txt


txt was a performance by Brian Feldman at the Jack Kerouac house in College Park. The premise of the performance piece was that the audience would text the script to Brian as he performed by reading his iPhone. A small stage was set up in front of the fireplace in the living room and 2 lamps were placed on either side of the stage as foot lights.
The performance felt more like a digital seance rather than a simple reading. All thumbs and index fingers were busy typing as Brian started to read a strange disjointed mix of ideas. His reading was peppered with sexually explicit language that even comedian George Carlin might be embarrassed by. I began to think I was in the room with a mix of lunatics rather than a quaintly bohemian audience. That guy in the back row looked like he was having way to much fun as he typed his entries. He must have been the one who typed over and over that fingers are people.
At one point Brian glanced at a message and turned to look at a picture of Jack Kerouac on the wall behind him. He then recited, “That Jack Kerouac is a hunk, I’d do him”. Had a woman in the audience really typed that? Could the guy giggling to himself in the back row have typed that? I found myself laughing uncontrollably at the absurdity of many of the texts being transmitted.
The young couple in the sketch had to share an iPhone. First she would text and then she would hand it off so he could text. My wife, Terry, said than none of her texts had been recited. That caused me to think afterward that perhaps like a seance not everything was as it seemed. Regardless I was certainly entertained.
Post Script: A number of participants informed me that without a doubt all texts were strictly written by audience. Texting seems to unlock inhibitions, it offers a chance to write things that would never be said under normal circumstances. txt was a Mad Lib with an emphasis on Mad.

Infusion Tea Reading


Infusion Tea on Edgewater Drive featured another reading by Kerouac House resident artist Michael Hawley. This was Michael’s last evening in Orlando. The next day he would have to pack and fly a plane back to NYC. He said he felt a bit sad to leave but he was grateful for the time he had been given to write without interruption. The evening was hosted by Naomi Butterfield. Besides Michael 5 other authors recited poetry and excerpts from works in progress. I was very impressed by the reading from the author who is seated to the far left in the sketch, her name is Stacy Barton. She read chapter 6 from her first novel which is about a young female art student who was essentially date raped. This young artist while sketching is approached by the child of a midwife who is so forward that she reaches out and places her hand on the artists belly and coos to the child inside. This haunting and tender image remains one that leaves me wanting to know more. I again find myself thrilled and inspired by all the talent in the room.

Michael Hawley Reading


I returned to the Kerouac house with my wife for a farewell reading by resident artist Michael Hawley. Upon walking in, we were warmly welcomed by a lighthearted woman named Summer. She introduced us to Kim, the VP of the Kerouac Project and then Mike the artist in residence. The warm inviting atmosphere made me feel right at home. Walking from room to room the house caused me to remember my childhood home in Dumont, NJ. For instance the lime green and white linoleum tiles in the back room are identical to the tiles I remember from the basement in my childhood home. The large double porcelain sink in the kitchen caused similar flashbacks probably recalled from old photos of my my mother giving me my first baths in a similar sink.
The reading itself was highly entertaining. Mike set a somewhat quirky dysfunctional family against the wonderful expanse of the Florida wilds. His descriptions of the sounds and assorted fauna were vivid and engaging. You could hear a pin drop in the room as the 20 to 30 people listened intently. Everyone laughed often and gasped in shock when the story took a violent and unexpected turn. I do not want to give away any of Michaels plot, suffice it to say if you spot Michael Hawleys work on your local bookstore shelf, you should pick it up, you will not regret it.
The evening left me feeling joy at having discovered an exciting intimate enclave of culture in the heart of Orlando. Everyone I talked to had an artistic spirit, Summer is herself a poet, Bob Kealing a local news anchor, has written a book on Kerouacs time in Florida and is working on other projects which unearth Central Floridas cultural history.

Jack Kerouac House

I decided to go to the small house where Jack Kerouac wrote “The Dharma Bums”, he was living here when “On the Road” was published and became an instant classic. Kerouac was compared by some critics to Ernest Hemingway. Where Heminway was the voice of the “Lost Generation”, Keroac was the voice of the “Beat Generation”. The interior of the house has been renovated to its 1950’s state. I saw one of Keroacs manuscripts once at the History Center. The entire book was written on one large scroll so Keroac never had to interrupt his thoughts by replacing paper in the typewriter. The writing poured out of him as one long stream of consciousness. The home is now a refuge to young authors who apply for a grant to write there. The Writers in Residence Project sponsors four different writers who live in the home each year rent and utility free. While I sketched a young man came out and sat on the porch and called his dad to tell him how things were going in Orlando.

Post Script: I have recently discovered that the young man on the porch was resident artist Michael Hawley.