daphne's ignition tour journal

2001-11-01T20:23:00.000-08:00

so... if you're visiting this tour journal, you may notice i never finished the tour journal. sometimes, real life intervenes, right? but hey, who wants to talk about august in december?

if you want to keep tabs on my current adventures, feel free to drop by here., where you can read of my latest exploits!

2001-08-29T11:16:00.000-07:00

montreal

alexis has a gorgeous loft and a very cool cat and a roommate. we spend the day wandering around the city, and then get ready for the show. the crowd is amazing, but because the bar is close to going out of business, we go to the bodega next door and buy our own beer.

we're videotaping this show to send to hbo as an audition tape, so there's extra pressure. the show is hosted by skidmore, as bob loblaw (blah blah blah, get it?), drag king, who is as dirty a guy as you'd ever want to meet.

after the show, i meet rob. rob is a native montrealer, and offers to show me the city. i'm in kind of an aggro mood--ready to get away from the other poets for a while, ready for a night out, and not sure i want to go to the techno bar they're going to anyway. rob promises punk rock sites and sounds, so we head out.

only problem? i take off with the van key in my pocket. so back we go to the venue after eitan calls to tell me i've stranded them. after walking a dozen blocks away and a dozen blocks back, we decide maybe a techno bar isn't the worst place we could go, and we get in the van. the first time around, we leave the merch box on the sidewalk and have to go back for it.

we sit at the bar, drinking shots and talking about poetry, art, hats and hairdye, bad attitudes and other stuff until it's time to go back to alexis' loft and sleep. it made my night to talk to a stranger. thanks, rob. you rock.

2001-08-29T11:11:00.000-07:00

i wrote this whole long entry on leaving new jersey, being late to burlington, the wonder that is kim jordan, and heading up to montreal after the show, and then the blogger ate it... ain't that just my luck? moving on to montreal with the next entry, after repeating the most important thing about burlington: kim jordan rocks.

2001-08-25T16:35:00.000-07:00

nyc day 3

i'm going to skip the story of the key fiasco, since it's just too embarassing to tell. the upshot is, i ended up having to send two sets of keys to nyc apartments back from california on my return home.

after harris leaves to go back to philly, i spend the early afternoon with rhonda and dana, laughing at hangover stories, drinking orange juice and coffee, and feeling utterly delighted to be in their company. altogether too soon, i have to leave, though -- we're reading at gathering of the tribes at 5, which leaves me just enough time to sit and have a bloody mary (or, um... two) before we read.

the bloody mary was well-advised. it's a beautiful day, so the reading is in the garden. alexis and eitan have brought a 6-pack of beer, which is also well-advised. they're generous enough to share. that's how cool they are. the reading isn't so well attended, and is further hampered by a kid's birthday party on the other side of the fence. still, it's a beautiful day, and there's poetry, so who am i to complain?

Nick gets a special endurance award for showing up for this reading, too, and even braving a scary flight of stairs to come to the reading. I also get to meet Tom , web guru to Soft Skull, who is as cool in person as he is online.

also, femme-nonpareil meliza banales is co-featuring with us. not only do i love her work, i totally adore her, and we sit and giggle the whole time. There's much to laugh at at this reading, including a guy who inexplicably, during his open mic reading, inexplicably recites the lyrics to two beck songs, as well as paces back and forth, chanting, "I'm the spaaaa-aaaace ghooo-oooost."

It's a Sunday night, which means I'm supercrispy around the edges. However, rather than retire early to Nick's so that we can hit the road early, Tarin, Alexis and Eitan have decided that we need to go out dancing. Not being one to refuse a party, I agree, knowing full well that this means we'll get on the road to Burlington late. (which we will, but mostly because we'll get lost leaving New Jersey. New Jersey is kind of a roach motel that way -- you can check in...)

We grab some dinner, call Eitan's pal, and head out to a club called "Drinkland." We were hoping to go to "Body & Soul" (or is it rhythm & soul? whatever), but it's not running. So we're at drinkland, which seems as much a playground for people on drugs as anything else -- swirly thing on the ceiling, blue lights, rooms that are green-lit, etc. etc. We're amused. We sit and happily drink our water and dance until it's time to head out to... (you guessed it) Max Fish, yet again. We take a leisurely walk there, have a very fine beer, then head back to Tarin's hotel room, where we bed down for the paltry few hours we have before hitting the road.

2001-08-21T00:53:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This tour blog depicts events that happened on the ignition tour, in july and early august. these events are not presently occurring. Do not go where the blog says we are. We're not there. Your mileage may vary.

new york, day two

we go to sleep very late and wake up earlier than people should, thanks to the fact that (a) arthur has no blinds in his apartment, since it's about to be painted and (b) it's hot. that's fine. sure. we head out to breakfast, and karen and harris head off to do some high-end retailing. i wander around the village until it's time to meet two of my favorite people -- ean, who i went to college with for a year, and who i hadn't seen since she'd gotten married, and my wonderful cousin rhonda.

we hook up at a restaurant, sip beers and chat, and to my delight, rhonda and ean get along beautifully despite never having met before. they are both utterly cool. during the time i've known ean, she's worked with dogs at the spca, been a teacher, a dominitrix (see a pattern here?), changed coasts at least three times, and her haircolor many more. rhonda and i didn't know each other well, but have a deep affinity based on (perhaps?) blood and i think a bit of mutual envy -- we both thought the other's family was tremendously cool when we were growing up, and only in the past few years have disabused each other of the veneers of functionality.

we wander around the village, chatting, until it's time for me to run to get ready for the show. i'm verging closer and closer to nervous wreck, since it's the night of the soft skull showcase, and i'll be meeting my publisher, sander, for the first time, and reading for the first time in front of nick, my editor. despite the fact that it's too late for them to take the book back, i'm pretty daunted.

daunted or not, the evening comes. as soon as i walk in the venue, there's sander, whose hair is significantly longer than in the photographs. he reports that he is on a hair strike, and will not cut his hair until the bush regime falls. it's interesting meeting him, after all the stories i've heard (how he hitchhiked across the country, and that's what got him soft skull's distribution contract, how he killed a cat (?!?!) for no other reason than it was living in the basement of the building...). somehow, within a few minutes, we end up moving from a conversation about books and business to discussing blow jobs, truckers, and sordid moments in both our lives. i feel more at home than before.

still, adding to the mix is the fact that at the venue, there are several people i've been in love with during my lifetime. my first boyfriend (if you can use such a word for the sweet, impossible situation that was played out between us) is in the room, and we haven't seen each other in more than a decade. it's... shocking. that would be enough to make me a wreck, and now i need to read. and here come my sissyfighting pals, who i've never met before, telling me they were at the nuyorican and i missed them. suddenly, the room is flooded with people i feel indebted to.

the reading, however, goes well. i think. i'm befuddled as to what to read, so i ask nick, who advises i do pieces i know by heart. so i do. and i think the reading goes well for all of us -- especially t. cole rachel, whose work i love -- his book is coming out soon on soft skull. and it's great. i can't wait to read it!

and the reading is over, but the night is young. sander invites us all back to the soft skull office, where tequila is poured (patron, even!), beer is dranked, and carousing is performed. i'm sitting with my back against the mail pile. it's nice. and then my cell phone rings -- it's harris -- do i want to see fetus again?

you bet! so nick walks me back to the mercury lounge, since he's about ready to split, too. i'm still keyed up from the reading and talk too much. fortunately for nick, it's a relatively short walk.

when i get to the bar, karen and harris are already deep into their drinks -- and there are more on the way, for all of us. suddenly, it's four a.m., and harris and i have an urgent need for pizza, after which we fall fast asleep immediately, in the race to beat the sunlight.

2001-08-19T14:28:00.000-07:00

side note

i didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified when i found out that one of the other poets had the same urge to steer the van into oncoming traffic and over cliffs, as i did. the thing that kept either of us from doing it? the other poets' presence.

none of this was out of morbidity -- just curiosity.

2001-08-19T12:05:00.000-07:00

the big apple, day one

we get to new york just in time to drop tarin at her hotel, drop alexis and eitan off for food, and pick up keys to harris' friend arthur's place. it's hot, we're exhausted. we lie down for a luxurious ten minutes before i hop into a shower, we change our clothes, grab me a power bar, since i'm so tired and hungover, i'm shaking, and we head off to the nuyorican.

i can only describe the nuyorican as a kind of mecca; reading there is... reading in a room that has hatched many spoken word legends, i guess. i drink a beer, hoping it will stop the shakes that are part hangover, part nerves, part fatigue and part excitement. we meet kamau, who is the host for the evening -- felice, who we set the feature up with, is on vacation. he's absolutely welcoming and sweet. eitan and alexis arrive, then tarin. it's showtime, and we're up first.

i scan the room for familiar faces, but don't see any, which is really weird, since when my name was announced, a cheer went up -- there's people in the room who know me, but i don't know who/where they are. the room is packed, and is absolutely bouncing off the walls -- the crowd is there for *poetry*, and we're there for them. we all read well -- well enough that we meet a scout from hbo, who is casting for the "def jam poetry slam", who wants us to send a videotape for their consideration. jerry quickly reads a couple of pieces and tears the roof off the room, which is so packed, it's uncomfortable to stand in. eitan comes back through the crowd and tells me that there are people on the other side of the room who want to buy my book, but I can't get through to get to them. I also suspect that there are my friends sarah and cathy somewhere in the room, but i can't get through to find them.

harris needs to meet up with his friend karen around the corner, at 1st and 1st, so we head over there before going over to the mercury lounge to see fetus play. i can't tell you the last time i saw a live band -- decidedly not on this tour -- and it's great to hear loud music. after the show is over, harris has disappeared, but reappears with an amazing corned beef sandwich from a deli around the corner. amazing. warm. hearty. it's love. i had no idea how starving i was. we head over to yet another bar, max fish, and have a rock star moment, sitting at the same table as fetus, by some ridiculous coincidence. we close down that bar, too, and hobble back to arthur's apartment sometime after 4.

