for the first time in over twenty years, I have roommates.

i’m. relatively settled, and with the exception of storage space (I need a tall narrow bureau with drawers for clothes), i think i’ll be ok — picked up a decent futon cheap and there’s room in here for a desk and stuff, especially once the futon’s folded up.

needs in order of importance:

aformentioned bureau
container for bedding/storage
decisions re what clothes go in closet, what in drawers
still need good guitar solutions (walls look like a possibility)
SMALL night table near bed?

I think books will be at a premium. will have to think about this.

as well. new chapter.

see you at poetry tonight.

can’t sleep.

last night in the house.

feeling scared and alone.

the cat’s here. i can’t take him with me.

this makes me utterly sad.

i know it’ll pass, but i’m not good tonight.

i’m in the process of moving this weekend, so if i’m not around much, that’s why.

so little time, so much shit to figure out.

i am both excited and sad. 20 years is a long time.

complex emotions wear me out. i’ve got a headache as large as you can imagine, and the stomach is all tied up in knots, too.

still…overall? if i can figure out where to put all these damn guitars, I’m pretty much set. bought a futon & frame this afternoon so i don’t eat up the whole bedroom with bed all the time. moved up a couple of small pieces of furniture and sundry items.

biggest issue is a bureau for clothes — the closet’s pretty small, so i’ve got to get one, and then get creative. and ruthless.

off to Storytellers. see you later.

Right now, KEXP is playing “Doriella DuFontaine.”

For you Hendrix fans out there…you’ve probably never heard this one. Lightning Rod, a member of the Last Poets, rapping about (among other things) a fine woman he steals from another guy, with funky bass and guitar by Jimi and drums by Buddy Miles. Definitely somewhere in the ancestral stream of hip-hop.

Last time I heard this I was probably 18 and at college; Bill Charlton, one of the guys on my floor, was a Hendrix fanatic with access to lots of bootlegs and we spent many, ahem, pharmaceutically enhanced hours in his room with his “quad system” (let’s see who bites for that one).

Damn, I still wish I had that stereo…we were on the 17th floor, and regularly got complaints from the 5th floor on weekends. (I shit you not. We were notorious.)

Excuse me, o digital ones…even if only three people get this, I must lay out the specs, which I can still recall, because I lusted for that system:

A German RekoKut turntable, liberated from a radio station
Marantz Quad Amplifier
Scott Preamp
Scott Tuner
Teac reel-to reel
Nakamichi cassette deck which, pre-auto reverse, used to flip the tape for you
Two giant custom built speakers; don’t recall the exact components — Bill made them himself
Two — oh, God, what were they called? I know — Allisons! These were a pair of speakers each about 4 ft tall which looked like the Transamerica Pyramid building in San Francisco. Super high end at the time, with a directional speaker system that was similar to what Bose does.

Note: no mention of the yet to be commercially available CD player. I think CDs existed in 1978, but no one had figured a way to make them economically viable.

I wonder what happened to that? Bill got older, probably sold his baby to fund some other toy. Maybe he regrets it now. I know I do.

anyone listen to http://www.bzoo.org ?

strange station…mix of odd music and spoken word.

I’ve been listening to an acoustic guitar version of “What Is Love” by Haddaway and it’s now Allen Ginsberg doing his tribute to Frank O’Hara.

They’re looking for spoken word stuff, by the way.

In the past few months, I’ve had two poems mentioned in odd places on the Web:

— “theremin” was linked to on the http://www.thereminworld.com site;
— “Snakes On A Plane” was linked and mentioned on snakesonablog.

I believe I’ve found my market: odd, single-interest webdwellers.

Coming up: a poem about smoking fetishism. And I already have one about Nigerian e-mail fraud…

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In other news: I was offered the Big Corporate Job.

$67K/year. 10% minimum end of year bonus. Stock options.

I turned it down.

I fly out to San Diego next week to start work with the consulting firm. Independent contracting business and anxiety creating money scramble, here I come.

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Also: I’m going to Slammasters, hope to talk about the Ken Hunt Prize there. See all y’all.

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Still looking for features for the new Tuesday night reading in Providence — hit me up, o my people.

Forwarded from girlsnqueers. I’m not currently involved in the event, so please direct any inquiries to the email addresses shown.

Information on Memorial Event for Lisa King

i am not writing well right now and i think it’s because i have too much time to write. i am sprawling all over the place and it’s allowing me to indulge every little whim.

i have never believed in writer’s block, believing that a writer can always write; it tends to be a case of not liking what comes out, so you stop. my favorite thing is to see someone who writes a long dissertation on being unable to write.

the key is not to stop and bemoan things, but to shift focus. i really think every poet also needs another creative outlet — you don’t have to be great at it
(hence my guitar playing), but you have to be willing to step from one to the other when the call comes.

time to rein in and hang on for a bit…focus energies differently. practice guitar, write some songs, get ahead on the column, etc. then, dig out some of the poems i’ve written in the last year and revise and edit. memorize. focus on getting gigs.

there’s more to being a poet than an endless spew of poetry. it’s knowing how to make use of the fallow times.

Gordon Parks has died.

Granted, Parks was 93, but I still feel a sense of loss whenever an innovator passes.

So let’s see…Dana Reeve, Kirby Puckett, Ali Farka Toure, Gordon Parks, Mortimo Planno, Johnny Jackson. Enough, already.

Ali Farka Toure has died.