Thanks for the tip Chris Rudolph! Speaking of Freedom Toast
A Poetry by e e cummings - As Freedom Is a Breakfast Food
as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
--long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame
as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men's hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
--long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung
or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common's rare and millstones float
--long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late
worms are the words but joy's the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
--time is a tree (this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough
[Poem: "as freedom is a breakfast food" by e.e. cummings.
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
The last time THis happened didn't World War I start?
OK, well before raising the alarm and cranking the cat's tail, I must admit circumstances were different, but still, aren't there more deserving people of that out there?
Word for the day: inculcate (verb) -
1. teach and impress by frequent repetitions or admonitions
Synonyms: instill, infuse
OK, well before raising the alarm and cranking the cat's tail, I must admit circumstances were different, but still, aren't there more deserving people of that out there?
Word for the day: inculcate (verb) -
1. teach and impress by frequent repetitions or admonitions
Synonyms: instill, infuse
Tuesday, March 11, 2003
For those of you who are fans of Cat Power, see the links part of this page, or click Morning Becomes Eclectic :
Cat Power
The very charming Chan Marshall of Cat Power performs her dreamy songs and a couple of classics on electric guitar and piano for Morning Becomes Eclectic listeners at 11:15am.
Aired Thursday, February 27, 2003. [MORE]
Cat Power
The very charming Chan Marshall of Cat Power performs her dreamy songs and a couple of classics on electric guitar and piano for Morning Becomes Eclectic listeners at 11:15am.
Aired Thursday, February 27, 2003. [MORE]
So I'm finding that the compromises in life are ever present. And some of us are cat-like in the sense that we often land on our feet . . . or we're lucky. I can't tell which I am, but things are sorta working out.
I played the Rex last night, and went second-to-last in the run of folks. There was one even more persistent fella who played after me, so mad props to him.
I was feeling sorta pantsed before leaving home and going out to play, and when I signed up I was #18 on the list. Ok, so everybody gets 3 songs, few folks play shorties like I do (ie songs under three minutes), so figure that's at least ten minutes a pop, plus like five minutes interlude, for intro, applause, "Am I plugged in?" "Shit, I have to tune!" and the like . . . 15min * 18people = 270 min / 60min = 4.5 hrs . . . fortunately they started before I was there, and some folks got up and left, so I didn't wait for as long as that ...
It was like after 1AM when I go up. I was about ready to concede, but then some of the folks who were playing before me had already conceded or left rather, so they call me up. I wanted to play this new song, but didn't think I'd remember the lyrics. I was totally hazy. I say, "I'll play just one, well maybe two, cuz I'll need a warm up song." My pals Marty and Madge and Ray the talking drum man, are chanting "3! 3! 3! 3!" I didn't think it was in there. And then they came out, not perfectly, but out they came. The songs, in a relaxed (how else do you play after a few beers and sitting for a few hours ?) tone that I was pretty surprised to hear. Huh . . . but what's most important was the enthusiasm the audience gave me. All four or maybe five of them were brilliant, and as one guy had said earlier in the evening about the small audience (the audiences are typically small) you may be little but you're noisy and that's what counts.
So I had to wait a little while to play, but it was all worth it in the end. Sometimes you have to not have something to know what you had. I'm learning that in several arenas. But let's stay in this one: as one guy from Denver visiting family here in town said last night after he played, "this Rex theater is great. We don't have anything like this in Denver, so enjoy it while you can!"
Oh, something else I'd learned, forgotten and relearned from all of this experience: Save your enthusiasm for the stage. What I mean by that is, if you enjoy somebody;s work (acting, juggling, fire-eating, music) let them know while they're on the stage with your applause and cheers. Afterwards, if they're not super-saturated in a conversation, it's nice to say, "Thanks for playing, I enjoyed your work." Same thing applies for any time after when, maybe even days after, you see this person: "Thanks for playing, I enjoyed your work." That's nice cuz it means you remembered and it really did make an impression. But if you see somebody in a car out on the street after 2AM, you may freak them out a little, or surprise them to say the least, if you spring up to the window pointing and shouting "DUDE, YOU ROCK!"
Don't do that. That;s bad form. That person will take that action differently from how you probably intend it to go. Trust me.
I played the Rex last night, and went second-to-last in the run of folks. There was one even more persistent fella who played after me, so mad props to him.
