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Valentine's Massacre II: This time, it's personal

Some of you may remember last year's Valentine's Day Observable event at The Royale. We came, we drank, we performed the lyrics of our favorite love and love-to-hate-you songs, and some that didn't fit in any category, yet were still damned funny. Wildfire! That one still slays me.

This year, we're at it again, this time with two rock star emcees: Julie Dill and Byron Kerman. Here's how we're working it:

FIRST
Decide on a perfect song, one that fully encompasses your personal philosophy on love, relationships, sex, or the commercial empire that governs all things affectionate in these United States. Keep in mind, ODB's "Hey Dirtay (Baby I Got Your Money)" was pulled off with stellar skillz last year, so you'll want to pick something fresh this go round.

SECOND
E-mail that bad boy to observable.events@gmail.com , along with the creative and unique name you'd like to use on stage, and get put on "the list." This is a crucial step, folks, as we have to know what song you're performing by February 12th or you might not get to play with us. Don't ask us twelve times to put you on the list to do "D!ck in a Box" like you did last year. We reserve the right to refuse a song if it's lame. And it's first come, first served, so we won't be hearing two performances of "Hit Me Baby One More Time" this year.

THIRD
Practice, practice, practice. In front of a mirror, in front of your dog, in front of your grandma. Hone your skillz so you don't forget what you're doing after two or three beers. We want to see a precision operation, no matter what song you choose. Bring your words with you!

FINALLY
Show up the night of and make yourself known to be present, by whatever spectacle necessary. Show starts at 6:00. We'll do three blocks of 30 minute performances, on the hour through nine o'clock. The last block will be reserved for walk ins. Each set will be followed by sweet, sweet music. Performers will be assigned to the block of their choosing as long as spots are available. Come early and there will be plenty of time to eat, drink and be merry.

Alright, start raiding your mixed CDs for the perfect song, and keep checking back here for more details as they become available.

As you were.

lineup for Hungry Young Poets 2007

Here is the lineup for this summer's HYP series. For the uninitiated, HYP is a reading series dedicated to local (within 100 mile radius) young (under 30) poets. This is the last year Amy Debrecht will be the director, as she is passing the baton to me after this season. Celebrate her years of dedication to the project, check out some up-and-coming poetic talent, and have a beer with us at Duff's. Even when the poems stink, it's still fun.

Also, if reading for a free-wheeling, razzle-dazzle-lite series sounds like something you'd like to try, e-mail me a few sample poems and a bio and I'll see about possibly securing you a segment of spotlight next summer.

Wuv, Twoo Wuv.

Once upon a time, waaaay back over a week ago, we gathered in the warmly lit, romantic atmosphere of the Royale. We threw back a couple 'weizens and watched as our friends, colleagues and total strangers performed the lyrics to their favorite love ballads and kiss offs. We laughed, we cheered, we plotzed. We nosed our beer, we ran to the potty, and we had a wonderful time.

Believe it or not, people actually showed up!

The highlights:
We cried a little on the inside for Kim H.'s stunning portrayal of Michael Martin Murphy's "Wildfire"

We nosed our beers at Byron's epic interpretation of Jermaine Stewart's "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off."

We giggled profusely at Lynn's charming and adorable performance of Sesame Street's Ernie singing "I Want to Hold Your Ear."

There wasn't a dry seat in the house after Tina's stalker set, which she dedicated to American astronaut Lisa Nowak.

I cried like a little girl with a skinned knee and shit when young David Brinker brought Lynn back for an encore with a duet of Streisand's "You Don't Bring Me Flowers."

I think it was Janet's version of the kicked to the curb anthem "Santeria" that was weirdly synched up with the Ren and Stimpy episode playing in the bar.

So many memories. Who could forget the three dramatic costume changes of "The Vagabond"? Sasha's tribute to Sir Mixalot's "Baby Got Back," or Craig's off-color nailing of Led Zeppelin's "Dina-moe-hum."

