I nervously drum my fingers on the table as Chris plays “Learn to Fly” by the Foo fighters in the front of the room. The audience sings along when he gets to the chorus, but I stare at the papers on the table in front of me with the poem’s I’ll be performing on them. I’ve never competed in a poetry slam before. In fact most of the poems I plan on performing weren’t written with any intent of every performing them at all. They were just a way for me to figure out my own head during my year off.
I had enrolled in college as a Mechanical engineer over a year ago. Two months into my first semester I had decided to take a year off. I wasn’t attending classes because I hated the subject matter and my head was a mess. I spent my days chain smoking, skipping class, and writing. Always writing. In my year off I got a hold of my life and kept writing. Poem after poem came out of me. They gave me a place to put my emotions in order and the ability to create something beautiful out of something ugly. Now I was going to share them with a room full of strangers.
My name is announced. Luke makes the joke “Every time I say your name I think of an early 20th century alcoholic author.” I laugh with the audience and respond, “You aren’t to far off the mark.” I walk up to the mic and settle my papers on the music stand in front of me. The room falls silent. “This is probably the first real poem I ever wrote,” I begin. My friends in the back whistle and clap, they know what is coming. I chuckle and say, “How to Drink.” I start calmly with a smile
Drink slowly at first.
Drink for the enjoyment.
Drink a few beers.
Drink because someone raised their glass.
Drink because Cartman called Kyle a Jew.
Drink because it’s the weekend.
Drink because you are a college student.
Drink because it makes you smile.
Drink because you lost beer-pong.
Drink some shots.
Drink because it’s a game.
Drink because you want the high score.
I let the words flow out of me. I raise my voice as I continue, the smile fades and anger and pain seep into my performance. With each line the words become more forced, the initial fun fades to pain. I crescendo to,
Drink until you are a child.
Drink until you are an infant.
Drink until you are a single cell waiting to divide and grow into what will one day be an honor roll student, a varsity athlete, a friend, a brother, a son, a lover, an artist, a human being.
Drink until you cease to exist.
Drink until you no longer are.
The smile creeps slightly back onto my face as I finish.
Pass out on the floor,
Wake up in your bed,
Satisfy your body’s craving for nicotine.
See the world in more detail than you ever thought possible.
There is a moment of silence after I finish, before the room erupts into applause. I smile from ear to ear as I walk back to my table. I sit down to high-fives and congratulations. I perform two more times that night. The scores come in and even though everyone can do the math themselves Luke gets up in front of the mic and says, “The winner of the first poetry slam at Lafayette is, Connor J Pirruccello-McClellan!” I can’t stop smiling as the room cheers and claps around me. I think to myself, “This is what I want to do. I am a writer.”
Below is a recording of “How to Drink” and another poem I performed that night, “Fuck.” Unfortunately the video file of the third poem I performed is to large for WordPress to handle.