Open Mics and other Drive Bys.

So I have a secret. For the last weeks, I have been sneaking down to Hollywood on Wednesdays to Karma Café for Open Mic nights. I don’t know why I haven’t been open about these trips. There is nothing wrong with any of this. It just feels personal.

Karma Café has become a weird place for me—a combination of Valley comfort and Hollywood creativity. I first found Karma Café via Chloe during my Lido visits, a place for chi tea and a romantic debate. It became more important when Lucy came to visit and we shared multiple smokes and conversations at the outside tables. It helps that I have seen various cute guys there.

It became more important after Ruby decided to stage several 24-hour theater nights there. Suddenly it was a spot of PADWAD achievement, a place that proved how much we could accomplish. It is the wild twin to Aroma Café—dangerous and sexy, not too scene.

It became a place that I found very comfortable. And in to the mix an open mic night and suddenly Karma Café became even more important. And it’s not just fond remembrance of Chloe and Lucy or an artistic arena but a place that draws me in. I’m not sure what it means yet.

Open mics are not something I am very fond of. A good night of open mic can be amazing—an artist can touch me in ways that are impossible to find words for. The uniqueness of a voice or imagery and I can be inspired for weeks on end. But when it is bad—it’s like a drive by that one is forced to smile at.

And I don’t know why I am drawn to the open mic. I haven’t written poetry in years and yet I feel like I am gearing to take to the stage. Poetry has never been my strong suit, something I haven’t done in years but here I am. Maybe this is just something that I need to do just to get it out of my system. What’s the worst that can happen?