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POETRY NIGHT
When Alan Ginsberg died, Nick got together a poetry reading and party to commemorate his passing. I personally didn't know a damn thing about the man.
This was the first night that April ever came over, and she read us some of her work. I do not normally enjoy hearing people read their lame attempts at poetry, but this young girl was very different. Her poetry is wonderful. As she read, her voice sped up and slowed down, rose and softened... she emphasized her words with hand gestures and facial expressions. She often spoke in an odd tempo that had you hanging at every pause, waiting for her to complete the phrase, but without a trace of forced awkwardness.
Nick had something up his sleeve... he gifted Amy with a framed copy of 'Where She Stares', a poem he was compelled to write after seeing her as she stood on the porch.
So here Rob and I were with everyone reading poetry, reading their own work or something they loved, being creatively expressive, and we didn't have a damn thing to say, nada to contribute. Neither of us is a poet. However, I had something quirky that I'd made up in an email to Mike, a back-and-forth dialogue between a mad scientist and his assistant, and we quickly ran through it a couple of times. We came out on the back porch and performed it as a skit. You can read it yourself and imagine what it was like. :)