poncho writes poems on a rather epic scale. 

                Of course we got there for the bed. According to the event page on Facebook, they would be reading live from their bed. All of them looked tired as they collected into an asexual pile on the bed. They looked happy together. They looked drunk together. For a brief moment, they looked like a family of poets. We got introduced to their cat and the final segment of the broadcast. 

                Casual Encounters received a great deal of laughter. By reading these out of context, we realize how funny they really are. Seeing the expression on the quartet’s faces was priceless. According to Steve Roggenbuck, they saw more pictures than they wanted. Poetry can be found anywhere. I guess they wanted to show that to us in the grossest and funniest way possible. When people post on casual encounters they don’t think about grammar, verbs, or even coherence. It can be hard to type with only one hand. So sentences like “Just be smell like a man” make sense in the clouds of horniness. 

                I love these ustreams. Hope they continue to do these silly, goofy, and surprisingly rewarding things.

Brett Gallagher

                Brett Gallagher is a twenty-three year old vegan coffee enthusiast living in what is referred to as “Real America” as opposed to my New York, false America to many, if not all. Most of his work can be found on his blog “As You Recognize Your Transience” or indirectly linked to it. I first noticed his work through the bizarrely packaged “Loop Loop Endogenous” which is pretty trippy even without words, but the words and pictures work well together.

                On Lamination Colony, you see his first published work. The words flow at some obscenely fast pace. For certain pieces, you mind tries to make sense out of the missing pieces. Brett leaves them there intentionally. Words are missing vowels; endings aren’t where they normally are. Everything mentioned feels ridiculous things, processors, UPS, FedEx, elephants, faux news and so on. Allowing so much freedom with the words creates multiple meanings and scenarios for the work. 

                “I looked out my window to see myself pulling a horse on a string through the open sky at dusk” has a slightly more grounded language. Don’t worry; it retains a great deal of freedom. Only this time the language is slightly more structured. Like his previous poem, it moves very quickly. A few feelings are present in this poem, particularly a disdain for consumerism, as noted in the third part. Purchases don’t make up happy according to the poem but contemplation does. Staring at the night sky slows things down, as does extended periods of time spent with less productive vegetation. 

                Going into “Bless” then is a bit of a shock. Here a concrete, near linear plot exists. Sure, it is fantasy, but by having a narrator and someone the narrator addresses it comes across as direct. The imagery of space may suggest a greater place but for this poem it suggests a hope in a dream world. 

                By far my favorite would be “Loop Loop Endogenous Nightscape”. Illustrations are done by Elizabeth Arnold, aka Neon Glittery. Here all his previous ideas, the fast-pace and emotional content come into a swelling whole or, as he states in his chapbook “wordish barrages”. With the visuals and the words themselves, they conjure up a reality almost but not quite graspable. Images are remixed into illustrations and so forth. Brett uses the idea of a loop to continue on themes or ideas, such as water, the night, and plenty others. Though it is experimental, it is probably the most enjoyable thing I’ve seen of his thus far.

                Thankfully though, this is not the end. According to his blog he appears to have a few other projects in the works. “Vessels” his latest project, is proving to be his biggest and most promising. During various Ustreams he showed them off. Each one of those Ustreams offered a glimpse at what it has to offer, sounding very rhythmic, almost hypnotic. His attention to language is remarkable. When I jokingly called him a “Post-Bro” he had all the connotations of what that word might mean. Immediately I got a rise out of him. He doesn't shy away from provocation himself, having declared a poke war on Facebook.

 Unlike a great deal of his compatriots, his online presence appears to be small, with a seldom used twitter and now deleted Tumblr. I think this will help him focus on creating new work or at the very least that is my hope. See the below for an excerpt from his upcoming work "Vessel".

vi. vessel at midnight, an observation

and kjellfrid begins counting fingernails kept in her birdnest and she imagines she is a mother bird who is taking care of her young and she slowly carefully lovingly places more nails into the nest and looks out towards the center of the fjord and kjellfrid feels herself becoming undone and this is all too much and as taped joints begin sagging from sockets her glued frame begins losing it’s shape erland can be seen rowing his vessel ever closer to the center of the fjord and kjellfrid realizes the moon is sharp and a great sadness fills her diaphram and by the light of the projector’s flickering nebula-pattern refracted over the desolate topography of a continuous blackness settling over the fjord kjellfrid writes the scaline angles of her mind with her most prized fingernails


and the half life of this vessel a flotation
above body levitated above body
dusk over forest seen from below
is equivalent to the thought
that i am out somewhere apart from myself
and i am investigating the sea bed
and on calm evenings i row out to you
this heaviness the night
is yours
ours

and kjellfrid raises her head and watches erland rowing with oars that are tusks of pine shaped as colonies of trails as paint-dripping quasars at night and erland has become in triplicate and his body flickers gently and it is though kjellfrid can see through him if only momentarily and kjellfrid looks down at her hands and remembers when he pulled her aside by the window when these great iron-fastened nights were fewer and said i want to be there with you now and year from now and a year from now into infinity and kjellfrid remembers sleep patterns of dream sequences filled with forest families and tender angles

