Author Archives: Oscar Bermeo

El Numero Tres

Hosing can be the worst part of the Spoken Word experience. Your words, maybe more than the poets, are under a microscope all the time as you have the set the pace of the evening while making sure the spotlight remains on the performers.

My hosting at Baruch College was horrible and the only thing that saved my credibility was my performances. My last hosting duty at synonymUS was also sub-par. I co-hosted a night at 13 and almost had a heart attack as I felt that if I dropped this ball– I may never be able to show my face around these here parts again. The initial outings of Acentos have been fun and it has taken me a bit of time to get into the hosting groove but once I did everything was smooth. After both shows I have had a pretty serious post-mortem and really hit at the negatives of the evening.

Happy to report that this Acentos went smoothly, real smoothly and I have no negatives to report. Once again, the Open Mic has been a great eclectic mix of voices. My crowd (nice ring to it) is very new to the game and has some way to go in regard to serious content and engaging performance but they are getting there. Little by little, show by show, and that is so great.

Highlights of the evening included an older gentleman by the name of Caramba (stage name, of course) falling instantly in love with Acentos and gushing over what a great setting we have. This, in turn, led Victor, our resident senior poet, to declare himself the ‘grand-father’ of the series and tore the house down with an ode to a beer poster model and her handling of a longneck… too funny and it was great seeing him put his stake in the Acentos family. Moniqa also brought the noise to Acentos for the first time and brought the only female voice to the Open Mic which is a little tarnish on the night but I am working on having a variety of Latina’s dropping at the next Acentos.

Sabrina was a fantastic feature and displayed excellent range on the mic. An amazing roller coaster ride of images and experiences were delivered both with the dynamic aspects of her performance and the universality of her material. Her deft use of pacing out her pieces and how they bring out the different strengths in her delivery is a lesson that some future features in the crowd will have to note. Reflections on family, immersion in cultures both familiar and foreign, a duet with me (Sabrina’s part done entirely in Spanish!) and a sweet gospel serenade was part of a feature that had the Blue Ox transfixed throughout. …Thank you guys for sitting through what will be part of my Acentos report for the newsletter ;-)

Distinct advantage of hosting, you get to do three poems as a warm-up for next week’s slam. Yup, I started the night with ‘Ultimo Canto’ closed the first half of the Open Mic with ‘Ceviche’ and ended the night with ‘Capicú.’ Good performances throughout and I just need to nail down the transitions in ‘Canto’ and highlight a few moments in ‘Ceviche’ I worked ‘Capicú’ off page and felt pretty good about it but I have to commit it to memory. Roger was in the house and we went over a few things in my performance.

That’s that… a good show in the books and now, at last, I am looking forward to having another great one.

Focus Daniel-San

“It’s a poor musician, who blames his instrument.”

I’ve always let the truth of this saying guide my endeavors but last night, we had some poor ass instruments. The Anniversary louderJAM went well in that all the musicians and all the poets brought the noise. As for our crowd, they were the poor instruments. “That’s fucked up O, they came out in the snow!” Truth be told, people gripe too fucking much and the snow was not that big a deal. Put it to you like this, if that same amount of snow dropped in December, no one would have said anything or really cared. It was an average day of snow, that did not merit any type of unaccustomed discomfort. The fact that it happened in April, where the showers bring… blah, blah, blah, is what made it into such a headline. I was out in the street and on the road yesterday, this snow was the equivalent of a child’s tantrum— loud, obtrusive, annoying but, most definitely, tolerable and manageable.

So here we are, 13 beautiful poets, 5 musicians and a mini-griot ready to whip it all out to an… average Monday night crowd?!? Disappointing when considering the talent to audience ratio but the show went on and, as stated, kicked ass. Sometime last week, Guy was contacted by a TV producer who expressed genuine interest in the Slam scene. This conversation prompted Guy to record last night’s event to provide her with good footage of the louderARTS doing their thing. Everybody knew this and was told to prepare accordingly and what did that mean… almost the whole crew busted out brand new work. For me personally, I could have busted out the Salsa poem or even ‘Ceviche’ but I love ‘Ultimo Canto’ so much now and the workshop gave me some great new ideas for it that I had to go with that piece, even though it is not my most showcasable (is this even a word?) performance. The fact that the rest of the crew was in the same mindset was fantastic. Even more so that all the new work rocked!