I was feeling sorta pantsed before leaving home and going out to play, and when I signed up I was #18 on the list. Ok, so everybody gets 3 songs, few folks play shorties like I do (ie songs under three minutes), so figure that's at least ten minutes a pop, plus like five minutes interlude, for intro, applause, "Am I plugged in?" "Shit, I have to tune!" and the like . . . 15min * 18people = 270 min / 60min = 4.5 hrs . . . fortunately they started before I was there, and some folks got up and left, so I didn't wait for as long as that ...
It was like after 1AM when I go up. I was about ready to concede, but then some of the folks who were playing before me had already conceded or left rather, so they call me up. I wanted to play this new song, but didn't think I'd remember the lyrics. I was totally hazy. I say, "I'll play just one, well maybe two, cuz I'll need a warm up song." My pals Marty and Madge and Ray the talking drum man, are chanting "3! 3! 3! 3!" I didn't think it was in there. And then they came out, not perfectly, but out they came. The songs, in a relaxed (how else do you play after a few beers and sitting for a few hours ?) tone that I was pretty surprised to hear. Huh . . . but what's most important was the enthusiasm the audience gave me. All four or maybe five of them were brilliant, and as one guy had said earlier in the evening about the small audience (the audiences are typically small) you may be little but you're noisy and that's what counts.
So I had to wait a little while to play, but it was all worth it in the end. Sometimes you have to not have something to know what you had. I'm learning that in several arenas. But let's stay in this one: as one guy from Denver visiting family here in town said last night after he played, "this Rex theater is great. We don't have anything like this in Denver, so enjoy it while you can!"
Oh, something else I'd learned, forgotten and relearned from all of this experience: Save your enthusiasm for the stage. What I mean by that is, if you enjoy somebody;s work (acting, juggling, fire-eating, music) let them know while they're on the stage with your applause and cheers. Afterwards, if they're not super-saturated in a conversation, it's nice to say, "Thanks for playing, I enjoyed your work." Same thing applies for any time after when, maybe even days after, you see this person: "Thanks for playing, I enjoyed your work." That's nice cuz it means you remembered and it really did make an impression. But if you see somebody in a car out on the street after 2AM, you may freak them out a little, or surprise them to say the least, if you spring up to the window pointing and shouting "DUDE, YOU ROCK!"
Don't do that. That;s bad form. That person will take that action differently from how you probably intend it to go. Trust me.
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
"The time to repair the roof is when the sun is shining."
John F. Kennedy
"The relationship between the soundness of the body and the activities of the mind is subtle and complex. Much is not yet understood. But we do know what the Greeks knew: that intelligence and skill can only function at the peak of their capacity when the body is healthy and strong; that hardy spirits and tough minds usually inhabit sound gods."
John F. Kennedy
"If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him."
John F. Kennedy
"The life of the artist is, in relation to his work, stern and lonely. He has labored hard, often amid deprivation, to perfect his skill. He has turned aside from quick success in order to strip his vision of everything secondary or cheapening. His working life is marked by intensive application and intense discipline."
John F. Kennedy
"The great enemy of the truth is very often not the lie, deliberate, contrived and dishonest, but the myth, persistent, persuasive and unrealistic."
John F. Kennedy
"A full scale nuclear exchange, lasting less than 60 minutes... could wipe out more than 300 million Americans, Europeans, and Russians, as well as untold numbers elsewhere. And the survivors - as Chairman Khrushchev warned the Communist Chinese, 'the survivors would envy the dead.' For they would inherit a world so devastated by explosions and poison and fire that today we cannot conceive of its horrors."
John F. Kennedy
"Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly building new structures."
John F. Kennedy
John F. Kennedy
"The relationship between the soundness of the body and the activities of the mind is subtle and complex. Much is not yet understood. But we do know what the Greeks knew: that intelligence and skill can only function at the peak of their capacity when the body is healthy and strong; that hardy spirits and tough minds usually inhabit sound gods."
John F. Kennedy
"If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him."
John F. Kennedy
"The life of the artist is, in relation to his work, stern and lonely. He has labored hard, often amid deprivation, to perfect his skill. He has turned aside from quick success in order to strip his vision of everything secondary or cheapening. His working life is marked by intensive application and intense discipline."
John F. Kennedy
"The great enemy of the truth is very often not the lie, deliberate, contrived and dishonest, but the myth, persistent, persuasive and unrealistic."
