Yesterday evening I did a 15-minute reading at Apartment 58’s open mic night #PLAYTIME, and it was my scariest performance ever. I mean I was scared, there was nothing threatening about my performance. I was on really early and didn’t stay for the last few acts but I think I was the only one there reading poetry – it was mostly a music night, and as soon as I began reading my first poem, a few people in the front got up and left. Also at music nights it’s considered less of a crime to talk over performers and was certainly done here, but I kept going and got my act together. It went down quite well, except for my necrophilia joke (which always gets a big laugh at the Poetry Café!) only caused a mildly awkward silence. The music acts were a joy to watch anyway, and I certainly recommed this as a music night (maybe a character-building challenge for charismatic performance poets.) I particularly liked Lauren Rich‘s song about drunken texts. We’ve all been there… Apartment 58 is also a great venue, sofas and all, and a good cocktail bar.
But guess what. I’m supposed to have my Baudelaire translation ready for Friday and I’m not even halfway through. I’ll be meeting some French-speakers at the Poetry Café tonight, hope they’ll be able to help me out. If all else fails I’ll just cover James McGowan’s translations. And then bore everyone with a thematic analysis of necrophilia in Les fleurs du mal. Good plan.
Celebration of French Poetry in Translation will take place at the Poetry Café this Friday (Aug 16th) at 7.30pm, open mic spots available, sign up on the night.