Poems, performances, photography, productions, stories, prose, music, journalism, band, songwriting, videos - surviving despite the odds. Is it all true? Yeah. Maybe. Sometimes. Mostly. Creation is transformative. I collaborate with amazing artists and musicians, primarily with my band, Puma Perl and Friends. Books available as well: knuckle tattoos, Belinda and Her Friends, Ruby True, Retrograde, Birthdays Before and After. Photo, Len DeLessio
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
DDAY AT THE BOWERY!!!!
THE FALL CLASSIC
POETRY! PERFORMANCE!
PAGEANTRY!
& MORE!
DATE: Thursday, October 13, 2011, 8-9:30
Location: Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery (bet Houston & Bleecker)
New York, New York
Hosted by the one and only BIG MIKE, produced by BIG MIKE, PUMA PERL, and FAUX MAUX!
...FEATURING THE AMAZING
AIMEE HERMAN is a performative poet who has been featured at many NYC venues and reading series events, including Wow Cafe Theater, Sidewalk Cafe, Public Assembly, Happy Ending Lounge, Sideshow: Queer Lit Carnival, Hyper Gender, and In the Flesh erotic salon. She’s been published in anthologies such as Best Women’s Erotica 2010 (Cleis Press), Nice Girls, Naughty Sex (Seal), hell strung and crooked (Uphook Press), and Focus on the Fabulous: Colorado GLBT Writers. Aimee can be found sucking up subway steam, searching for flames big enough to burn bras and unnecessary labels, and is highly turned on by black ink pilot pens, peanut butter, and half-sour pickles.
KELLI STEVENS KANE - Kelli's poetry appears in journals including The Mom Egg, Kweli Journal, and Mythium Literary Journal. She's a Cave CanemFellow, and an alum of the Callaloo, VONA, and Hurston/Wright poetry workshops. She's the author of a poetry manuscript, and an oral history about Pittsburgh's Hill District. She is a member of the Steel City Slam Team, representing Pittsburgh, PA at the 2011 National Poetry Slam. For more info visit: www.kellistevenskane.com
AND YOUR DDAY TEAM:
PUMA PERL –Poet/Writer/Performance Artist/Producer/Curator and co-creator of DDAY Productions and this event - author of the recently released book "knuckle tattoos," the award winning chapbook "Belinda and Her Friends," widely published in journals and anthologies, internationally!
http://pumaperl.blogspot.com/
FAUX MAUX. Lifetime performance artist/actress/ playwright and writer, she took her one-woman play, Lil' Red and few burlesque acts to Holland and Scotland. Now, she does the occasional stand-up and continues to create plays, perform outragous acts of art, and creative havoc here in New York City.
BIG MIKE is the author of 2 books, 81 Pounds and Sibling Rivalry and appears in the anthology One Millimeter, all published by Pretty Pollution Press. Big Mike is known for his performance art and was awarded Best Neptune in the 2004 Mermaid Parade in Coney Island.
Plus Special Surprise Guests!
Join us at the historic Bowery Poetry Club!
OPEN MIC SIGN-UP 7:45!
$3 Admission, and for that price you can afford a drink!
http://www.bowerypoetry.com/
PHOTO COURTESY OF SHELL SHEDDYSee More
Labels:
Bowery Poetry Club,
DDAY PRODUCTIONS
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Stalkers
I have had stalkers all my life. Some were annoying, and some were a bit flattering; a small percentage have been threatening or downright dangerous. Only one has been persistent for close to ten years and, somehow, involved me in this dance.
I was with this guy from March, 2001 through June, 2002. It began impulsively and ended badly. No surprise. It was the kind of ending where "staying friends" was not an option and I would never choose a friend who behaved as crassly and dishonestly as this guy did, anyway. He did not take the break-up well and convinced himself he was trying to win me back by calling endlessly, I suppose, and that I was close-minded and unreasonable. One of the most intelligent things that I have ever done, relationship-wise, was that I NEVER returned to him or encouraged him - NO hot make-up sex, no meetings to talk it over - one trip to empty my apartment of the last of his belongings so he had no excuse, and that was the only interaction I participated in.
He called constantly, sent text messages, showed up at my job, and once he brought a huge bouquet of pink roses to a place he knew I'd be. He never threatened me and had never been physically violent, so I was not afraid of him, just profoundly irritated by his refusal to respect my wishes to end contact completely. He'd call on holidays and attempted to "stay friends" with people he'd met through me - this didn't work because everyone saw through him, and most of them hadn't liked him all that well in the first place.
Eventually, he'd drop off, usually because he wound up in a treatment center or jail (his own doing - I never involved the police.)
I would forget about him, and sooner or later, tell the story to a friend, or mention my ex-stalker in the context of a conversation. If I said his name out loud, he'd call within 24 hours. It took me a while to believe this. Distance didn't matter, either time or mile-wise. He called me in Los Angeles, San Diego, and Puerto Rico after various people asked me if he was still bothering me and I said "No, I think he's given up."
