Karaoke + Poetry = FUN!!!! Or Where All Your Dreams Come True
I dont know, my associate replied apologetically when I broached the topic over lunch. Ive got a bunch of stuff to do tonight. He chewed his asparagus thoughtfully. And karaoke and poetry; those are two things that really scare me.
Wise wordsbut the wisest men often commit the greatest follies. Lets think outside the box, people!
Although karaoke and poetry on their own can be very frightening indeed, put them together and you have an evening of drunken fun with irony that even the most devout postmodernist would love. Maybe even a French one. Ive been privy to this for some time now, but then, I like doing karaoke. Ill do anything for attention. Some have defined my insatiable appetite for attention as addiction, like sex addiction, heroin addiction, or gambling addiction. There should be a place for people with disorders like mine, people with this kind of disease. Oh wait, there is. Its called drama school.
Poetry is something Ive had trouble with however, due to the ministrations of my eleventh grade English teacher, who would bellow passages of Andrew Marvell at us in a glutinous German accent, like Himmler trying to make out with you at a picnic. Thanks to the talents of such wonderful poets as Jennifer L. Knox, Shafer Hall, Daniel Nester, Shanna Compton, and Regie Cabico, among others, I have learned that this is not the case. At open readings one always runs the risk of the indomitable college girl who stares at herself in the mirror when she cries or is always looking for you in every lake, every song, but even these are a lot more palatable when that girl has to turn around and sing Private Eyes, by Hall and Oates.
And thats KPF, a sometimes competitive, always raucous evening hosted by Daniel Nester and Regie Cabico at the Bowery Poetry Club on an admittedly intermittent schedule. Anyone can get up, read a poem they wrote, then do a karaoke song. The best performers think out their setspairing an ode to suburban childhood with The Weight or a paean to the whaling ships of old with Natalie Imbruglias classic Torn. And you better know your song, unless youre Todd Colby and specialize in singing along to songs youve never heard before. This week it was Ice Cream by Sarah Maclachlanyour love is better than ice cream/than chocolatehow fucking GIRLY can we get? We dont ALL equate sugar with orgasms. To paraphrase Dr. Freud, sometimes an orgasm is just an orgasm. But I digress. The poetry also varies wildly in quality, but thats the whole point. And, when youve drunk so much Pabst ($3) that all your social skills have gone out the window, is there anything more entertaining than a really bad poem?
Speaking of which, here was my poem for the evening.
Talk to the hand, Dylan Thomas.
Eat shit, Auden.
Bite me, Eliot.
Yo, Wallace Stevens, why is your ass talkingoh wait thats your face.
William Carlos Williams, your moms so fat she sits on a rainbow and makes skittles.
Eat a dick, Ginsburgfine, I will. Moloch, faggo!
Hey, Whitman, stop playing with yourself and bring it!
I hated school.
Then I sang Lady in Red, made everybody slow dance, and drew a heart across my cleavage in lipstick. Ta-DA! Everyones an artist! Thanks, KPF!!!!
Information and dates for upcoming KPF events can be found at Dan Nesters website, www.unpleasanteventschedule.com. See you there!