2001-08-17T12:53:00.000-07:00

maryland, trenton, new york and philadelphia

finally, we had a day off. we headed out from w-s off to tarin's grandparents' home. although i'd tried to find us dates in the dc area, as did alexis, none fit our schedule. so we had a day to spend in the pastoral area tarin's grandparents call home, the wilds of harmony, maryland.

how pastoral was it? no cell phone access on any of the three networks we had with us. no nearby dial-up access for laptops. and you could hear roosters crowing. there was a free-standing benchswing, and a shrine to the virgin mary on the land, as well as a pool.

we were all excited at the prospect of rest time -- not to mention a home-cooked dinner. tarin was very excited to see her relatives -- the first of her relatives we'd met on tour. armed with our bottle of whisky, we headed in. somehow, tarin's grandma had gotten the date for our visit wrong, but was gracious nonetheless, feeding us salad and chicken drummettes!

after dinner, there was tv watching, laundry and a game of trivial pursuit fortified by said bottle of whisky. the fifth of whisky ended before the game did, but a good time was had by all.

we each had our own sleeping room -- which, even as spoiled as we were by the mansion in winston-salem, still felt luxurious.

in the morning, tarin visited with her aunt. i was feeling sick, so stayed in bed -- ah! around four, we headed out to trenton.

trenton

we arrive ontime. the club is surprisingly swanky, and we're jazzed. little do we know that the room will be as quiet as they come, attentive, but staid as cardboard. we put out a bunch of energy, but nothing comes back to us. it's kind of like performing for an unplugged tv set. it's there, but there's no response.

i hang out outside (there's no smoking inside) and bond with a waiter, who is doing some form of prescription speed. he buys my last drink. he's cool. boyfriend looks like steve buscemi, and knows how to share.

since trenton is only about an hour away from philadelphia, we go to visit my friend harris. we go singing along to x down the new jersey turnpike, and cross into philly, where harris is in the middle of the street in front of a bar near his house, waving to us.

there's a bottle of veuve cliquot on its way for us, as well as a round of drinks (thanks to the magic of cellphones, we placed our orders from the car). suddenly, the night is looking up.

after the bar closes, we follow harris and his friend back to his apartment. his fridge is full of red bull, beer and nothing else (which may be an attorney thing -- my brother's fridge held the same in l.a. must investigate this further.) harris' "son," yoda, is the life of the party. he's the coolest hairless cat you ever want to meet, and often acts as if he had no bones. he's also clawless, so it doesn't hurt much when he swats you in the face. i fall in love with this amazing little guy who feels like nothing so much as a warm peach.

harris has an incredible cd collection, which we drunkenly romp through, playing colorbox and many other old songs we haven't heard in decades. slowly, drunken poets grow horizontal. after not seeing each other in two years, harris and i are undaunted and end up watching the sun rise from the roof. which is a big mistake come 10 a.m., when the hangover hits.

the first words out of my mouth, reaching for the still-full beer next to me, are "this is all your fault." it was, too.

neither denying nor accepting fault, but certainly blaming his hangover on me, harris takes us all to breakfast and we head back to new jersey in two cars -- my editor, nick, has graciously offered to let us park the van at his house while we're in nyc. harris has an appointment with a cashmere jacket, and we have a show at the nuyorican. harris and i drive in his car, armed with four cans of red bull, gatorade, chromium and my carton of cigarettes.

although we get directions from yahoo, and play phone tag with nick, we get lost on the way to nick's house, as does the van with tarin, alexis and eitan. somehow, we all manage to get there, and a few minutes later, nick shows up, with his effervescent dog, kazzie.

after a year of communicating with nick via email and phone, it's ... odd to meet him in person, the way it's always to make a virtual acquaintance a flesh one. it's awkward, but exciting. it feels like taking advantage, as we trundle the stuff from the van into random corners of his house. especially since he's busy, working. he smiles a lot. he looks nothing like his photos. what i really want to do is hang out, sit and talk, but i don't get that chance. we're pressed for time, since harris has to meet people in nyc to get keys to where we're staying. and as always, loading in and out takes forever. harris graciously offers to drop the other poets in the city, and we're off, with promises by nick to meet us at the nuyorican. we head to new york.

2001-08-16T14:01:00.001-07:00

coming soon:

trenton, new york and philadelphia.

2001-08-16T14:01:00.000-07:00

conflict resolution on the road

it seems hopeless that i'll ever finish this tour journal -- more is coming soon. i promise. in the meantime, i thought i'd post something about conflict -- i was asked frequently on the road, "are you guys getting along?" sure. we were. if you're going to be in a van for 6 weeks on the road with 4 people, you'll find some ways of getting along. however, i learned a lot, and in the spirit of helping those who might be touring in the future, i'd like to offer the following. none of the guidelines below apply specifically to the ignition tour, but are the accumulated wisdom of time on the road.

if you're touring with people, or asked to tour with people:

-don't assume friendship will carry you through. it won't. the same way love doesn't make a marriage work.

-make sure you and the tour have similar priorities. can you hack the schedule? do you need more free time? is the pace something you want? if not, maybe you should reconsider, or renegotiate the schedule. if you're booking the tour, make sure everyone wants the schedule. and in getting to shows, if it's more important to go thrift shopping, sleep, or sit down to eat than to get to a show ontime, make sure everyone shares that priority.

-likewise, make sure that you and the tour have similar ethics. let's say, for example, you want to, for example, bring live ferrets across state lines, where they may be illegal. hiding the ferrets will put everyone on the van in danger. you can (a) lie about having the ferrets and not tell anyone, and risk endangering the folks who don't want ferrets aboard if you're found out, or (b) tell the truth about the ferrets, and negotiate with your tourmates, explainiing how important ferrets are to you, or (c) not bring the ferrets, since you know that there are people who don't want ferrets aboard. i advocate strongly for (b) truthtelling and negotiation, since endangering people without their consent is immoral. it will also serve to undermine any sort of trust.

-likewise, make sure your tourmates have similar conflict resolution styles. if you cut your teeth on "i" statements (e.g., "i feel really unhappy when you leave your tuna sandwich in the van for three days in the sun"), you'll be really unhappy trying to discuss things with people who have different styles of communication. ("fuck you. you're so fucking paranoid and crazy.") own your own shit. none of us are perfect. this even applies to compliments. there's a huge difference between saying, "i'm proud of you," (which implies that you're either a parent or an authority figure), and saying "wow. you handled that really well."

-also, make sure you trust the people you're with, and make sure they *deserve* that trust.

-resolve conflicts when they happen. it keeps things from blowing up later. but not every battle is worth fighting. choose 'em carefully. does it really matter?

-what else? respect personal space, and know people's tolerance for private life. some people get very upset if you have a personal conversation on a cell phone (especially a heated one) in a small, confined space. try and find this out beforehand.

-if you're performing, respect the other performers, the audience, the host and the venue by staying within your time limits. when you don't, you make the group look bad and cut down on everyone else's stage time.

-don't scapegoat. we all have our strengths and weaknesses. we're all human. resist the temptation for junior high playground politics.

-most of all, practice compassion. it's hard, lonely, exhausting and terrifying being on the road. understand that everyone hurts. give praise when it's due. give love when you feel it. and have a great time.

2001-08-07T16:10:00.000-07:00

just home.

i've slept more in the past 24 hours than i have in the past week. and i'm going to do more now. meanwhile, here's a survey interview with my editor at soft skull, nick.

cheers!

Q: What's your nickname?
A: Nicky, Niko, Nikolaki, Nikokliko, Mister Cranky, Nihilistic Kid, Enn Kay, Professor, and Oh God, It's You.

Q: Where are you originally from?
A: Port Jefferson Station (as in choo-choo), Long Island NY

Q: What's your sign?
A: Acquarius/Pices cusp

Q: Can you tell us about a formative childhood experience?
A: My mother complaining that I made her buy me too many books as we walked from the only bookstore in our shitty neighborhood with a big box of them and some old lady magically appearing on the street to say "Never tell a child that he has too many books! It is the only thing that will always help them and give them the power to make something of themselves." My mother never complained after that. Of course, I never actually made anything of myself...

Q: Your age at first kiss?
A: 11, baby!

Q: Number of piercings?
A: Not a one.

Q: What are your hobbies?
A: Pro wrestling, mischief, filling out surveys, stealing other people's precious intellectual property via Napigator, going on many more first than second dates, spanking

Q: How do you pay your bills?
A: The dark art of slumlordery, and mercenary writings

Q: What's the last book you read?
A: Dhalgren by Sam Delany

Q: Who is your favorite poet? (just one, please)
A: Daphne Gottlieb!

