I’ve always been a lover of words. I have a small addiction to books and an uncontrollable urge to smell the pages of them when they are brand new. Not so much when they are used because you never really know where a used book has been but chances are pretty good someone has taken it to the shitter with them. So I only inhale the aroma of a used book store and not the book itself, but I digress. I’ve always loved the English language. I love other languages too, but learning how to say “I want your tongue in my mouth” and “Your mama is a shit eating whore” in Spanish doesn’t quite count as love of language. Or maybe it does because I do love saying those things way more than “hola, como estas?”
I was writing poetry before fiction ever crossed my mind. When I was in elementary school I was copying other people’s poems and was fascinated with the way words rhymed. When I got in to high school I started writing my own. And they were awful but heartfelt. In college I learned that I could not only draw a picture with my words in people’s minds but I could make verbal designs on paper to show my emotions. I could play with short stanzas and long. I could write choppy sentences or elaborate ones that didn’t give the reader a chance to catch his breath even though he was reading silently. And it’s not that I was gifted. It was just the magic of the poem.
I have always loved to watch spoken word poetry. Whether showcased in a movie or walking down the street, I was drawn into it and immediately in love. And I would see people do things with words that would make me feel things I had never felt. Or see things I would have never seen. Or understand things I would have never caught on to. I wanted to be a poet. But anxiety only allows you to do so many things and being awesome at poetry probably is not one of them especially when you fear standing in front of people. People you don’t know. People who might not get you. People who might not even realize that you are more scared than you’ve ever been in your life just being in front of them.
But on this journey of self-discovery that I unintentionally embarked on a couple years ago, I have found myself more disappointed in not doing what I love so much more than being scared to do it. I’ve made jokes for so long that I’ll be like Poe and be famous after I’m dead. People will look through my drawers and find my words strewn about and they will read them and wonder why I wasn’t shouting them from the tops of buildings for the world to enjoy. And I’ll tell you why. Because I’m a chicken shit. And I’m scared to death of change and rejection and a million other things but you can’t have a fuck it attitude like I have recently acquired and still be scared to be the person you’ve been hiding from the world.
So with that being said. I just wanted you , my friends, to know that there will be poems. Awesome, amazing slam poems. Which means, there will be videos and I will be swallowing my fears and finding any and every place locally to perform and thanks to a very encouraging friend, I’m done being a chicken shit and I’m ready to have this fling with poetry, though it’s kind of like finally getting that one night with the one you’ve been thinking about since the day you met them. And even though it’s scary, you know it’s totally going to be worth it. And you, dear reader, get to watch this love unfold. Welcome to my crazy life. Thanks for being here.