 |
| via Bars Without TVs |
'The California Clipper (09.30.11)'
A bubbling sewer
A blue light flashes
A moped in the distance
and a
bicycle bell rings at the stoplight
Time to mask my breath
with a
stiff drink
5.13.2014
Poems About Bars: The California Clipper (09.30.11)
I only write poetry about bars. This is from a few years ago. I promise my next poem about the Clipper will be more David Lynchian.
'The California Clipper (09.30.11)'
A bubbling sewer
'The California Clipper (09.30.11)'
A bubbling sewer
5.09.2014
Joan Didion - 'Slouching Towards Bethlehem"
Finally introduced myself to Joan Didion. This book is a collection of essays written between 1965-7, primarily taking place all over the West Coast, including a reminiscence of her childhood in Sacramento, following John Wayne to a movie set in Mexico, an in depth look at the Haight-Ashbury scene in San Fran, an essay on self-respect and more. I might have glazed over one or two of the twenty collected essays, but for the most part I was quite captivated in subjects I didn't think I held much interest in.
The title of the collection (and my favorite essay of the bunch) comes from a Yeats poem, quoted in the epigraph. I was almost turned off there since Romantic poetry ain't my jam, but I kept an open-mind. But the first essay, describing the trial of a husband's alleged murder by his wife, gripped me from the start. Didion was quite enmeshed in the West Coast culture; she understands it on a more personal level than Thompson's drug-punctured mind, though their comparison may only be apt in regards to the Haight-Asbury essay. In 'Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream,' Didion talks about the appeal of the West, how in 60s (and probably still today) it still holds the illusion of frontier. "The future always looks good in the golden land, because no one remembers the past."
Other out of context yet aphoristic lines that shimmer like gold as I, the reader, pan through her prose like a 49er:
"...the revelation that the dream was teaching the dreamers how to live."
"But Durango. The very name hallucinates."
"The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself."
"Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the specter of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that answering it becomes out of the question."
"Perhaps in retrospect this has been a story not about Sacramento at all, but about the things we lose and the promises we break as we grow older."
On fiction vs. non-:
"...not only have I always had trouble distinguishing between what happened and what merely might have happened, but I remain unconvinced that the distinction, for my purposes, matters."
And more proof that any online thinkpiece you read about the "death of the novel" is bullshit:
"Right now he is talking about Marshall McLuhan and how the printed word is finished, out, over." (written in 1967)
If there's one thing I want to hate Joan Didion for, it's for spreading the secret that only those of us that wield language as our weapon formerly knew. "Writers are always selling somebody out." It seems like one of those romantic and generalized notions of writing that I read all too often on pretentious twitter accounts, but I can't say I'd want to read a story where nobody got hurt.
The title of the collection (and my favorite essay of the bunch) comes from a Yeats poem, quoted in the epigraph. I was almost turned off there since Romantic poetry ain't my jam, but I kept an open-mind. But the first essay, describing the trial of a husband's alleged murder by his wife, gripped me from the start. Didion was quite enmeshed in the West Coast culture; she understands it on a more personal level than Thompson's drug-punctured mind, though their comparison may only be apt in regards to the Haight-Asbury essay. In 'Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream,' Didion talks about the appeal of the West, how in 60s (and probably still today) it still holds the illusion of frontier. "The future always looks good in the golden land, because no one remembers the past."
Other out of context yet aphoristic lines that shimmer like gold as I, the reader, pan through her prose like a 49er:
"...the revelation that the dream was teaching the dreamers how to live."
"But Durango. The very name hallucinates."
"The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself."
"Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the specter of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that answering it becomes out of the question."
"Perhaps in retrospect this has been a story not about Sacramento at all, but about the things we lose and the promises we break as we grow older."
On fiction vs. non-:
"...not only have I always had trouble distinguishing between what happened and what merely might have happened, but I remain unconvinced that the distinction, for my purposes, matters."
And more proof that any online thinkpiece you read about the "death of the novel" is bullshit:
"Right now he is talking about Marshall McLuhan and how the printed word is finished, out, over." (written in 1967)
If there's one thing I want to hate Joan Didion for, it's for spreading the secret that only those of us that wield language as our weapon formerly knew. "Writers are always selling somebody out." It seems like one of those romantic and generalized notions of writing that I read all too often on pretentious twitter accounts, but I can't say I'd want to read a story where nobody got hurt.