Q: Who are your artistic influences?
A: Harlan Ellison, Sean Stewart, Dostoyevsky, Brian Pillman, Paul E. Dangerously, Lou Reed, Paul Westerberg, Woody Guthrie, Andrew Eldritch, Method Man and Peter Parker The Spectacular Spider-Man

Q: You never tour without ...?
A: Staying home

Q: Your reason for going on the ignition tour?
A: Hey, it was a weekend.

Q: 5 cds you will ABSOLUTELY have with you on the road?
A: Pleased To Meet Me by The Replacements, The Smithsonian Folkways Sampler, Psychedelic Furs (self-titled), Goth Box (anthology) and a CD of telephony programming pitches to make free phone calls.

Q: What's the personal grooming product you can't live without?
A: I can live without any of them. In fact, I think I do!

Q: What's your most embarrassing moment ever on tour?
A: Staying home to write a term paper :(

Q: Who is your favorite of the seven dwarves?
A: Smacky

Q: What's your favorite of the seven deadly sins?
A: WRATH!

Q: What's your beverage of choice?
A: Sloe gin and pink lemonade, on the rocks, with a twist o' lime

Q: Anything you'd like to add?
A: Update your blogger. You must be home by now!

2001-07-23T09:24:00.000-07:00

The pace of everything has been so nuts that I haven’t had time to add to the journal until now. We’ve been running like maniacs for the most part.

Perhaps sometime I’ll be able to write about all of this in the detail it deserves, but for now, I can only gush about a few highlights. Marty Evans treated us like kings in Americus, GA. We had an amazing itme – he made us home-cooked squirrel jambalaya, as well as barbecued brisket and ribs. Unholy good. He also taught all of us how to aim and fire firearms – from a .22 to a .38. I’d never shot a gun before, but was glad to try my hand at it – basically, my poor showing made me regret not spending more time playing videogames as a kid. We fawned over Marty’s 18-month-old son, Zack, who invented the very fine game of toddling around with his blanket over his head.

winston-salem

Thanks to the hospitality of local musical celebrity Clare Fader, we stayed in a veritable mansion. Each of us even had our own room. Although our first show was cancelled due to a venue closing, Philip Garnet, organizer extraordinaire and an old friend of Alexis’ from Montreal, put together a rooftop barbecue in our honor. We are well-fed indeed – the men who put it together are chefs.

The next night, we had the pleasure of performing at the Winston-Salem School for the Arts, in a gorgeous theater to a room including many of the folks who we knew from the barbecue, as well as a lot of young conservatory students. The show goes well – Eitan’s work really connects with the students – and we carouse late into the night back at Clare’s. I’m shown the rooftop by Louie, Clare’s brother, and we watch fireflies and drink wine. It’s a perfect summer night.

There’s a special pleasure here for me, too. Clare’s mother is a forensic psychologist – although much of her work is related to geriatrics, she also does a lot of work with post-traumatic stress disorder and has worked on murder cases establishing state of mind. I decide to read “Death Drive” that night – a piece in “Why Things Burn” about female murderers, and Clare tells me later that she said that the piece gets the state of mind right.

Another thing about W-S – cigarettes are super cheap. Tarin and I stock up.

2001-07-23T09:23:00.000-07:00

more about elaine and chip:

so i met elaine when i was on tour in december – she was in the audience at our mausoleum show, and the person we were supposed to stay with never showed up. her idol is martha stewart -- she offered to take us all in to her beautiful home, and made us an incredible breakfast the next day.

we were invited to stay at southmore house, but how could we turn down an invitation from elaine and chip? elaine gives us her house for the night, so after dancing at a goth club, we go to her house. she has an incredible collection of liquor ponies, presumably from work, since she’s a flight attendant, which she offers to us. we have beds. we have clean towels. there’s cable tv and email. life is good. very good. once again, elaine has rescued us from a fate worse than houston.

the next morning, we go for breakfast tacos – our third set of breakfast tacos in as many days – and breakfast is on chip, even though he was already at work. we have a long drive ahead of us, so we bundle into the car to get to...

baton rouge.

the bar where we’re reading is very cool, complete with punk rock bartender emily (who pays for half our drinks!) and the cook, carl. carl won’t cook unless there are more than three orders. he only makes cheeseburgers and gumbo. if there are more than three orders, someone goes upstairs to wake carl up. glad they did – the gumbo’s delicious and you get a huge bowl for a mere four dollars.

drinks are cheap. andrei codrescu is in the house. and it’s the host, jeremy garland’s birthday. what could be better? jeremy has asked me to do a particular poem – about conjoined twins – as a birthday present. i’m touched. the poem owes a debt to him, since at the time, i’d posted an online request for writing cheerleaders, since i was having a block. he was one of the people who sent cheers along, helping me get writing again. we sing him happy birthday, and hang out at his house until very late at night, when we must sleep.

i’ve never been to louisiana before, and it’s hard to make sweeping observations after only one night, but here’s one: everyone is warm, immediate, open, generous. i’m a little overwhelmed by this – it makes me feel really shy. it’s muggy as hell, and the scenery is gorgeous – the roads go through swamps outside of baton rouge, and are sort of all on stilts. very way cool. i’m stunned by the beauty of the area all the way to...

new orleans

i’ve always wanted to go to new orleans, but i’ve never been – although we had a date there, the essence festival is going on, and so it was cancelled. we decide to spend a day there anyway, and then to hit the road at night for americus, since it’s a 10-hour drive.

first stop: a cemetary in the french quarter. it’s exactly as i’ve always imagined it; with the black wrought iron gates, the stone tombs – what i didn’t know about was how the city looms around the periphery; how in front of a grave site, you’re in the shadow of a Sheraton. Odd juxtaposition. It’s humid; if Phoenix was like basking in front of an insane blowdryer, New Orleans is like living in a sauna. Not so nice, but certainly preferable to the hell that Phoenix heat was.

We go to Cafe du Monde for beignets and iced coffees. Music tumbles around us from the street; street artists and caricaturists ply their wares. I’m in love with this city, no question.

We stroll down Pirate Alley, check out the bookstore in Faulkner’s house, then head to Bourbon Street, where we sample some fine hurricanes in souvenir headless naked lady glasses. It’s great to have a day off, wander through the city. We go to armstrong park and sit by the water, watch diving birds attack fish from the air.

We’re on our way to dinner when we’re stopped by a woman who claims to be a direct descendent of Marie Laveaux, New Orleans’ voodoun queen. She tells us she works at Marie Laveaux’s, and commands us to draw ten cards apiece from her deck. Her patter is fast, slick and unremitting, more barker than shaman, and the romance of the moment overcomes our skepticism. Everyone except me is highly fertile, apparently – Alexis is warned to wear 20 condoms. My reading – what I can remember of it, anyway, since it went by so quickly – had to do with love, success, and beginning a new phase of my life (gee, like a tour, perhaps?) It’s $10 apiece.

We stop to have bloody marys and dinner – crawfish po’boys, gumbo, fried alligator – and then we hit the road towards Georgia. The plan is to drive a couple of hours and grab some sleep. Eitan looks at the AAA triptych, and is delighted to see there’s a motel every few miles. We can stop at will. Tarin is at the wheel, and around one a.m., Eitan discovers that he’s misread the map – what he thought were lodgings, aren’t. Some are just gas stations. Which is how Tarin ends up driving until after 2 a.m. – there are no rooms in Greenville, at least for people who look like us. We find a motel somewhere and sleep, grab breakfast at Waffle House (where the waitress yells the order of home fries to the cook, saying, “diced, scattered, smothered, shattered, clattered” – in an accent so thick we can barely understand her. In fact, she can’t even understand Tarin’s order for grits until she orders gree-ots. And then we’re bound for... Americus, Georgia.

2001-07-10T10:32:00.000-07:00

it has been mentioned by a faithful reader that this blog is a little... antiseptic. for what it's worth? i know you want the real, but ethical, legal and moral concerns are coming into play, and there are some things that aren't for public consumption, like hurricanes in new orleans. :) you'll just have to use your imagination to fill in the sordid parts. but, yeah, they're there.

2001-07-10T10:30:00.000-07:00

houston

We drive straight into Houston traffic, with fireworks erupting on the horizon in front of us.

At Southmore House, an arts collective in an autobody shop, the host, Doug, is friendly, but we’re not really in the mood for a reading in front of 5 people in a bug-ridden backyard while bands play inside the garage. Especially not after the current slam champion, Seven, takes the stage, and delivers a piece about “going OJ on his girlfriend when she acts up,” and how he tells his grandmother to be careful or “he’ll go Menendez on her.” Eitan and I walk away, grimacing. When Alexis takes the stage, she calls him out, does a piece about idiot harrassing men. Tarin continues the theme. Me, too. Tarin notes from the mic that these pieces are for Seven, but of course he’s not there since “he only wants to hear himself.”

We need to get out of there. We need to go dance this out of us. We are rescued by Elaine and Chip – who took us in last time Eitan and I were in Houston on the E-I tour. More on the wonders of a Elaine and Chip soon.

2001-07-10T10:29:00.000-07:00

more san antonio

phil and michelle have a beautiful house. we stay up way too late, drinking yummy tequila drinks, and in the morning, my head feels like someone left an axe there. while everyone else sleeps, phil and i sit on the front porch, talking about poetry and writing. he lets me read some of his masters’ thesis which is incredible. (Phil, can i get a copy? Pleeeeaase?) This slow, easy morning conversation, with cigarettes and coffee, is wonderful.

