Notes From the Whirlpool

Hey there! Sit down, have a drink. We should get acquainted…
Me? I’m JAMES GATES. What’s that? Well, that’s a tricky question…You might call me a Wichita…what? Character? Fixture? Gargoyle? I don’t know for sure… I’ve lived in the Wichita area almost 79% of my life. Most of the time I haunt Delano and the Old Town district like they were my own personal Whitechapel—you may only catch glimpses of me, floating in the background at a bar, a show or an art opening, but there are traces of me everywhere. (Wow, that didn’t sound creepy at all, did it?) I’ve been around long enough to have met some people… And let’s face it, I’m recognizable. I’m six and a half feet tall, rail-thin with blond hair, goatee and yellow-tinted glasses—I look like the three-way love child of Andy Dick, Shaggy, and Lurch from The Addams Family.
If there’s one thing I’ve been known for over the years, it’s random, bizarre, goofy shit. Tales are still told of the time I staged a re-enactment of the Oswald assassination in front of the Bohemian Bean Co., or when I held an impromptu white-slavery raffle to pay my rent… After awhile, it just seemed a natural to go semi-pro, which I did in 2006 with the sketch comedy group PANIC BUTTONS. I’ve been performing on stages and microphones throughout the Wichita area ever since, pursuing the goal of building a live, local comedy scene. In March 2007 I started doing THE JAMES GATES SHOW, a live comedy experience based around A) the late-night talk show format, and B) a whole bunch of me. And the rest is, well, the stuff of much confusion…
Anyway, this is my log. I get to write about anything I want, anytime. I like that. Hope you do too.

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Tue Jun 16

06/16/09 - Single (A Poem, God help you all…)

Single (A Poem, God help you all…)

Strange how this little ditty keeps coming back as sort of a theme song for me (except it’s a poem, not a song, but you know…)

What, you haven’t heard?

He said he’s SINGLE!!

That’s right!

S to the I-N

G!!

To the L-E!

And he’s on the prowl!

Long tall cool drink of water

Out on the street with someone’s daughter

Looking to beg, plead, steal, or barter

Just for a chance to touch them garters

‘Cause he’s SINGLE!!

YEEEOOOO-WWW!!

And he’s on Mexican fire!

You know, the kind with masks and backstories!

He’s a gentleman caller

Looking to holler

With 23 dollars

And a turned-up collar

With rhinestones!

That spin and have

Multi-colored lights and pellets

That shoot out from behind them

And they’re talkin’

Talkin’ about Charlemagne and Peabo Bryson

And other people with fucked up names

And yes, he says shit like that

Out loud… in public… often…

(No, no—however much you were just thinking, it’s more)

But that’s not the point

The point is he’s SINGLE!!

UHHHH!!

Jump back, kiss somebody!

And he likes the ladies!

And the ladies in your town

Are the loveliest ladies in the world!

They got all the good stuff

Like eyes

And necks

And smalls of the back—OH!!

Smalls of the back for DAYS!

And when he thinks of what

His hands, lips, chin, nose, elbows, and tongue

Could do to the small of a back…

Well, there’s legal

Then there’s barely legal

And then there’s Barely Legal 2: The Medicis

Which is a period porno set in Venice

He’s writing in his spare time

And there’s nobody to stop him

Because he’s SINGLE!!

Shabba Shabba!

Coming this week: THE ICT SUMMER COMEDY CALENDAR!