We’re packed and ready to go!
Last night, for an energetic room at the Victoria Events Centre, nine poets took the stage with the certain knowledge that only seven would remain at the night’s end. And those seven would be: Jeremy Loveday, Matthew Christopher Davidson, Morgan Purvis, Pam Stewart, and Tom Fowler. And then 2 Dope Boys in a Cadillac!
Since shortly before shayne and I tied for first place at Vic Slam’s January edition, the goal has been for a Vic Slam team that incorporates 2 Dope Boys in a Cadillac as a component. Stage one: complete.
But most important of all? Last night was a wicked awesome show. From start to finish, the poets were dialled in. The first half had an oddly maritime feel, with Talen Rimmer opening with a poem about switching consciousnesses with a fish, Jacob Arts explaining the terrors of sharks with arms, and shayne closing the round with an invocation to his Cod. But fish or no, Tom Fowler won the round both in scores and in audience response with his heartbreakingly hilarious poem about Scooby Doo. Heartbreaking. And hilarious. Not a typo.
While that all got the audience busting their guts, the second round was decidedly more sobering (after shayne got through his love poem to bacon, which is sobering in a different light). Matthew Christopher Davidson’s poem about dealing with chidlren who have autism destroys me, everytime, and last night, he had that dialled up. Next Jeremy Loveday (aka. So Dreamy, aka. Loveday Mancuddles, aka. Muffday) lit up the room with a very inspirational piece, written circa 2007 (reach deep!) Morgan led us on a tense journey into her relationships with men who she “loves more than they love themselves.” But the round’s winner, in our hearts if not on the score sheet, was Jacob Arts. Jacob Arts. Who is this guy? Seriously. He finished his night with a 4 minute and 33 second poem that I can only describe as a moment of existential madness, complete with Jacob admitting to being his own therapist and struggling to maintain professional boundaries with himself, and a visitation from the Archangel Gabriel telling him to “stop being a bitch.”
Overall, the night was wicked. And if you can, but don’t make it out to the finals night on May 30, that’s a crime against yourself.