John F. Kennedy
"A full scale nuclear exchange, lasting less than 60 minutes... could wipe out more than 300 million Americans, Europeans, and Russians, as well as untold numbers elsewhere. And the survivors - as Chairman Khrushchev warned the Communist Chinese, 'the survivors would envy the dead.' For they would inherit a world so devastated by explosions and poison and fire that today we cannot conceive of its horrors."
John F. Kennedy
"Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly building new structures."
John F. Kennedy
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
Word of the Day for Tuesday March 4, 2003
votary \VOH-tuh-ree\, noun:
1. One who is devoted, given, or addicted to some particular pursuit, subject, study, or way of life.
2. A devoted admirer.
3. A devout adherent of a religion or cult.
4. A dedicated believer or advocate.
When she held out her hand to receive the glass, she had more the air of a full-grown Bacchante, celebrating the rites of Bacchus, than a votary at the shrine of Hygeia.
--Pamela Neville-Sington, Fanny Trollope
Perhaps most amazingly, votaries of "diversity" insist on absolute conformity.
--Tony Snow, "Lifestyle police: Enough already," USA Today, June 10, 1996
It must be remembered that undisguised atrocities on a stupendous scale. . . would be too strong for the stomach of even the most brutalized people, and would tend to bring war into discredit with all but its monomaniac votaries.
--"The Idea of a League of Nations," The Atlantic, February 1919
Votary comes from Latin votum, "vow," from the past participle of vovere, "to vow, to devote." Related words include vow and vote, originally a vow, hence a prayer or ardent wish, hence an expression of preference, as for a candidate.
Synonyms: adherent, devotee, supporter. Find more at Thesaurus.com.
votary \VOH-tuh-ree\, noun:
1. One who is devoted, given, or addicted to some particular pursuit, subject, study, or way of life.
2. A devoted admirer.
3. A devout adherent of a religion or cult.
4. A dedicated believer or advocate.
When she held out her hand to receive the glass, she had more the air of a full-grown Bacchante, celebrating the rites of Bacchus, than a votary at the shrine of Hygeia.
--Pamela Neville-Sington, Fanny Trollope
Perhaps most amazingly, votaries of "diversity" insist on absolute conformity.
--Tony Snow, "Lifestyle police: Enough already," USA Today, June 10, 1996
It must be remembered that undisguised atrocities on a stupendous scale. . . would be too strong for the stomach of even the most brutalized people, and would tend to bring war into discredit with all but its monomaniac votaries.
--"The Idea of a League of Nations," The Atlantic, February 1919
Votary comes from Latin votum, "vow," from the past participle of vovere, "to vow, to devote." Related words include vow and vote, originally a vow, hence a prayer or ardent wish, hence an expression of preference, as for a candidate.
Synonyms: adherent, devotee, supporter. Find more at Thesaurus.com.
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
This lady is from Holland and she does some excellent art.
And the word for today: sirocco . . . it's the name for any hot wind from the desert, but more specifically a wind that originates in the Sahara and blows across the Mediterranean wherein it it picks up moisture.
Friday, February 21, 2003
From Dictinary dot com -
Word of the Day for Friday February 21, 2003aggress \uh-GRES\, intransitive verb:
To commit the first act of hostility or offense; to make an attack.
Nagaraj can never bring himself to aggress or fight back, but he is capable of a delicious malice.
--Julian Moynahan, "India of the Imagination. . . ," New York Times, July 15, 1990
The hand . . . is the most versatile of organs. Through its agency we lift, pinch, squeeze, explore, feel, learn, discriminate, repulse, caress, aggress.
--F. Gonzalez-Crussi, "The Hand," Washington Post, July 19, 1998
A master of drawing, Rico Lebrun, discovered that "the draftsman must aggress; only by persistent assault will the live image capitulate and give up its secret to an unrelenting line."
--Annie Dillard, "Write Till You Drop," New York Times, May 28, 1989
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Aggress is from French agresser, from Latin aggredi, aggress-, "to approach, to approach aggressively, to attack," from ad-, "to" + gradi, "to step, to walk."
subtle (adjective satellite) -
1. faint and difficult to analyze
"subtle aromas"
2. working or spreading in a hidden and usually injurious way
"glaucoma is an insidious disease"; "a subtle poison"
Synonyms: insidious, pernicious
3. be difficult to detect or grasp by the mind
"his whole attitude had undergone a subtle change"; "a subtle difference"; "that elusive thing the soul"
Synonyms: elusive
4. able to make fine distinctions
"a subtle mind"
Word of the Day for Friday February 21, 2003aggress \uh-GRES\, intransitive verb:
To commit the first act of hostility or offense; to make an attack.
