The word for what happens when poets appreciate your poem, but the judges hate it? Robbery.
The word for what happens when a poet completely nails her poem? Killing.
The Seattle Youth Team word for something they really like? Filthy.
With these things in mind, see if you can decode some of the things that were said to me after tonight's bout:
"You KILLED!"
"Damn, that Israel sh*t was FILTHY!"
"It was the best writing in the bout. We'll work on your performance when you get back to New York, and send you off to Seattle ready to KILL."
"...Dane, you got ROBBED."
Yeah, so the judges kind of hated it. Nobody could figure out what they liked! It took until the very last poet, a pipsqueak of a 19-year old from middle-of-nowhere Canada. She did a triumphant piece about being a quirky writer in a small town, and triumph killed.
Meanwhile, Emily Kagan Trenchard, (wife of Geoff Jason Kagan Trenchard, for those paying attention) who generously gave me two pep talks before each round in the bout, pulled me aside after the bout to tell me that she was going to coach me HARD in performance before I left for Seattle. I couldn't possibly be more grateful for the offer, and will be taking her up on it as soon as we get back. The best part, though? What she said after she offered the coaching:
"Just tell them, Dane, when they're writhing under your boots, demanding to know where you come from, tell them: New York LouderARTS. Tell them you're one of us."
Now that's filthy.
2 comments:
Your're the best, and the people your spending time with think so too!
How much better can it get....
As a competitive person, I got shit talking at an early age. But I think it just took a poet to show me what sportsmanship is.
Sometimes in your posts I love poets as, much as you do. If it weren't for that whole getting on stage thing, maybe I'd even be willing to join the fold.
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