Last night I attended a poetry reading at Twin Lotus, a Thai restaurant that doubles as a jazz club. I joined regulars dining on pad see ew, pad krapow tofu, and, in my case, som tam—a refreshing salad of shredded green papaya, tomatoes, and long beans dressed with lime and chili.
Men and women alike were drinking colorful mango Chiang Mai shakes that were dressed like extravagant desserts, or passion fruit green tea, a surprising blend of sweet and stern.
I was delighted to encounter Bob Blake, the retired distinguished professor of Spanish linguistics, who, like me, is a big fan of innovative instructional technologies and live jazz. Bob is also an accomplished jazz guitarist, and has played many gigs in downtown Davis as part of Calvin Handy & The Jazz Patrol and other duos and trios.
As diners submitted their orders, poets circulated and caught up with old friends. Several came to my table for a hug or rested a hand on my shoulder. I stood so often that I was glad to have trained for the evening with my daily goblet squats.
So many of my poet friends apologized for not coming to Poetry Night at the Natsoulas Gallery more often, but the Causeway and night driving are such impediments. I’m just as guilty as they are, for Sacramento offers a poetry reading most evenings of the week, time when I find myself walking the greenbelts of Davis, catching up with audiobooks, photographing sunsets, or sitting down in my living room to watch a movie with Kate or Truman.
We are so lucky to live where we do, likely not far from cities that offer us cultural capital and in-person entertainments of all sorts, and yet we succumb to the sort of social or psychological inertia that keeps us at home. As Nora Ephron said, “Let’s face it: Part of being a grownup is that every day you have to choose between going out at night or staying home, and it is one of life’s unhappy truths that there is not enough time to do both.”
I felt the cost of that inertia while videos of earlier jazz performances played on the large-screen television above me (much preferable, to my mind, to sports or political coverage). Twin Lotus Thai and other venues in the Sacramento Valley, and some in my college town of Davis, offer us jazz or poetry or theatre or dance just about every evening.
Several poets who read before me—both featured and open-mic poets—spoke appreciatively of “Bob Stanley’s summer camp,” their name for a series of workshops, readings, writing prompts, and other activities led by the former Sacramento poet laureate, who was hosting the evening.
I had grabbed a witty poem about computer pass phrases that I planned to read. Here’s a sample:
My pass phrase is a giraffe ladder of vertebrae
made of commas and other special characters,
a basilica of syllables stacked in the dark,
the attendant dogs of my childhood,
a choir of consonants wearing snowshoes.
It stretches across the screen like a nervous centipede
dragging briefcases labeled uppercase, symbol, regret.
Like my children, each word signifies,
insists on its own name and on being
remembered in the precise order it was born.
Everyone wants to hear a poem about computer passphrases, but the repeated praise for Bob’s summer camp prompted me to begin writing during the reading. When Bob called on me, I left my iPhone—the keeper of my finished poems—beside my salad bowl and read what I had written during the previous five minutes.
I have not yet fully revised the improvisation, but enjoy this breathless run-on version of what I shared:
I attended Bob’s summer camp, people say,
making me feel like I had missed out on sampling
the second-youth that is so evident in this room,
but it seems to me as I hear your urgent and ardent poems
that an emanation of summer camp surrounds Bob,
and that it then swells in ever-expanding circles,
admixtures of charisma, character, and wordplay,
of toolbox tools and banjo strings,
of meditations not only on the bookish love we celebrate this evening,
but also meditations on summer afternoon Thai cuisine,
when, despite the late hour, sunshine continues to envelop and surround us
(reminding me that everything was darker when I featured
at this same venue in January, especially my poems),
meditation on a heart that yearns, as we all do,
for our misremembered youth,
for minds that thicken rather than thin,
for ethereal children and garden parties,
for idylls from our musical and poetic idols,
meditations on backyard pool diving boards
that never stop vibrating for the entire summer,
meditations on wooded walks
in public parks and on random lanes.
This is what I tried to capture in that hastily written poem. Making something can return us to summer camp: an experimental jazz phrase, an arts-and-crafts project made with paint and feathers, or a poem written in a Dollar Store notebook. Creativity can keep some part of a psychological summer alive throughout the year.
Please plan to partake in the Pub Quiz festivities on this pleasant evening at Sudwerk in Davis. Bring your team to the beautiful outdoor patio where we have room for everyone amongst the refreshing misters. Surely the jollity will be unfiltered after sunset tonight. As Albert Schweitzer said, “Happiness is the only thing that multiplies when you share it.” I encourage you to come early to snag a table. Also, take heed that the performance of the quiz may along quickly — the entire quiz is a mere 874 words long!
Tonight’s guest host will be James, The Actor. James has substituted for me in the past, so I am deeply grateful. I will be taking care of my son Jukie tonight.
In addition to topics raised above, tonight’s pub quiz will feature questions on advertising agencies, airmen, Alaskan bears, ancient cities, archipelagos, associates, balloons, barbecue grills, beards, blue tents, casinos, census counts, comedians, crashes, delays, farm animals, films, Finnish cities, first frames, gladiators, great Scots, idlers, jurors, kingdoms, lifeguards, lions, lotteries, maidens, maritime chokepoints, mobile phones, mosques, oil tankers, Olympic medals, paddles, personalities, ponds, pyramids, quarterbacks, rebels, secretaries, sheepdogs, shepherds, shorts, sick days, singers, small states, supercenters, superheroes, symphonies, Texas bluesmen, umbrellas, voices, current events, books and authors, and Shakespeare.
Thanks to all the new players joining us at the live quizzes and to all the patrons who have been enjoying fresh Pub Quiz content. Thanks especially to new subscribers Janet, Jasmine, Joey, Carly, and The Nevergiveruppers! Every week I check the Patreon to see if there is someone new to thank. I also thank The Original Vincibles, Summer Brains, The Outside Agitators, John Poirier’s team Quizimodo, Gena Harper, the conversationally entertaining dinner companions The Mavens who keep attending, despite their ambitious travel schedules and the cost of avocado. Thanks to everyone who supports the Pub Quiz on Patreon. I would love to add your name or that of your team to the list of pub quiz boosters. I appreciate your backing this pub quiz project of mine!
Best,
Dr. Andy
Sample questions:
Four for Four. Which two of the following are actual species of bush quail: jungle bush quail, lava bush quail, rock bush quail, velvet bush quail?
- Generational Friction. According to an article in this week’s Fortune magazine titled “Millennials are not punk kids anymore,” which member of the U.S. Congress sees a “generational tidal wave” driven by anger over economic futures sidelined by boomers?
Moose in National Parks. The moose population in Wyoming’s Jackson Hole valley has declined from an estimated 400–500 animals to fewer than 300, but it still has more moose than any other park. Much of the valley lies within which national park?