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.

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.

Cassandra Nguyen

                 Cassandra Nguyen describes her blog as ‘a collection of random prose and bullshit’. I think that description kind of shows the attitude she has towards her poems. Most of them show certain forcefulness or genuine ‘fuck it attitude which I enjoy, with one of her poems being literally a photo with the words “Caution Fuck It”. Some of my closest friends employ this kind of attitude in their work, so I’m glad to see others following in the proud tradition. Even her twitter notices this, as the emotional style of her tweets tends to be “Angry” and “Depressed” in that order. 

                What’s the work like then? Well, going through her blog, she has a definite affinity for beat writers and poets. Allen Ginsberg, William S. Burroughs (a personal favorite of mine), Jack Kerouac appear with surprising frequency. Non-writers are shown off as well, to give an idea of what her other interests are. David Lynch shows up, which makes sense considering her photos.

                The photos she does tend to be lost in a haze. Part of this is obviously due to what she uses, which tends to be film. Some of the pictures have real warmth to them, and remind me of one of the joys of film, something I’ve yet to see accurately captured by digital. Having an app which pretends to capture the feeling of film isn’t the same, I’m sorry Apple but you failed.    

                Her poems appear either on her blog or, more conveniently, on the LETPEOPLEPOEMS project I’ve been following. Actually, they are pretty heavy. They mess with your head, at least “‘Suffer Baby’ – Friday Night Metal Black” does. If you want to read a ‘metal’ poem, this would more than satisfy that need. Keep in mind the theme of this month for LETPEOPLEPOEMS is ‘caution’. Keep in mind as well her picture is an adorable picture of her in the center of a hex with the number “666” on it, written in internet blood. “Jonestown” a longer length indicates a healthily deranged sense of humor. Either that or a more blunt answer: You don’t fuck with Cassandra Nguyen ever. 

                “Stomach is not invisible” is dark yet again. Here it focuses on death but in a more indifferent way. A boathouse is the solution. Every extremity isn’t doing so hot. When the poem focuses away from the subject, its bleak attitude and hopes to start a punk band, it congratulates the winner of “Top Chef”. The different focuses help lighten the otherwise brooding nature of the poem. 

                Despite being her shortest one, “Bong Life” might be my favorite one. It doesn’t have very many words in it. With so little, it manages to create a certain mood of defiance. As one person stated “this is badass”. I’d have to agree with them. 

                Unicorns seem to be a thing with her as well. In her poem “Re Clinically Depressed Unicorns” she has fun in hell. She meets famous evil people. While in hell, she’s relatively prolific with her poetry output. The unicorn and her become friends. Life becomes good while in the literal embodiment of misery, pain, and suffering. But then, Cassandra is pretty metal. 

                I feel her poetry helps me out when I’m feeling upset or pissed off. Sometimes I’m not very good at articulating this emotion, since I try to be a generally happy sloth. Cassandra’s work is weird, confrontational, depressed and a bit angry. That’s what I like about it. It does it well. I hope she continues to do this, since she appears to have just gotten started. Who knows where she’ll be, though she will not be the 2011 Poet Laureate, I think 2016 Poet Laureate is a goal within her reach.

Ustream: Stephen Tully Dierks and Steve Roggenbuck

                 Ustream is a place where you can do lifecasting, or, as Steve Roggenbuck say “Live your Life” but this time on the internet with people watching. Some political events on Ustream get a lot of attention. It is those smaller events that really change the world. Remember the first Velvet Underground concert? You probably don’t, since you’re reading my blog. But you probably are aware that in the first Velvet Underground concert only about 100 people were there, and they all either became musicians, rock critics, or some other part of the great rock n’ roll machine. 

                Sunday, April 17^th at 8:00 CST could be easily compared to that first Velvet Underground concert. Everyone in the chat either was a poet a writer or a critic (Am I a critic? I feel I may be considered one). All of us are going onto bigger and better things, but this might be the first time we truly interacted in a meaningful, semi-anonymous way. Keep in mind the cooler things are the ones that don’t always get the most attention. Though small in number, we are strong in spirit. We are boykittens, hear us meow. 

                You could taste the anticipation. Part of the anticipation came from the Ustream’s various technical difficulties. It was interesting staring at Stephen and Steve’s faces showing expressions of disappointment. As Dierks went off in search of a more cooperative computer, I learned a lot about Roggenbuck’s face. Staring at it, the calm polite Midwest accurately depicted in Steve’s eyes, I felt reassured. Everything was going to be okay. This wasn’t going to be an ordinary poetry reading. When Dierks busted back into the room, I knew things were about to get real. 

                Things got very real. I’ve never heard Dierks voice before, but it was a powerful reading voice. A voice like that used to do the morning announcements in High School. You pay attention when that voice reads an excerpt from “Naked Lunch” even if the material strikes you as a bit unsettling. Suck it up. William S Burroughs would’ve messed you up if he had the chance and needed the money. Burroughs was addicted to heroin, so that may have been a common occurrence. 

                Inside their apartment felt strange. MTV, if you’re reading this, perhaps you could do a “Cribs” about the sort of bling online poets have. You can look through their fridge and freezer, gasping at the multitude of vegetarian eating options. As was their wont, they decided to list off all the food they had, as if to show off their ability to cook, a skill I lack completely (excluding microwaving). 

                Roggenbuck did not disappoint with his physicality. I feel Steve is an extremely active person, twisting this way and that. Whenever I see Steve perform a poem, I think of James Chance’s song “Contort Yourself”. Unlike lazy people staring blankly at their computer screens, Steve probably engages in some sort of physical activity while he’s flarfing. See his YouTube videos which teach us the importance of poetry, micro-flarf, gaining twitter followers, and so on.

                Many important questions were asked but not answered in the chat. Questions about David Foster Wallace, popping popcorn (which was shown in vivid detail), Omar De Col, LetPeoplePoems (a poetry site I’m very fond of), Zen Buddhism, writing, ‘A Walk to Remember’, problems with being a teenager in love, Pauly Shore, Live Tweeting of “The Notebook” and others. They were perhaps too numerous to even mention, you had to be there. I was there.

                Allegedly I was “dominating” the chat. I’m not entirely certain if this was true. The poems might have moved me, such as the visceral reading of “So Hawny” which makes you think: if given the chance, would you fuck a jar of peanut butter? Or is such an action kind of nuts? Beauty doesn’t have to be based on physical attraction, it could be textural.

                Watching them, I wanted Cassandra Nguyen to join them. I thought it would be funny to urge both sides to have Cassandra join the reading, despite the fact neither party showed a remote interest in letting that happen. Thankfully they both found it a humorous, bizarre proposition.  Apparently my lewd comments were considered the most successful but they were so of the moment that to republish them would lose the context. Suffice it to say someone mentioned the act of “spooning” with questions arising. 

                Together Stephen and Steve worked together to interact with the chat audience. Usually this is done to a large degree on Ustream. Somehow the couple managed to make it work when conventionally it shouldn’t have worked. Running in and out of the closet, removing footwear, it was a true rush to be there, if only electronically. 

                Pop Serial is a literary magazine run by Stephen Tully Dierks. Steve Roggenbuck is such a multi-faceted creature I’m at a loss of how to describe him, other than awesomeness personified and unleashed onto the internet, creating joyful abandon. I was there to see it all.