it's amazing how newsworthy an altercation with the law can become. juicy, eh? i read vadim's and david's account of my run-in with the law and i thought, "gee, it's amazing how the law can ruin a trip." my mother is upset that this news has been put on the web; it seems like my tragedy has been placed into the media because it is scintillating and sexy. i think she is right.

so for those of you that don't care about poetry and care more about chisme, here's the story from the horse's mouth....i was driving in iowa. late at night. the folks were watching there's something about mary on david's computer. i was driving late at night, and saw only one truck in my rear view. i turn to look in my side view, and 10 seconds later, boom. a copy is pulling me over. the crew was kinda startled. i was upset, and knew exactly what to do: put my hands on the steering wheel and smile. shit, what are you going to do in iowa at 2am? pull out your "i am a machismo revolutionary" bullshit and talk shit to the cop in the middle of fucking nowhere? i don't think so. the cop has so much power over you, and i think the rest of this tale will back up this idea.

i am not saying i wasn't scared. i was. fear creeps up, but all i was thinking was stay alive. also, when the police officer approached the window and told me he caught me at 95mph, i was just hoping not to go to jail.

the police officer asked for my license plate. then he asked me to step out of the car. "o boy, i'm done for, " i thought. he then asked me to have a talk with him at his car, but before he did that he had me face the side railing of the freeway, and he said, "face that way (towards the railing), and don't look at me. take everything out of your pockets." i obliged him. i had nothing to hide, but his instructions, demeanor were very strange. he began to frisk me, which was very annoying because i was wearing short shorts. if i was hiding a weapon he would have seen it. i tried to hand him things out of my pocket, but he continued his power tactics, "Don't look at me," he said. it was totally humiliating as trucks whiz by at 85-90 mph. there otta be a law.

i was then told to get in his car. at that point i thought i was going to be arrested, kicked, beaten, etc. police have been given too much power in our society all in the name of the law. if this person was not a halfway decent human being, he could have done all sorts of evil, sinister things.

when we got here at 4:30 am, the drowsy smiles of Marlon and Anida Esguerra greeted us. their warm hugs made the conclusion of the drive worth it. They had cots and beds and a fully stocked refrigerator already to go. their warmth and hospitality is as warm as Sonny and Linda (from LA.) was. this place feels like home. the vibes, the conversation kept us up til almost 5a.

we woke up in the afternoon, groggy. confused. we finally settled on driving around, checking the city out., we went into Logan square, went down and saw the polish sausage markets down on Milwaukee. we went to wicker park and checked out the scene. after much debate, we ended up at the National Slam Museum for a mixer. I met Marc Smith, and he immediately started talking about our event in Pilsen (in the southside). He was totally excited by the event, and wished us luck. "People have been trying to get people from the southside to come to the northside for years, " he informed me, "Hope you can do it. after marc smith gave his "blessing", it foreshadowed how special this event was going to be.

we arrived around 7:30 at Calles y Suenos. paintings by Ferreyra strewed the walls. the color and the lighting inside were dark and the place was HOT. the tongues were there. we were there. Mad Bar team were there. a crowd? no, not at 8:00p. with the humidity the heat. then the words of marc smith hit me: people in the north side, don't go to the south and vice-versa. would we really just be reading for ourselves.

at 8pm, the folks from Lantern came in and the crowd started to build. dennis kim and i started the open mic. the room was electric. by the time we got on stage, calles y suenos was packed. an extra fan had to be put on so that people would feel more comfortable. the whole point of the event was to inform people about the slam, and to let them know that their presence was needed for the events. the people of all nationalities, creeds were in the house, and this event became more than an informational rally for the slam; it became a dialogue. a dialogue of fire and corazon. when Aaron Carter started, and the packed house cheered him on, it was evident the open mic was not just going to be an aside. he busted out with his poem about that the struggle is not as easy, then other locals like marty from the Morrigan, like anachron, host of dandelion patch and the open mic at the Mad Bar, dope poet rey, and jub from lantern all set the tone for the evening. then, tyehimba jess closed up with a poem that made the crow go nuts and totally hit home for me. it was about what you should do when pulled over by the cops. He ends with the line: "Stay alive. stay alive. stay alive." the crowd was not concerning itselves with the heat inside even though both dennis and i were sweating on stage. was it the heat or the poets, i'll never know.

then, performance group and our wonderful hosts here in Chicago, i was born with two tongues came up. i had seen them earlier in foster city and knew that they would build off of the open mic performers' energy. they did so much more. they did three group pieces that combined verbal music, amazing imagery, and profound ideas about identity, their rhythm and unity rocked the house and had cas and melinda watching at the edge of their seats. we all looked at each other and thought, "we have to go after that?"

i would write the details about our performance, but i'll save that for later. or maybe cas or melinda or others would like to elaborate, but i will say this: there was so much love in the room that i was so glad we did this performance before the slam. people were actually listening and the shadow of competition was no where to be found. we knew we had to build off of the tongues. and when the Chicago-Mad Bar team came on, i was worried folks would leave because of the heat in the middle of our set, but they stayed. they endured stanky humidity, and still gave the same energy and love for the Mad Bar team, who impressed the hell out of us. they came up one by one and just unloaded wonderful poem after wonderful poem. tara, mars, dennis and marlon all had diverse styles and had us saying to ourselves: "tomorrow is going to be tough." as anachron said later at dinner at Seven Treasures in Chicago's Chinatown, "The slam could only hope to do what you all did tonight. It never intended to have performances with heart...it (the slam) was more about entertainment."

right now, it's the day after our slam event. i have alot to write about, but i have to go to the Latino Open Mic and The AIDS open Mic. Both events mean a lot to me because its a time to go out and share ideas about people and with people I care about. for those that want to know, we got second place. nuyorican got first, and Mad Bar got third. i have a lot of opinions, especially that Mad Bar kicked so much ass. they flowed like Oakland and SF on great nights, and put up so much variety. but i think this image will sum up last night the best. The Nuyorican team walked up each round with black t-shirts with the words "NUYORICAN POETS CAFE." The last round women continually hissed at the poet from the Nuyorican because of his reference to his desire to inflict violence on women when he is upset with them. He still got nothing less than 9.1. Then, Melinda went up and flipped it with her Service Industry poem. t-shirts 10, Heart 8.9. say more later, peace to y'all