Mindy Nettifee, dinosaurs and the future of a virtual coffee house reading.

Last night, my wife and I logged on to Coffee Cartel (in Redondo Beach) by way of this website:
http://www.blogtv.com/people/diogenesclub which webcasts the Tuesday night poetry reading from roughly 7:30 to after 10:00 p.m.

Mindy Nettifee, last night's featured poet, referred to coffee house readings as "dinosaurs" in her opening remarks. Whether or not one agrees with Mindy, it's clear that attendance for at least some L.A.-area readings aren't what they used to be.

I would hope that the stay-at-home folks who used to be poetry regulars in, say, the 90s and early 00s might tune in to the Redondo Poets reading at the site above each Tuesday night if they wish to be supportive of virtual coffee house poetry.

To be truthful, the sound quality of the webcasts could use some improvement. But it's an opportunity to see the Larry Colker-chosen features and open-mike participants live and in-the-moment.

And that's an experience which should be spared dinosaur-like extinction from audience indifference/nonsupport.

Revised poem LITTLE STEVIE 2.0

LITTLE STEVIE 2.0

Little Stevie just ran over me
with his Hyundai.
Again.

I admired Little Stevie’s earlier poetry
which contained equal parts humor and insight.

I told Little Stevie of my admiration for his work.
Maybe we could be colleagues and/or friends.

Little Stevie responded politely
but he hoped the needy man would Just Go Away.

As the years went by,
I would cringe when Little Stevie
never took a stand
and was eager to defend the
exalted Status Quo of poetry
when they were much more rude and hurtful
to other poets than I’ll ever be.

Little Stevie stayed in control
(control is a big thing with him)
and continued to pray for me to go away.

Once in awhile, Little Stevie would take an interest
in me-but only when I was contrite
or asked him about his idols
Wendy O. Williams, John Cale and Barry Gifford
or if I wrote a poem
that sounded like a poem other poets would write.

Then, I’d ask onstage why Little Stevie would pose for
an expensive vanity photo.
And I’d seethe when he was smirky and flip
towards other poets he considered
maladjusted undertalented vessels of discontent.

But at the same time, I’d be awake at night asking my wife
“What could I do to make Little Stevie respect me?”

And my wife would tell me:
“He doesn’t seem to let too many people get close to him.
Besides, you shouldn’t be surprised
when people aren’t happy to be on the other end
of your critical remarks.”

Once in awhile, there would be a sort of détente
where I’d sincerely wish him well
and he’d seem genuinely happy
and say something sincere to me.

But I couldn’t stop being critical of certain poets.

And he couldn’t stop being maitre'd
to the vanities of the Status Quo
who rarely bothered to attend his weekly reading.

To top it off, Little Stevie’s poetry became less amusing
and interesting than it was in past years.
He decided to coast on his laurels

and milk his winning formula too often.

When I pointed it out,
Little Stevie flew into a controlled rage
and said there was Nothing Wrong
with his poetry.

And, true to his form, he said
he never wanted to see
or hear from me again-
but it was my choice
as to whether or not to comply with his wish.

(This reminded me of the division supervisor
giving a choice between
writing a letter of resignation or
outright termination. )

Little Stevie spent months
telling stories about how he tried
to Help me and all I did in return was
to be irreverent, ungrateful and abusive to him
and his highly talented friends.

Little Stevie sent me a brief e-mail.

He ended it with:
"Anything you say to me now is worthless”.

I made an attempt to apologize For Good
to Little Stevie one night.
He motioned for the venue bouncer.

The bouncer threw me onto the street.

Then Little Stevie got into his Hyundai,
gunned the motor
and
stomped hard on the accelerator.

Little Stevie hates me.
Again.
And it looks like it will never end.

A modest proposal re Long Beach's Lightbulb Mouth reading.

Awhile back, I wrote a poem called I'LL BE YOUR DEAD MAN FOR THE EVENING--inspired in part by not being able to make it past the open-mike section of the Lightbulb Mouth "poetry show" in Long Beach run by Derrick (Write Bloody publisher/entrepreneur) Brown and Mindy Nettiffee each Wednesday.

Here's a thought: As far as Lightbulb is concerned, perhaps the gesture of an open reading should be dropped--and they should concentrate on being a showcase-only venue for friends and nationally-known colleagues. And, if Mindy and Derrick desire a nonpoet-but-still-afficionado audience [as was explained to me backchannel by a supporter of the reading], perhaps they should try print ads in the LA and OC WEEKLY and expand their current base (although that requires money and some risk).

Another random comments entry.

