You can take the girl out of the Midwest....

...but you can't take the Midwest out of the girl.

Tonight I attended a reading and dinner where Kevin Young was the guest of honor. I was unfamiliar with Young's work, but after hearing him, I am definitely a fan and plan to buy his latest collection, Dear Darkness, as soon as possible.

Because I'm swamped with end-of-semester assignments, I am going to simply post a poem of his that I particularly enjoy, as a native of St. Louis, Missouri. I am in the process of writing a poem about my hometown -- it's currently titled "Autumn in St. Louis County"and I started writing it when I was home for Thanksgiving. Young's poem resonated with me and hopefully will positively influence my attempt to capture, as Nelly would say, "the Lou."

"Ode to the Midwest" by Kevin Young

The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
—Bob Dylan

I want to be doused

in cheese

& fried. I want

to wander

the aisles, my heart's

supermarket stocked high

as cholesterol. I want to die

wearing a sweatsuit—

I want to live

forever in a Christmas sweater,

a teddy bear nursing

off the front. I want to write

a check in the express lane.

I want to scrape

my driveway clean

myself, early, before

anyone's awake—

that'll put em to shame—

I want to see what the sun

sees before it tells

the snow to go. I want to be

the only black person I know.

I want to throw

out my back & not

complain about it.

I wanta drive

two blocks. Why walk—

I want love, n stuff—

I want to cut

my sutures myself.

I want to jog

down to the river

& make it my bed—

I want to walk

its muddy banks

& make me a withdrawal.

I tried jumping in,

found it frozen—

I'll go home, I guess,

to my rooms where the moon

changes & shines

like television.

Observations from behind the bar

Recently, my job description at Hong Kong Harvard has expanded from just cocktail waitressing to cocktail waitressing and bartending. On either Friday or Saturday, I get to tend the "baby bar" on the third floor, which serves only beer and shots. It's a totally different perspective, to be behind the bar -- there is more respect and less groping. And I have a great view of the dance floor, which if you've been to my place of work, know is highly entertaining.

Hong Kong reminds me a lot of Toad's in New Haven: it's a cheapish college bar where you can do tequila shots and drink Bud Light while (almost) shamelessly dancing to hip hop and Britney. I myself only went to Toad's three times in four years, and once was to see a They Might Be Giants concert. But the other two times, I did what you're supposed to do in such establishments -- binge-drank like it was going out of style and made a fool of myself on the dance floor. And watching people at Hong Kong has confirmed my worst fears of how ridiculous I must have looked.

My new vantage point offers phenomenal people-watching opportunities. FYI, how you interact with your bartender says more about you than you realize.

Some observations:

Girls tip better than guys

Everyone told me that being a cute girl would be my golden ticket and to wear low-cut shirts to get more tips, but I've found that unless the girlfriend/date is watching, some guys don't tip appropriately. What is appropriate? $1 a drink. Period. Pretty easy. Even with beer, guys. I'm getting paid $2.65/hr, people.

Yes, I am making conversation with you because it's my job. Most likely I do not want your phone number

I mean, I won't be offended if you try to give it to me. I'll probably be flattered. But don't wait by the phone, dude.

Don't be a creeper on the dance floor

Last night, there was this shady dude whose signature move was to sneak up and stealthily freak-dance on unsuspecting girls. When they would finally notice, they would get this horrified look on their faces and run away. I saw this guy do this literally 400 times over the course of two hours. Don't be this guy.

You know how you think you look really fierce? This is what you actually look like:


What you order does say a lot about you

When you ask if I can make you a Sex On The Beach, I am judging you. Especially since there's a big sign over my bar that says I only serve beer.

It's Saturday and I'll be back at Hong Kong again tonight....so drink responsibly! Your bartender is watching you.

5 things I am thankful for

On the actual day designated for giving thanks, I often find myself more concerned with how whatever vegetable side dish I'm preparing for dinner will turn out than reflecting on what I should be thankful for. This year was no exception, and while I'm happy to report that my brussel sprouts and carrots were a big hit, I'm still a little behind in my thanks-giving. So here we go, 4 days late.

First, the obvious:

1.
Although it's been said many times, many ways-- THANK GOD OR WHOM/WHATEVER IS UP THERE THAT HE WON.

2. Puppies!

My family in St. Louis got a new puppy as an early Christmas present for my youngest brother, J.T. The puppy is a mini Dachshund named Luigi (nickname: Louie). Watch this clip of him learning how to climb down stairs and your heart will melt a little:




On a related note, my friend Karl sent me this photo, which he described as "a snapshot of heaven."

So as to not offend Maude, the fat calico with whom I share my bed, I probably should expand this to be thankful for animals or pets in general. I owe that to her, especially since I tied a green-and-red striped holiday bow to her collar today. She is not pleased.

3. Friends, both silver and gold

I've made some new grad school friends in the past few months in Boston, and I'm very thankful for that since my little studio can get quite lonely. But I'm also thankful to still be in touch with friends from high school, college, and the years I spent in NYC after college. I'm actually a hard person to fall out of touch with -- I'm pretty tenacious about maintaining my friendships. Once you befriend me, you're stuck with me.

4. The Groon

My Dad told me an anecdote this weekend about his salad days at the University of Arizona. Apparently, he once got caught cheating on a pop quiz in an Anthropology course. One of the questions asked about the prosimian primates that represent the bridge between two classifications of mammals. The correct answer is lemur, but my dad hadn't done the reading and decided to copy off another student. Both my dad and this other idiot wrote down the same nonexistent creature: the Groon. I imagine the Groon looks something like this:

The Groon represents my bizarro family. Fractured and odd as we are, we have some good times together.

5. You!

Yes, you. I know it's cheesy of me to say, but seriously, thanks for reading. It's been six months since I started this blog and I'm still getting the hang of it, so I am very appreciative that anyone reads it at all. So...thanks. And keep reading, please.

This song's so hot it's stolen

I discovered this song, "My Dick" by Mickey Avalon, while watching Harold and Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo Bay. And as a poet, I have to give Avalon props for some of the rhymes here-- truly sophisticated stuff. To watch the music video (with audio!), click here.

Soon I will write at length about Thanksgiving, reflecting on this year and what I'm thankful for, but since I don't have time to go into that now and it's been over a week since my last post, I'll just give you this small gift.

You're welcome.

Mickey Avalon widget by 6L & Daxii