When everyone else slowly staggers to life, we go for breakfast tacos, then to the Alamo and the riverwalk to sightsee. It’s July 4, and we begin counting the number of people wearing shirts with the American flag and the old navy logo on it. We count 20, but we began counting late – there must have been at least 50. Surely, there’s no better way to celebrate America than through crass commercialism.

The Alamo is... beautiful. Sad. Hot. Hot. Hot. We stop for snowcones, and the blue raspberry turns my tongue an amazing shade of blue, which we document. The Alamo and the Riverwalk are joined by a mall (Ignition Tour hearts malls!) and we spend time in the Sanrio store. Tarin buys a popgun in the drugstore for $1. Life is good. We have clean towels. The only bad part is leaving for...

2001-07-10T10:28:00.000-07:00

it’s july 3, and we’re in texas. san antonio gives me a little pause, since the last time i read there, some guy read a piece about having sex with his grandmother and detailed her yeast infection; some other guy did a piece about beating his girlfriend unconscious and then, not knowing whether she’s dead or not, deciding to “get his fuck on.” san antonio is sensitive like that. or was. since then, the venue has changed, and the slam has been taken over by the mighty phil west, who has brought a new spirit to the place – one that’s far less crude.

the crowd is polite during our feature; an 18-ish girl buys one of my books. later, during the slam, she comes up to me and hands me a note. It says:

Daphne,

So, I stare at this blank page wanting to write some completely memorable verse but... I can’t. Today I feel alive. Today I am breathless. And afraid. Maybe you know how that feels. To be 18, to finally, for once in your life feel like a person and finding it a foreign emotion. Kicking myself for believing that words weren’t enough. Are they enough? I’m afraid that I will always know so little. I’m afraid that I believe that it is not words that aren’t enough but my words that are truly lacking. I’m taking your words home so I want you to take my words home too. Even if they are lacking. Thank you, L.

L: I hope you don't mind my reprinting your letter. You touched me. Your words aren’t lacking at all. You made my year. I have the same questions, and your words made it all worthwhile.

2001-07-10T10:27:00.000-07:00

austin

there are two great things about austin: jason edwards and his husband, thom, and our mall field trip to hot topic. staying at jason’s house is always dreamy – they have the world’s coolest chihuahua, bill, as well as a new kitty, chuckie, and an insane puppy named phoebe. they make us veggie pizza that kicks ass, and i retrieve my girlfriend’s yellow sunglasses which i accidentally left there during south by southwest. (note to miriam: honey, i got ‘em, and you’ll have them back soon!)

in the mall, we do some serious retail therapy to make up for the show – despite the generosity and the loveliness of the host, sarah durfor, the open mic is interminable, featuring the same three poets in an endless rotation. however, the presence of matthew john conley makes everything better. he’s my hero, doing an improvisational piece through the club’s window about being “outside” while smoking, since the venue doesn’t let you smoke inside. there’s another benefit to austin – we get to play for each other a little, doing poems that we haven’t done before; alexis and i read a piece of each other’s work from the stage.

back to retail therapy: oh my god. tarin and i go nuts at hot topic. must have the platform boots. must have bondage pants. must have accessories. must. must. must. we’re suckers. like we’ve never seen cheap punk rock clothes before. ha!

2001-07-10T10:25:00.000-07:00

oklahoma city

it is an unholy drive from albuqurerque to oklahoma city – the 10-hour drive is bad enough, but it also brings back unpleasant memories. the last time i did this drive, on the e-i-e-i-o the humanity tour, i had my head smashed in the van door by eitan, resulting in a concussion. i spent most of the reading that night trying to focus my eyes.

we make it to oklahoma city (almost) in time, despite getting lost in the city, thanks to poetic directions. the venue is hopping, though, and we love the okc crowd. spontaneous bob is one of the best hosts in the country, and the crowd is, for the most part, warm and welcoming. in oklahoma, everybody has fantastic names – lord of the vibes, spontaneous bob, tapestry – and personalities to match. after a 10-hour drive, we need some shiny. everybody rock stars up. i pull out my knee-high patent leather platform boots, which some drunk heckles me for. “baby, these are my driving shoes,” i tell him.

the reading goes well, and we’re in love. people come to talk to us afterwards, make us laugh. they donate generously to the hat, giving us gas money galore. it’s a great night.

despite the head injury, i remember some folks from the last time i was in town – among them, zoologist extraordinaire boston bridgewater. it’s great to see him. we also re-meet nixon, who alarmed us last time we were in town by prefacing his poem, “the other night, i went to this bar where all the women were cool and beautiful and i wanted to bomb the place.” when boston mentions that nixon has read a poem he wrote about me recently, we decide it may not be the best idea to stay at nixon’s house, which he’s offered. the last time we stayed there, the first things we saw were hunting knives and a night stick. fortunately, lord of the vibes offers to take us to his house.

perhaps it’s all the free drinks that do eitan in, or the bottle of knob creek, but about the time we get to lord of the vibes’ house, eitan is crashing out. it’s late, and tarin and alexis are bedding down. i crawl onto the futon, and eitan, in a bourbon haze, begins to snuggle me. “eitan,” i say, laughing, “you need to move back to your side of the bed.” in response, he snuggles closer, throws his arm over me. my laughing wakes him up, at which point he says, “i don’t think this is right,” and flips over. two things are abundantly clear: eitan is going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning, and he will receive endless shit about this.

2001-07-09T08:33:00.000-07:00

wow. Have finally gotten a little bit of time to write - we're on the road now, moving from Americus, GA to Winston-Salem; we're not sure if the show at seed is a go or not, but we decided to move on (against temptations galore) because there's a rockabilly festival we can catch the last few hours of if we scoot.

so, to backtrack...

phoenix

okay. Time for the Eirean and the knife story. here's the deal. We were ready to go, heading out to the venue, and I wanted to cut a hair ribbon in two, so I asked Eirean if he had a knife. Rather than hand it to me and let me cut it, Eirean held the knife and I held the ribbon. easy enough, right? wrong. When the ribbon cut on the knife, Eirean suddenly and calmly said, "I'm cut, I'm cut," as his blood sprayed in an arc all over the kitchen, hitting three walls. I wasn't sure what happened at first, and then it became clear. He grabbed a brillo pad (!) from the sink and put pressure on it. I asked him if it was bad, and he lifted off the brillo pad. I saw a huge gash and tendon and/or bone. it was bad. and very calmly told me that he was going to go to the emergency room, after he dropped us off at the venue. Everyone moved fast, and Eirean was en route to the hospital, leaving someone else to emcee, and us to do the reading without him.

It's hard to put into words how I felt. ill. devastated. I sat down and drank whisky, and tried to keep from bawling. Scott got back from the hospital and says Eirean is being seen. I start drinking my second shot of whisky of the evening. Scott wants us to go on in 15 minutes. this would probably be a good place to mention that the venue is a sportsbar, and despite great advance notices, as well as us playing with a hip-hop band and two popular deejays, the crowd is thin. We stall, hoping Eirean will get back from the ER in time to be part of the show.

Ian, Eirean's roommate comes running in, having come back from a day at the pool to find a kitchen covered in blood spatters and a large knife on the floor. we explain what has happened. He's relieved to find that neither is Eirean dead nor have we been sacrificing small goats in the kitchen.

It's about 10 when Scott decides to introduce us. none of us feels like being there, and despite it being 10 at night, it's over 100 degrees. Scott is onstage, in the middle of explaining who we are, as well as who he is and why Eirean isn't there, there's a voice from the back. It's Eirean, and 12 new stitches in his hand. Later, we'll find out that the bill is four digits big. Having Eirean there feels like nothing short of a miracle, and the reading goes well.

Introducing us, Eirean walks in, twelve stitches in his hand. he gets up on stage and takes over as host we read. we drink. we drink more. we don't sell much stuff. We're all relieved when the reading's over and go somewhere to drink more. it's just that kind of a night. But it isn't all doom and gloom - the guys from brainkast.com have webcast our show, and before the show is over, there have been emails from Paris and Hong Kong, telling them how much they enjoyed the show.

Ivan, who was stage-managing the show while Eirean was at the hospital, lives in the same complex as Eirean and suggests a late night swim. we think that's a great idea, and pop into our swimsuits for a 4 a.m. dip. the water is cool and sweet and calm. For a few moments, everything is better, although in the morning, due to circumstances beyond his control, we'll have to leave Eirean behind on the tour, which feels... wrong. He helped plan this tour, helped book some of the dates, and won't be on the road with us again until Denver. Still, we'll have Denver.

in the meantime, the next morning, we've received an invitation to the "hacker house" - where the brainkast.commies live - to record some tracks for their website. we go. the house is extremely cool, with an air conditioned smoking porch, a loft filled with computers, and a makeshift recording studio. Wolf walks us through recording a couple of tracks, and it's great spending time again with Thomas, who I met on my last trip through Phoenix in December. As is our curse, everything takes longer than we think it will, so we're late getting on the road to...

Flagstaff.

it's 119 degrees as we hit the road to flagstaff, which we can feel despite the air conditioning. traffic is hellish, and we're grumpy. Still, the drive is beautiful, and I stare out the window as we ramble on our way into the mountains.

we pull into flagstaff at 10 to 8, thanks to traffic - barely in time for our show. the bittersweet fact of this is that it's fine - there's no one there yet. We meet nick fox, the man, the legend, who I hadn't yet had the pleasure of meeting yet.

