Monthly Archives: October 2005

blick

woke up, got out of bed, broke a comb off in my head

then called in and went back to sleep, or what passes for sleep.

and i’m gonna do it again, right now. back later,

oh, and if in the meantime someone can explain why i can’t get into the member fora at the PSI site, i’d be much obliged. either that, or post the decision here.


“i just want to know who the fuck did it”

That was the line that got him fired from SNL.

I was watching the night he said it.

Evidently, the answer is, “he did it himself.”

He was a local guy who went to RISD and was well known around Rhode Island in the years before he got the national exposure. Although I hadn’t seen him in years and wouldn’t call myself a fan per se, his passing makes me nostalgic for a certain time in my life, and leaves me saddened once again for another suicide.

RIP, Charlie Rocket.

http://www.cnn.com/2005/SHOWBIZ/TV/10/17/comedian.suicide.ap/index.html


sleep apnea

and a wicked head cold do not mix.

when i feel like this, i can’t use my CPAP device very effectively. which means i have ahead of me an unaccustomed night of full-on apnea, in which i shall stop breathing multiple times.

and i am afraid to take an ambien for fear of sleeping too deeply and…you know.

so i expect to be up later.

several times.

all night.

there will likely be a poem, a meme, an aphorism, and a snarky comment or two.

grr.


companion piece

try to use something
more gentle than
guns and fire
to describe the way
you feel after a shared
sleepless night —
it is not always a struggle
no matter how sore you are
in the morning

there are things to be said
for sunrise and cool bedroom air
things to be said for short sleep
and long waking

this talk of taking aim
and waiting for
the smell of smoke
may make a cocked and loaded
initial sense
but not for what happens when
the guns are laid aside
when the duel is done

there is a
peace between us
that was always there
waiting to be
observed


never fails

mention that you’re not writing poetry, and…

this, by the way, is most assuredly NOT a suicide poem. 🙂
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

revolver

in love with the potential
for the shattering, and not
always prepared to make it happen,

nonetheless you listen
holding your breath
until you hear it
turn until
it clicks into place
with a solid “chunk”
that sounds like fate.

there is a moment like that,
available and explosive,
in every life —
in some lives there are more than one.

but the way you handle the trigger
is the key to how much you’re like
the next guy:

set it down or
pick it up?

steady hand or with a tremble
in the touch?

squeeze, jerk
or pull?

and —

where do you point the thing
in case it does go off?


you may find this weird

but i’m really enjoying this whole “not writing any poetry” thing, at least right now.

it has been a long time since i allowed myself to just be fallow. and shallow.

it feels good.

i shall now snap into a Slim Jim and listen to a recent Santana album.


lee konitz

is pretty damn spiffy to listen to at 2:30 AM.

If you don’t know, go look him up.

I’m going to bed.

that is all.


today’s proverb:

if you can’t laugh at yourself, call me and i’ll come laugh at you.


checking in

ran class today 9-5.

drove back to my other office and was in an evening planning session 5:30-7:30.

came home and Citizen Kane was on, so of course i had to watch it again. I love that flick.

beat all to hell, and now, I sleep.

someday, i shall write another poem.

with malice toward none, with charity toward all,
T


from drgeorge: Raveonettes in trouble!!!

I know there are a lot of Raveonettes fans here, so…

We are completely devastated.

Our gear was stolen on Friday Oct. 7 in Brooklyn, NYC. So much has been lost, but these 4 guitars & basses listed underneath are truly the things that matter most to us… like Wagner’s Jazzmaster from 1961 that he has lived & traveled with, played & written on for the past 12 years. And Sharin’s beloved Gretsch from 1967. If you see or hear anything about these 2 guitars and 2 basses please email us immediately at info@theraveonettes.com and you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.

Yours,
Sharin

Gretsch Chet Atkins 6120 1965 Guitar Orange V89V391 Fender Jazzmaster Guitar, Sunburst 55820 Fender Precission 1974 Bassguitar L. Tan 317392 Rickenbacker 4001 1974 Bassguitar OK 7546

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
http://theraveonettes.com

COLUMBIA and the Columbia “Walking Eye” logo are registered trademarks of Sony BMG Music Entertainment.
Copyright © 2004 Sony BMG Music Entertainment. All rights reserved.
This email was sent to skipshea@charter.net
Replying to this email will not remove you from the mailing list.
Click here if you no longer wish to receive this mailing.
Read our privacy policy.

