Another day with next to no sleep.
Zero Point Zero is up; first part of a two parter on getting started on a poem. The second part will be the real meat of this, to be honest with you.
That’s about it. Congrats to all my buddies on Providence and Urbana. I’m outie.
In an effort to ensure victory, Bush cans a couple of key players: Rumsfeld, Richard Myers, maybe Colin Powell (who will likely leave after the first term anyway).
Once the troublesome few whose “mistakes” led to the Iraqi quagmire are gone, Bush can claim it’s evidence of his leadership and thus advance his profile as the “leader” needed for the struggle ahead.
He might even — get this — do it by admitting that “mistakes have been made,” and use the firing(s) to show his willingness to correct them — without scrapping much of the actual framework of the near-Fascist cabal around him.
I bet that would gain him a few percentage points.
Get Cheney to step down for “health reasons”, put Giuliani in his place, and Iraq and roll is here to stay.
In an effort to ensure victory, Bush cans a couple of key players: Rumsfeld, Richard Myers, maybe Colin Powell (who will likely leave after the first term anyway).
Once the troublesome few whose “mistakes” led to the Iraqi quagmire are gone, Bush can claim it’s evidence of his leadership and thus advance his profile as the “leader” needed for the struggle ahead.
He might even — get this — do it by admitting that “mistakes have been made,” and use the firing(s) to show his willingness to correct them — without scrapping much of the actual framework of the near-Fascist cabal around him.
I bet that would gain him a few percentage points.
Get Cheney to step down for “health reasons”, put Giuliani in his place, and Iraq and roll is here to stay.
Was more random statements than a coherent message.
At least, it was meant to be.
Wasn’t it?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Maybe my shrink is right — maybe I do still have issues about 9/11 that I haven’t dealt with.
I had dreams for the first time in ages about Ground Zero — and I realized, I think, why I can’t talk about having been there.
I keep coming back to Lovecraft: his insistence on speaking of the evil of R’yleh as being manifest in the way the architecture looked, how perspectives and angles were off in ways that the human mind couldn’t comprehend and therefore were prone to induce madness.
And I think that’s what I get from my memory of Ground Zero: the idea that facing it will induce madness.
That and the fucking smell.
I can’t use Lovecraft’s tongue to speak of this without trivializing — and yet, that’s where I keep going.
Jesus.
Was more random statements than a coherent message.
At least, it was meant to be.
Wasn’t it?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Maybe my shrink is right — maybe I do still have issues about 9/11 that I haven’t dealt with.
I had dreams for the first time in ages about Ground Zero — and I realized, I think, why I can’t talk about having been there.
I keep coming back to Lovecraft: his insistence on speaking of the evil of R’yleh as being manifest in the way the architecture looked, how perspectives and angles were off in ways that the human mind couldn’t comprehend and therefore were prone to induce madness.
And I think that’s what I get from my memory of Ground Zero: the idea that facing it will induce madness.
That and the fucking smell.
I can’t use Lovecraft’s tongue to speak of this without trivializing — and yet, that’s where I keep going.
Jesus.
Head’s killing me. Damn pills.
I went off the deep end on someone yesterday instead of spending enough time educating as to why something was offensive. It’s not something I’m proud of. It was wrong. Sorry, Chelsey. I shouldn’t have done that.
What is wrong with me? I can’t get it together at all these days.
Feel like the only time I’m functional is on stage. Piss poor way to live.
What happens when that goes too?
Head’s killing me. Damn pills.
I went off the deep end on someone yesterday instead of spending enough time educating as to why something was offensive. It’s not something I’m proud of. It was wrong. Sorry, Chelsey. I shouldn’t have done that.
What is wrong with me? I can’t get it together at all these days.
Feel like the only time I’m functional is on stage. Piss poor way to live.
What happens when that goes too?
Westfield is usually a pretty good time, and tonight was no exception. Some good conversation afterwards.
Here’s the setlist:
Telephone Booth Poem #905 (cover, Pedro Pietri)
Unsent Letter to the CEO of Hooters (mine, not akamuu‘s)
Music for Funerals
Revisiting Roses and Violets
Late Night Thoughts While Listening to Fugazi
Getting Ahead
Home on Leave
Braid
Julie
Song for Shootings
Do It Yourself
30 minutes solid with minimal patter. Easily the weirdest set I’ve done in awhile; three premieres (Fugazi, Braid, Home on Leave) and mostly on page (with the cover, Getting Ahead, and DIY being the exceptions). Mostly new shit, obviously; and not especially uplifting, either…with a couple of exceptions.
No real theme tonight, except that I was trying to consciously work in unfamiliar territory — minimal prep and lots of responding in the moment to room dynamics.