Nagaraj can never bring himself to aggress or fight back, but he is capable of a delicious malice.
--Julian Moynahan, "India of the Imagination. . . ," New York Times, July 15, 1990
The hand . . . is the most versatile of organs. Through its agency we lift, pinch, squeeze, explore, feel, learn, discriminate, repulse, caress, aggress.
--F. Gonzalez-Crussi, "The Hand," Washington Post, July 19, 1998
A master of drawing, Rico Lebrun, discovered that "the draftsman must aggress; only by persistent assault will the live image capitulate and give up its secret to an unrelenting line."
--Annie Dillard, "Write Till You Drop," New York Times, May 28, 1989
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Aggress is from French agresser, from Latin aggredi, aggress-, "to approach, to approach aggressively, to attack," from ad-, "to" + gradi, "to step, to walk."
subtle (adjective satellite) -
1. faint and difficult to analyze
"subtle aromas"
2. working or spreading in a hidden and usually injurious way
"glaucoma is an insidious disease"; "a subtle poison"
Synonyms: insidious, pernicious
3. be difficult to detect or grasp by the mind
"his whole attitude had undergone a subtle change"; "a subtle difference"; "that elusive thing the soul"
Synonyms: elusive
4. able to make fine distinctions
"a subtle mind"
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
From Eric Boehlert's Salon article on Clear Channel, and the possibility / plausibility that they can become an even bigger (as in multi- ) media monopoly:
"When one company dominates an industry, it can leverage its monopoly power in all kinds of unpleasant ways, both politically and economically. Does anyone really want what happened to radio to happen to TV, or newspapers, or cable television?"
Something akin to Disney buying out Gannet . . . and then we have our own Mickey Truth and our own Mini-Truth ... uhmmm ... hold on a second, George. That sounds familiar ...
"When one company dominates an industry, it can leverage its monopoly power in all kinds of unpleasant ways, both politically and economically. Does anyone really want what happened to radio to happen to TV, or newspapers, or cable television?"
Something akin to Disney buying out Gannet . . . and then we have our own Mickey Truth and our own Mini-Truth ... uhmmm ... hold on a second, George. That sounds familiar ...
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
A word I discovered in the dictionary (while looking up a different word) researching a paper I'm working on:
crissum (kris em) - n., pl. crissa (kris e). Zool. the feathers or area surrounding a birds cloacal opening. {N. Lat. < Lat. crissare, to move the buttocks during intercourse.}
Just goes to show that everything's done under the sun and well documented for some time now. We don't even have a term for that in English . . . crazy Romans.
crissum (kris em) - n., pl. crissa (kris e). Zool. the feathers or area surrounding a birds cloacal opening. {N. Lat. < Lat. crissare, to move the buttocks during intercourse.}
Just goes to show that everything's done under the sun and well documented for some time now. We don't even have a term for that in English . . . crazy Romans.
Thursday, February 13, 2003
Education will broaden your horizons
I just wrote a buncha crap that I thought was witty and clever, and it was really crap. Just goes to prove that writing is and always will be a task that requires revision and patience. Walk away from it for a moment and then come back. You may change your mind a thousand times. I started writing in the first place because I made a decision and didn't change my mind. Because I made a decision and stuck with it, and though the doubts were all there, the rewards were even better, and made it worthwhile.
I decided to play a new open mic. No big deal, right? I've played three: the BBT, the Rex, and Club Cafe. All have their own charms... but I ventured into the Shadow Lounge last night to check out their open mic. I know a coupla folks who told me they played there. So, last Thursday I poked my head in to see what it's about. The guy gave me the scoop: open mic Wed., bands and groups stuff Fridays. There was a subtext there, but I didn't glean all of it's meaning until last night when I showed up at 8:30. Two guys sitting at the counter, one works there, maybe the other guy too, but he looks more like a regular. This is a smoke-free coffeshop venue with BYOB policy. There's some hip-hop flowing in the background music, and I ask about the open mic.
"Yeah, you're kinda early but it's tonight. It usually doesn't start till 9. What do you play?"