Ear Relevant: 05.03.14 - 05.09.14
Here's what's good for your ears, albeit a bit abbreviated this week. A new mixtape, album, and DIY galore!
Taylor Bennett (why does that last name sound so familiar...) released a new mixtape. Check it out on soundcloud.
Montreal based experimental folk artist YouYourself&i released a new album called Octembuary.
Check out this mini-doc about DIY joint Hostel Earphoria.
Speaking of DIY joints, two new places are looking for funding. Read about then donate to Pure Joy and Chicago Arts and Music Center.
Taylor Bennett (why does that last name sound so familiar...) released a new mixtape. Check it out on soundcloud.
Montreal based experimental folk artist YouYourself&i released a new album called Octembuary.
Check out this mini-doc about DIY joint Hostel Earphoria.
Speaking of DIY joints, two new places are looking for funding. Read about then donate to Pure Joy and Chicago Arts and Music Center.
5.08.2014
Jhumpa Lahiri - "The Lowland"
The Lowland was my introduction to the works of Jhumpa Lahiri, the London-born, Indian-American author. The novel follows the lives of two brothers growing up in 1960s Calcutta. The brothers are total opposites: Subhash is the more obedient of the two who moves to America to pursue advanced studies, and Udayan is a Marxist who aims at affecting political change at a contentious point in India's history.
The book spans the time period from the 60s until present day (where Lahiri cleverly alters the spelling to Kolkata, the Bengali pronunciation). The settings change from India to Rhode Island and California, varying as Lahiri follows multiple characters and dramas that unfold over the half-century. She subtly engages how globalization has altered India in the span of a few decades. Where tragedy once struck the neighborhood of Tollygunge, now the growing middle class has no recollection of life without a subway system.
I think it's safe to put Lahiri in the collection of writers, like Aleksandar Hemon and Teju Cole, called "bicultural writers." All three have an elegant understanding of two cultures and the bridges that connect them, as well as what keeps them distinct. More important, they all recognize changes that interact within each culture.
Cole in particular writes in both Open City and Everyday is For the Thief about how quickly the collective consciousness forgets. Usually he perceives this as a negative thing, but none of these writers weigh in on the positive. Sure I can argue that since as a white male, I'm always the benefactor of this forgetting, it does allow for cultural interaction. I think of Roger Sterling in Mad Men who refused to work with a Japanese car company because of Pearl Harbor. Is it possible to let bygones be bygones? I'd like to think of my life as richer being able to have a conversation with someone of Japanese descent or Vietnamese (or more personally, German) and not blame the actions of their ancestors on their hopefully more enlightened offspring. It is the topic of an unpublished short story I've written, inspired by Vietnamese students I met when I was studying in Shanghai, who were always friendly with me and other Americans, yet I couldn't help but wonder if there was a deeper-seated hatred bubbling beneath that positive veneer.
But back on topic, Lahiri created a compelling story, that despite some issues I have with her writing style, kept me turning the pages. Which is the most important thing any novel can offer. For some reason I can't convince myself it was a great book, but it had me reading. The story offers a unique perspective, even outside of that of an Indian immigrant living in Rhode Island. There is great internal tension, both domestically and politically which does more than raise the eyebrow. The characters are all well-rounded and the non-linear format allows for their formation to creep in slowly like a gas leak; before you know it, you've succumbed to caring about these characters and knowing how they live out their lives.
Previously: Jhumpa Lahiri featured in my Literary Chicago series.
The book spans the time period from the 60s until present day (where Lahiri cleverly alters the spelling to Kolkata, the Bengali pronunciation). The settings change from India to Rhode Island and California, varying as Lahiri follows multiple characters and dramas that unfold over the half-century. She subtly engages how globalization has altered India in the span of a few decades. Where tragedy once struck the neighborhood of Tollygunge, now the growing middle class has no recollection of life without a subway system.
I think it's safe to put Lahiri in the collection of writers, like Aleksandar Hemon and Teju Cole, called "bicultural writers." All three have an elegant understanding of two cultures and the bridges that connect them, as well as what keeps them distinct. More important, they all recognize changes that interact within each culture.