And he would seem to give up for long periods of time and then, suddenly, text messages would pour in or he'd call on the cellphone. Over the years, I left the job and moved out of the area that he'd known me to live in, but I didn't want to change my cell phone number, partially because I have hundreds of contacts, but also out of fear that he'd track me down another way and learn where I lived, or stumble across me on the Internet. (He knew I was a writer, but I wasn't active on any scene during that period, and he doesn't know anything about my books or performances - not yet.)
About 5 years ago, I mentioned his name and ran into him the next day. Now, the stakes were raised. Naturally, he started calling. A Buddhist friend suggested I try various exercises in which I wish him well and let him go and let go of my anger as well. I did this for a week and then I went to Bed, BAth and Beyond to buy a shower gift and he was standing in the doorway. Sometime after that he went on an insane text message campaign, alternately preaching and lecturing me in 5-part messages on a daily basis. I contrived a way to automatically answer every message and have it seem that it was coming from an attorney. After a couple of replies, he must have believed it and never called again. This was about four years ago. I never said his name again until last week.
I was talking to my male companion about stalking and hurricanes - he has many stalkers, but he likes it that way, tells them where he'll be, and flirts enough to keep hope alive - anyway, I said the guy's name. And then I said fuck. I shouldn't have done that.
Today I went to Coney Island, used the bathroom at Nathan's, exited on my way to buy a hot dog, and he was standing there, holding two hot dogs. Like he was waiting for me. It was the ten-year anniversary of the night he stole my car and the exact place we were standing was the place where we first kissed. I don't know what my part is in all this, but I was clear in my desire to move as far away from him as quickly as possible.
I responded to his greeting politely and excused myself, bought the hot dog on the Boardwalk and circled back to my car, avoiding him. I think you can block cell phone numbers now - the only problem was that he'd use a lot of different numbers.
This was a weirdly fucked-up day, even the weather behaved bizarrely. Makes me want to hide.
I was with this guy from March, 2001 through June, 2002. It began impulsively and ended badly. No surprise. It was the kind of ending where "staying friends" was not an option and I would never choose a friend who behaved as crassly and dishonestly as this guy did, anyway. He did not take the break-up well and convinced himself he was trying to win me back by calling endlessly, I suppose, and that I was close-minded and unreasonable. One of the most intelligent things that I have ever done, relationship-wise, was that I NEVER returned to him or encouraged him - NO hot make-up sex, no meetings to talk it over - one trip to empty my apartment of the last of his belongings so he had no excuse, and that was the only interaction I participated in.
He called constantly, sent text messages, showed up at my job, and once he brought a huge bouquet of pink roses to a place he knew I'd be. He never threatened me and had never been physically violent, so I was not afraid of him, just profoundly irritated by his refusal to respect my wishes to end contact completely. He'd call on holidays and attempted to "stay friends" with people he'd met through me - this didn't work because everyone saw through him, and most of them hadn't liked him all that well in the first place.
Eventually, he'd drop off, usually because he wound up in a treatment center or jail (his own doing - I never involved the police.)
I would forget about him, and sooner or later, tell the story to a friend, or mention my ex-stalker in the context of a conversation. If I said his name out loud, he'd call within 24 hours. It took me a while to believe this. Distance didn't matter, either time or mile-wise. He called me in Los Angeles, San Diego, and Puerto Rico after various people asked me if he was still bothering me and I said "No, I think he's given up."
And he would seem to give up for long periods of time and then, suddenly, text messages would pour in or he'd call on the cellphone. Over the years, I left the job and moved out of the area that he'd known me to live in, but I didn't want to change my cell phone number, partially because I have hundreds of contacts, but also out of fear that he'd track me down another way and learn where I lived, or stumble across me on the Internet. (He knew I was a writer, but I wasn't active on any scene during that period, and he doesn't know anything about my books or performances - not yet.)
About 5 years ago, I mentioned his name and ran into him the next day. Now, the stakes were raised. Naturally, he started calling. A Buddhist friend suggested I try various exercises in which I wish him well and let him go and let go of my anger as well. I did this for a week and then I went to Bed, BAth and Beyond to buy a shower gift and he was standing in the doorway. Sometime after that he went on an insane text message campaign, alternately preaching and lecturing me in 5-part messages on a daily basis. I contrived a way to automatically answer every message and have it seem that it was coming from an attorney. After a couple of replies, he must have believed it and never called again. This was about four years ago. I never said his name again until last week.
I was talking to my male companion about stalking and hurricanes - he has many stalkers, but he likes it that way, tells them where he'll be, and flirts enough to keep hope alive - anyway, I said the guy's name. And then I said fuck. I shouldn't have done that.
