It’s always those last minute, “Hey, what’re you doing Thursday night” plans that totally turn out better than if they were planned.
My phone at the work joint rang on maybe Monday, I think, with that question on the other end.
Me: “Uh, a lot of nothing. Why?”
It was then I got the invite to my very first Poetry Slam and Performaing Arts show.
(I know. That’s what I thought, too.)
I was invited to see Buddy Wakefield at this dingey little dive in east Austin. Uh, huh. We went to the east side.
Buddy’s aunt works on the 2nd floor at my work joint. She was cool BEFORE Thursday night. She became superiorly cool AFTER Thursday night.
She had the tickets. I had the time.
So, it ended up with three of us girls hitting the east side for the night. Me not having a clue where I was going or what I was going to be doing.
Wine at dinner.
Which was totally needed once I saw where I was going.
We walk up to this, what looked like an old warehouse. No sparkling lights, no big marquee, just one lone door at the entrance. Kinda all darkish. Everywhere.
And the crowd was, well…odd. Kinda darkish themselves.
Yeah, we went in.
(Thank you, wine.)
I was immediately in love.
It was me. Totally my kind of joint. Though, I’ll admit it. I’m too old to be out that late on a school night doing that kind of hip stuff. But I did it.
And will absolutely do it again. And again. And again.
Dingey, dark, gloomy…very undergroundish kind of stuff.
(I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve never been anywhere like that, but listen to me acting all big cityish.)
(I gotta stop using -ish.)
We find our seats amongst the mohawks, pink hair and several others who I’m not sure have the best of hygiene skills. But in their defense, they ‘were’ a bit younger. And not yet tainted by what society expects them to look like. And act like.
(I friggin miss those days.)
(Wait. For me, that’s like any-time-I’m-not-at-work. Most of the time.)
Just being in the midst (big word for me!) of these people totally make me feel kinda hip. Because when I was getting wine at the bar this random I’m-not-really-sure-whether-it-was-a-dude-or-a-girl gave me the head nod with a low, “Sup?” and after my eyes darted around (while trying to appear as cool as a 42 year old in a joint with mostly hip early 30’s people) to make sure they were talking to me, replied with a rather confident, “How’s it goin?” with a slight head nod back.
(Damn. I am smokin’ hot.)
(Not actually me. More like my total ability to feign being hip.)
(Around seriously serious people about their slam poetry and artsy performances.)
First out was a guy who said stuff, but I didn’t catch much because I was too mesmerized by the chick swinging and floating and flipping and twirling and rolling above our heads.
Like RIGHT over our heads.
A few others came to the stage and did their thing. And they were all simply amazing.
(If you don’t know what this slam poetry stuff is…do the Google. There is no way I could ever make it make sense.)
(I’m not that cool. I can just fake it really good when I need to appear hip.)
A huge presence on the stage.
(The dude has some rockin’ guns. Must work-out non stop.)
Buddy is the two-time Individual World Poetry Slam Champion. And he absolutely, without a doubt deserves that title.
And a tiara. If I gave out the award.
(Though I don’t really think he’d agree with me on that one.)
Sorry for the bad lighting in the pic. I didn’t want to be one of those freaks standing in front of the rest of the crowd with their little phone at the stage looking all stupid.
(Unless I had an iPhone 4S. Then I would have stood ON the stage, right by his face to take the pic.)
I didn’t take this video, but here he is in action.
Doing his thing about his mother.
Listen to him again.
Ain’t that something?
I love him.
And that makes me kinda hip.
So, when he’s back in Austin you can go with me. And be hip.
Or if you’re somewhere out there, far away from me and I can’t get to you if he comes to your city…tell him Aunt Shelly’s friend in Austin sent you.
(And tell him how hip I am.)
(Just lie a little, ok?)