"Mostly originals, but a few covers. I don't really know how to classify myself aside from that." He nods and smiles, I order a spiced-apple drink, sit and start reading a magazine. A third guy shows up and starts talking with the two guys at the counter; they all know each other. I assume there will be a sign - up list, an EmCee / Host and they will say, hey, you can sign - up and folks will trickle in.
After forty-five minutes, a few more folks show up: three college age kids. They nod to everybody and sit off to the side. About half an hour later, a girl and her date come in. I walk up to the counter, get a second drink and ask about the open-mic again.
"Oh well you can play whenever, it's really just you, " and he smiles. So I say how about now, get my electric guitar out and he hooks me up to an amp.
Music fades out and find myself sitting on a stool in a big big room, with six people. See, when you play solo guitar, or guitar by yourself, I should say, it's you and a guitar. No rhythm section, no drums, it's pretty cut and dry. The three colllege kids pull up chairs and sit waiting.
"Hi my name is Matt. I'm gonna play some originals, maybe a cover. I'll start with the first song I ever wrote, My baby doesn't Love me Anymore" It occurs to me as I start into the first line, playing and singing, that I have in effect walked into a roadside bar in Texas with Hank Williams, Jr playing (not Hanks version 1.0 or 3.0, there's a difference there, believe you me), asked to play some songs and then I bust out a tweak scratch with me and my beatbox freakystylin' some'in some'in. Uhhh ... but in reverse.
The place is quiet, and then the golf clap and and a smile in the corner and I continue.
"This song is about how my love life sucks," and play 'Another girl I met along the way.' Golf claps.
I play "I Don't Know" (the 'Jet Aeroplane' song as some know it). Golf clap, and heads turnign over looking like, uhmmm I dunno. Hard to say, but kinda like, is he done yet?
"I'll play this last one, and then turn it over to you guys. It's called "Don't Go Sayin (that you love me)." And after that, there was applause, hmmmm. OK, so ther'e glad i'm done. well they sorta sat there and while I'm waitng for the guy to come unplug me from the amp, I figure I'll just provide the instrumental background ... and play the Kumler BossaNova bit.
"What's that called?"
"YOu got words for that?"
"I want to try something . . ."
And I step away from the mic, one guy starts a free style lyric about chillin' with his buds the day after a party. it's like Sunday afternoon chill music, he says.
Suddenly ther'es a drum kit uncovered, and the three are rotating on the mic while I lay down guitar bit. Then the drum gets the kabosh and some pre recorded beats come out. Kooky! We played until the beats switched over to some seventies sorta stuff, with a disco backdrop, and then I unplugged. I can't cut it with a full orchestra and beats and stuff ... Dang . . . somehow that fits! I'm not claiming suddenly to have flow and mad skillz. But how did it work? The trick is listening, hearing and playing with your heart. Oh yeah, and don't forget about respect. Always be respectful. Enjoy your music and let everybody else have fun too.
I just wrote a buncha crap that I thought was witty and clever, and it was really crap. Just goes to prove that writing is and always will be a task that requires revision and patience. Walk away from it for a moment and then come back. You may change your mind a thousand times. I started writing in the first place because I made a decision and didn't change my mind. Because I made a decision and stuck with it, and though the doubts were all there, the rewards were even better, and made it worthwhile.
I decided to play a new open mic. No big deal, right? I've played three: the BBT, the Rex, and Club Cafe. All have their own charms... but I ventured into the Shadow Lounge last night to check out their open mic. I know a coupla folks who told me they played there. So, last Thursday I poked my head in to see what it's about. The guy gave me the scoop: open mic Wed., bands and groups stuff Fridays. There was a subtext there, but I didn't glean all of it's meaning until last night when I showed up at 8:30. Two guys sitting at the counter, one works there, maybe the other guy too, but he looks more like a regular. This is a smoke-free coffeshop venue with BYOB policy. There's some hip-hop flowing in the background music, and I ask about the open mic.
"Yeah, you're kinda early but it's tonight. It usually doesn't start till 9. What do you play?"
"Mostly originals, but a few covers. I don't really know how to classify myself aside from that." He nods and smiles, I order a spiced-apple drink, sit and start reading a magazine. A third guy shows up and starts talking with the two guys at the counter; they all know each other. I assume there will be a sign - up list, an EmCee / Host and they will say, hey, you can sign - up and folks will trickle in.