Cole in particular writes in both Open City and Everyday is For the Thief about how quickly the collective consciousness forgets. Usually he perceives this as a negative thing, but none of these writers weigh in on the positive. Sure I can argue that since as a white male, I'm always the benefactor of this forgetting, it does allow for cultural interaction. I think of Roger Sterling in Mad Men who refused to work with a Japanese car company because of Pearl Harbor. Is it possible to let bygones be bygones? I'd like to think of my life as richer being able to have a conversation with someone of Japanese descent or Vietnamese (or more personally, German) and not blame the actions of their ancestors on their hopefully more enlightened offspring. It is the topic of an unpublished short story I've written, inspired by Vietnamese students I met when I was studying in Shanghai, who were always friendly with me and other Americans, yet I couldn't help but wonder if there was a deeper-seated hatred bubbling beneath that positive veneer.
But back on topic, Lahiri created a compelling story, that despite some issues I have with her writing style, kept me turning the pages. Which is the most important thing any novel can offer. For some reason I can't convince myself it was a great book, but it had me reading. The story offers a unique perspective, even outside of that of an Indian immigrant living in Rhode Island. There is great internal tension, both domestically and politically which does more than raise the eyebrow. The characters are all well-rounded and the non-linear format allows for their formation to creep in slowly like a gas leak; before you know it, you've succumbed to caring about these characters and knowing how they live out their lives.
Previously: Jhumpa Lahiri featured in my Literary Chicago series.
Literary Chicago - Jhumpa Lahiri, 'The Lowland'
Literary Chicago is series where I try to capture the essence of the
city by how it is described in fiction, primarily from books that don't
take place in Chicago.
"In the second year of his Ph.D. Subhash lived on his own, now that Richard, who'd found a teaching job in Chicago, was gone."
pg. 62 The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri (2013)
 |
| via Calumet 412 |
pg. 62 The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri (2013)
5.02.2014
Ear Relevant: 04.12.14 - 05.02.14
So apparently I go weeks at a time without listening to new music! Weird! Anyway, here's what's good for your ears that I've heard recently. New mixes, music videos, film soundtracks, and albums ahead!
DJ /rupture helped curate this mixtape inspired by the film The Act of Killing. Heavy on the African and Middle Eastern vibes. Some older tracks, some electronic. A very different world of music than I (and probably the five of you reading this) normally listen to. Now I must watch that film.
Teju Cole tweeted that this song could be the soundtrack to the fantastic "Everyday is For the Thief." Get down with the sounds of Nigeria:
Good friend of mine Otherly contributed to the improvised soundtrack for the upcoming film "Burnt in Memory, My Lover has Steel Legs and Street Lights for Eyes" about Chicago. The film's description:
I interviewed Beijing group Carsick Cars after their show at the Burlington in March. They released their third album, 3, a couple months ago. But you already knew that, right, RIGHT?!
Local dudes Archie Powell and the Exports also released their third album Back in Black. Listen to the Exports at their most Pixiesist on Bandcamp, and catch their record release show tonight at Subterranean!
DJ /rupture helped curate this mixtape inspired by the film The Act of Killing. Heavy on the African and Middle Eastern vibes. Some older tracks, some electronic. A very different world of music than I (and probably the five of you reading this) normally listen to. Now I must watch that film.
Teju Cole tweeted that this song could be the soundtrack to the fantastic "Everyday is For the Thief." Get down with the sounds of Nigeria:
Good friend of mine Otherly contributed to the improvised soundtrack for the upcoming film "Burnt in Memory, My Lover has Steel Legs and Street Lights for Eyes" about Chicago. The film's description:
"An homage to Dziga Vertov and Koyaanisqaatsi, Burnt in Memory chronicles life in Chicago. Its impressionistic tableau has no dialogue, no characters, no story, and no acts. It is just a glimpse of people and their places, their in between places, and their forgotten places. "Sounds cool. Looks cool. Can't wait to see it. Watch the first of three trailers right here.
I interviewed Beijing group Carsick Cars after their show at the Burlington in March. They released their third album, 3, a couple months ago. But you already knew that, right, RIGHT?!
Local dudes Archie Powell and the Exports also released their third album Back in Black. Listen to the Exports at their most Pixiesist on Bandcamp, and catch their record release show tonight at Subterranean!
5.01.2014
Clothes Make the Man
We hear these phrases:
"Clothes make the man."
"Dress for the job you want, not the job you have."
I think of routines writers have. I forget who, but one writer would wake up every morning, shower, shave, dress, take the elevator down from his apartment building with all the other businessmen, but instead of getting off at the first floor, continue to the basement where he had a desk and a typewriter. For him, writing was like any other job, and required the same routine.
