Just a Reminder

Poetry Party at The Manor this Saturday the 28th, around 8:00.

Bring some stuff you wrote, or some stuff other people wrote that you happen to dig. We'll read it, drink a little, laugh a little, and if you'll permit, we'll do it to the mad music of my man Charles Mingus.

For those of you who think this is stupid, first of all, fuck you, and second of all, this is the weekend before the arrival of the 22nd year in the life of the Grza, son of Ross the Defender of Law, cousin of John the Slayer, uncle of Grendel the Monster, step-monster to Angelina the Adopter of Disadvantaged Youth, who ironically will play Grendel's mother in the upcoming movie rendition of Beowulf, all of which is surely cause for celebration. If you can't get your party slippers on for National Poetry Month, you should be able to sport your Sunday's Best for this landmark occasion in Grza/Grendel history.

Bust out the Carlo Rossi and the free verse. No need to rehearse. It's a poetry party.


Hollingsworth J. McTubbins said...


since you like writing so much,
tonight, there's an afterparty for this:

*8==> {/}

the party will be comprised of weird looking old people who get drunk and talk big-worded bullshit. fun. right?

Dent Burntrap said...

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symme...try?

Anna Nym said...

See, I thought you wanted me to read Donne for you and avoid Blake at all costs. Seems you've changed your mind. For you, dear friend, it's the most frequently anthologized poem in the English language.

Could he who made the lamb make thee?

Anna Nym said...

Well, the poetry party has come and gone, and it was a compromise. We had plenty of awesome poetry and lots of snappy applause, but the party element didn't quite take off. Nate had a paper to finish, so he and Jenny were no-shows, Aaron had to work, Eric had a show to attend so he left around 10, Tiffany and Dan had to leave a little before midnight, Grant and I were in bed by two, and the remainder of our seven poetry partiers, Cole and Thomas, who incidentally had no poems (but they both winged it well), kept the torch lit by the powers of beer and Rocky 4 until 5am. I think there may be a lesson to glean here: Poetry and Party, though they alliterate nicely, do not want to be combined. If you plan to keep your party on, leave the poetry at the Open Mic and rent a copy of Rocky 4.

Dent Burntrap said...

Its all Blake's fault you know.