I needed an out of the ordinary experience, felt like I got it. Hope the room did too.
Westfield is usually a pretty good time, and tonight was no exception. Some good conversation afterwards.
Here’s the setlist:
Telephone Booth Poem #905 (cover, Pedro Pietri)
Unsent Letter to the CEO of Hooters (mine, not akamuu‘s)
Music for Funerals
Revisiting Roses and Violets
Late Night Thoughts While Listening to Fugazi
Getting Ahead
Home on Leave
Braid
Julie
Song for Shootings
Do It Yourself
30 minutes solid with minimal patter. Easily the weirdest set I’ve done in awhile; three premieres (Fugazi, Braid, Home on Leave) and mostly on page (with the cover, Getting Ahead, and DIY being the exceptions). Mostly new shit, obviously; and not especially uplifting, either…with a couple of exceptions.
No real theme tonight, except that I was trying to consciously work in unfamiliar territory — minimal prep and lots of responding in the moment to room dynamics.
I needed an out of the ordinary experience, felt like I got it. Hope the room did too.
Revised — thanks, Stefan and Dawn. I read it tonight at my feature and it worked well.
HOME ON LEAVE
The whoosh-snap
of the rifle’s report dissolved
to a fastball’s thud
in my chest.
I only knew it was real
after it had happened.
The only way I knew that sound had been there
was by its immediate absence as I fell back.
This too:
my target
fell without making any sound.
He did not get up again.
I’ll be the feature at Jester’s Cafe tonight, out in the strangely appealing decaying Western Massachusetts milltown of Westfield. Reading starts at about 7:30 or so and proceeds apace. If you can make it out, c’mon by; I’m pretty sure I’m starting a manic phase, so it ought to be interesting.
One of the nice things about Jester’s is that the cafe is owned by and is part of a music store that has a reasonable if not particularly distinguished line of acoustic guitars which I can peruse prior to the event.
Heck, maybe I’ll even pick one up and blame the purchase on the impulse control issues so many of us with bipolar syndrome have.
Later for this. Right now, I have to go call the guy at the Bentley dealership back; something about credit approval.
Here’s a quickie/first draft, based on a writing exercise developed by Lynne Procope.
HOME ON LEAVE
It can best be described
this way:
the moment I knew everything
would be different forever was when the whoosh-snap
of the rifle’s report dissolved
into a fastball’s thud of pain in my chest,
and I realized that the sound of it and the feeling of it
were one and the same, and that
the only way I knew any of it was real
was after it had happened –
there was no sound while it was happening,
and the only way I knew the sound had been there
was by its immediate absence as I fell back. All that –
and of course
this too: my target
fell without making a sound of his own,
and he did not get up again.
Here’s a quickie/first draft, based on a writing exercise developed by Lynne Procope.
HOME ON LEAVE
It can best be described
this way:
the moment I knew everything
would be different forever was when the whoosh-snap
of the rifle’s report dissolved
into a fastball’s thud of pain in my chest,
and I realized that the sound of it and the feeling of it
were one and the same, and that
the only way I knew any of it was real
was after it had happened –
there was no sound while it was happening,
and the only way I knew the sound had been there
was by its immediate absence as I fell back. All that –
and of course
this too: my target
fell without making a sound of his own,
and he did not get up again.
Just a few notes on upcoming feature gigs…
Monday, May 3: Jester’s Cafe, Westfield MA, 7:30.
Monday, May 10: My niece’s high school honors English class. (Private, of course…)
Tuesday, June 1: Frantic Rabbit, somewhere in Worcester…I hope.
Monday, June 21: Xando, Baltimore, MD.
Tuesday, June 22: Art House, Newark, Delaware.
Friday/Saturday, July 16-17: Catskills Folk and Poetry Festival, Callicoon, NY(tentative)
Wednesday, August 4: Cantab Lounge, Cambridge, MA.
All these subject to change based on being locked up or dead or catatonic, of course.
Just a few notes on upcoming feature gigs…
Monday, May 3: Jester’s Cafe, Westfield MA, 7:30.
Monday, May 10: My niece’s high school honors English class. (Private, of course…)
Tuesday, June 1: Frantic Rabbit, somewhere in Worcester…I hope.
Monday, June 21: Xando, Baltimore, MD.
Tuesday, June 22: Art House, Newark, Delaware.
Friday/Saturday, July 16-17: Catskills Folk and Poetry Festival, Callicoon, NY(tentative)
Wednesday, August 4: Cantab Lounge, Cambridge, MA.
All these subject to change based on being locked up or dead or catatonic, of course.