After forty-five minutes, a few more folks show up: three college age kids. They nod to everybody and sit off to the side. About half an hour later, a girl and her date come in. I walk up to the counter, get a second drink and ask about the open-mic again.
"Oh well you can play whenever, it's really just you, " and he smiles. So I say how about now, get my electric guitar out and he hooks me up to an amp.
Music fades out and find myself sitting on a stool in a big big room, with six people. See, when you play solo guitar, or guitar by yourself, I should say, it's you and a guitar. No rhythm section, no drums, it's pretty cut and dry. The three colllege kids pull up chairs and sit waiting.
"Hi my name is Matt. I'm gonna play some originals, maybe a cover. I'll start with the first song I ever wrote, My baby doesn't Love me Anymore" It occurs to me as I start into the first line, playing and singing, that I have in effect walked into a roadside bar in Texas with Hank Williams, Jr playing (not Hanks version 1.0 or 3.0, there's a difference there, believe you me), asked to play some songs and then I bust out a tweak scratch with me and my beatbox freakystylin' some'in some'in. Uhhh ... but in reverse.
The place is quiet, and then the golf clap and and a smile in the corner and I continue.
"This song is about how my love life sucks," and play 'Another girl I met along the way.' Golf claps.
I play "I Don't Know" (the 'Jet Aeroplane' song as some know it). Golf clap, and heads turnign over looking like, uhmmm I dunno. Hard to say, but kinda like, is he done yet?
"I'll play this last one, and then turn it over to you guys. It's called "Don't Go Sayin (that you love me)." And after that, there was applause, hmmmm. OK, so ther'e glad i'm done. well they sorta sat there and while I'm waitng for the guy to come unplug me from the amp, I figure I'll just provide the instrumental background ... and play the Kumler BossaNova bit.
"What's that called?"
"YOu got words for that?"
"I want to try something . . ."
And I step away from the mic, one guy starts a free style lyric about chillin' with his buds the day after a party. it's like Sunday afternoon chill music, he says.
Suddenly ther'es a drum kit uncovered, and the three are rotating on the mic while I lay down guitar bit. Then the drum gets the kabosh and some pre recorded beats come out. Kooky! We played until the beats switched over to some seventies sorta stuff, with a disco backdrop, and then I unplugged. I can't cut it with a full orchestra and beats and stuff ... Dang . . . somehow that fits! I'm not claiming suddenly to have flow and mad skillz. But how did it work? The trick is listening, hearing and playing with your heart. Oh yeah, and don't forget about respect. Always be respectful. Enjoy your music and let everybody else have fun too.
Monday, February 10, 2003
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Ok, here is somebody who either is shut-in (ie under mental health quarantine, the dude looks pretty young) or just bizarro person. My favorite part is the injury section.
At least he's not looking for a Tinkerbell, or for someone in the United States to share 10% of his $30,000,000 with . . .
At least he's not looking for a Tinkerbell, or for someone in the United States to share 10% of his $30,000,000 with . . .
Friday, January 31, 2003
For a peek at what some of the show's like, you can visit Louie and The Humans and get a bit more info as well. :D
Hello gentle reader . . .
Saturday Saturday Saturday Saturday Saturday
February 8February 8February 8February 8February 8
This coming Saturday (not tomorrow but next) February 8, there's a show at the Rex Theater (1600 block of Carson St. in the South Side, across from Nick's Fat City) you should come see:
The Acts are as follows:
Louie and the Humans (country rock)
B.J. O'Malley (acoustic singer from Cleveland)
Matt Dunegan (a little country a little rock n' roll)
Doors open at 8 PM, music begins at 9PM:
So I'm like the opener guy, I guess I get like 30 minutes of songs? something like that, ya know a brief set. But it'll be fun... :)
I have no idea what B.J. O'Malley sounds like, but I have heard she's good. And then Louie and the Humans play, and they do some cool stuff, no doubt. I may help out with some backin' stuff (vocals?).
Anyways, I encourage you, so strongly encourage you, to come check the show out. Their bartender's pretty cute . . . :D
Saturday Saturday Saturday Saturday Saturday
February 8February 8February 8February 8February 8
This coming Saturday (not tomorrow but next) February 8, there's a show at the Rex Theater (1600 block of Carson St. in the South Side, across from Nick's Fat City) you should come see:
The Acts are as follows:
Louie and the Humans (country rock)
B.J. O'Malley (acoustic singer from Cleveland)
Matt Dunegan (a little country a little rock n' roll)
Doors open at 8 PM, music begins at 9PM:
So I'm like the opener guy, I guess I get like 30 minutes of songs? something like that, ya know a brief set. But it'll be fun... :)
I have no idea what B.J. O'Malley sounds like, but I have heard she's good. And then Louie and the Humans play, and they do some cool stuff, no doubt. I may help out with some backin' stuff (vocals?).
