“He got up before dawn…looked down at the water. He would have welcomed an instant of wisdom. However, none arrived. The water kept its own counsel.” – Lydia Millet, ‘Dinosaurs’
This should really be titled “a word of encouragement to find your art” or something, and should come with a CW: sentimentality incoming.
We had our first Lazy & Entitled event on Monday, which doubled as a Line Break reading, given that the biggest excuse to do the reading was kicking off Bob’s book tour. Then it became a celebration of Adrian and Sandy’s books, too. Eventually, it was about the friends we made along the way.
I allude to my past performing plenty: the shows Brendan and my band would put on in high school, the house party reading series I co-ran in college, my failed attempt as being an open mic-playing singer-songwriter. There’s also the few years when I was actually doing poetry readings around the city, and there’s my 18 months playing bass in Solipse from 2016-2018. I have a resume, but it feels like performing hasn’t been a part of my life for a very very long time. Unless I’m forgetting something, this was my first performance since my six-year-old was born. Something cool, though: he was at the reading, and had a blast.
There’s something about a poetry reading that feels so unbound. We do the silly convention of reading people’s bios, intoning honorifics like anyone in the audience has even heard of the Ruth Lily Prize, never mind parsing “this reader’s manuscript was long listed for Cornfield Review’s Spring Prize For Middle-Aged Debut Authors” or whatever. Once the formalities are out of the way, a poetry reading becomes The Cat In The Hat. Have you *read* poetry? People say the most unhinged shit and expect you to go “mmm.” It rules.
Micah’s reading is colored with their background in performing and comedy, but I knew from seeing them play music that they can play many octaves on the emotional piano. Before the show, Micah showed me their brother’s book, published just before his death, and you ever feel lucky just to hold something? Sandra said near the top of her reading that she reads like an elementary school teacher, walking the audience through her set and occasionally demanding participation. That’s fantastic energy for a reading, who doesn’t love being taught? Adrian’s a one-of-a-kind reader who relishes making the audience eat out of his hand, except he’s chewing the stage himself, so it’s like he’s baby-birding us poems. Bob exudes warmth and cheerfulness. He’s doing this thing where he cuts up portions of his book in different ways into a new long poem each reading. So if you catch Bob on tour, you’re getting a first-and-only reading of a poem. Like jazz. Speaking of music, between each set, Brendan would roll up the volume knob on his Telecaster, loop something gorgeous, and fill the room briefly with music. Personally, I could listen to Brendan vamp for an entire weekend without getting bored.
There are other poets whose reading style is seared into my memory as transformative, there are plenty of ways a poetry reading can be moving. I think what thrills me, and what compels me to write the above ad promo copy for my friends, is just how open and unprescribed readings are. This isn’t a play or improv, this isn’t three bands playing a few songs and then selling shirts, this isn’t a TED talk. There are maybe elements of those three things, maybe other elements. Whatever happens will be unexpected.
There will be more Lazy & Entitled readings, and they will be a blast, but none will ever be quite like this one. Bob, Adrian, and Sandy all have recent books. Brendan and I will do different stuff at the next one. My kid was at the reading, he’ll never see me read for the first time again. Future readings will be less sentimental, probably without blog writeups after. I can, despite all the weed and my poet chaos brain, be professional.
Today, though, my body and brain sore, I am feeling very much like a part of me I thought I’d let die has resurrected.
I missed it. I missed it a lot.
My dear friend Maya Williams invited me to read at Port Veritas in Portland next week, and Internet friend who I’m excited to meet IRL Erin Watson invited me to read at Tuesday Funk at Hopleaf on July 1. If you have a reading you need a reader for, hit me up. I’m back in the game.
If you’re at a point in your life where you feel like art has left you, where you feel like the muses have forsaken you, where a rejection letter too many has sent you spiraling? Don’t give up. Let the art come back to you when you can. Open yourself to it. And when the art does return to you? Celebrate with your friends.
Sorry you got an email,
Chris