JAVA MONKEY REVISITED: It's taken me a day or so to collect my thoughts to write about my feature spot at Java Monkey Speaks on Sunday night. The place was packed...I'm guessing 75 to 100 people. This was the "home team," so to speak, and the last proper Atlanta gig for Slow To Burn and it did not disappoint. I did a few poems from the book, a new one and a couple "greatest hits"... Sex In My Parents' House and Why I Want to Be Pam Grier. You gotta give the people what they want. I had people coming up (and Kodac even mentioned it during my intro) asking for Sex... and Pam Grier. That's both weird and gratifying that people remember your work. Thanks to all my friends and Java family for supporting me.

Okay, so that's all fabulous, but something else happened that so totally pissed me off and unnerved me that had I been Kodac, I would have gone ape shit. Kodac is much more of a class act and gentleman to throw someone out, but I would have. And I know, I's totally wrong to rip on some poor slob, but just hang with me here.

Soooo...this kid (I don't know how old he was...hell he could have been 30 like that creepy Andy Milonakis from MTV who looks 12) swept into Java Monkey about 7:30 with his guitar case, backpack, amp and a stack of spiral bound notebooks. He got right up on stage and started plugging all his shit in, drinking some kind of throat-coat, stacking shit was just a big production. Meanwhile, Kodac was trying to set up the Java Monkey speakers, mic, etc. to get read for the open mic. This kid finally got off the stage after packing up all his shit in the back corner of the stage, but then before the show he kept coming back onstage and getting notebooks, and moving his guitar case, looking for picks, etc. Everyone was like...who the fuck is this guy?

The show started at 8 and got off to a good start...great poets reading and lots of energy in the room. About half hour or so into the night, Kodac finally called this kid up. I leaned over to Robin (read the account of the evening at her'll see I'm not alone) and said, this guy better be fucking Dylan or Hendrix after all the running around and hogging the stage. Well...he wasn't. He plucked the same four or five chords for five minutes, over-amped, so you couldn't really hear what he was mumbling. For the life of me, I can't recall a single damn word he said. At the end, he either forgot the words or realized people were giving him the get off the fucking stage look, so he started trying to hit these power chords and windmilling like he was Eddie Van Halen. After some tepid clapping, Kodac got up and barred any further "plugging in" at future Java Monkey Speaks. The kid started yelling some unintelligible insults, got all his shit and left.

Later in the evening, while someone is at the mic, he was out on the street like some kind of busker. And at the end of the evening, he was wandering up and down the street playing the guitar like he was in his own private video shoot. Ok, here's the kicker...he was wearing a t-shirt that read "Support Local Music: Sleep With A Musician." I'd cut my dick off first. I swear to god if he ever comes back to Java, I'm going to get into a fist fight with him.

Whew...rant over! Yesterday and today has been all about the Java Monkey Speaks Anthology Vol. 2, which goes to the printer tomorrow. It looks FABULOUS! I proofed the galley last night, and have been back and forth with the publisher (the great Mary Alice Cantrell). I'll post up more about in the next day or so and the impressive table of contents.


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