Sunburnt cheeks. Spoken Word’s monday after easter, nobody goes in holidays and everyone comes to the Culture Rapide, producing a particularly charming poetry night, celebrating our founder’s fortieth birthday. Marie Claire Calmus opened as d’habitude, followed by Elisabeth Devlin’s marvellous music, come and taste it if you don’t believe me:
Benjamin Perriello brought us back to the time when Croesus asked to Solon: “Who’s the happiest man alive?” “First Tellus, Second Kleobis and Third Biton. (Trivial Pursuit)
If you want another version of this legend look for Tolstoy’s short story "Croesus and Fate".
The program moves on with Jo, Troy, Trelys Duprè, Kyle Avallone. David Barnes turning 40, deciding to toast with “Let me die a youngman’s death” by Roger McGough. From that moment on, several SWorders answered to his plea, inviting him for shots.
Part II sees Welela’s opening, The Marvellous Duo Marie & James, Gabriel Gorman’s Bland:
“…because the hard it comes, the smarter my lung,
can push air out over my tongue,
and come to conclusions about the re-use of futile verbal music
played through every scene un-amused by abused emotive fusion,
it seems true that collusions with the muse become allusions to empty amusement,
but I refuse that solution on terms of self-improvement,
and so sometimes i feel bland.”
Claire on metro line 14, Patrick Hipp on acoustic guitar, the New Newens’s production starring Lady Ashley and Benjamin P., Hal, Zachary, Peter Brown trying to lay a student Down, and Moe Seager.
Round 3 welcomes Bubu, Roy, Georgina dedicating “Instantes” by Jorge Luis Borges to her 85 years old uncle and maybe to David Barnes:
“Por si no lo saben, de eso está hecha la vida,
sólo de momentos; no te pierdas el ahora.”
moments only, don’t miss this one, now.)
Just the time for Troy to stick his “Tender Buttfinger” in, then Tyler D. Magyar:
“The Seine was meant to have feet dangled over it,
so awake as most of the city’s fast asleep
and these sheets are meant to be tangled up inside,
while we’re awake and the neighbors dream.
These streets are meant to get lost within
And we are awake but they are so asleep
Beautiful agony, beautiful agony,
everything tastes of gold
I’m so awake and I need to sleep”
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