endless darkness, says kjellfrid

almost probably, says kjellfrid as erland

why has it become so quiet, says kjellfrid

take my hand, says kjellfrid as erland

listen, says kjellfrid

the sounds of moonlight cratering against the pines and, says kjellfrid as erland

will this, we, says kjellfrid

soon we will row out to each other and make quiet introductions with lips of heavy water that will hold the way under moon light of indian summer sky, says kjellfrid as erland

yes, says kjellfrid

soon, i must leave, says kjellfrid as erland

but, says kjellfrid

and erland begins walking and kjellfrid stands and erland continues walking and kjellfrid hides her face from view and erland keeps walking and keeps walking and keeps walking and keeps walking

and kjellfrid lifts her head and erland is resting his oars and looking back at kjellfrid but kjellfrid is again unable to speak and only understands language in fingernails muscles cavities airways and mucus secretions and the water is still and the far wall of the horizon flutters and a dim glow appears towards one extreme of the horizon and taped floorboards nails hastily hammered glued sheets of darkness tacked orbs of cotton as crescent moon begin crumbling and kjellfrid opens her mouth again to shout to her beloved but her vessel begins closing around her and her folds and cavities ache and the darkness of her vessel

Ustream Team

Living their Lives.

                Cupcakes introduced the poetry reading. If you ever want to attract people to a reading, free food is usually a solid choice. Art exhibits are made better, freer, and more enjoyable with food offered. Unfortunately, I was online and unable to eat any of their food. Those there got some delicious baked goods. For those online, we had to make our own dinner and drink our own beers.

                “Dead Poets Society” got a shout-out. It makes sense for the Internet Poetry Society (aka BoyKittens) to read this out online. Steve Roggenbuck had part of it posted in real life as a form of inspiration. Robin Williams is an inspirational figure. His hairy arms make me feel better about myself. Unlike Robin Williams, I don’t need to shave my arms on a daily basis. 

                A few new faces were introduced. Cassandra Nguyen read Blake West on his tumblr. In fact, this was the second time this weekend I saw Cassandra, the first was the night prior at Ms. Troyan’s lovely abode. Since I had once encouraged her to meet Steve Roggenbuck, I feel that I helped push along this great meeting of the minds. 

                “Eat when you feel Sad” by Zachary German got some attention. Balloons got a lot of attention as well. As Brett Gallagher’s reading progressed of Richard Chiem’s work, they constantly tried to derail the proceeding. Richard Chiem was even there in the chat room, showing off his IPOD music skills.  It felt avant-garde. Constantly the reader tried to focus on the poetry but broke down into laughter. For other readings, Brett appeared to be treated as the “straight man” as they played volley ball with the balloons.

                The performance between Stephen Tully Dierks and Cassandra Nguyen went fantastic. Each one read a line. Slowly the action became hotter and hotter. A twist completely changed it up. Obviously energy drinks were put to good use for this performance. Perhaps it wasn’t the inappropriate amount of caffeine they consumed. Instead, it might have been the rowdy celebration of their cat’s birthday. Sunday, May 2^nd marked the celebration of their cat’s birth. 

                Poncho Peligroso (better known as the 2011 Poet Laureate) had one of his poems read during the broadcast. House plants were viciously tormented and abused during this time. I cried a little inside. Gardening happens to be a hobby of mine. So hearing about emotionally abused plants proved to be rather heavy for a Sunday evening. Thankfully, the ending of the poem made it worth everything. 

                Beach Sloth got read on ustream which was infinitely excellent. Cassandra Nguyen read my Lookbook post which felt great. Never before has anyone read one of my posts online before. In fact, I rarely even read them aloud in person. Hearing it read tempted me to do a potential PodCast at some indefinite point in the future. Right now, it is merely a thought. I’m curious to see how my delivery and inflection would change the reader’s perception of what I write. 

                After much coaxing, we got a reading of Brett Gallagher’s work Vessel. Vessel is something Brett has been working on for a while. It takes place in a Fjord in Scandinavia. Two main characters (whose names I can’t begin to spell) interact. Somehow I enjoy it; I like the delivery and the rhythm of it. Saturday night I heard a bit of it but I still wanted more. Brett’s stated it will be published at some point. Hopefully that will be sooner rather than later, and I’ll definitely have my eye out for it. 

                Jackson Nieuwland had a great poem. The word ‘fuck’ got used more than I’ve heard from everyone in the entire week. Due to the strong language, it ended up being pretty funny. I try not to curse but fail most of the time. To err is to be human so the celebration of the exclamation point of words always is a bit relieving.  

                Finally the moment everyone was waiting for arrived. Cassandra Nguyen re-activated Facebook. A flood of friends came forth, after several added the incorrect Cassandra Nguyen (myself included, in my defense I only followed other people). Now she’s re-integrated into Facebook life. Things will be better for her, as countless online poets are there to ease her transition. As the UK went to sleep and New Zealand (UK-lite) woke up, one last poem remained.

