Concerning 'Yammer' and the inherent contradictions of poetry open mics

"Yammer" was an open mic here in Chicago that ran for an unusually long time - almost five years, every Wednesday in the back room of Joyblue, a nightclub at the corner of Southport and Irving Park Road, hosted by Lisa Hemminger. Yammer was one of the first open mics I read at here in Chicago, and was also one of the only places I still read after my "retirement" from the poetry scene in spring 2001. I have very contradictory emotions concerning the time I spent at that open mic; I thought the best way to celebrate its ending (on December 18, 2002) was to honestly and humorously address the contradictions inherent both at Yammer and, really, all poetry open mics no matter where you are.

I had some of the best performance experiences of my life in the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights. I had some of the worst performance experiences in my life in the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights. I met several of my old girlfriends in that room, and several of my old girlfriends broke up with me in that room. I drank more Rolling Rocks, smoked more pot, sniffed more cocaine and ate more mushrooms in the back room of Joyblue than in any other physical space on this planet. I made friendships there that will last me the rest of my life, and I made enemies there that will last me the rest of my life. I had dozens of one-night-stands because of events in the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights. I got slapped in the face dozens of times because of events in the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights. I saw performers there who made me want to swoon in ecstasy, and performers who made me want to scream in agony. I saw a lot of bullshit in the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights. (Pause) I saw a lot of bullshit in the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights.

I saw people who were famous and people who should be famous, artists and assholes, writers and fighters, straight, gay, bi and "well, tonight I'll be whatever you want me to be." I've had drinks bought for me, fists swung at me, cocks sucked for me, drugs handed to me, books traded with me, and many, many, many, many, many, many, MANY poems read to me in the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights. I've toasted the name "Lisa Hemminger" many times, I've cursed the name "Lisa Hemminger" many times, I've mispronounced the name "Lisa Hemminger" every single fucking time I've said it out loud. I love the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights. I hate the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights. I will miss the back room of Joyblue on Wednesday nights.

Copyright 2002, Jason Pettus. All rights reserved.