But my personal favorite performance of the evening, hands down, was diminutive, blonde-haired Emily, holding her cell phone at arm's length, reading the lyrics to Old Dirty Bastard's, "Baby I Got Your Money." Hey. Dirtay. You did a damned fine job.

To the weird guy who wanted us to look up the lyrics to "Dick in a Box," uhh... And to everyone I didn't mention, it wasn't 'cause you sucked, it was 'cause I had two beers and you know what that does to my memory.

Here, have some pictures:

 

Happy Valentine's Day!

Meet us tonight at The Royale for a decadent experience not to be matched elsewhere in the city.
You will put on your red dress, favorite bathrobe, lucky drawers, whatev. You will pick out your favorite 90's sentimental pop song, 80's hair band love ballad, 70's kiss-off Gloria Gaynor tune, or whatever pleases you. You will bring the lyrics on a sheet of paper. You will sign up at 7:30 at the Royale (3132 S. Kingshighway), and at 8:00, you will lay down those lyrics like the saddest, most drama-filled, angst-ridden thing you've ever read to an audience.  And they will *love* you for it. It's fun. It's quirky. It's free.

And when you go to work on Thursday morning and that gal who sits in the cube next to you starts shoving her stupid Vermont Teddy Bear in your face, she'll see that gleam in your eye and she'll notice. She'll interrogate you at length, and you can tell her, no, you did not sit home on Valentine's Day crying into a bowl of Cheetos while you watched C.O.P.S., Thank You Very Much! You chose to go out to The Royale to read the lyrics to The Thong Song and that has made all the difference.

That is all.

Tonight

Your choice.

You can go to the sedate, albeit interesting, I'm sure, Martha Collins reading at Wash U (hey, I bought the book last night, just started reading it, and nothing pleases my midwestern heart more than to hear someone pronounce "Cairo, Illinois")

or...

You can have some beers and heckle the Ten Jens at the Schlafly Bottleworks with me and everyone else. Come on, one Jen is Eric Woods' sister for cryin' out loud. Show some love!

They both start at eight, so you have to make a decision.

Follow your heart, for it may slip into a Victoria Secret and get busted for peepin' if you don't keep a close lookout.

Love, Exciting and New

I'm more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants sort of gal, but for all you planners, here's the fudge on St. Valentine's Day, Wednesday, February 14, 2007.

Love is Observable: Observable Readings Does Valentine's Day @ the Royale, 8:00 p.m.

I've been through diamonds, I've been through minks, I've been through it all: love stinks. Are you single? Cynical? Both? Come congregate with your kind at The Royale on the night of Valentine's Day, with your Delilah-style hostess, Julie Dill. Sign up to vent your spleen on stage, or just watch as the loved and the lost render their favorite love songs, torch tunes, and kiss offs into performance poetry. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll drink beer and cocktails. And you'll forget all about what's-his-name. Come because you're angry, come because you're bored, but most of all, because love is like a cloud, it holds a lot of rain, oooh, love hurts.

Seriously, though the catharsis is more complete if you pick a gutwrencher, your song doesn't have to be a downer. We'll need a change-up after one of us polishes off her Debbie Gibson hat and lays her pain on the stage.

I'm stopping by Costco for a case of Kleenex. 

Tell your friends! Even better, bring them and don't tell them what it is! And who really needs an excuse to go the Royale?? Good food, great drinks, and superb company. You are welcome.

KDHX-cellent

We caught the last 20 minutes of Literature for the Halibut last night on KDHX, your community radio station. Stefene Russell does such a great job on the air. It's so much fun hearing friends' voices on the radio. I wish we'd caught the program earlier because I don't know who was reading the fiction segment and it was driving me crazy. She sounded so familiar to me. Community radio is crazy important to me and my people (see the linkable peeps to the left). Rob Levy kept me company during two years of Wednesday night drives home from SIU Edwardsville, and Monday mornings just wouldn't be the same without the bagpipery I've grown to know and love. Today at 2:00, I'll be glued to my radio for Sherry Danger's Dangerous Curves.