                Stacey Teague got her poem “New Zealand Dinosaur” read by the collective group of four. The reading got passed off among each other. With each new line read by some with the prefix ‘popcorn’ they read it with as much gusto as you can muster on a Sunday night. 

                When they left, I remembered a New York Times article I read earlier on Sunday. It explained the allure of Soho in the late 70s/early 80s. Art movements are the most passionate in the beginning. They form tight-knit communities. Obviously the Boykittens have no geographic locale, but I feel closer to them, thousands of miles away, than I do with my coworkers. Boykittens have staked claim to their own friendly neighborhood on the internet. I guess it is the welcoming environment which has made itself a favorite bookmark on my browser.

                Have the Boykittens created the late 70s Soho of the internet? What do you think? I know my answer.

Ear Eater 5

                  Shaun Gannon began the marathon Ustream chats. Lately there have been a plethora of these going on, allowing for mere passers-by to become fully engaged. “I am Shaun Gannon” is to Shaun Gannon as “I’m Rick James Bitch” is to David Chappelle. While it is funny, it isn’t all that he offers. Shaun writes other poems as well.  Some of those other poems were read by his geologist friend who got somewhat intoxicated.  Once this ‘pre-gaming’ party ended, we headed off to the next Ustream party. We bounced.  

                Ear Eater 5 came up next. People waited anxiously for it to begin. People began discussing teeth. Cassandra Troyan’s teeth looked great. All of a sudden they broke into song, specifically “I believe I can fly”. The song moved the multiples of people residing in cyberspace. Since this group resides and publishes poetry on the internet, it only makes sense that they would try to interact on Ustream.

                Someone explained to us the importance of unicorns. While we had the beginning, we learned how nice an apartment you can get in Chicago. I feel that it was really strange moment when Ken Baumann read a poem from another laptop. Those in the Ustream listened to him as he read from a remote location. For a brief moment, I realized one of the goals which bring together the boykitten movement. Perhaps more so than any other literary movement, it openly embraces the internet. Most other literary movements usually shun the internet or aren’t as savvy about using it. Boykittens know how to use it. 

                The readings were great. I felt strange watching it from such a far distance. Oddly, my experience with poetry readings in real life are not as good as they are online. Perhaps the poets are more active knowing that they are being judged by an anonymous audience. Anonymity on the internet means it can get a bit harsh regarding the criticism. Some of the criticism is rather crude, but some of it misses the point entirely of the work (see Kat Dixon’s article ‘DadaGate’ as it has been dubbed). 

                Brett Gallagher began with “Vessel”. I liked the reading. Seeing his body’s rotation as he read showed a certain affection and attention to his own work. This sounds silly but a lot of writers tend to treat readings as a formality rather than a performance in and of itself. In this case Brett treats it with proper attention. Considering the sheer amount of words, he didn’t get very tripped up, as if he had practiced this quite a bit. Passion emanated from his delivery, it felt wonderful. Note “Vessel” will be in full-fleshed form at some point in the near future. Look out for it. 

                Online poetry readings bring love. Even those who felt sad in the beginning grew happier as the chat progressed. People merely talking to each other brought joy. Slowly the host Cassandra Troyan and the virtual host Steve Roggenbuck began working in tandem. It can be strange giving attention to two parties happening simultaneously. The two groups began to merge together as bizarre forms of flattery fused the two groups together. ‘Driving Me Wild’ ended up being a major chant of the night. But the next reading ended up allowing for silence on both sides, serving as a palette cleanser to some degree due to its quiet nature.

                Devon King came with musical accompaniment. Usually poetry readings don’t include an entire backing band. They were surprisingly quiet. Percussion and drones accompanied the reading. I liked the drones a lot; they grew more and more massive. For me the drones appeared to be well done. At first I didn’t get why the drums were there, but slowly it began to form a full whole. Each tap and hit worked against his reading’s tempo. By having two separate rhythms, it allowed for an extremely weird poetry-music hybrid. 

                “Sex Hair” began Carrie Lorig’s reading. Apparently she was born in Poland, studied in Wisconsin, and has generally been all over. Her poem about horses was enjoyable, as I have a thing for animal-centric writing. ‘Our flow is hard’ introduced her poem which she explicitly stated “was not about periods”. LetPeoplePoems published this wonderful weirdness. Despite being so far, she had a surprisingly strong performer. “Swamp Gods” celebrated the rivalry between swamp things. NewWaveVomit got some attention to, as Ana C hung out in the chat room. Her poems were extremely funny as was her delivery. Then, in case we weren’t sure if she was a good sport, she wore a blanket under the drunken audience’s request. 

         

            Finally, the end drew nigh. The laptop itself ran out of energy as this happened, almost exhausted by the sheer amount of literature it had consumed and shared. We left as virtual guests as the party winded on down into a drunken, debauched haze (or so I imagine). 

                It was totally worth it.