The musical acts were wonderful and diverse and it seemed so poetic to see them all go up there with their voices and guitars and see what happened. Think about it, as a writer I have only twenty-six letters to fuck with and look what happens… same with these artists… there are only 5(?) chords on a guitar but what they do with what they have is amazing and how it is so disticnct is what makes it art.

The one real let-down was the Semi-Finals Lottery. What should be a very dynamic and important part of the night became just a hum-drum ten minute break of which even I found it tough to clap for by the end. The bottom line on that, at least in regard to me, is that I an in the first match and have the third slot. This means I have five days to get my shit polished. Not good, in that I would have wanted more time to prepare for this field of combatants which includes: Omar, Roger, Dawn Saylor & Sabrina. The first thing that strikes me from this group is that they have all been to Nationals as a part of a team so they know what it takes. I am dead in the middle of that order which means I will be going up after Dawn and before Roger. A very interesting slot for sure and I am not sure of what, if any, strategy I will employ. (Note: I know of another Slammer who posted their strategy online and had someone else trump them on it… so, even if I had one… I wouldn’t post it)

This time next week, I will be either very happy or quite disillusioned… not! That was my mindset last night but in really letting it sink, there would be no dishonor in losing to any of these poets. I have enough in my one-year old arsenal to hang with these writers that have anywhere from three to seven years of experience in Slam. In itself, that is an accomplishment.

Time to psych up: I am that character in the movie where the underdog comes up to bat and has nothing to lose and everything to gain. At worst, I will have developed my repertoire to a fine edge and know that I can run with the best and keep up.

Enough of this shit, time to write and recite and memorize and get ready to make my mark.

Desert CD

Spent sometime last night at the Virgin Megastore in Union Square and couldn’t pick anything new to listen to. I have been rocking Coldplay’s “A Rush of Blood to the Head” for the last three weeks and am STILL not tired of it. Love albums that let you find deeper meaning and here small nuances the more you listen to them. Add that you start switching up which song is your favorite and the reasons and that, my dear friends, is what an album is all about it.

I had the same thing happen with their last album, “Parachutes.” Originally, I got it for “Trouble” then fell in love with “Yellow” and finally the whole CD became the quickest 45 minutes of my life. Most U2 albums are the same way (big exception—Pop that album lost me half way through even though the first half is very good).

Virgin, Union Square, is pretty high on the rock tip, a nice contrast to Virgin, 42nd St, which is all about the rap. Ah… hip-hop, we knew ye once. When you were the voice of kids on stoops trying to say something that would get them noticed by turning to the cheapest most accessible technology. My theory has always been that early hip-hop was a direct backlash of the 70s mega funk bands. Kids that wanted to make music had to get expensive instruments, then get together in large groups and put on outrageous concerts to get noticed. Hip-hop changed that but now rap has become the same animal. You need crazy gear, street-rep (that is going to require a high-priced lawyer), videos and an entourage. I am wonder what the backlash to this will be, since rock-rap, to me, is more a child of punk than anything else.

What, no poetry? Au contraire, mon fraire, much good poetry this weekend. GK had her birthday party this weekend and we had a ‘closed’ mic performing poems just for her and a little rock and roll followed by an after party that was a bit too much for me, as I passed out within a half-hour. Worked more on the play, not really but I sure made the attempt to. This project is feeling more and more like a bad girlfriend every day and I am counting the days until it is over and I can focus my poetic energies to other poetic endeavors. Managed to make Kool-Aid out of old sugar by attending GK’s poetry workshop and had a blast. It was all new faces and it felt nice to get away from the familiar and work myself into new circles in the, quickly-becoming-more-familiar, role of elder statesman. The workshop had a great flow and we were able to hit a variety of subjects and critique a lot of work, my own included. This workshop is much better than my other one and has me wondering if I should drop one in favor of the other. Perhaps I will ruin the same poem through both groups and see what kind of feedback I get and let that be the litmus test.