I even have a $75 William Shatner CD to attest to my love of community radio. As much as I hate to be pushy, You should give them money, too! If nobody clicks that link and gives money to KDHX in the next hour, I'm gonna club this baby seal. That's right. I'm gonna club this seal to make a better deal. You know I'll do it, to, 'cause I'm crazy!

Rockin'

In a world where nobody pays attention to poetry, a brave and simple man happened upon a gimmick. It all started with Three Stephanies (or two Stephanies and a Stefene)...

Stephanie Young, Stephanie McKenzie and Stefene Russell.

...then came last year's sensational, brilliant, and critically acclaimed, The Five Aarons Reading.

McCollough, Tieger, Belz, Kunin and Kiely

...and this Thursday (January Fourth [happy birthday, Mom!]), Aaron Belz and his Observable Readings series presents "Rockin' Robins," the feel good reading of the month. Robyn Schiff makes a return appearance on a St. Louis stage (readings@the contemporary with Julie Dill and Nick Twemlow), while Robin Behn and Robin Schaer come to us for the very first time. Farm Team opens with an acoustic set prior to the poetry. The event starts at 8:00 at the Schlafly Bottleworks. Come on, it's Thursday. What else could you possibly have to do? Besides, you don't want to leap into the 10 Jens without a Rockin' Robins warm-up.

[update]

Robin Behn was wow. I can't wait until she comes back to St. Louis. I've never been so enraptured at a poetry reading as I was Thursday night. Her reading reminded me of interpretive dancer Suzanne Muldowney, with whom NPR did an interview around last Halloween, on her performance art portrayal of Vlad the Impaler. Robin Behn wasn't nearly as insane different, but as engaging and absorbingly fascinating.

Mule Tide

This is the only known picture of Beth Ketcher (far left) almost standing still. Some StudioSTL foks accept their Kick Ass award.

The Atomic Cowboy was split in half for the 3rd Annual Kick Ass Awards. There were $1 bottles of "The Champagne of Beers" to celebrate the occasion. I was more intrigued by Leslie's classy Stoli Razz and Tonic, but I feared any alcohol would immediately put me into a coma. We had the long, comfy orange vinyl sofa to ourselves, but we offered the other end to various friends as they mingled. We don't know the little girl with the daring cammo and cowboy boots ensemble, but she did, indeed, kick ass.

Laine took her sneak-attack pictures all night, only getting up to get the picture of the stunning half karate-kicking man, half rear end of donkey trophies.

We were surrounded by the underground St. Louis elite, and it was definitely funky. I'm an idiot and didn't realize until Tom Crone said it, that Steve Ewing was/is the lead singer of The Urge. Duh.

Karen Duffy looked fantastic in her sparkly jeans and faboo haircut, and both Laine and I vowed to be her when we are her age. Scott Emanuel's partner Ed Reggi sported the most awesome anime facial hair I've ever seen on a human being. He was sitting with the infamous Joan Lipkin, who's met me several times at parties and readings, but instantly forgets who I am. And that's, okay.  K. Curtis Lyle stunned the audience with a performance of one of his poems for his girlfriend's anniversary present. Leslie's date and I were mouthing, "your uranium ass," for a solid ten minutes after he finished.

Okay, last night, the Non Prophet Theatre Company took home a Kick Ass Award, and they were decidedly not kick ass. Either I was too sober, or they were too not funny, but the only time I laughed during their set was when, after a gag they thought was funny, they would wait a full 30 seconds for their laughs and never get them. Call me a fuddy duddy if you will, but there is a time and place for everything, folks, and a civic award ceremony is not the time for Granny fetishes and blue language. I work blue, too, but I scan the crowd for children first.  I also stop if nobody's laughing, but maybe that's just me. They reminded me of an ill-rehearsed drag king troupe.

Stefene and Andrea did great jobs, but the best speaker of the night was probably Mr. Crone. His giving the crowd in back the business for having full-blown party-volume conversations during the ceremony was hi-larious. And his realization that he said "dick" five times directly in front of someone's eight year old, right after scolding the NPT Co's filthy whore mouths was comedy gold.