Back to the Crowd

So, I did it…

It has been a strange few days. The weather returned, once again, to the trickery that is winter in Montreal, Canada. You can never tell when Mother Nature will play games with the city, and a snowstorm hit us with a dusting of whiteness and cold that I did not expect to be so heavy. On the radio, as I got in a bit of stretching and breakfast, the radio covered the funeral of one of our more controversial prime ministers, Brian Mulroney (it is still amazing to me how quickly people forget the full story of certain political leaders). Not really the best moment to be stuck inside with grey skies and no work to do (all papers already marked; just grades to post). I went back online to amuse myself and think about another Saturday night with nothing to do.

And then I saw it:

The Noctis Café.

It is not a spot that I would have heard of before my search. The strange thing is that it is located in the first neighbourhood I lived in when I moved to Montreal (Verdun), and it is located on a road that was voted by Time Out Magazine as the best street…in the world (Rue Wellington). The reason why I suddenly had an interest in the place was the fact that they were having a very special event and I could not miss it.

They were having a poetry night.

Did I need this?

Did I want this?

I looked at my notes and stared at the cold and dull sky.

Yeah, I needed this.

*

The snow made it a tricky walk, but it was pleasant enough. A festival was taking place on the main road that led to the café, with plenty of families still enjoying themselves with the skiis and sleds set up for practice and fun. I noted that most of the stores were shut, leaving only cafés, fast-food stops, and fancy restaurants left for those of us who missed the fun. What was the spot I was looking forgoing to look like?

Well, it was not promising…

The walls were painted in the same shade of dull green that you would find in an old high school hallway. There were only about eight of us on the tables set up against one wall. Two people were sitting near a microphone, making me imagine that they were the ones who had either organized it or were the first to volunteer. I ordered an espresso and some baklava to calm myself down and think about the running order I had to plan.

Now, here is some free advice that might help some of you out: please have the list of work you want to read ready before you stand in front of a microphone. I needed to let the others who were ready and willing to speak go way ahead of my turn (rather easy since they seemed to be regulars whom the owner knew and had on his list). I heard poetry recited in English, French and Spanish, which helped me overcome one other doubt I had about what people were willing to hear. One other problem was the ambient noise that kept most of us from hearing the work clearly. A heater and what I can only guess were the water pipes were noisy and determined to be louder than the amplified speech in front of us.

But then, there was a gap.

The noise died away.

And I got up to read the following (all Vocalized; all in this order):

“How I Learned the English Language”

“Modern Poetry”

“S & M”

“Letter to a Young Influencer”

“The Poet”

*

When you feel the audience laugh in the right spots, shout out for more, and applaud louder than the AC and noises in the pipes, you have done well. When someone comes over to shake your hand and claim that you were the best that night, you have done pretty well. And when you return to your table and see another piece of baklava on your plate that is completely free, you have done very well.

We all finished up with glasses of delicious mint tea, staring off into the growing dark and wondering when this event would be repeated. I returned my cup and plate and the owner told me that he was not sure when the next poetry night would take place, but he wanted to have my phone number and email address to keep in touch. I packed up my things, said good-bye to some of the last patrons, and stepped out into the night.

So, I am back to my old habits…and I am considering something else today.

There is an open-mic night…at a comedy club.

I have never spoken in front of a microphone just to tell jokes (lectures and readings do not count). I have never even been interested in making a fool of myself attempting to just tell jokes. I have admired stand-up comics without imagining that I could be one.

But after one night with a microphone, that rush of adrenaline, and memories of my past with a crowd, I have to try.

Wish me luck!

*

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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