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

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

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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.

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.

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.

(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.

weren’t the Yankees playing tonight?

in less time than it takes
to sing about it
i fall in love

and i remain in love
for one hour
with the first five notes

of a pop song
that i will loathe
tomorrow

this is how they survive
these worthless songs
stay with me for a bit

jump from me to the next host
then replicate somewhere along
the way

there will be another soon
that sounds the same
that works the same

knowing this
i turn on the radio
waiting

there is something in
the life cycle
that draws me back

it reminds me of something
even as i scratch the wounds
where the tiny barbs were last set

i wait to love the next silly tune
though i know the things i do for love
will shred me everytime

skipped poetry last night.
will be there next week.
will be at the Nov 3rd Club reading tomorrow night.
will be at SPEAK on Wednesday.

sometime in there i’ll breathe and work.

life is a carnival/believe it or not

Pakistani authorities are reporting that there are at least 18,000 dead in the recent earthquake.

i will lay odds on two things:

— there won’t be an allstar, 3-network concert for relief;
— there will be no poems about this at next year’s NPS.

i need a war

give me a uniform
a cadence and an order

let me go
somewhere without prayers
with a brave companion

i need a weapon
a mission
an enemy

i need to fall before
a storm of enemy bullets
or a stray friendly one
for being at peace is terrifying
being alone is terrifying
being this is terrifying

i can subsume myself by being in conflict
i can call myself soldier
tell myself war is peace

but i can’t yet stand this
the thing done
the end established
the road mapped
the truce declared
the mirror clean and clear

if you are the offspring of an interracial relationship
but appear to all intents and purposes to be “white”
and are fully aware of what privileges have been accorded to you
because of your appearance,

do you have a moral obligation to make sure
that when you are called “white”
you correct the speaker and refuse that label?

MY OWN OPINION: fuck yes. every fucking time.

in my role as performance poet:

1. record a CD
2. put up a personal website
3. change my name
4. slam
5. appear on Def Poetry Jam
6. do a commercial for something profitable
7. change my appearance
8. go on a reality show
9. join academia
10. go on a reality show based in academia

things i have done/will do:

1. write my ass off
2. read well
3. be more generous to the poets around me
4. listen
5. read others’ work
6. stop using my mental illness as a crutch for shoddy behavior
7. admit that i value immortality for my work far more than my own longevity
8. admit that i am nonetheless afraid to die
9. stop letting fame be so important to me
10. return to first things and begin again