boston progress radio

with the exception of one month, for three years, every second friday has transformed a tiny bookstore into a magical haven of shared energy—stanzas, lyrics, melodies, rhymes, dances, visuals, fragmented thoughts, reciprocation and appreciation, have been transferred between bodies and spirits.

so i thought it would be fun to take a short look back, in order to look forward.

the bookstore, east meets west, opened october of 2004, with just a small table full of independent apia CD’s and chapbooks. only open on saturdays, the store served as a clubhouse of sorts for boston progress members to catch up, crack jokes, and build together. having an actual physical space available and seeing the potential of our space, it was only natural to program an open mic… but what shape it would take or how it would be actualized, no one really could tell. up to that point, only a few people have actually passed through the threshold of the store and wandered into our world.

in a boba tea spot in the back bay, at a monthly boston progress meeting, the open mic began to form an identity. after several suggestions (ginger-bred, mic-a-saurus rex), vinh the kid said after only a second of thought, east meets words, and the open mic had a name.

first open mic, we had the synchronous fortune of having not just one, but two members of 2 tongues, anida yoeu ali and marlon esguerra, in the northeast. it seems only fitting to have them be the first to bless the open mic as our first co-features. flash forward a year, we had regie cabico telling stories of mini-wooden-penises from men in barrels while humping a stool as a make-shift lover. in between and following, beautiful features from nyc, philly, the bay, LA, minnesota, toronto, chicago, jersee, and locals—all have graced the space.the list of open mic-er seem to be just as illustrious with local poets, musicians, freestylers, youth, passer-byers—all have come thru the space and shared…

to now. we don’t even have to worry about having folks come through… without fail, open mic nights become packed. and the unheated bookstore warms with body heat, which is the only thing that can keep you warm during the cold cold cold boston winters.

on a personal tip, the open mic has opened gates internally, like nothing has before. it’s not just learning the audience banter as a host, or getting over awkward insecurities as an open mic-er, or being brave enough to read from dusty journals as a feature, but i’ve learned that the more i can let go of… speak my mind and heart about, the more room i have to grow… i’ve learned to be open, unguarded—even if just for a few minutes—shed walls and free little pieces of my thoughts with the people. i’ve learned in a deep way the power of words… the unlocking of held breathes i usually choke back, releasing spiritual self into the physical world. even now, three years later, once a month, i still get nervous as i open my black book of secrets and with a shaky voice read out. but i’ve started to see many others, other unidentified poets and writers looking forward, raising their voice at the open mic. in the most obvious way, the open mic was a monthly session to meditate on the state of your union. where would i be if i didn’t have that space… i can’t even begin to assume.

looking back, we realize the open mics really wouldn’t be anything without everyone who supports–reads out on the list, listens in the metal chairs, claps their hands to the beat, yells words to rhyme about, and who shouts—ohhhhhh yeah. so it seems only right to have our three year anniversary feature be east meets words—a super mic of sorts. each and every participant—open mic-ers and audience alike—are the feature.

oh, the only month we did not hold the open mic at east meets west, was august 2005—when boston hosted the 3rd apia spoken word summit. but i guess even then, one can see the community and family showcase as open mics, so yeah, then for three years, boston progress has hosted an open mic, each month… and we’re still holding it down. solid.

Tags: Boston Progress, Commentary, Open Mic.

I have never interviewed a spoken word artist online before. I have to say I was a little nervous. I did not know what to expect, it is hard when I cannot see someone’s reactions or mannerisms. However, Omar Telan made it a very easy task to accomplish. Omar is a performer, writer, and theater guru presently living in Philadelphia. I have never met him before, but he is definitely a guy I would want to talk to if I needed a good laugh. As Omar grows wiser and tries to understand the world, he opts to not take it so seriously.

Jess Man: If someone asked you to describe yourself in 3 different words, what would they be?

F. Omar Telan: hmm… thinking…sarcastically brilliant ‘nahmean?

JM: Who were you 10 years ago and who are you now, is there much difference?

Omar: Hmm… that’s a tricky question as well…. 10 years ago I was just getting settled into NYC. Now I’m just getting settled into Philadelphia. So in many ways I’m kind of the same. I’m exploring a city I’ve always known, but more as a resident that I ever was before. 10 years ago I had a lot of dreams about being a successful publishing mogul. I’m more grounded now and the goals have changed. I’d say that 10 years ago I was deep in the post undergraduate limbo. Basically, I had a lot of dreams without any realistic goals. Now I feel like I have a lot of realistic goals and no big dreams. So maybe I am massively different.

JM: What are some of your realistic goals?

Omar: To start at least one theater troupe in Philadelphia. I’m working with the Asian arts initiative with that goal. Get a job that doesn’t make me miserable. One thing I learned in New York was that I’m never going to find a job that makes me happy.

JM: What job is currently making you miserable?

Omar: So I take jobs that pay the bills so I can do the things that make me happy. I’m currently in career #4 which is IT (information technology) which does not make me miserable. It’s fun without being so fun that I lose sight of poetry and theatre.

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Tags: Interview, spoken word.

November 2007’s feature was F. Omar Telan, a spoken word / performance artist from Philadelphia, PA of Filipino heritage. I’ll admit that I arrived a little late for the performance, but I was happy to catch all of Omar’s set. Here’s a little bit about Omar from his own website. Add 100 to all the years and you’ll get the right dates. Read his biography to get a taste of his poetic style.

F. Omar Telan was born in Industrial Philadelphia during the 1876 centennial. With his decidedly halo halo background, Omar adds a singular perspective to Asian American expression. Influenced heavily by Neo-Surrealism and absolutely suburban fabulous, Omar appeals to his fellow artist who understands how satire sometimes involves eating children. Bombastic and introverted, he fascinates the casual audience with his ability to plumb the underbelly of his own psyche while simultaneously appreciating delicious, chilled plums…

Later moving to Boston in 1894, Omar enrolled in the fledgling school of oratory known as Emerson College. To further pursue his own deification and immor(t)ality, he moved to New York City in 1897. But then came the Great Exodus of the Aughts when many fled the Naked City for greener pastures such as the City of Brotherly Love. As of 1907, he has made his home in the Sylvania. Omar has challenged audiences ranging from the La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club to the Dodge Poetry Festival to the Philippine Embassy with his brand of humor, social commentary, and gulliness. Word.

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Tags: Boston Progress, Open Mic, Recaps, spoken word, Video.

F. Omar Telan is a spoken word poet, an activist, a performance artist. I don’t know what to say about him. But he does some crazy stuff. His piece at the 2007 APIA Spoken Word Summit was insane, mindboggling, groundmoving, earthshaking. Crazy. He’s going to be at the East Meets Words Open Mic (sponsored by Boston Progress Arts Collective) at the East Meets West Bookstore at 934 Massachusetts Ave, Cambridge, MA, 02140. Cover is $3. Check him out on myspace too.

“He is the man your father always warned you of. He is the man your mother secretly dreams of. Call him and leave dirty messages.”