Image from londonteenagepoetryslam.com There's nothing like spending a Wednesday night at your local hole-in-the-wall watering hole, exercising (exorcising?) the old beer gland and soaking up some dirty ass rock & roll. What a delightful midweek social activity. That is unless, out of fucking nowhere, your hole-in-the-wall watering hole is hosting a Spoken Word Poetry Slam. More specifically an 'open mic' Spoken Word Poetry Slam. There's a reason people hide diaries under beds people. And that reason is shame. Teenage girls know this, why don't you? I'm as open minded as the next guy. If you wanna yodel while wearing a tampon tophat and have cocaine for breakfast every morning, that's fine with me. But I have to draw the line at Spoken Word Poetry Slams. Especially SWPS's that happen at bars. Bars are for drinking and loud music. You ruined my bar. I'm sure you think you're 'expressing yourself' or 'making an artistic statement' or 'are a cool person completely in touch with reality' but the fact of the matter is that nobody, absolutely nobody, in the world, cares about poems about other people's feelings. Arts/entertainment wise, standing on a stage reading a poem about your laminated scrapbook of melancholy is the zenith of laziness. And anyone who claims they really 'got it' or 'were totally feeling it' are only doing so hoping that you'll maybe have sex with them later. Which is also a zenith of laziness, Albeit in a completely different field. Unless you're a famous author, a science professor, a really hot chick or Batman, there's a 99.98% chance that no one will give a fuck. "But they clapped afterwards." Only to relieve the awkward silence. And maybe pity. Some people are nice. Not me apparently. I’d rather watch a Mime Show. "But that mime wasn't expressing anything? He had no message, man." Yeah, but did you see when he was trapped in that box? "But he got out of the box?" I know! and did you see how windy it was up there? Maybe I'm being a bit of a philistine here. Maybe I shouldn't knock it until I’ve tried it. But if (IF) I ever attempted to walk through the Ring Of Fire that is spoken word, I'd at least have the sense to moxy it up a bit. An interesting story! Sunglasses! Throw a few jump kicks in there! Adjective solo! "Now you're just trying to be offensive." Yeah, well, you're a retard. Thank you and goodnight.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. By Mike Gillis
Visit SwanktrendzVisit Mike’s Blog Image from londonteenagepoetryslam.com There's nothing like spending a Wednesday night at your local hole-in-the-wall watering hole, exercising (exorcising?) the old beer gland and soaking up some dirty ass rock & roll. What a delightful midweek social activity. That is unless, out of fucking nowhere, your hole-in-the-wall watering hole is hosting a Spoken Word Poetry Slam. More specifically an 'open mic' Spoken Word Poetry Slam. There's a reason people hide diaries under beds people. And that reason is shame. Teenage girls know this, why don't you? I'm as open minded as the next guy. If you wanna yodel while wearing a tampon tophat and have cocaine for breakfast every morning, that's fine with me. But I have to draw the line at Spoken Word Poetry Slams. Especially SWPS's that happen at bars. Bars are for drinking and loud music. You ruined my bar. I'm sure you think you're 'expressing yourself' or 'making an artistic statement' or 'are a cool person completely in touch with reality' but the fact of the matter is that nobody, absolutely nobody, in the world, cares about poems about other people's feelings. Arts/entertainment wise, standing on a stage reading a poem about your laminated scrapbook of melancholy is the zenith of laziness. And anyone who claims they really 'got it' or 'were totally feeling it' are only doing so hoping that you'll maybe have sex with them later. Which is also a zenith of laziness, Albeit in a completely different field. Unless you're a famous author, a science professor, a really hot chick or Batman, there's a 99.98% chance that no one will give a fuck. "But they clapped afterwards." Only to relieve the awkward silence. And maybe pity. Some people are nice. Not me apparently. I’d rather watch a Mime Show. "But that mime wasn't expressing anything? He had no message, man." Yeah, but did you see when he was trapped in that box? "But he got out of the box?" I know! and did you see how windy it was up there? Maybe I'm being a bit of a philistine here. Maybe I shouldn't knock it until I’ve tried it. But if (IF) I ever attempted to walk through the Ring Of Fire that is spoken word, I'd at least have the sense to moxy it up a bit. An interesting story! Sunglasses! Throw a few jump kicks in there! Adjective solo! "Now you're just trying to be offensive." Yeah, well, you're a retard. Thank you and goodnight.
Image from londonteenagepoetryslam.com There's nothing like spending a Wednesday night at your local hole-in-the-wall watering hole, exercising (exorcising?) the old beer gland and soaking up some dirty ass rock & roll. What a delightful midweek social activity. That is unless, out of fucking nowhere, your hole-in-the-wall watering hole is hosting a Spoken Word Poetry Slam. More specifically an 'open mic' Spoken Word Poetry Slam. There's a reason people hide diaries under beds people. And that reason is shame. Teenage girls know this, why don't you? I'm as open minded as the next guy. If you wanna yodel while wearing a tampon tophat and have cocaine for breakfast every morning, that's fine with me. But I have to draw the line at Spoken Word Poetry Slams. Especially SWPS's that happen at bars. Bars are for drinking and loud music. You ruined my bar. I'm sure you think you're 'expressing yourself' or 'making an artistic statement' or 'are a cool person completely in touch with reality' but the fact of the matter is that nobody, absolutely nobody, in the world, cares about poems about other people's feelings. Arts/entertainment wise, standing on a stage reading a poem about your laminated scrapbook of melancholy is the zenith of laziness. And anyone who claims they really 'got it' or 'were totally feeling it' are only doing so hoping that you'll maybe have sex with them later. Which is also a zenith of laziness, Albeit in a completely different field. Unless you're a famous author, a science professor, a really hot chick or Batman, there's a 99.98% chance that no one will give a fuck. "But they clapped afterwards." Only to relieve the awkward silence. And maybe pity. Some people are nice. Not me apparently. I’d rather watch a Mime Show. "But that mime wasn't expressing anything? He had no message, man." Yeah, but did you see when he was trapped in that box? "But he got out of the box?" I know! and did you see how windy it was up there? Maybe I'm being a bit of a philistine here. Maybe I shouldn't knock it until I’ve tried it. But if (IF) I ever attempted to walk through the Ring Of Fire that is spoken word, I'd at least have the sense to moxy it up a bit. An interesting story! Sunglasses! Throw a few jump kicks in there! Adjective solo! "Now you're just trying to be offensive." Yeah, well, you're a retard. Thank you and goodnight.
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