Wearing compression stocking with shorts, I probably look like a dork. But wearing shorts in our first 80+ day felt great. (Or did it hit 90? It was 88 when I drove through downtown, and that was after 5:00.)
I had been working on a little blurb about “you know its spring when the poets read without shoes.” I even had a picture from last month’s Deep Cleveland of a poet reading barefoot. Walking around Canton’s First Friday tonight, after the poetry show was done, I realized that you also know it is spring when drunk gals are wandering from bar to bar in skirts so short you can see what color panties they are wearing. I suppose I should just be glad they were wearing panties at all.
It is sad that I’ve become the cranky old geezer complaining about chicks wearing skimpy clothes.
When I was a kid, I’d go with my mom to the Flower Factory for art supplies. The place was awesome. They had a whole room filled with nothing but painting supplies. A whole isle filled with brushes, every size and shape of canvas one could want, and five or six isles full of paint. They had thousands of bottles lined up, just of t-shirt paint. I could go there and pick out specific SHADES that I wanted. I never had to mix paints to make a color, I could just paint right from the bottle. (Before anyone asks, I would use tracing paper to copy splash-page images from comic books, then crayon on the other side of the tracing paper to make a temporary transfer, iron the image to a shirt, and then paint it. I was pretty good at it, even eventually modifying images into original poses and designing backs and name logos myself.) I’ve recently found myself in need of some art supplies and sign-making items. Not having a Flower Factory membership, I first went to Pat Catan’s and Michael’s. Walking through isles of paints and drawing supplies and sketchbooks and the like, I really miss being in an artist studio, drawing and painting. That aside, not finding what I needed at multiple locations, I decided to try to get in to the Flower Factory. Turns out, they’ll give anyone a membership now. (You used to have to have a vendors license, which I did have at one point but didn’t renew when I realized I didn’t need one for the type of business I’m running.) Unfortunately, the Flower Factory I remember from when I was a child no longer exists. The store I found myself in looked like Dollar General meets a Michael’s that’s going out of business. Their entire paint selection was half of one isle, and wasn’t even 20% of what the smallest Pat Catan’s I visited had in stock. They also didn’t have the display sign items I needed, but what they did have in that department made even Office Max’s paltry selection look extensive. Another memory of youth, down the drain.
On a forum question-and-answer thing, I saw the question “What is a normal allowance for a 10-year-old?” Replies were in the $15 to $20 range. When the hell did this happen? Has inflation gone up that much that a ten-year-old needs twenty bucks a week? When I was that age, I got a dollar a week. When my little sisters were that age, they got a dollar a week. When comic books went up to $1.25 each, I still only got a dollar a week. Hell, as a teenager, I only got paid $12 for mowing the yard, and we had a whole acre! Being generous, and using that same “cost of a comic book” guide, a kid’s allowance should be no more than $5 a week. Most comic books cost $3.99 each, so that’ll leave room for the next round of inflation. Not that kids can ride to the corner store and buy comics any more…
I think I have a thing for eyes. Look at all the fliers I’ve designed over the past year. Notice a frequent trend? I tend to go for photos that highlight the featured poets’ eyes. Even the pic of Tabitha Katt on the ad logo highlights her eyes. I don’t know why this is, I just like it when the poets are staring out at you. Perhaps something about the eyes, like a poet’s work on the page, being a window to the soul. Then again, my definition of “soul” varies pretty drastically from what a religious or spiritual person will tell you.
I got asked tonight, “Do you know of any other shows where I can read poetry?” Oh, yes. Do I!
People need to start posting shows on neopoets.org. It isn’t my personal calendar, people. Share, share, share!
My stack of poetry books near the computer has reached above eye level. Methinks I need to get these things on a shelf.
I think I need to do more posts like this. I come up with random crap I wanna say all the time, but the most I can ever manage to do with it is a Facebook status update. I need to start collecting these thoughts for blog use.
That’s all for now…
02 Tangina Stone - Dreams, Poison, A.A. (Accidental Alcoholics), Let's Make a Promise
03 Debbie Goings - Mortal's Twilight, What of Love?, Never and Forever
04 MUSICAL GUEST: Ramona Stone - Bobby Once Said
05 Crutch - untitled
06 The Dude - Welcome to Trash Can-Ton
07 Marlana-Patrice - Channeling Thoreau, Angry Female English Teacher Poem
08 credits and end
RUNNING TIME: 31:01
FILE SIZE: 17.7 MB
WARNING: CONTAINS LANGUAGE
Parental advisory: This episode contains adult language.