I started performing my spoken word during open mics at Mochalux, a coffee shop an hour away from where I lived. I only went to one of them alone and it was one of my favorite performances there.
After a couple of months of it I was sick of the whole scene. But I hated my room mate more, so I went every weekend to get out of the apartment. On the way there I questioned what I was still getting out of going. The only people who were listening to me were my friends and that defeated the purpose of trying to expand my audience.
There was, however, the rare occasion when I locked eyes with a stranger as I'm tearing out their heart and I'd see the recognition. It might only be a moment, but in it we are feeling the same thing because of words I had written. It's the only time I feel like I make an actual connection with another human being. I don't want to talk to them after I'm offstage, though. I'm happy with that one moment, because it alone is more than any of us could ask for.
Back on track.
So, like I said, I went to this gig by myself. This was a very big deal, because I'd never performed without the crutch of a familiar face. Halfway there, I chickened out. I decided I wasn't going to perform, because it'd be good for me to see it from the audience's perspective. Yeah, that works.
When I got there, I grabbed a few pages from my passenger seat without looking at them before heading up to the door.
I entered the coffee shop and said hi to Paul, the guy who runs the open mic.
"Hey, Paul."
"Davlin, how's it goin? You wanna sign up?"
"Nah, I just came here to watch tonight."
"Oh, um...ok."
And that was that.
I ordered my White Chocolate Mocha, made small pleasantries with some of the other regulars and took a seat at a table by myself. The only other people in the place were a couple of snooty looking older women, and a mother with her two daughters. A few the regulars performed, two of which were favorites. What I liked about that night, was no one changed their acts because of the other people in the venue. They cursed and talked about dirty things with children ten feet in front of them. The snooty bitches scoffed and said that the performers should be ashamed of themselves. When their sets were over I applauded them with great fervor. It reminded me why I love open mics.
Snooty bitch #1 went up and sang a christian/opera diddy. When it was finally over, I realized why I hated open mics. I was also shocked that they stayed to see the rest of the show.
Then one of the little girls was called up. She brought her boombox and pressed play. A catchy pop song that everyone despises, but I can't remember the name of, came on and this little girl sang along with it. She danced a routine you know she was rehearsing in the mirror right before she came. When it was over, she hit stop, picked up her boombox and skipped off the stage. I fucking hated this little girl. Why? Hold up, it's coming.
"And now, Davlin. Hey, Davlin? Are you gonna do something for us?" Paul called from the stage.
I looked at the pages I had taken from my passenger seat. The only thing I had to follow the cutest goddamned thing any of us had ever seen was "Let's Get Political". (Posted here on 12/08 Read it before proceeding to get the full effect of the story)
"Alright, fuck it!" I shouted from the back of the shop as I stood up to head to the stage. By the time I got there the mother had already dragged her daughters out the door.
I stood on the stage and scanned the crowd. When I speak in front of an audience, I look every person there in the eyes at least once. This makes them feel that at some point I'm talking to them.
"I wasn't planning on performing tonight, but since I'm up here I'm going to have a little bit of fun. I wrote this piece last year on Election Day and I think it still holds up. Alright, enough foreplay. Let's get political."
The second I finished the title I zeroed in on snooty bitch #1 who made me listen to her shitty song. This particular piece is written from the perspective of the apathetic youth of today. It's bitter, angry and everything else that keeps Bill O'Reilly up at night. I spat all that anger out into this woman's face. I put so much feeling in the piece's one F bomb, she recoiled from its impact. Her eyes widened with fear, because she knew the anti-Christ was here and he was me. (not really, though. I'm just as good an actor as she is conservative)The only sound in the establishment, other than my voice, was Paul, somewhere to my left, laughing his ass off. Everyone else stared at me, aghast
When I was finished, I hopped offstage and left.
That night reminded me why I love open mics. You can say whatever you want and people have to listen, because you have a microphone.
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