Despite our late arrival, nick, looking every bit the heroic good guy in his cowboy hat, assures us that it's fine if we go get some food. We run down the street to the middle eastern restaurant to grab something, since we haven't eaten all day, having been assured that it's quick. When our food hasn't come 20 minutes later, Tarin and I run back to the venue to set up the merch table and let nick know what's going on. shockingly, the room is filling up. quickly. if phoenix is the place that shakes me up, flagstaff is the place that settles me in.

We get treated to the work of some of the flagstaff poets, and nick is the consummate host - playing with the audience, who is boisterous, considerate and attentive - it's like a dream come true, complete with standing room only -- except that Eitan and Alexis aren't back yet with the food. Tarin is onstage when I see them coming. I come bounding up to them - they're not going to believe the crowd, the energy. suddenly, everything is perfect. I get fed; by both the chicken shwarma and the audience. I can't say enough good things about the crowd, the poetry, anything about the evening.

after the reading, we walk downtown with the flagstaff poets. We see trains crossing through the city - Alexis puts a penny on the tracks and gets a wonderful souvenir. everything is gorgeous - the landscape, the lonely low of the train, the mountains.

we go to nick's to bed down, and in addition of giving us such a wonderful night, he also insists on giving us his bed for the night and sleeping on the living room floor himself - despite our protestations. We draw pen caps to see who will be sleeping in the bed, and Alexis and I win. we sleep the dead sleep of the overtired to morning, and we go to sleep smiling.

Albuquerque

I love Albuquerque, I love the Albuquerque poets, and I love green chile. what could be better? as usual, we're running late, and the cell phones (all 3 of 'em, on 3 different networks) are out of range. We arrive in abq to a barrage of beeping, as the cell phone lets us know we've got voice mail, 4 messages, all from our host wondering where we are.

we pull up to the venue just in time, though again (it must be something about poetry events - everyone's on poet time) it's only sparsely populated. It begins to fill up as we spend time with Gary Glazner, our favorite sf-er in exile. He's got a new book coming out, which I can't wait to see. The evening begins with open mic poems, including our host for our second reading of the night - the outsider - baring his arms to reveal, like 40 fresh knife cuts during a piece that he prefaced "I just wrote this today." eeeeeew.

suddenly, we're up. we're going to read a couple of pieces and do an exhibition slam against the abq team. This is our second exhibition slam in two days - we had one against the flag team the night before, and we prevailed, strangely enough, although abq has a history of taking its slam seriously - very seriously - tonight is just for fun. in fact, the last round of the slam is a special, winner-take-all improv round.

I'm not much for improv, so I let the others go ahead without me. I suppose this is as good a place to mention that all of us have a certain affection for pirates - especially Tarin - who has a purse with a skull & crossbones, as well as a tee shirt with a skull & crossbones; the van has a skull & crossbones air freshener, and Alexis has skull & crossbones sandals. Eitan and I have eye patches and parrots.

so, in the final improv, the abq team got up and did a team improv piece that had to incorporate phrases written down by the audience; their piece reached toward the evocative, with all of them chanting "in the desert we are" in the background; talking about beauty and such.

The ignition improv was a little different with Alexis, Tarin and Eitan belting out lines including such hits as "I want to wear you like an eyepatch," and "bluebeard has rabies, with him I wanna make babies, hope he doesn't give me scabies..." as well as Alexis holding forth on pimple-popping. the piece concluded with the ignition poets growling, "in the desert we ARRRRRRGH!!!", pirate-style. Needless to say, the ignition poets won, with no hard feelings.

we bolt to the second reading of the night, which is at a coffee shop called the insomnia. it also seems to be the main hangout for underage punk rockers in town, since there are about 50 of them standing outside, smoking cigarettes. in fact, there are more people outside than inside, by a long shot - it turns out the $3 cover charge is more than most of them can handle. moreover, even our host isn't there - the outsider's roommate has apparently stolen a bottle of something from him and gone to the park, and the outsider has gone after him.

In the time before the reading, I chat with a couple of the cool punk rock kids outside, Katie -- a beautiful, curvy pin-up with green bangs and black hair, and Ian, whose septum ring is about 50 times as big as mine. They remind me of friends from my hometown. Ian complains that there's nothing to do in abq - something I remember from growing up in upstate New York. He hangs out at the insomnia and the Pussycat Theater, and he asks if I want to go over there - I say sure, but I have to check in with the other poets to see when we're leaving for Esther's, where we're staying. they give me ten minutes and we're off.

It's a beautiful night to run to a porn store. I ask him why he wanted to take me there, and he says it's because I seem like the kind of girl who would be into going and wouldn't get offended. Fair enough.

We get there. We look around. There's nothing to do there, either, besides look at disembodied dildos in their lonely plastic sheaths; stacks of glossy naked girls, hermetically sealed. We go back to the coffee house. Still, it feels like illicit fun, which is worth a lot. We walk back to the van -- It's time for us to go hot tub at Ester's, and so it's time to say goodbye. Ian says he hopes that the van has left without me so we can hang out more. I agree -- but it's time to go. I get in the van, smiling. We drive away.

2001-07-05T09:31:00.000-07:00

phoenix

no time to write this right now, but suffice it to say that there is no truth to the rumor that i slashed eirean bradley with a knife, sending him to the emergency room.

he had to have 12 stitches.

it was not my fault.

more soon.

2001-07-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

las vegas

we get to vegas late, with just enough time to jump into our hotel room and change. we hate rushing.

this is our first strip mall show of what will be at least two strip malls. the coffee shop is next to a kinko's, and the room has the ambience of a high school cafeteria. it's a huge room, so even though it's fairly well-attended, it still feels sparse.

the show goes well, in no small part due to the efforts of karen lumos, who put the show together. dayvid figler, our favorite vegas poet, is in the house, and it's great to see him. despite our efforts to get him to jump in and read with us, he claims that everyone there has heard him. he says he'll do a poem for us later.

the great thing about coffee shop shows is the all ages side -- there are kids there -- including danna (vegas poet)'s daughter, who is about 8 and shares her poetry with us. there are young women who want to talk about writing and poetry and being queer -- they make my night. later, i get an email from one of them, who rocks my world. she says she only put my book down to pee and sleep. i'm awed. it's hard to believe, but i'm glad she enjoyed the book. that means everything.

people are really generous when we pass the hat, and buy a lot of books from us. it's party time. we have dinner at mr. lucky's and head to the double down saloon, a dirty, grafitti-covered bar with bras hanging over the bar. it's blues night, with all sorts of people taking the stage. we're in love again. dayvid buys us drinks and introduces us to his sister, rayanne, who is delightful.

you'd think it would be hard to cause a scene in vegas, but apparently it's not. while we're walking from mr. lucky's to the double down, an suv starts following us, staring at me. it may or may not have anything to do with the fact that i'm wearing leather shorts with an american flag rhinestone belt buckle, high heels and a black sweater with a blue fake fur collar. it's really creepy, he's driving very slowly behind us, pulling into every driveway and staring. i mention to dayvid that we're being followed, as the car makes a loop around and turns back towards us. i get my cell phone out, and dayvid pulls out his badge. we call tarin and rayanne, who have gone to the store to tell them to be careful. mercifully, the guy goes away, perhaps bored. creep.

after stabilizing the nerves at the double down, we head to the champagne cafe, where drinks are a whopping $1.50 or so, and the wallpaper is flocked velvet. eitan and alexis play aged hits from the jukebox, like chris de burgh and diana ross. it's getting late and i'm exhausted, but dayvid has just bought a house and insists that we need to see it.

and it's amazing -- the house is gorgeous, and period-perfect 1950's, with the original fixtures. i can't do it justice -- especially the living room couch -- but it's one of the most beautiful homes i've seen, with an expansive back yard and garden. by the time we get back into the car, i'm wiped out, cranky-tired. i snap and am mad at myself for snapping, for being impatient most of the night because i'm so damned tired. go to bed miserable despite such a lovely night, angry and exhausted.

2001-07-05T09:14:00.000-07:00

poetic license

the room is beautiful, and it's great to read in front of my family -- including my cousin craig and his wife, jenni. craig does a poem about my grandfather, which is amazing. and it's pretty great hearing poetry while eating sushi.

but the real story here is not the reading. it's cheetah's. see, i made everyone promise me that we could go to cheetah's, a hollywood strip club, afterwards. my brother decides, despite our protests, not to join us. we're in our second drink, giggling and grinning, when we meet roller, who is girl-next-door beautiful with a 100-watt grin. she immediately pegs tarin as a burning man veteran and, like alexis, she's canadian. we're bonded, and when she offers to do a lap dance for the 4 of us, how could we possibly refuse? eitan and i hand over some money, and roller dances for us. she touches alexis' breast and says, "lap dances are different in canada, eh?"

it's hilarious and delightful and we should have left then. i get up to go to the bathroom, and in the blink of an eye, the room temperature changes like a thunderstorm. in the bathroom, which is also the girls' dressing room, women are spun out, running in and out of stalls, sniffling. there's a dancer in tears, sobbing, because she doesn't have enough money and everything is wrong, and her boyfriend and her life, and other women are trying to calm her down but she won't. she's skidding, and something in me rips. her panic, her terror is contagious enough to somehow infect the whole club. when i get back to the table, everyone else is inexpicably shaken, too. we leave, and we're ready to leave l.a., having seen how immediately shiny can go to seed.