Today I went to Coney Island, used the bathroom at Nathan's, exited on my way to buy a hot dog, and he was standing there, holding two hot dogs. Like he was waiting for me. It was the ten-year anniversary of the night he stole my car and the exact place we were standing was the place where we first kissed. I don't know what my part is in all this, but I was clear in my desire to move as far away from him as quickly as possible.
I responded to his greeting politely and excused myself, bought the hot dog on the Boardwalk and circled back to my car, avoiding him. I think you can block cell phone numbers now - the only problem was that he'd use a lot of different numbers.
This was a weirdly fucked-up day, even the weather behaved bizarrely. Makes me want to hide.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Photograph Poem #2: NY MOON
A random photo
Moon over 9th street
So beautiful, it almost made you cry
but you rolled out quicker
than a two o’clock high tide
I started taking my own photos,
leaning out the window
nightgown slipping off
morning shoulder
Soft lens shots
lovelier than the first
NY moon
Late on a Saturday night
talking to a friend
I’m an idiot, I told him
I hate myself
I was thinking of the pictures I take
when I lean out the window
and if anyone would believe
it wasn’t suicide
if I fellI’ll probably live till I’m ninety,
as punishment, I concluded.
Luckily, he’s a hollowed-out hatchet,
perfect for suicidal conversations
and an emotionless fuck.
Labor Day morning, I lean
out the window, black straps
slipping, photographing
the 6 AM sky.
A different man sits on the couch,
watching The Final Report,
a documentary about Jim Jones
and his Koolade madness.
Very carefully,
I finish my shots,
secure the camera,
and return to the living.
© puma perl, 9/5/11
POEMS IN RESPONSE TO PHOTOS: AFTER THE LAST BEACH DAY
The green-eyed man left the garden
Abraham talks to the waves
Seagulls wait patiently,
staring down the rocks
A girl dances alone,
hair coiled like shells
Behind dark glasses
I crave cigarettes,
anger, sugar, drugs
Revenge
Soon, doors will lock
in 5:00 darkness
Summer destroyed
and forgotten
I carry my chair
like a surfboard,
unbalanced
My mother
called me “Dropsy”
You call me nothing
Abraham and the green-eyed man
are gone, promises are sand-storms,
my lips are scarred but unsealed
With nothing to lose, I drive home
© puma perl, 9/2/11
Labels:
Coney Island,
Photography,
Poetry
A SEPTMEMBER TO REMEMBER!
Thursday, September 15 · 8:00pm - 9:30pm
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Location Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery (bet Houston & Bleecker)
New York, New York
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Created By Puma Perl
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DDAY PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS A SEPTEMBER TO REMEMBER!POETRY, PERFORMANCE & MORE!
Hosted by the one and only BIG MIKE, produced by BIG MIKE, PUMA PERL, and FAUX MAUX!
... FEATURING THE AMAZING:
CORRINA BAIN - A genderqueer writer-performer, he has worked at a rape crisis hotline, a detox ward, an abortion clinic, and as a volunteer educator responding to the HIV/AIDS crisis in Mozambique. A former member of multiple poetry slam teams, he is currently part of the staff of the louderARTS project. He lives in Brooklyn.
JANI ROSE - A poet, activist, curator and performer who was born in Spanish Harlem and raised in the Bronx. She began writing poetry at the age of 7. She is a product of Sylvia Plath and Method Man, Poe & Julia De Burgos. As a Fellow & part of the leadership of the Acentos Writers' Workshops she takes to the the stage and page to share her love of art & words, survival of the psyche, motherhood, life, love and the Nuyorican experience. She loves roses, chocolate covered almonds, dragonflies & Chanel No. 5. To find out more visit musingsandscribbles.com
MIRIAM STANLEY - She's has been published in numerous anthologies in the US and Israel. She has performed inboth countries. Her books “Not to be Believed” and “Get Over It” were published by Rogue Scholars Press.
AND YOUR DDAY TEAM:
PUMA PERL –Poet/Writer/Performance Artist/Producer/Curator and co-creator of DDAY Productions and this event - author of the recently released book "knuckle tattoos," the award winning chapbook "Belinda and Her Friends," widely published in journals and anthologies, internationally!
http://pumaperl.blogspot.com/
FAUX MAUX. Lifetime performance artist/actress/ playwright and writer, she took her one-woman play, Lil' Red and few burlesque acts to Holland and Scotland. Now, she does the occasional stand-up and continues to create plays, perform outragous acts of art, and creative havoc here in New York City.
BIG MIKE is the author of 2 books, 81 Pounds and Sibling Rivalry and appears in the anthology One Millimeter, all published by Pretty Pollution Press. Big Mike is known for his performance art and was awarded Best Neptune in the 2004 Mermaid Parade in Coney Island.
Join us at the historic Bowery Poetry Club!
OPEN MIC SIGN-UP 7:45!
$3 Admission, and for that price you can afford a drink!
http://www.bowerypoetry.co
Labels:
Bowery Poetry Club,
performance,
Poetry
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