txt at Urban ReThink

Conceptual artist Brian Feldman has one more performance of txt tonight, July 25th at 7pm at Urban ReThink (625 East Central Blvd.). I sat in on the first of three performances to sketch. I have seen txt performed several times before and was entertained every time. For the first time, I signed into the proper Twitter account and was prepared to send Brian a txt during the performance to be read aloud. Brian walked out and sat at the spindly desk waiting for his cell phone to vibrate. He read, "Let's get started with a couple of ground rules." Terry was busy munching on a bag of potato chips. I wrote my first txt, he read, "Rule number 1. No eating!" He shouted it out, pointing at Terry. I placed my phone on the floor and forgot about it as I lost myself in the sketch.

"Thor is wearing a shirt he bought in North Carolina." Terry must have written that, I thought. I looked at my shirt. Funny, I don't remember buying it in North Carolina. Tod Caviness walked in late. "This guy is late," Brian announced. I raised my hopes thinking Tod would offer some literary subtlety to the strange meaningless flow of ideas. As always, the unfiltered thoughts turned to sex. "Raise your hand if you want to have a 3 or 4 way later." "Oh, there are swingers in the room?!" "Rule number 16, if no one laughs I'm going to stand on Thor's shoulders and fart in your face." Who on earth wrote that? I thought. Do I know that person. Do I want to know that person? "Rule number 237. No sex in the champagne room with Thor." What?! I blushed. Alright, who wrote that? More important was it a man or woman? I looked around for a guilty face. Where on earth is the champagne room? I need to go sketch it now."Sex in the champagne room at Hue. See you at 8." Well that answers that question anyway, Hue is a night club. "I would totally rock Thor's hammer." "OK, who mentioned sex with Thor? It wasn't his wife and if she finds you she will scratch your eyes out." "Why is everyone talking about Thor, lets chat about Green Lantern! He is great too!" Thank Odin, the conversation wasn't about me at all. I'm so vain.

Across from me Peter Murphy was sitting next to Colleen Burns. She wore a blue dress. "Hey girl in the blue dress, don't wear a bra next time." I looked up at Colleen her mouth was open, aghast. "Awkward." Brian announced. "Later on I'm going to get down with that lady in the... (my eyes are bad)... The Blue dress!" "My boyfriend is obsessed with the girl in the blue dress." "The girl in the blue dress is taken." Well that settles that, I thought. "Imagine me planking on the lady in the blue dress later. Ha!" Colleen seemed to take all the attention with humor. "I am NEVER wearing a blue dress ever again!"

With no filters, no social niceties, people don't have a need for polite meaningful conversation. The Internet has unleashed an age of unrestricted self-expression and the results are often brash and ugly. Tapping out every thought that pops into our heads isn't art. Having contributed to this performance by tapping out my one tweet, I felt a little dirty. I was complicit in the crime of random expression. This show shocked and amazed me every time I saw it. It is a guilty pleasure. Several evenings later I saw Colleen at another event. She was wearing a blue dress.

Poetry Vending Machine

Analog Artist Digital World

Sometimes a sketch
is all you get
a flashbulb freeze-frame image
at the stop light dams
in the river of rush hour,
the elevator climb,
the go-getters
raising their cell phones in an endless salute.

and meanwhile
down in the grass
with the grace of the snakes,
there are dancers
making angels with no need for snow
singers
following the wispy string of their voice
as the sun pulls it free
there are people
stopping in the street
against all odds
waiting on a cloud
to match that shape of their dreams.

Let the management speak
of community,
hammer those ends with gavels
mark off the moments,
The deadline of the eye is stricter still.

Sometimes a sketch
is all you get
and if you look in the right place,
all you need.

-Tod Caviness

Speakeasy at Will's Pub

Tod Cavinass hosts a poets open mic every Tuesday night after 9PM at Will's Pub located at 1040 North Mills Avenue. When I entered the bar I noticed one lone poet writing from his bar stool perch. Tod warned me that the event never starts on time. This evening there was some sort of community swap meet or market filling the room so I wandered around and looked at the old LPs, crafts and art. They started to break down their tables and by 10PM the market was gone. Tod worked diligently to fill the room with chairs and tables and soon the room was full of poets.
On the walls of the room were dark sinister paintings featuring skulls and nudity. Tod took to the stage and introduced the first poets. Two of the poets in this sketch, the one with the blue cap and the one with the orange shirt were a poet team.The poet with the ball cap took to the stage and periodically the fellow in the orange shirt would shout out "Rewind"from the back of the audience, and the poet on stage would back up his poem then continue forward again. Their energetic delivery was inspiring.
The young girl on the far left in the sketch had the amazing ability to bend herself up like a pretzel. She is disjointed and can fold her arms in inhuman ways. I was still sketching and didn't notice her as she showed friends the first time and I was pleased when she was willing to demonstrate for me a second time.I will have to get a sketch of her some day if she is able to hold one of those uncomfortable looking poses.
A writer from the Orlando weekly read a poem about how he infected his work computer when he was researching a story about how some people surf porn sites while at work. So in the name of research he looked up some of these sites. One of them gave his computer a virus . The tech had to inform his boss that a malicious porn site was to blame.