1. On the right is poet, bouncer, proud Samsung employee, and charismatic stallion Andy Buell. On the left is career criminal and art lover, Stephen Benz. If you show up wearing cocktail attire, you only have to give Andy five dollars. If you show up in street clothes, your dirty ass has to pay eight. 2. The lady in red herself, Adrian Wyatt~ one of LBM’s producers and one of its speakeasy-chic poetry girls. She was armed with a full lineup of Write Bloody authors, and enough moxie to knock out an alpha male elephant walrus. 3. Poetic dynamo and inspired performer Brendan Constantine brandishing his artificial flower covered flyswatter. He said he interpreted the invite’s call for formal attire to mean formal attire for rehab.
I descended the damp, steel basement steps of Harvelle’s in Long Beach, California and was given a blue poker chip by a dark haired woman in a red velvet dress. Her eyes were full of burning embers and her cigarette tray was full of poetry. The house band started playing “Fate” by Dr. Dog, and it was at that moment that I knew I was going to have a holy & a heartfelt Sunday night. As I walked though the dark club filled with artists and other cool, well-dressed, sarcastic people, I realized I was feeling almost frightened about the amount of sheer talent I was going to be exposed to in one evening. Many of the performers were writers that I could listen to for days and days, and with their powers combined they could have very well summoned a spirit wolf, or perhaps Captain Planet.






