2001-06-26T18:07:00.000-07:00

santa ana, hollywood and rental cars

somehow, it still doesn’t quite seem like we’re on the road – perhaps because we’re in one place (still) for an extended period of time. that’s about to change tomorrow.

so here we are, plunking down an exhorbitant amount of money to make a lap around the country, and financing this endeavor by – poetry?!?! all of us are sort of holding our breath, wondering if we’ll be able to eat anything besides mac & cheeze by the time we get to arizona. i sure hope so. everyone seemed a little freaked when we left the airport in the behemoth rental van.

it’s a gorgeous sunny day, so what could stay wrong for long. so what to do? SHOP!!! tarin and i ravaged the boardwalk until we came up with the finest accessories cold hard tourist cash can buy. hard work, accessorizing. fortunately, we were up to the challenge. tarin found goggles, we both found fine rhinestone belts, and many other prizes. we were certainly having more fun than eitan, who had to go to meet with his insurance agent. alexis went to spend time with her friend jen.

the santa ana reading at the gypsy den was... nice. intimate. it’s a gorgeous room, and the crowd was polite --- which means not the kind of crowd we’re used to, for sure. some nice boy in a nice hat gave me his chapbook. i’m looking forward to reading it. he was cute. i think it’s dirty.

tonight, our final l.a. show – poetic license at zen restaurant. i know that i should be looking forward the poetry, but frankly? i’m looking forward to spending time with lauren, who will be there, and my brother, and of course the tour field trip to cheetah’s afterwards! most of all, i hope this date makes us all a little less desperately in the hole.

2001-06-25T10:53:00.000-07:00

red dora's, beyond baroque, long beach and fais do do

it's harder to keep a tour journal on the road than i thought -- so much is going on, it's hard to get it all down, keep any relief in anything.

red dora's was amazing. i was worried that on the night before the dyke march, with so many events going on, no one would show up. i shouldn't have worried. the room was packed, and it was a ball. the lovely ian read before us from his new book, and a good time was had by all.

actually, everything so far has been amazing, and totally different. beyond baroque was family members, and intimate, and poetic. long beach felt like a whole other kind of family, with some of my favorite l.a. poets in the house -- victor, lea, rachel, ben, the soon-to-be-an-l.a. poet nisa, murray, and mindy --- a pretty incredible room. we co-featured with san antonio poets. it was a gorgeous day, and there was a blues band playing downstairs, leaking through the window.

we got lost on our way back up to l.a., but made it to fais do do for words, run by jerry quickly. the open mic was great and it's a gorgeous room -- blood red curtains, a jazz band, and an incredible menu. had a super yummy blackened catfish sandwich. we got to read with the band from the stage -- something i've only done once -- and they were amazing. alexis did a mindblowing french rap that brought the house down. and one of the biggest pleasures of all was getting to hear jerry quickly read -- i'm such his fan.

and i guess that pretty much sums up the trip so far -- i feel as much a fan -- more so -- than anything else. this is why i do this -- despite all the doubts and the fears and the financial woes and the everythings, i get to connect into places i've never dreamed of -- hear and see really, really beautiful things.

i feel so rich.

2001-06-22T17:38:00.000-07:00

oakland

forgive my lack of enthusiasm and extreme brevity in this post -- hooray! for last night's reading, for alexis being here, for the oakland slammers -- i spent a little too much time and money at ms. ivy's, the cocktail lounge around the corner from the oakland slam. sigh. naptime.

2001-06-21T09:32:00.000-07:00

berkeley

the first thing we see at the starry plough when we get there is the wondrous lauren, ignition secret weapon for the bay area, jumping up and down. already, it’s a great night. there’s a cop standing next to her, leaning against his car. he says, “it’s good you guys got here. she was getting out of hand.”

this somehow feels like the best crowd yet, full of folks from my grad school career – malka, lisa and adam, jackie and jezebelle, as well as poetry slam gems – the birth of verse ladies and jamie kennedy. as always, charles ellik is a generous and gracious host, and we co-feature with robert karimi, who tears is up in between our sets. and tarin, lauren and i, flying blind, put together two three-poem sets that bounce off each other like pinballs. magic. i feel totally blessed, having fun, getting to hear my favorite poets and read with them. tomorrow, alexis arrives. she doesn’t even know what she’s in for – people are coming to see us again, just to see her. she’s already got a fan club, and she’s never read in the bay area.

in the meantime, i have to pack. that’s much less fun.

beverage: mike's hard lemonade

2001-06-21T09:30:00.000-07:00

city lights

peter, who put it all together, rocks. there was wine, there were people from three continents and all over the u.s., and the crowd was intimate enough to allow for a rapport between poems – it was such a pleasure to be able to read poems and get to discuss poetry, and art, and oh – people are amazing. two of the people in the audience had just gotten off a plane from london – i swear to god, i’d probably hit a hotel, or a bar – and it was 5 a.m. to them, but they came to city lights, to my readin, on a whim. they’re magical, and i hope they keep in touch.

the other wild thing about the city lights reading (actually, there were a lot of things, but here’s one, for now) – about halfway through, someone asked me how long i’d been in san francisco. it was ten years, more or less to the day. so i dubbed it my ten year anniversary – after all, i can’t really imagine a better one. thanks, city lights, for a dream come true. and for the gifts. :)

beverage: vodka & tonic, wine

2001-06-18T10:36:00.000-07:00

day one, the paradise kick-off

god, i was so nervous. you'd think things would be easier at a place i perform at all the time, but it wasn't -- something about it seemed so daunting -- maybe it was just starting the whole tour.

the reading went beautifully. there was a great crowd -- the room was full, which was really great -- and even though there were bands playing downstairs, people stayed focused on the poetry. tarin read a really smart set, with sonnets and pieces she'd run through a babelizer. very cool work. and i held my own onstage. remembered to have fun. which it was. a lot of fun.

amazing night. everything worked. now, if i can just do it, like, 45 more times...

2001-06-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

Tarin: The Ignition Interview
Q: What’s your nickname?
A: Danger, The Big Guy, Towers, T, TT, J-tarin

Q: Where are you originally from?
A: Grantsville, Maryland, pop. 500, elev. 2,300

Q: What’s your sign?
A: Leo

Q: Can you tell us about a formative childhood experience?
A: I fell asleep on the schoolbus on the way to my first day of kindergarten.

Q: Age at first kiss?
A: Six.

Q: Number of piercings?
A: Six.

Q: What are your hobbies?
A: Dancing, playing cards and shooting guns, making faces, dressing up, causing trouble.

Q: How do you pay your bills?
A: With a checkbook. The checks are cleared by an offshore account which is replenished regularly by my minions, sponsors, and toadies.

Q: What’s the last book you read?
A: Gravity's Rainbow. I'm not done yet.

Q: Who is your favorite poet? (just one, please)
A: James Tate.

Q: Who are your artistic influences?
A: Marcel Duchamp, John Cage, Jim Henson. Lydia Davis, Lorrie Moore. Kurt Vonnegut, Philip K. Dick, V. Vale. PJ Harvey. Madeleine L'Engle. Borges, Neruda, Marquez. Madonna. Monty Python, Doctor Who. Dorothy Parker, Mae West. Nancy Drew.

Q: You never tour without ...?
A: A wristwatch, a blank book, a sleepmask and earplugs.

Q: What’s your reason for going on the ignition tour?
A: Kurt Vonnegut said that if someone offers you strange travel arrangements,
you should take them. Also, Daphne asked me and I find it difficult to say
no to any propositions made by someone beautiful.

Q: What are 5 cds you will ABSOLUTELY have with you on the road?
A: Orishas a lo Cubano, DJ Andy Smith - The Document.X - Big Fun in the New World, Milk Cult - Project M13, Black Sabbath - Masters of Reality

Q: What’s the personal grooming product you can't live without?
A: Urban Decay eyeliner in Speed (metallic blue). And SPF 1,000 sunscreen.

Q: What’s your most embarrassing moment ever on tour?
A: At the Michigan women's festival I heard a voice from a tent in our camp saying, Look at her, look at how hot she is, and so I did. All four of them looked pretty hot, actually. She should have kept her tent zipped, if not her lip...
Q: Who is your favorite of the seven dwarves?
A: My favorite actual dwarf is Grumpy, even though it's pretty certain that Doc's the only one that gets any booty out of Ms. White. My favorite imaginary dwarf is Molten.

Q: What’s your favorite of the seven deadly sins?
A: Sloth in the morning. Lust at night. Gluttony in between.

Q: What’s your beverage of choice?
A: Hmm. I love water. MMMM. Usually it's better for you with a neat shot of Jameson's or Ballantine's on the side.

Q: Is there anything you'd like to add?
A: After I split off from the tour I'm spending another week or so on the road
WITH MY PARENTS. God help us all.

2001-06-15T10:20:00.000-07:00

ignition: q&a with, erm, me

Q: What's your nickname?
A: Sometimes "b" (which is also "bunny," "boo", and "baby"); sometimes it's "sir".

Q: Where are you originally from?
A: Upstate New York

Q: What’s your sign?
A: Virgo, Pisces rising.

Q: Can you tell us about a formative childhood experience?
A: Repeatedly playing "liontamer" in the basement with my pal Hunt when we were 5. First, you had to kill the lion, then you had to eat it. All of it. We took turns being the lion. The game had a little something for everyone: a little sex, a little death, a little bestial necrophilia. Couldn't beat it.

