Q. so Paulmonster, you're the busiest and least organized major figure in the Monster world today. Why poems?
A. Well, my young friend, I'll tell you. So I was out in Vermont, thinking about Life and Women and Alcohol, and I realized that there's more to this whole Monster enterprise than just play-acting. Why, golly, if I had a dime for all the things that this Monster ought to be doing, I'd, well, I would be spending my winters in Costa Rica, sunning myself in layers of baby oil, watching endangered baby tortoises amble along in the pristine sand. But instead, here I am, busting my butt to make rent and do worthwhile Theatre Art.
So I said to myself, I said, "Paulmonster, if there's anyone who can bust you out of this two-bit half-baked under-educated boondoggle you've got going on here, that anyone must be You. Or, me. That is, it's Me I'm talking about, not you.
Q. Right. I was a little confused there.
A. Sorry.
Q. 'S okay.
A. So I said to myself, I said, "Paulmonster, I know you should be, like, going to college or something, but here you are with your variegated and multifaceted world-view and a rich little pot of diverse skills and experiences. Surely there's something you could do with all that."
Q. And that's when you started writing--
A. Now, not so fast son, it's not that simple. Even though I haven't gone to college, I still had to figure some shit out, see the world, get myself some book-learning. You're interviewing a certified Wildland Firefighter and Class C Sawyer, here, you know.
Q. Gosh!
A. And a trained EMT-Basic in the State of Oregon.
Q. You must get all the chicks then.
A. You would think.
Q. And all this on top of the Theatre...?
A. Oh yes. Trained at the American Conservatory Theatre in San Francisco. About 20 productions in the last four years, all together.
Q. By the way, you were great in "The Drawer Boy" at Vermont Stage Company. Those shorts!
A. [flushing] yeah, I know, thanks, that was pretty tough...
Q. And when you came out all bloody with the straw in your hair, I LAUGHED...
A. Uh, right.
Q. And in "Blue" back in Poland, how did you manage that amazingly real-looking nosebleed during the Bear-death sequence?
A. Well, you see I couldn't actually see--
Q. Right! I was wondering, since that mask was on the top of your head and you had to stare at the ground while wrestling that one guy and then when you kept tripping on your bear-coat--
A. Uhh--
Q. Man that must have been something, I'd never seen so much blood before, and it looked so real--
A. So I started writing poems--
Q. --oh, right, yeah--
A. --so I started writing poems because I hadn't written any in a long while and when I started this blog it was because I missed the fiery creative crucible of writing and in the process of writing letters (which I do all the time) I realized that there are certain things that the poetic voice can say which the letter voice, and sometimes even the blog voice, can't say, at least not properly.
But really I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I just want to get good at it, whatever it is. So that's why.
5 comments:
I like the idea of both the book AND the title! This was a v funny post, very brilliant, yes.
Hey Canuck, whom are you calling a weirdo??? I spent most of my only-child time building battleships out of Lego AS WELL! Though maybe you meant the large head? And thus I discover why the thick thighs (sound's KILLING me, do something!), the need to not to topple his slight 5'3'' Filippino frame over. A-ha! [And I do apologise, I only do metric, I know my height and that's it, have NO CLUE what I'm talking about][And v weird phrasing but you know, sleep and all, feel v foreigner today]
May we all survice Christmas. Amen. And you two, the snow and the cold, while we're asking.
Oh hell, you ARE not seriously going to do that are you??? I LOVE night games! And I kick ass at paintball. And NOW I want a life. And I blame YOU.
Oh, yes. But I tend to think bear spray is for sissies, but it makes my cousin feel better, so...
Also, if you want to talk about short Filipinos with large heads, well I'm afraid my cousin J is pretty much the poster-boy for that. Why, I remember when he shaved his head, it was like having a full moon at chest-level whenever you walked beside him.
By the way, when I get north of the Medicine Line this weekend, I think me and my cousin ought to teach ourselves the All-Blacks' Haka--you're right on, Lioness, it's pretty fucking cool. Just the thing for all those nice unsuspecting Canadian neighbors.
When I was in AmeriCorps--I think I mentioned this in a post on your blog but I'm not sure--I stood crowd control for the US Women's Rugby Championships in San Diego... good Lord, that was awesome. I was a squidgy puddle of lovesick goo the whole time. These bronze amazon titanesses would lope onto the field, run their laps, turn mortal men into fragments of bleached stone, that sort of thing.
Cousin, you know as well as I how much of my love of poetry is your fault. I hope you like maple syrup, Gold Leader.
And YOU, Lioness--
Happy holidays, be safe, soak up the loving, and keep on rocking in the free world. And try to get some sleep from time to time, yes? But don't let that keep you from posting.
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