Wednesday, May 13, 2009

In Search of the Thing Big Poppa E has Got.


It has been a little more than four days since the last time I set foot in a college classroom, and though I have one midterm left, college is essentially over for me. I couldn’t be less happy about it. In fact, I feel as if I can’t quite shake off the sensation that I somehow missed something; it is the feeling, or rather the belief, that somewhere along my collegiate experience I could have done something different. It is a sensation more exquisite than regret and more complicated than desire. And while I do honestly wish that I had found the time to meet more people and see and hear their art, it isn’t a hunger that could be replaced by hearing a few extra poetry readings. I suppose it is, at least in part, my realization that the conversation has likely ended for me.

Anyone that has been afforded the opportunity of a liberal education can’t reasonably say that they didn’t enjoy academia’s great dialogue. There is something inherently enjoyable about putting your ideas out there and watching them squirm and take shape as your colleagues test their fortitude. I loved participating in this because it afforded me the space to gauge, immediately, the viability of my claims. From here forward, in this post collegiate world, there is no guarantee that I will ever experience that again--unless of course I choose to follow the career path of Big Poppa E.

Months ago I walked into class to find a visitor whom I did not recognize. Worse yet, I had lost my syllabus and couldn’t look it up. I was forced to sit down and wait for an explanation. However, while I did , I decided to watch this guest go about his business. He did not speak initially, instead he pressed his lips together and smiled as each of my colleagues filed into their seats. He was friendly. In fact, beyond his mismatched attire and the reality that he was a few years older than the rest of us, he actually blended in amongst the group quite easily. This guy looked as if he was happy to be where he was at. Class finally began.

Dr. Mike Chasar, being the cordial host he is, introduced Big Poppa E and opened the floor to whatever structure our guest saw fit. Seizing the opportunity, Big Poppa E introduced himself and told a quick story to excuse the fact that he was wearing a peculiar combination of summer and sleep attire. He was funny, deliberate, and his oration was as impacting as it was calculated. However, it was what happened thereafter that provoked what would later grow into the realization I previously described. Big Poppa E paused and said: “I can show you guys what I do or you can just ask me questions and we can talk.”

Here he was, a perennial star in the Slam Poetry circuit, a four-time HBO Def Poetry selection, willing to not only answer our questions but interested in having a talk. Of course, we unanimously selected the former option and Big Poppa E delivered with “Tiger Lily”, a poem that frankly, made me a little uncomfortable. However, that uncomfortableness was what I enjoyed most in its performance. Big Poppa E had, in writing a poem about the return of a menstrual cycle, forced me into a place that I image was not unlike that of the speaker within the poem. The conversation had begun.

He read two other poems, one generally and the other as a dedication to one of our colleagues. The sum of the three gave the overwhelming impression that he was as sincere about his performance as he was about his diction or syntax. He adjusted invisible rear-view mirrors, and turned steering wheels that did not exist-- his every physical action was a visual extension of the words he spoke.

Yet, as I have said, the most impacting quality of the experience was that Big Poppa E seemed to be completely invested in the idea of conversation. It was as if his entire monologue would have been less meaningful to him had we responded simply with a round of applause. He seemed to want to hear from us. So having seen, visibly, the conversation I so loved alive in Big Poppa E, I had to ask: “where does this end”. He paused, smiled and responded: “I’m really not sure..."

I hope that someday, amidst the conversation, I can honestly say the same.

-Tyler Lang Mauseth

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