Had some post workshop dinner with some of fellow poets who view me as some part of a higher echelon. I’m starting to get tired of the, “I sucked when I first hit the scene stories,” which I told anyway but also focused on how, if I’m here (wherever the fuck that is) then so can they. All but one, who is letting her own self-doubt become prophecy, have the potential and I am sure they will be making a nice splash on the scene soon. Really good to see how they all claim 13 as their own and have noticed the difference between the venues and realized they like the space that is made for them.

Back to Virgin, tried to listen to some Ani Difranco, which I keep hearing about but there was some girl listening to her like if it was a religious experience. She was jotting down lyrics or thought like a mad woman and then later was just tapping her head and rocking back and forth like if she was on medication, maybe I won’t pick up Ani. Could be worse, she could’ve been dancing like a rabbit on Ecstasy which is what some poor folks do when they listen to CDs in stores.

Time for new poems, y’all.

Dis/Course

If, at all possible, never get into an argument with a performance poet. The impassioned pleas, the long pauses, the dramatic breaths, the reaching out of arms, the utter bullshit. Not too long after I started reading, I found myself in a post-9/11 discussion amongst family members. A cousin decided that she would no longer patronize the candy store owned by a group of Middle-Eastern descent. “I am not supporting those people, even one cent! They are not getting my money!” I then went on a tirade asking if she knew there actual country of origin, religion or anything that may link them with the acts of September 11. She had little answer. I continued the barrage and questioned her as to the implications of racial profiling and how if it is OK for Hispanics to generalize “Arabs” then it will be OK for whites to generalize Hispanics.

Man, she was toast. I used all the stuff I picked up from the mic and woo’ed everybody in the room and, somewhere in the middle, got wrapped up in the sound of my own voice and kinda forgot the argument.

It’s rare that this happens in the louderCREW, we usually just go for straight volume when we want to really get a point across. Nobody ever tries their stage shit, at least none I’ve ever seen.

As for the infamous “Slam Listserve,” that’s a whole ‘nother thesis [© T’ai] These boys and girls type as if they were onstage. You can sense the drama building up with every line and feel the mounting urgency of their conviction and may-your-local-deity-show-mercy should you have a conflicting opinion. Few months back, someone on the ‘list commented as to the fact that there are over 300 members but only about 20 or so actively post on the message board. I was about to interject and let them know that I have little desire to post because I really don’t know any of them and don’t feel that my thoughts are that relevant, meaning “It’s your club house, I just visit.” Then decided that I really don’t care what these folks think of me or my opinions.

A little bit after that, a guy was advertising a Slam he was setting up in North Carolina that had one rule that was different from the norm, he required that all Slammers have their material memorized and that anyone reading off-page or forgetting their poems would be disqualified. Santicimo Señor, the whole ‘list jumped on that one and then also questioned how open the Slam was and it’s affiliations. I’ll give the dude all the credit, he answered every question like a pro and maintained a dignified posture throughout. The same can not be said for some of the members of the ‘serve with the highlight being someone replying back “Hey! Fuckwad!”

Let me tell you, if someone on a message post tries to get open like that on me— I will have a field day on their ass. Especially if they don’t know me but then, how am I supposed to have a fight with someone that I don’t even know. How do I get under their skin? What do I make fun of?

That’s the whole bullshit of it.

Mr Congeniality later apologized for his comments claiming he was caught in the emotion of the moment. Dude, you are typing a message that you have to review for spelling (I don’t but that’s me), punctuation, grammar, syntax (Scratch the previous comment, if I’m arguing with someone on e-mail, you’d best believe that every word will be correct) and then you have to click the ‘Send’ button. Do not tell me that you get THAT riled up about an e-mail.