Q: Your age at first kiss?
A: 13, I think.

Q: Number of piercings?
A: 13, I think.

Q: What are your hobbies?
A: Smoking, instigating, obsessing, and the occasional hand of cribbage.

Q: How do you pay your bills?
A: At the moment, corporate servitude.

Q: What was the last book you read?
A: Deviant Desires: Incredibly Strange Sex by Katherine Gates

Q: Who is your favorite poet? (just one, please)
A: Anne Sexton.

Q: Who are your artistic influences?
A: French feminist theory, Kathy Acker, Karen Finley, Robert Coover, Robert Kelly, Ellie Nestler, Lizzie Borden, Aileen Wuernos, Eartha Kitt, Catwoman, Diane Arbus, Joel-Peter Witkin, Maya Deren, Harry Smith, Stan Brakhage, June Jordan, Dorothy Allison, A.M. Homes, Katherine Dunn, Amiri Baraka, Chris Burdon, Chris Ware, William Burroughs, the "Evil Dead" trilogy, surviving the Reagan years, film noir, insomnia, the performance poetry/spoken word/slam community, and Miriam Kronberg.

Q: What do you you never tour without ...?
A: Felicity, the pink satin road bunny.

Q: What’s your reason for going on the Ignition tour?
A: I organized it, so they have to let me come!

Q: What are 5 cds you will ABSOLUTELY have with you on the road?
A: "Girls Can Tell," Spoon, "Shortcut vs. Coldcut," Future Primitive Sound Sessions, "Call the Doctor," Sleater Kinney, "Too Hot to Hold," Ike and Tina Turner, "Go Kill Mice," The Starlite Desperation

Q: What’s the personal grooming product you can't live without?
A: MAC lipstick in "Diva" and lubriderm. Everything else is ballast.

Q: What’s your most embarrassing moment ever on tour?
A: Accidentally mooning the good people of Chico, CA. Gary Glazner gave me an extremely enthusiastic bearhug onstage, thereby lifting my dress to my waist. I'm sorry, Chico.

Q: Who is your favorite of the seven dwarves?
A: Sleazy.

Q: What’s your favorite of the seven deadly sins?
A: Whatever’s available at the moment.

Q: What’s your beverage of choice?
A: Laphroic neat, soda back.

Q: Anything you'd like to add?
A: I'd like to thank everyone who helped us get on the road by offering to host us, house us, feed us, or otherwise help us out. I'd also like to thank the other poets for jumping onboard to be in a crowded, confined space for extended periods of time in extremely hot temperatures. You're special. And I mean it.

2001-06-15T10:19:00.000-07:00

ignition: q&a with Alexis

Q: What's your nickname?
A: dyslexis, lex, oh great one...

Q: Where are you originally from?
A: Capital City, Canada

Q: What's your sign?
A: Capricorn, Scorpio Rising.

Q: Can you tell us about a formative childhood experience?
A: A few highs and lows: flying alone for the first time (age 8), first time getting drunk (age 10), getting kicked out of ballet jazz class for sucking (age 12), MVP on little league baseball team (age 11 & 12), almost dying in a white water canoe accident (age 14)

Q: Your age at first kiss?
A: I haven't the foggiest. but i do remember my first *french* kiss was during a round of 2 minutes in the closet at a Hallowe'en Party in grade 8. I was 13. The boy in question, Michael O'Dell was my boyfriend and i remember him leaning in and saying " French?". I just nodded. He swooped in with his mouth wide open and his top braces hit me on the lip. It was like kissing a dog, very sloppy, and kinda icky. Eventually I got better at it and now I would have to say that french kissing is one of my top ten favourite pastimes.

Q: Number of piercings?
A: Active: 3, retired 8.

Q: What are your hobbies?
A: Skeet shooting, competitive hula hoop, riding the pony, on-line fish trading, box eating, walking in the rain, explosives.

Q: How do you pay your bills?
A: However i can, honey, however i can.

Q: What's the last book you read?
A: The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary

Q: Who is your favorite poet? (just one, please)
A: Johnny Cash

Q: Who are your artistic influences?
A: Pedro Almodovar, Guy Maddin, The Kids in the Hall, Neil Young, Sub-commandante Marcos, Julia Cameron, Frank Pounders, Catherine and Mary Margaret O'Hara, Alfred Jarry, Dr Seuss, Katherine Dunn, Steve Martin, "Showgirls", Jim Jarmusch, Valie Export, Pipilotti Rist, Louise Lecavalier, Pascale Bussieres, Shel Silverstein, David Suzuki, Floria Sigismondi, Billie Holiday, Geezer, and on and on and on....

Q: You never tour without ...?
A: Groupies.

Q: Your reason for going on the ignition tour?
A: I always wanted to see Boise.

Q: 5 cds you will ABSOLUTELY have with you on the road?
A: Black Sabbath - Greatest Hits, Le Tigre's first album, Amon Tobin - Permutations,
The best of Etta James, a homemade Emperor Norton Compilation

Q: What's the personal grooming product you can't live without?
A: sunblock

Q: What's your most embarrassing moment ever on tour?
A: Ask me in august, i have a feeling i'm gonna top myself this year

Q: Who is your favorite of the seven dwarves?
A: dopey (who's holding?)

Q: What's your favorite of the seven deadly sins?
A: sloth (who's gonna say avarice?)

Q: What's your beverage of choice?
A: i love em all.

Q: Anything you'd like to add?
A: I'd just like to thank the United States of America for welcoming a poor Canadian girl into your homes, your bars and your convenience stores. I am truly touched.

2001-06-15T10:18:00.000-07:00

ignition: q&a with Eitan

Q: What's your nickname?

A: "The Amazing Eitan" (“I’m like a cat”)

Q: Where are you originally from?

A: Los Angeles

Q: What’s your sign?
A: Taurus

Q: Can you tell us about a formative childhood experience?
A: Making out between the school busses at the American International School, Israel.

Q: Your age at first kiss?
A: 13

Q: Number of piercings?
A: 2 (ears only)

Q: What are your hobbies?
A: Carousing, rabble rousing,

Q: How do you pay your bills?
A: I teach high school

Q: What was the last book you read?
A: The Human Stain, Phillip Roth

Q: Who is your favorite poet? (just one, please)
A: Jeff McDaniel

Q: Who are your artistic influences?
A: Lawrence Ferlingheti, Phillip Roth, Derrick Brown, Jeff McDaniel, Dennis Leary, Emily Post

Q: What do you you never tour without ...?
A: My good luck underwear

Q: What’s your reason for going on the Ignition tour?
A: Waffle House

Q: What are 5 cds you will ABSOLUTELY have with you on the road?
A: "Strange Angels" Kristin Hirsh, "Shoki Shoki" Femi Kuti, "Too Far to Care" Old 97's "Star Maps" Possum Dixon, "Monsters of Metal" various artists.

Q: What’s the personal grooming product you can't live without?
A: Light gel or hair mousse--to keep my ringlets in check and avoid frizz.

Q: What’s your most embarrassing moment ever on tour?
A: Smashing Daphne's head in the van door (that wasn't so embarrassing as just god-awful)

Q: Who is your favorite of the seven dwarves?
A: Doc (the supplier)

Q: What’s your favorite of the seven deadly sins?
A: The Macho Burger at Chris Madrid's, San Antonio TX

Q: What’s your beverage of choice?
A: Sierra Nevada

Q: Anything you'd like to add?
A: An inch or two.

2001-06-15T10:17:00.000-07:00

ignition: q&a with Eirean

Q: What's your nickname?
A: Huggy bear, eirean "motherfucking" bradley, zeke, and chubby

Q: Where are you originally from?
A: Chapel Hill North Carolina

Q: What's your sign?
A: Slow Children at Play or Yield; depends on my mood

Q: Can you tell us about a formative childhood experience?
A: Trying out for my elementary school's basketball team in the 4th grade and while we were all taking shots from the free throw line i realized i really had to pee, but i couldn't get out of line because i might miss my turn. so i waited for my turn relying on the hidden power of the pee pee dance for my turn to finally come. I made it to my turn but made the miscalculation that the magical powers of the dance would still be effective in mid jumpshot. Mid jumpshot my bladder released and we all know how well gray sweat pants show case urine. I don't remember if the shot went in or not.

Q: Age at first kiss?
A: 11, i think.

Q: Number of piercings?
A: 0

Q: What are your hobbies?
A: Sketching, playing bad punk rock guitar

Q: How do you pay your bills?
A: prayer

Q: What's the last book you read?
A: Final Vinyl Days- Jill Mc Corkle

Q: Who is your favorite poet? (just one, please)
A: Derrick Brown

Q: Who are your artistic influences?
A: too many to mention

Q: You never tour without ...?
A: money for pork rinds

Q: What's your reason for going on the ignition tour?
A: I'm curious to see if we actually pull this off.

Q: Whar are 5 cds you will ABSOLUTELY have with you on the road?
A: Jimmy Eat World- Clarity, Soul Coughing- Ruby Vroom, Hum- Downward is Heavenward, Weezer- green album, Aimee Mann- Bachelor no 2

Q: What's the personal grooming product you can't live without?
A: sadly, no

Q: What's your most embarrassing moment ever on tour?
A: photos of me getting spanked on stage in austin

Q: Who is your favorite of the seven dwarves?
A: gluttony

Q: What's your favorite of the seven deadly sins?
A: dave

Q: What's your beverage of choice?
A: porkrinds

Q: Is there anything you'd like to add?
A: a smoking section

2001-06-11T23:35:00.000-07:00

meet a new ignition member every day this week!

ignition: q&a with lauren

Q: What's your nickname?
A: Most recently, "l-boogie". thanks, cas.

