Poetry reading Wodin's day evening at Galileo's in the Paseo

The paseo has long been the Mecca for the very few minority artists, poets, creative thinkers, avant garde and according to 2/3 of the voting population of this brain drained state "intellectual communists". It has been a long time since I've read poetry to an audience, but much prefer this audience to the low IQ audiences of the past where some jokes would fly over their heads (the one about Oedipus jumping off the cliffs of the Acropolis screaming, " Woe is me. I'm a mother fucker!" or especially any jokes about utopia in a redneck bar.) I was not belittling the diminutive bartender.!

I hung out there last night with many of the copies of various essays from the website debating about which ones to read after gaining courage from gulping down the delicious deep brown liquid from James Joyce's Ireland. (Go into your Irish brogue, now Garvald!).

"Garvald was back in Dublin of 1904 in his day to day to life of living his daily job of teaching cheaky little Irish boys. But he had the privilege of spanking their gluteu maximusses with the approval of his parents and the laughter of his peers. His students learned to not grow up to be the ignorant so called "Christian"bullies in the pubs that were part of his daily circuit. He drank up his Guiness after a long day and then to be daily chastized for his genetic and spiritual past by an angry ignorant bible thumper with one hand on his "Bible" and the other on his daily addiction to enlarging the liver. He finally had his revenge when he wrote his book that was banned in puritanical America for the next thirty years for his choice of words suppressed by the strong influence of the fundamentalist church on American literature."

Garvald wakes up from this dream of his not too distant past almost like it was just last year...
the memories of his unfaithful wife coming back to him with bittersweet happiness... He wishes that he could go back and see this life that is only in his dreams...
a sweeter time in the beginning of summer in the Green Isles with his soulmate that hurt him and then took him back when she also grew as a person .. she longed for him realizing that all his blemishes and faults are what make him ...Her "Michaelangelo" in the limestone waiting for his chiselled features to be shown to the admiring world... She often would see photographs of his statues and would also try to emulate the way the artist sculpted all the fine parts of the human anatomy for her desirous eyes of aethetically pleasing features...She missed Garvald the way he felt in her arms and his head on her mammary glands that were nutrition for her children and erotic tastes for her lover....

He is woken up bythe attractive golden skinned host to say the introduction of this poet.

She reads the intro and Garvald reads his poetry to the welcome vibes of similar folks in the sanctuary of "liberal" thought and discussion. They laugh at the future casts of "Coyote News" for the "Unfair and Unbalanced". "All news thats not fit to print and for the most ignorant of readers."


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