Bought a new karaoke machine at Radio Shack, since last week my MTV Singing Machine busted, and right before the show. Cutting the mike always works. That's what they do at CBGB's it's kind of Porkys-esque, but it works. This has happened three times, and we don't get started until like 10:30. Everyone who's reading/singing is gracious, but darned if I'm not stressed. I feel like Bill Bixby as I watch, like,the Vassar Follies do their thing onstage. The worst is when the stage-hoggers actually sign up for karaoke afterwards, like this broad Piper did for the Lungful!/Puppyflowers show.
Anyway, I think all this is bubbling up to the surface because I went to the Bowery Poetry Club to drop off said karaoke machine, took out 60 bucks out of their inhouse ATM, which I promptly left there. I am not an intelligent person. -- A poet came up to me after the Trinidad/Conway reading, and unsolicited said, "You know, you're not the first person to write poems about music." Like I didn't know that? What the fuck was that about? As B-Rad says in Malibu's Most Wanted, "Don't be hatin'!" -- Waiting to go across the street to hear Richard Zenith, one of Pessoa's translators, read from The Selected Prose of Fernando Pessoa at gay college sex parties . It's at New School. Remind me again why I went to NYU's creative writing program? Oh, I forgot: NSU's didn't exist yet in 1994-1995.
My favorite Porky's quote, and this is Porky speaking to the Florida high school kids who are trying to get a group rate on a hooker: "Five guys? A hundred dollars? That's a lot of horny dicks!" That always breaks me up.
