I am sitting in the living room of one Mr. Garland Thompson Jr., who at the moment s a very, very busy man. He is a one-man whirling dervish, a battery-operated bulldozer, a little-bleary eyed at the moment. He is pretty much single-handedly organizing the 10th anniversary version of the West Coast Poetry Slam Championships, and just watching him is making my head pound.

It's a massive undertaking. Ten teams, a few errant slammers with unbridled egos, posters, ID badges, brochures, newspaper coverage, food vendors, a DJ, travel arrangements, finding campsites for the teams, staging, lanyards, competition rules. And as it gets closer to to the big day (today, in fact), Garland gets a little snippy. His eyes glaze over a little. OK, a lot.

I'm in awe. I've always enjoyed the fruits of the festival organizer's labor. I get my all-access pass, nibble on cheese in the green room, get on the stage when someone says "Get on the stage." So, staying with Garland for these couple of days, I"m learning a lot. He's a madman. He has to be.

First, the details, just in case you're in Cali and want to have a huge amount of fun: The show's today and tomorrow from noon to 6 at the Henry Miller Library in Big Sur. Yes, that's BIG SUR, the lush and luscious jewel of th California coastline. It's such a cool event that it's worth logging off right now, getting a last minute flight and winging your way there--here--just so you can hang out and party with the po' people and say you did.

That's it from the sun. Garland's going on about badges right now. Should be a kickass show.