1. Victor "The Rooster From Wooster" Infante is taking votes on his blog to determine a temporary definitive slate of great American poets: http://ocvictor.livejournal.com/855417.html Judging from the list of names I've read, people are submitting poets primarily on the basis of "it's goooooood for yooooouuuuuu" gravitas. At least Jack McCarthy and Brendan Constantine (poets who don't believe quality and a sense of humor are a twain that should never meet) are part of the list. And here's the final list: http://ocvictor.livejournal.com/856408.html
2. Here's a link to the ROLLING STONE article about Stanley McChrystal blowing off, being a tough guy who thinks he's George S. Patton and essentially giving the middle finger to his civilian Commander in Chief: http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/17390/119236 A few minutes ago, I logged on and was only able to read the first page; I don't know if that's on purpose or due to the number of hits it's getting today. [There was a line that Robert Montgomery said to John Wayne in John Ford's THEY WERE EXPENDABLE: "Rusty, who do you think you're working for? Yourself?" ]
3. RIP Lee Sloca--SoCal poet who recently passed away. Sloca was an active presence at Venice CA's Beyond Baroque; guessing that a tribute will eventually appear on Beyond Baroque's Facebook page (can't quite call it a "wall").

Pete Townshend-Give Blood

Pete Townshend - Communicate

When Los Angeles patrons of art and poetry vote with their absence.

Last night, famed artist Rachel Rosenthal appeared at West Hollywood's Book Soup. Just a few people turned up: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rachel_Rosenthal

In my case, I only discovered this because my wife and I were in the store to shop for books. Wondering if Book Soup (which I've aired mixed feelings about in the past) still prints ads for its in-store author appearances in any local media.

Over a week earlier, a poetry reading hosted by Michelle Angellini in Silverlake (which had some rather welcome eclectic multiple-poet bills) had its plug pulled by the venue's owner.

And, like some of the rest of you, I share responsibility by not making time to patronize the latter (irony: I was booked to feature there in September) during its short life.

Time to allude to the cliche about trees falling in forests with no one around to notice.
[UPDATE 6/20/10--Read the sobering news about Ron Dvorkin's long-running reading at Encino's Barnes and Noble being canceled after this month due to the store deeming it a "non-revenue producing" event. I attended (and on occasion read in the open) a few times and can attest to its popularity and the diversity of poets who attended and/or featured. Knowing that Ron, if he decides to continue, will manage to find another San Fernando Valley venue.]

Why I haven't rushed out to big-studio summer movies yet.

Perhaps it's age--and perhaps it's also witnessing coming-attractions trailers. But I haven't been persuaded to invest time and admission money in slavish remakes of either THE A-TEAM (from the once-promising Joe NARC Carnahan) or THE KARATE KID (which at least proves that old showbiz legend Jerry Weintraub--who helped birth the original franchise--is someone you should never bet against).

But the cut-cut-cut-costs and play it safe-safe-safe methodology of the studios (one would think that Jeff Robinov would have been 86ed from Time Warner by now) seem to be biting them in the posterior--with Pixar craftsmanship (although with the recent Pixar tendency towards overlength) and Christopher Nolan imagination likely to be the only real offsets to a likely red-ink corporate moviemaking bottom line this summer.

In terms of the big-release summer films I have seen, here's some random opinionating:
The Cronenberg-esque SPLICE (about two-thirds of an engrossing film) would have been better off being distrubuted by IFC or Magnolia on a specialty theater/pay-per-view platform. For WB to throw it out (in the US) on a 2000-screen basis left it to laughed at by mass audience hyenas who wanted copious amounts of blood and dismemberment and less of a thoughtful update of the time-honored morality play about scientists playing God at their peril.
GET HIM TO THE GREEK was a superior Nicholas Stoller-directed Judd Apatow outing to FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL--with the same crack teamwork of Russell Brand and Jonah Hill. Unfortunately, anything emerging from the Apatow banner has to display a pandering, faux-MORK AND MINDY morality (still remembering Robin Williams being stuck with the what-I've-learned "Mork calling Orson" tags to each episode) that is becoming increasingly awkward with every Apatow-based outing. So, if you haven't seen GREEK already, expect a have-it-every-possible-way approach to the subjects of sex and drug use.
Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe's ROBIN HOOD was stupidly dumped on by mainstream critics who apparently expected Errol Flynn heroics and zest. But the 2010 version had enough action and humor--and fortunately didn't espouse the dourness and nihilism of Richard Lester and James Goldstone's 1976 ROBIN AND MARIAN (which ended with the deaths of the two protagonists). But contemporary critics/reviewers (e.g. the usually astute Karina Longworth) shrieked as if the Scott film was an exact clone of Lester's earlier (and semi-forgotten) outing.