Author: H.O. Tanager
Publisher: H.O. Tanager
Performance artist H. O. Tanager holds high hopes for her cross-country trip to Boston: to see great art, to eat delicious food... and to incite mayhem. But once the journey actually begins, it’s all she can do to hold on for the ride. Surrounded by brilliant, intimidating, and sometimes delicious-smelling colleagues, Tanager’s precarious hold on her ambition and desire threatens to unravel in the face of laryngitis, an angry God, and the unexpected death of a friend. Will her team’s independent spirit and wit buoy Tanager though the pitfalls, heartache - and yes, mayhem - as hundreds of artists strive to be the best that ever was, the best that’s ever been?
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My Team Goes To The Airport
Poets aren’t wealthy. Our cheap flight is at the thong of dawn. I wake up earlier than I meant to, which is good, because apparently in the a.m. fives it takes me 20 minutes to brush my teeth. My three teammates and I text each other – we’re awake, yes, we’re all going to get to the airport probably on time.
There’s a taxi ride in the cool blue darkness of I-shouldn’t-be-up-yet. Bag gets checked. There’s a line at security, what’s up with that? I text my poets, at security, there’s a line. Rookie, our rookie, is in line too. I see her a few rows down. She’s so pretty, her long straight brown hair flowing almost all the way to where her long young legs begin the flowing all over again, waiting her turn. She’s 20. I have stretch marks older than she is. I’m reflecting on youth, how I should have pressed my fingers on my face every day just to enjoy the feeling of my flesh bouncing back, when I get her text: I see you. You look beautiful. Wow I sound creepy.
One very good reason to be involved in slam is the compliments. Another is the acceptance and even the embracing of awkwardness.