After that episode, I knew I would never post on that board. People don’t know how to act and hide behind their keyboards. Then you see them days or months later and they act like they don’t know why you’re mad. ‘Oh, that comment it was in the heat of cyber battle. Rules of engagement say we meet on the field of RPGs to settle this!’ Yeah, my ass. Now there is an ongoing debate as to whether or not PSI needs to declare an official statement denouncing the war. Personally, I feel that I can speak well enough for myself and that if enough people join you, the ruling body will follow. If not, then you make your stand regardless. Suckas need gangs and fools need clubs. It’s a long road and it’s great to have company but it’s still a long road.

Guy started up a group, Poets Speak, that is putting together a statement denouncing the war. I’m with that because it’s action and it wasn’t waiting for a group of people to join hands together and embrace. Meanwhile back at the listserve, arguments and personal threats are being thrown around like candy and I wonder if some of these boys and girls wouldn’t be better off waiting till this weekend’s SlamMasters meeting and then going at it. Then again, in real life, when you call someone a ‘Fucker’ you’d better be ready to do more than just type.

play/dreams/rassling

today started with a trip to brooklyn to rehearse the louderARTS play. i wisely left my car on the upper west side and then met up with ray. we took the subway to crooklyn and headed to elana’s place.

unlike the past ones, this rehearsal proved very satisfying as sabrina & i were able to concentrate on our scene. we went over the motivations of the characters, both real (myself & ‘leticia’) and the ones in the play. after kicking some ideas back and forth, we found the perfect vehicle to let the audience know where our mindset is… laundry. yep, by simply folding some shirts on a table, we should be able to express to the audience that these are two people comfortable with each other but still needing a lil something to bring them closer together. our final prop will be the bomb and should make the ending ot our scene come off as da bomb.

the dry run with the rest of the crew left everyone pretty spellbound, even though they’ve heard the poem a good number of times.

headed back to manhattan and ray’s house. while waiting for some take-out, i tell seve about this weird ass dream i had a few nights back that involved the louderCREW, brooklyn, expolsions, the colors red, white & green, escape and detention. he was bugging as to the clarity of my dream and then we went over some other doozys i have had over the years.

i must be the most lucid dreamer ever becuase people always tell me they dont remember their dreams and i have an amazing clarity in my dreams. colors, tastes, people… they are all so fuckin’ real and have left more than a few dreams crying, laughing nad just plain disoriented. the ones about my ex were particulary disturbing as i was trying to shut off my sub-concious from my fream state. by the end, i was hypothesizing how the more intense you feel about someone, the more you steal abit of their essence and that bit actively invades your dreams. weird, but that was the only explanation i could come up with.

then wrestlemania capped off the evening. wrestling is just so good to relax and unwind. see the matches progress and wonder about the outcomes. yes, i know wrestling is a pre-determined athletic exhibition but finding out if your favorites emerge victorious is the true draw. i would rate this wrestlemania pretty high, in that all the matches ended decisevly with a minimum of bullshit. most of the outcomes went against my wishes but that is what is supposed to make you come back.

low lights– limp bizkit, ashanti, catfight girls, coachman, lita, opening match, undertaker match, length of hardy-mysterio match, hh wins again

high-lights– angle(!), micheals-jericho match (even though the wrong dude won), rock-austin, 3 way tag match, cena, hardy-mysterio, trish(!), hogan-mcmahon (the batlle of geritol was pretty good & rowdy roddy made an appearance), booker t and the angle-lesnar match (even though lesnar F*CKED UP his last move and may have given himself a concussion)

great stuff and i can only hope the WWE gets their shit together and starts pushing cena, lesnar, jericho, team angle & beniot before its too late.

“to be the man, you got to beat the man! whoooooo!”