Cemeteries and Slam Poets

Day 9

Monday, May 23

Back to class this morning, but Diana and I went through a whole bag of coffee in a week. When you go through a whole bag of coffee in a week, it means two things: 1) that you need coffee to function properly and 2) because you need coffee to function properly, without coffee already in your system, it is unlikely that you would make it to the supermarche in the morning to buy more. Long story longer, we have no coffee, so we are slugs today. But we have workshop with Marilyn Hacker, and this is a big deal. Marilyn Hacker is important in the literary field, but, as she said, "who gives a fuck if someone's won a Guggenheim. I would want to know if they have three Saint Bernards." That is why she's the famous poet. We got to discuss her newest book, Desesperanto, with her, and she gave us tips on writing in form (sonnet, sestina, villanelle, etc.) After class, a few of us trudged up a thousand vertical stairs through Monmartre towards Musee de la Vie Romantique (Museum of Romantic Life). But. We have forgotten that most museums are closed on Mondays, including this one.

The crew at Coupe du Monde

So we reverted to our old favorite plan: pick up some wine from the market. We took our loot to the cemetery in Monmartre...I realize this is the second cemetery we've sought out, but its not bizarre to go there in Paris. They're parks, and there are famous people to visit. We wanted to see Degas's grave, and Balzac's and Damas's. And we thought we'd be hauntingly inspired for our impending sonnets. So, wine in hand, we found a monumental back corner grave and borrowed its steps and surrounding patio for our purposes.  

Our class was due to meet again at an Open Mic night at an art bar off Rue Villette, so we took the train to the 11th arrondisment and found a park to sit and write in. Instead of writing, we found some new friends, and we started to realize our public writing endeavors have thus far not been so productive. But, although we love our apartment, we don't want to miss a minute of life in this city by being cooped up inside. Reconciling class work with PARIS has been a struggle, but I do not care. 

Yes, its okay to write in a bar here

We found our reading, and snagged a spot. The place filled up! I'd say I was surprised, but once again--Paris is just like that. It can pack a house full of chic bohemians from all over the world to read their writing or play their music. The event ran smoothly because each performer was allotted five minutes on stage; any longer and the guy (who was wearing a top hat and converse) would pinch you with his long claw-on-a-stick toy I remember having in my toy box once upon a time. Half our class got up there and read, but I'll be on the docket next week...the MCs loved us so much that he asked us to come back and perform again and contribute to their website. 

By the time we left it was 11pm and we'd been moving around all day. My bed was very welcome when I finally climbed into it. 

I love the street art

Day 9. Voila.