Uncle Fester Reads Poetry

I went to a poetry reading today.  Again.  You see, I live with a poet who publishes a literary magazine and he goes to readings all the time.  This one included him as one of the presenters.  So I went.

I admit it.  I hate going to these things.  I always have.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love the arts.  I love theatre.  I love musical performance.  I absolutely love the stage.  I love being ON the stage.  I do not like poetry readings.  There.  I said it.  I like his and I go to the important readings or at least those that he is reading at.  And I try to sit in the back because I usually don’t pay much attention.  I can’t.  There.  More honesty.

He will be the first to admit that there are some really lousy poets out there and even more lousy readers of their own poetry.  I will get all glassy eyed, kind of trance like and then I don’t hear the poet and forget to clap.  So I sit in the back.  I will bring along something to read which I know is bad manners.  I am told that it’s okay to jot something down on paper if you feel inspired.  So I will bring pad and pen and write my own stuff; and pretend to listen.  In the back of the room of course.

Today’s reading was put together by a cartoon character.  I kid you not.  I will say the poetry was very good; by some of the best poets out there.  But I couldn’t get past this host.  He was a drawing and I had to figure out what cartoon he came from.  THAT was my focus this afternoon.  I was convinced I was not the only one to think this.

I wracked my brain the entire reading, trying to figure out who he actually was.  Vito was his name; perfect for a cartoon, right?  He even acted like a cartoon.  He read poetry while he spun around.  He read poetry off of Styrofoam plates, throwing each into the audience as he read through fifteen or so plates.  Who does this if not a Looney Tunes character!  His voice sounded like Sylvester’s sufferin’ succotash.

And then it hit me. He was a cross between Uncle Fester and Gru, from Despicable Me.  He even had a tuft of hair on the side of his shaved head.  Kind of a soul patch but diagonal on the side of the back of his head.  Was this missed in shaving this morning?  Or is this his signature?  Didn’t he have enough signatures to him?  Chet Baker tee shirt tucked into black shorts that were hiked high on his beach ball belly; kind of a mom jean look.  Uncle Fester in shorts.

I wonder if he would have melted if dunked into a vat of paint thinner.  These are the thoughts that went through my head.  Okay, okay, this essay came out of the reading.  Yes, I do get inspired at times at these events.  More truths.   Poetry can be very dignified and well done.  I do admit that.  But please, please, choose your host carefully if you don’t want a review like this one.

And now I must go watch Despicable Me.  Have a good evening….