This is where I'm torn. I can appreciate a writing routine, even though I've found it difficult to get into one. I'm just one of those hacks who writes "when I feel like it." When I have a deadline, or when inspiration strikes. Or when I've had too much coffee. Or alcohol.
It's work, but it's not "work" for me. Maybe because I have other committments and a varied schedule that comes with waiting tables and a penchant for exploring nightlife (i.e., I like to get drunk at the Empty Bottle). But it's hard for me to say "I can wake up at 8 am, shower, eat breakfast and write and write and write til 5," if for no other fact than that I go to "work" before 5 PM.
Maybe it's because I'm unfocused in my writing. I do critical pieces or profiles for Frontier Psychiatrist, while also exploring my mind on this blog, while also working on fiction. While at the same time, some days I just want to read a book. Should I focus more on reading on give up on writing for a bit then come back to it? Do I need to go to such extremes?
Can how I dress really affect my mindset? I'm in my pajamas right now, with a t-shirt and hoodie on. It's comfortable, it's forgettable. I will admit that sometimes I feel more professional when I have a button-up and jeans on, that I'm in "the right mode" to write. But inspiration will strike regardless of what I'm wearing. Especially when no one besides the cat is going to see me until I go to "work" tonight.
Here's a fact: I've never been paid to write a single thing I've written. Here's another fact: I have shelves of free books, wristbands from free music festivals, gigs of free (legally) downloaded music, and countless handstamps from free shows. I've gotten out of this habit a bit. I like to support artists with what little money I do have and feel better when I pay for where I'm at (except Lollapalooza, fuck that place). I like to think I can keep myself to a strict deadline, even when there's no real consequences; I like to think I have my atheism to thank for that.
The point is, If something needs to be written, it will be written. I view blogging as practice. Do musicians get paid every time they practice? Do painters get their money back for acrylic wasted on a canvas with a piece that turned out really shitty? No. So why should I get paid for something I choose to do on my own volition? I will say if I'm asked to write something (that'll be the day), I would expect some compensation. But until then, I don't mind spending my waking, caffeine-addled hours chipping away at the keys of this laptop and converting it all into a magical world of 1s and 0s for your reading pleasure.
Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to go put on some pants.
Here's more routines from famous writers. Surprise, I identify with Miller the most out of these.
"Clothes make the man."
"Dress for the job you want, not the job you have."
I think of routines writers have. I forget who, but one writer would wake up every morning, shower, shave, dress, take the elevator down from his apartment building with all the other businessmen, but instead of getting off at the first floor, continue to the basement where he had a desk and a typewriter. For him, writing was like any other job, and required the same routine.
This is where I'm torn. I can appreciate a writing routine, even though I've found it difficult to get into one. I'm just one of those hacks who writes "when I feel like it." When I have a deadline, or when inspiration strikes. Or when I've had too much coffee. Or alcohol.
It's work, but it's not "work" for me. Maybe because I have other committments and a varied schedule that comes with waiting tables and a penchant for exploring nightlife (i.e., I like to get drunk at the Empty Bottle). But it's hard for me to say "I can wake up at 8 am, shower, eat breakfast and write and write and write til 5," if for no other fact than that I go to "work" before 5 PM.
Maybe it's because I'm unfocused in my writing. I do critical pieces or profiles for Frontier Psychiatrist, while also exploring my mind on this blog, while also working on fiction. While at the same time, some days I just want to read a book. Should I focus more on reading on give up on writing for a bit then come back to it? Do I need to go to such extremes?
Can how I dress really affect my mindset? I'm in my pajamas right now, with a t-shirt and hoodie on. It's comfortable, it's forgettable. I will admit that sometimes I feel more professional when I have a button-up and jeans on, that I'm in "the right mode" to write. But inspiration will strike regardless of what I'm wearing. Especially when no one besides the cat is going to see me until I go to "work" tonight.
Here's a fact: I've never been paid to write a single thing I've written. Here's another fact: I have shelves of free books, wristbands from free music festivals, gigs of free (legally) downloaded music, and countless handstamps from free shows. I've gotten out of this habit a bit. I like to support artists with what little money I do have and feel better when I pay for where I'm at (except Lollapalooza, fuck that place). I like to think I can keep myself to a strict deadline, even when there's no real consequences; I like to think I have my atheism to thank for that.
