Poet’s Theater at the LAB

Tonight the LAB hosted a fabulous evening of disjunct and experimental poetry and theater, put together by Carla Harryman. Dodie Bellamy read from her Cunt Ups, a novel of cut ups, that contrasted well with Camille Roy’s dynamic poems called “Grenades,” based on the Iraq war. Dodie’s work is so well-written and interesting, but the extreme pornography in her work is rendered in terms that are practically devoid of emotion, just the sensation of sex, while Camille’s words are little bombs of feeling, starting with the line, “Dude…. I mean dad…” delivered with kittenish bravado. The headliner was Kevin Killian, who presented a play in collaboration with Craig Goodman, about the “Smith” family–featuring Wayne Smith as father Wayne Smith, with daughters Susan (who drowned her two kids) Smith and Liz Smith, son Jack (experimental filmmaker–Flaming Creatures) Smith, sister Jaclyn Smith, Morrissey (of The Smiths), etc… Kevin’s plays tend to be camp extravaganzas with characters and situations culled from contemporary pop and highbrow culture, featuring local artistic and literary celebutantes. I had a little fling with Wayne long ago, who recently broke up with his boyfriend (I knew it wouldn’t last), and had fun watching his lips move as the other characters delivered their dialog. He’s so like a little boy. With a cute belly, a deep voice, a little gray goatee, and a nice package. I ran into Sandy (MoMA chief photo curator) Philip’s boyfriend, who always calls me Tim. “Tim, Sandy says you’re doing great work! They’re buying something, right, or something like that?” Right.