Q: Where are you originally from?
A: Chicago, Il.

Q: What's your sign?
A: Cancer. And i repeat: nothing beats being born under a terminal illness.

Q: Tell us about a formative childhood experience?
A: Birth. That, and my mother telling me she was gay when i was 5. she asked me
if i knew what that meant and i said, "i know what gay is, mommy. jack
tripper tells mr. furley he's gay so he can live with chrissy and janet."

Q: Age at first kiss?
A: 14, i think.

Q: Number of piercings?
A: 9. My mom's still beating me by 1.

Q: Hobbies?
A: Dancing, darts, and strangely enough, writing.

Q: How do you pay your bills?
A: Electronically whenever possible. I hate buying stamps.

Q: What's the last book you read?
A: "Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man" by Susan Faludi.

Q: Who is your favorite poet? (just one, please)
A: Only one?? fine, gwendolyn brooks.

Q: Who are your artistic influences?
A: hattie gossett; t.s. eliot; ralph ellison's "invisible man"; tori amos's first album, "little earthquakes"; gwendolyn brooks.

Q: You never tour without ...?
A: A copy of eliot's "the wasteland" somewhere in my luggage.

Q: What's your reason for going on the ignition tour?
A: I LOVE DAPHNE!

Q: What are 5 cds you will ABSOLUTELY have with you on the road?
A: "who is jill scott?" -- jill scott, "san francisco sessions" -- dj garth, "body and soul, volume 2" - various, "giant steps" -- john coltrane and a mix given me by a certain boy.... : )

Q: What's the personal grooming product you can't live without?
A: dr. bronner's 18-in-1 hemp peppermint castille soap.

Q: What's your most embarrassing moment ever on tour?
A: I haven't really been on tour per se and thus, have avoided too many embarrassing moments. but i'm sure ignition will provide plenty of opportunities.

Q: Who's your favorite of the seven dwarves?
A: I have a soft spot for bashful.

Q: What's your favorite of the seven deadly sins?
A: I'm gonna have to go with lust for the moment.

Q: What's your beverage of choice?
A: bombay sapphire and tonic.

Q: Anything you'd like to add?
A: I'm only on this tour for a couple of days, but i intend to make my presence
felt. ; )

2001-06-10T10:24:00.000-07:00

ignition: q&a with Alexis

here's a chance to get to know the cast and crew of the ss ignition -- today -- everyone's favorite canadian member of ignition, alexis o' hara!

Q: What's your nickname?
A: dyslexis, lex, oh great one...

Q: Where are you originally from?
A: Capital City, Canada

Q: What's your sign?
A: Capricorn, Scorpio Rising.

Q: Can you tell us about a formative childhood experience?
A: A few highs and lows: flying alone for the first time (age 8), first time getting drunk (age 10), getting kicked out of ballet jazz class for sucking (age 12), MVP on little league baseball team (age 11 & 12), almost dying in a white water canoe accident (age 14)

Q: Your age at first kiss?
A: I haven't the foggiest. but i do remember my first *french* kiss was during a round of 2 minutes in the closet at a Hallowe'en Party in grade 8. I was 13. The boy in question, Michael O'Dell was my boyfriend and i remember him leaning in and saying " French?". I just nodded. He swooped in with his mouth wide open and his top braces hit me on the lip. It was like kissing a dog, very sloppy, and kinda icky. Eventually I got better at it and now I would have to say that french kissing is one of my top ten favourite pastimes.

Q: Number of piercings?
A: Active: 3, retired 8.

Q: What are your hobbies?
A: Skeet shooting, competitive hula hoop, riding the pony, on-line fish trading, box eating, walking in the rain, explosives.

Q: How do you pay your bills?
A: However i can, honey, however i can.

Q: What's the last book you read?
A: The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary

Q: Who is your favorite poet? (just one, please)
A: Johnny Cash

Q: Who are your artistic influences?
A: Pedro Almodovar, Guy Maddin, The Kids in the Hall, Neil Young, Sub-commandante Marcos, Julia Cameron, Frank Pounders, Catherine and Mary Margaret O'Hara, Alfred Jarry, Dr Seuss, Katherine Dunn, Steve Martin, "Showgirls", Jim Jarmusch, Valie Export, Pipilotti Rist, Louise Lecavalier, Pascale Bussieres, Shel Silverstein, David Suzuki, Floria Sigismondi, Billie Holiday, Geezer, and on and on and on....

Q: You never tour without ...?
A: Groupies.

Q: Your reason for going on the ignition tour?
A: I always wanted to see Boise.

Q: 5 cds you will ABSOLUTELY have with you on the road?
A: Black Sabbath - Greatest Hits, Le Tigre's first album, Amon Tobin - Permutations,
The best of Etta James, a homemade Emperor Norton Compilation

Q: What's the personal grooming product you can't live without?
A: sunblock

Q: What's your most embarrassing moment ever on tour?
A: Ask me in august, i have a feeling i'm gonna top myself this year

Q: Who is your favorite of the seven dwarves?
A: dopey (who's holding?)

Q: What's your favorite of the seven deadly sins?
A: sloth (who's gonna say avarice?)

Q: What's your beverage of choice?
A: i love em all.

Q: Anything you'd like to add?
A: I'd just like to thank the United States of America for welcoming a poor Canadian girl into your homes, your bars and your convenience stores. I am truly touched.

2001-06-07T16:40:00.000-07:00

one more thought for the day: honi soit qui mal y pense.

2001-06-07T16:23:00.000-07:00

so, today i learned how to eat fire.

it's been a longstanding dream of mine that finally got fulfilled. my friend dani came over, and she snipped wire hangers, ripped tee shirts and suddenly had a fire torch! we headed up to my roof, lighter fluid in hand, and she proceeded to show me how to do it.

it looks easier than it is. it's hard to open your mouth and willingly move a ball of fire the size of your fist closer and closer to your face and not flinch. yikes. the first time i did it was easier than the second. the second, i didn't have my head tipped back far enough and singed the underside of my nose. ow ow ow! going from bad to worse, the head of the torch came off in my mouth, and kept burning after i spat it out. dani stepped on it to put it out.

the whole thing was pretty funny. it's clear i have a lot of practicing to do. even dani singed her eyelashes, and she knows what she's doing.

also, lighter fluid is really toxic -- you don't want to practice a lot because it's so bad for the liver. i keep tasting it, too, hours later. eeeew. if anyone knows anything about the burning point of, say, 151 vs. the burning point of butane, i'd love to hear it. i'm guessing there's too much sugar in the 151 to use it for torches, but i don't know.

2001-05-26T00:22:00.000-07:00

recipe for a perfect 50 cent friday night date:

a bottle of bubbles.

miriam is masterful. the cats are rapt, and i'm amazed, delighted, and producing streams of glinda the good witches.

must remember to bring a bottle of bubbles on the road, if only to visit here again, come back.

hope you're having as good a night.

2001-05-25T21:15:00.000-07:00

okay. this tour is going to rock my world. there are so many exciting adventures ahead.

i know it should all be about the poetry, the poetry, the poetry, but look: i've been promised that i can meet a hairless cat named "yoda" in philadelphia; that i can shoot a handgun in americus, ga; that there's a drag king emceeing our show in montreal; and we can watch fireworks from a rooftop in houston while bands play on july 4.

last time i toured across the country, i got to hold an albino boa in arkansas; we got pulled over by a foxy cop in texas and didn't get a ticket; and thea fell in love. i think this trip is going to be even better.

and who knows what else is in store...!

2001-05-20T10:08:00.000-07:00

this has nothing to do with the tour, but it seems important to mention. saw jewelle gomez and dorothy allison read last night at the victoria theater, at a fundraiser for astrea. they were amazing. and i've seen dorothy allison read before, but nothing like this. it was blistering. amazing. shocking. mindblowing. it was the most stunning performance i've seen in my entire life. the piece was about sex, the fiction of queer community, feeling like an outsider, the sex wars, and the things we need to believe in. my favorite line in the piece had to do with the way(s) she and her lover had sex; to paraphrase: "they say girls don't do this. could we be aliens? maybe we're aliens."

i finally figured it out. i'm an alien.

2001-05-17T12:34:00.000-07:00

it's hard to believe it's almost a month since i posted. blame it on the speed of life, which seems only to accelerate (jaane-- stop this crazy thiiiing!). just found out from eitan that there are no vans for us for rent the weekend we need to get on the road. we'll figure it out. we have to.

in happier news, i just put up the newest version of my website -- let me know what you think!

2001-04-19T20:46:00.000-07:00

so. it's like, 6 a.m. and i've been up since about 3, if i ever got to sleep. there's so much to do between now and june, when we, 5 performance poets with at least six haircolors, take off on tour, for something like 35 shows in 45 days in a complete lap around the country. are we insane? you bet.

there are press releases to send out, photos to dupe, dates to confirm, that pesky business of making sure we've got somewhere to sleep.

i signed off on the galleys of "why things burn" this weekend. the book looks good to go. of course, i could obsess about to comma or not to comma forever, so it's not really done, just abandoned. can't wait to see it in print, although i'm completely terrified.