Had a great chat last night with my neighbor – and dear, dear friend – Tony Brown.

I’ve always had this view of my role in the spoken word/writing/poetry communities that I am privy and privileged to be a part of, that my style of work and my stage persona (if you will) is one of Spoken Word 101. I am a beginner’s guide to poetry and spoken word. I am a gateway drug into the world of poetry slam and performance poetry.

I hear often from fans, new and old, that my body of work was their first introduction to spoken word/poetry slam. Thanks to videos online and the sheer amount of mp3s that have circulated, along with my web presence and outlets like Indiefeed and Slam Idol, I have had a lot of promotion. I understand the accessibility of what I write and say. I want it to be that way. I want people of all ages and locales to be able to get even the tiniest grasp of what I need to convey, no matter the language of their ears.

Sometimes I ponder the value of my more serious work. I am a comedian who feels very detached from the stand-up comedy world. I am a comic who lacks a routine. I think there are a lot of us who’ve adhered to and been adopted by the poetry and spoken word universe. We’re lucky. I think there are still more out there who could use this environment and grow from it.

I think that I have been so wrapped up in “living the experience of being a poet” that I’ve forgotten my roots in humor. I will put aside ideas for funny poems in order to dwell on serious, heart wrenching, and sad writings, when my greatest strengths are in the funny work. It’s easy for me. It’s the one thing I can think of I can say that about.

Tony Brown really made me think about all of this. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since our conversation. It was so helpful and complimentary. While I sit and wonder what it takes to write the most in depth poetry possible, wondering how Mojgani does what he does, how McKibbens does what she does, Khary Jackson, Shira Erlichman, Brian Ellis, and all of the Browns, they may wonder how writers like me do what we do. Maybe.

I have to own what I do and do it better than I did yesterday. I started doing this in 1998 because Trenchard and Feff believed in me so much that they wouldn’t settle for me doing it socially anymore, that I had to do it all the time. I found a small niche in the San Jose Poetry Slam, then the Bay Area scene and I realized that not only was I welcome to keep on it, but that it was expected.

It’s hard sometimes when I follow a funny poem with something from my guts, and the audience laughs in the assumption that it’s more comedy. It’s a strange feeling, but I have dealt with it hundreds of times.

Tony mentioned the film Stardust Memories by Woody Allen, which I have yet to see, but it is about a filmmaker who wants to be taken seriously for his dramas, but he’s so much better at comedy. People dig his comedy.

Most comedians just want to be seen as artists since what they do is an art to them. I believe this even more now this morning. I am an artist. I am a funny artist and I will own this from now on.

Thanks so much, Tony. So very much.

Love,
McGeefer Sutherland
———
Word to the nerd. No, really.

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This entry was written by Mike McGee, posted on 25 January, 2010 at 3:52 AM, filed under Personal Updates, Randomness, Writing and tagged art, artist, funny, humor. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.