but it’s kinda obvious it hasn’t been here.

I’ve been busy getting banned from a Local Coffee [a lame name for a San Antonio coffee franchise] for an open mic.

Well, that’s not the case. I singlehandedly got hip hop as a genre banned from the place. Which is a shame, I’ve met at least one other poet I’m going to take with me to forever [Nero Boy Genius], performed with him for the first time together, and went on to write a couple songs, and then invite him over to my radio show to perform some of them, as well as plenty of freestylin.

Really, it was a good time.

So, anyways, I got kind of frustrated at the banning of hip hop, especially by a manager at a coffeeshop who has always been too busy to see me perform any of the continuous fridays over the past year and four months that he had no idea one single person was behind all the hip hop inspiring a handful of older customers to complain about [as well as a couple young and righteous christians who want to keep their children’s ears clean of the musical artform most directly using human speech, the second most common way humans communicate to each other. Heck, Moses and the early Hebrews recited and retained the language of the Torah orally, but I guess that’s why Christians banned me instead of Jews. They preferred the Word of God edited an indeterminate time in the past instead of recalled through the present.

But, hey, enough about that. here’s what I did as revenge.

After which point they very publicly unbanned me in front of everyone who clapped in front of that performance, which had an encore of a tender love poem that video doesn’t have.

Fortunately, another link does. And, of course, many many thanks to DIY vidcam extraordinaire Lola Rothke-Shearer.

So, anyways, I was told I could “do my own thing” and “come back and buy a beer”, emphasis on the latter.

On the next open mic night, I call up ahead because the manager who banned me is working there. I ask if there’s any restrictions on performances, can hip hop be performed.

He sounds soooo scared, and says “Hip hop? NO!”, and then I make a mistake, and laugh a little bit. It was just funny how much the idea of hip hop scared him.

Anyways, I started asking what exactly hip hop meant to him. Would nonrhyming poetry be hip hop? What if I calmly read bible verses? to a beat?

But I couldn’t finish my sentence. He had already hung up.

[edit and update 12/11/2012]

I got so mad I wrote a consumer review on yelp about the place. Josh has since been stopped from having any sort of mic held there, regardless of how open or closed it is.

They made him feel terrible, as if my actions were his.