Anyways, I encourage you, so strongly encourage you, to come check the show out. Their bartender's pretty cute . . . :D
Wednesday, January 29, 2003
Today's Poi -em . . .
The Ball Poem
John Berryman
---------------------------------------------------------
What is the boy now, who has lost his ball,
What, what is he to do? I saw it go
Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then
Merrily over--there it is in the water!
No use to say 'O there are other balls':
An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy
As he stands rigid, trembling, staring down
All his young days into the harbour where
His ball went. I would not intrude on him,
A dime, another ball, is worthless. Now
He senses first responsibility
In a world of possessions. People will take balls,
Balls will be lost always, little boy,
And no one buys a ball back. Money is external.
He is learning, well behind his desperate eyes,
The epistemology of loss, how to stand up
Knowing what every man must one day know
And most know many days, how to stand up
And gradually light returns to the street
A whistle blows, the ball is out of sight,
Soon part of me will explore the deep and dark
Floor of the harbour . . I am everywhere,
I suffer and move, my mind and my heart move
With all that move me, under the water
Or whistling, I am not a little boy.
From Collected Poems 1937-1971 by John Berryman, published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Inc. Copyright © 1989 by Kate Donahue Berryman. Used with permission.
The Ball Poem
John Berryman
---------------------------------------------------------
What is the boy now, who has lost his ball,
What, what is he to do? I saw it go
Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then
Merrily over--there it is in the water!
No use to say 'O there are other balls':
An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy
As he stands rigid, trembling, staring down
All his young days into the harbour where
His ball went. I would not intrude on him,
A dime, another ball, is worthless. Now
He senses first responsibility
In a world of possessions. People will take balls,
Balls will be lost always, little boy,
And no one buys a ball back. Money is external.
He is learning, well behind his desperate eyes,
The epistemology of loss, how to stand up
Knowing what every man must one day know
And most know many days, how to stand up
And gradually light returns to the street
A whistle blows, the ball is out of sight,
Soon part of me will explore the deep and dark
Floor of the harbour . . I am everywhere,
I suffer and move, my mind and my heart move
With all that move me, under the water
Or whistling, I am not a little boy.
From Collected Poems 1937-1971 by John Berryman, published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux, Inc. Copyright © 1989 by Kate Donahue Berryman. Used with permission.
Tuesday, January 28, 2003
If you are bored or thirsty, you can play this game tonight . . . suffice to say, I don't think I'd ever want that man's job, and alcohol comsumption can be justified by / from anything.
Some days we long for human coversation, not really about the heavy issues and not about fluff, but about what? Human conversation . . . sharing experiences . . . yeah, I think that's pretty decent material. I had some experiences over the weekend that are well suited for conversation, but they have to sit for a while and steep in the conscious (or unconscious ?) mind for a while and they have to cool a bit before they're ready to serve. Lest they scald your tongue and leave that little flap of dead skin hanging from your hard palate (that's doctor talk for the roof of your mouth). As some of you may or may not know, there was a bunch of political activity here in town (South Side and Oakland) over the weekend. And the weekend in town was cold and wintry . . . kinda my take on politics: it's cold and wintry, but as it comes back each year, it must be necessary.
SO . . . where is this going? At the moment, in the direction of inquiry. The events of the past weekend raise many many questions. We should ask questions, and seek answers. As Socrates (thru Plato?) suggests, a life unexamined is not worth living. We should ask questions about our world and about ourselves. Plato goes on to say, we may not ever discover ‘truth’, but we improve ourselves in the process of trying. And as one site that goofs on the corporate motivator poster series also suggests, There are no stupid questions, but there are a lot of inquistive idiots. Ahhh . . . theres a bit of a barb on that point, eh?
On that note, I will invite you to start your inquiry afresh with these simple questions: who? what? where? when? how? I hope you find these questions good for generating a dialogue with yourself and with others. Some days we long for human coversation, not always about the heavy issues and not always about fluff. Human conversation . . . sharing experiences . . . yeah, I think that's pretty decent material.
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