This email was sent by:
SMOS | 550 Madison Avenue 24th Floor | New York, NY 10022


guitar geeks only — inventory reduction may be imminent

i know of a guy who sells off any instrument he hasn’t played regularly for two years. it’s a little extreme, but i ought to thin the stock a bit.

so i took inventory tonight when i got home from the reading. one of these days I’m gonna be a total guitar geek and drop pictures of everything here, but until then, here’s the current list:

2000 Danelectro 59DC reissue (punkety punk punk punk — bright red and snarly)

1997 Martin Backpacker (good for fun)

1991 Washburn J20S (limited edition jumbo, serial #142, solid cedar/solid walnut — my workhorse for songwriting and general business playing)

1975 Yamaha 12 string (solid top, great shape)

1975 Yamaha classical — strictly a student instrument, but sounds ok.

1948-52 Regal archtop — a real beauty. planning eventually to install a 1947 DeArmond Rhythm Chief pickup in this. I keep putting it off. need to do this soon.

1925 pre-Harmony Oscar Schmidt (read: back when the name meant something) Stella 12 fret 00 slothead. My vintage pride and joy, and the quintessential Delta blues instrument. In dynamite shape, including original tuners and bridgepins. I probably play this more often than any other instrument.

1920s 12-fret slothead no name instrument, probably also made by Regal. “Blackie.” The instrument is used strictly for slide playing. Tuxedo sunburst finish, hand-numbered frets (not uncommon on catalog instruments) and removable metal nut for Hawaiian style lap playing. This sucker screams when you drop a brass slide on it.

Other instruments:

2 Plains flutes
1908 Portuguese guitar — a twelve string mandolin sized instrument used in fado (love this thing)
Custom Appalachian dulcimer
East German made Concertina
Mbira (Central African thumb piano)
Sarangi (North Indian bowed sitar like instrument)

AND: the “canjo” — a single string instrument made by the guy who built the dulcimer, with a resonator made from an empty can of Grandma Brown’s Baked Beans. It’s actually really cool, very well made, and sounds like a cross between a dulcimer and a banjo with some sitar to it as well.

I’m trying to sell off some of this stuff eventually, and will keep you posted if you’re interested in anything…i think pretty much everything except Stella and Blackie are gonna be up for grabs, possibly the archtop as well.


quick plugz

1. Tonight, 7:30, Village Arts Center/Gallery, 1 Ekman Street, Worcester. A reading from the local poets who appear in the inaugural issue of the online journal of political Literary work, “The November 3rd Club.” Includes Lea Deschenes, Victor Infante, Skip Shea, Dave MacPherson, and others (including yours truly).

2. SPEAK tomorrow night in Uxbridge, 7-9:30. Alternatives Gallery, 5 South Main Street. Theme: “Foreign.”

see you somewhere.


memories…

I’m currently listening to Romeo Void.

Anyone know what happened to Deborah Iyall? I always thought she was a far better lyricist than she got credit for.


spare rooms (draft)

(i know you’re going to find this hard to believe, but i’ve been working on this for a while. feedback not just welcome but desired; i want more from this poem than i’m getting.)

this is my spare room.

there are enough guitars in here
to start a guitar store
if i wanted to call this room
a store.

i write often enough in here to call it
an office,
pretend i’m an artist often enough
to call it a studio,
and toss in my sleep often enough
to call it a ship.

yes. it seems like i sleep in a ship
that is a studio and an office
and a store to hold and sell off
things i love.

back when this town was built
there was no such thing as a spare room.
every room had a body
and it gained a new one
when someone died or moved on.

i live in a spare room
that is just waiting to be reassigned
in a town that used to make things
and now is a place where people sleep,
where there are spare rooms everywhere
and ten thousand impermanent purposes
in every square mile.


hey —

weren’t the Yankees playing tonight?