An Awful Case of Paggrosis

Yesterday, I made another attempt at finding a decent venue at which I can share my writing via spoken word. I shudder to say it, but I went to an open mic. Let me be clear; I have a love/hate relationship with open mic events. On the one hand, they are pretty much the only live event where I can share my written work and hear the work of others. On the other hand, I can't stand going to these events because of the awful poetry and monotone deliveries of literary works.

Now, I'm not the most talented writer. In fact, I struggle with dense verbosity, but I am not going to subject the masses with stop-and-go-robot-voiced poetry about "trumpets in a woman's thighs" or "heart-swept washes of sadness." If I'm gonna use a wild metaphor or flowery verbiage, then I'm putting a story behind it. That's just how I write.

What's more I have a great deal of trouble with poetry in general. I just can't stand the cadence. It throws me off. It offends good storytelling, which is my passion. And I know this is a preference. And I know some poets and lovers of poetry would enjoy having my nuts in a sling for this rant, but I ask for forgiveness by making it clear that I cannot deny some poetry is actually quite good. I'm a stout fan of Edna St. Vincent Millay and Pablo Neruda - what grace, poise and conviction! I believe talented poets, however, come as infrequently as the small number of people who can wear an eyebrow piercing and still look good; the rest of us who try to pull off that piercing, including me, would just look like we had a shiny booger stuck above our eye. In the end, I suppose this metaphor can also be coupled with the questionable talents of writers practicing other mediums. Again, this includes me.

At any rate, I was struck in several ways by the open mic last night. I'm pleased to have participated, but only five people shared work and all of them were men. Are women not writing? I'd really love to hear some gals' work. I tire easily of all the "sword-fighting" with the microphone stand. By the time the third fella got up on stage 70% of the clientele had bolted for the door. The cafe was empty, save for me, five other dudes and my supportive girlfriend, who was very gracious to sit with me through the entire word slaughter.

This picture I've painted seems to be an example of a Seattle disease, and I fear it has spread to other cities. I hope it hasn't. And for the sake of Seattle, I hope it's a curable disease. For lack of a better term I will call this Seattle disease "paggrosis," which is explained thusly:   "Paggro" is a term I heard recently from my dear friend, Libby, who may or may not have coined it. Libby used the word paggro to describe the passive- aggressive nature of Seattlelites. In varying degrees I'm sure paggrosis exists elsewhere, but it seems to be rampant in Seattle. People in this town just have a funny tendency to say, "Let's have lunch!" or "Let's do some art together!" or "Let's go on a date!" and they DO - ABSOLUTELY - NOTHING. Seattlelites are not known for looking up from their feet and saying hello to strangers. And such is in stark contrast to the experiences I've had in larger metropolises like New York City or in European cities.

Now, don't get me wrong, Seattle is a wonderful town. It has many stellar attributes such as it's proximity to the mountains, it's pleasant balance between nature and concrete, it's magnificent coffee, it's bike lanes and so on. Seattle even has amazing, talented and productive people living in it. I can list several folks of this ilk, but consider this gal,  Amy-Ellen Flatchestedmama Trefsger, whom I met ten years ago at an open mic event.  Flatchestedmama is the quintessential antithesis of paggrosis.

We need more folks in Seattle to offer up more of a cure for paggrosis, a viral effort to fight it. This town needs an aggressive treatment schedule to give rise to more shared lunches, to more works of art and (for the love of loving) more dating!

In the end, taking my own advice, I will return to the aforementioned awful open mic. Yes, I will return, armed with more writing and hopefully with a band of talented friends, acquaintances and strangers to share their own works. I am guilty of putting forth this anti-paggro effort only in varying degrees of tenacity. I admit it. I should have been frothing at the mouth with such positive effort continually and with greater courage.

And even though frothing at the mouth looks like a disease, in this case - it's the cure.