Bumbershoot Open Mic Poetry
Friday, 8:15-10 pm, Starbucks Literary Stage
Suzanne Burns and Jeremy Richards
Sunday, 5-5:45 pm, Starbucks Literary Stage
Gregory Hischak
Monday, 6-7 pm, Starbucks Literary Stage
Bumberslam
Monday, 8:30-10 pm, Starbucks Literary Stage
When it comes to The Stranger's drug-classified Bumbershoot guide, defining spoken word as a substance is tricky. Like birth control, it's unsexy, true, but it's not really interesting. And birth control is taken out of necessity, whereas nobody needs slam poetry--as far as I've seen, it appeals almost exclusively to the bored, the desperate, and the underage. Although it's out of place in the stimulant category (when isn't spoken word out of place?) the activity is better compared to sniffing Wite-Out or huffing spray paint: It's cheap if not free, it's gauche, and it's generally used by high-school kids and miseducated miscreants, but it still gets the job done and provides a slight high. If you're lucky. Also, poetry slams, like inhalants, are best utilized alone--both are social misdeeds that you don't tell your friends about because they would definitely make fun of you. I think of a story that I once heard about a woman who brought her new baby home from the hospital to find the father sprawled on their new couch, his face and the couch both covered in gold spray paint. That guy would've totally dug poetry slams.
But not all of it can be that bad. Open mics are one thing--they're designed to be shitty--but Bumbershoot's poets are carefully auditioned and selected, right? Presumably, they're the cream of the local crop. Unfortunately, faith and conjecture is all I've got--out of this year's entire lineup, I recognized only two names (Jeremy Richards and Gregory Hischak). But fortunately, they're both pretty good.
What makes Jeremy Richards worth your time isn't his writing, exactly. He works the wry-and-brainy angle and he's certainly better at it than most, but Richards has an important advantage over most performance poets--he's also an actor and comedy improviser, which means he's quick to the punch, and makes an actual effort to amuse the crowd. It also means that he's not up there yelling and gesticulating wildly to make up for poise. It's bleak to recommend him not for his qualities but because he lacks the almost genetic flaws of his competitors, but honestly, considering the standard, it makes a world of difference.
The other poet of distinction on the roster is Gregory Hischak, although he's less of a "poet" in my mind than a goddamn genius. Hischak is the ex-impresario behind Farm Pulp, his mind-blowingly elaborate xerographic masterpiece, the zine to end all others. He made about 40 issues before he shut down the press in 2002, addressing such topics as self-eating monsters and Sacajawea's wilderness trysts with Jesus, each issue crammed with all kinds of crazy flaps and foldouts and explicit diagrams of nonsense. They're printed on really nice paper, too. Although Hischak will be reading only as part of Crab Creek Review's writer showcase, I'm still overjoyed--it's like my birthday every time I get to see him perform. Once you've seen Hischak, you take all the Hischak you can get.
If two recommended poets aren't enough, several "poetry events" are also scheduled to feed your hunger. And there is Bumberslam, which seems to be the regular old Seattle Poetry Slam in Bumbershoot clothing. Bumberslam is hosted by Seattle Poetry Slam's nerdily sexy Karen Finneyfrock. There's also an all-girl pussy-power thing and an anti-war thing.
Tragically, the overwhelming bulk of spoken word is, like birth control, horrific and unbearable and makes you want to hide your face in shame, and Bumbershoot's is likely no exception. There are always jewels to be found in the mire, of course, but it's usually not a sound investment to try to find them. You can take your chances, though. And maybe bring along a bottle of Wite-Out, just in case.