The point is, If something needs to be written, it will be written. I view blogging as practice. Do musicians get paid every time they practice? Do painters get their money back for acrylic wasted on a canvas with a piece that turned out really shitty? No. So why should I get paid for something I choose to do on my own volition? I will say if I'm asked to write something (that'll be the day), I would expect some compensation. But until then, I don't mind spending my waking, caffeine-addled hours chipping away at the keys of this laptop and converting it all into a magical world of 1s and 0s for your reading pleasure.
Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to go put on some pants.
Here's more routines from famous writers. Surprise, I identify with Miller the most out of these.
4.30.2014
Literary Chicago - Maxine Hong Kingston 'China Men'
Literary Chicago is series where I try to capture the essence of the city by how it is described in fiction, primarily from books that don't take place in Chicago.
"Ed's legs ached. At about eleven o'clock, he spoke the bitter verses of "The Laundry Song" by Wen I-to of Chicago:
A piece, two pieces, three pieces -
Wash them clean,
Four pieces, fives pieces, six -
Iron them smooth, "
pg 63. China Men by Maxine Hong Kingston (1977)
"Ed's legs ached. At about eleven o'clock, he spoke the bitter verses of "The Laundry Song" by Wen I-to of Chicago:
A piece, two pieces, three pieces -
Wash them clean,
Four pieces, fives pieces, six -
Iron them smooth, "
pg 63. China Men by Maxine Hong Kingston (1977)
4.21.2014
Simultweet: "Daft Punk"
Tweets happen so constantly, that
coincidences are natural to occur. When they happen a tweet or two away
in my timeline, I can't help but wonder about the collective
Twitter-subconscious.
These two tweets about Daft Punk happened one tweet away in my timeline, and 2,595,145,769 tweets away overall.
These two tweets about Daft Punk happened one tweet away in my timeline, and 2,595,145,769 tweets away overall.
Human After All: A poem about Daft Punk written by Justin R. at an @openbooks field trip. http://t.co/HsUdAtU307
— Open Books (@OpenBooks) April 21, 2014
Daft Punk is playing at Waffle House
— Michael Robbins (@alienvsrobbins) April 21, 2014
4.15.2014
Teju Cole and Aleksandar Hemon: Bicultural Writers
A couple weeks ago, Teju Cole and Aleksandar Hemon had a conversation posted on Bomb Magazine's website. Cole is possibly my favorite contemporary author, after I was blown away by Open City two years ago. His twitter account is real-time literary insight. The Lazarus Project by Hemon was my only real knowledge of the author until I read last year's memoir, The Book of My Lives, which compiles autobiographical essays written over the past decade.
In the conversation, the two talk about the distinctions between fiction and non-fiction, photography, wandering, urban culture, and more. The two are very illuminating and seem to have a natural sense of humanity they reflect off each other. Says Hemon:
Cole was born in Nigeria but calls NYC home now. Hemon refers to him as one of the foremost "bicultural writers" (for lack of better term). Whatever the term may be, Hemon is up there as well; I'm glad he's decided to call Chicago his adopted home, expanding the literary scope of our city with a unique perspective.
In the conversation, the two talk about the distinctions between fiction and non-fiction, photography, wandering, urban culture, and more. The two are very illuminating and seem to have a natural sense of humanity they reflect off each other. Says Hemon:
"If we ever find ourselves writing only for the present—which would essentially mean that tweeting is all we can do—I would feel absolutely defeated as a human being and a writer."And Cole on cities:
"But the other side is that they are simply so congested with material history and the spiritual traces of those histories, including some very dark events. Your contemporary Chicago is haunted by the Chicago of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, the Chicago of innovation and of systematic exclusions."The whole interview is fascinating and more than worth your time. I will never be able to recommend Open City enough (until I read Everyday is for the Thief at least). For the Chicagoans out there, Hemon's The Book of My Lives is a great read as well. It encompasses stories from his childhood in Bosnia, to his immigration to Chicago. His early days in Ukrainian Village and Edgewater are a particular fun read (while still thought-provoking), and the final chapter about his daughter's illness is sobering.
Cole was born in Nigeria but calls NYC home now. Hemon refers to him as one of the foremost "bicultural writers" (for lack of better term). Whatever the term may be, Hemon is up there as well; I'm glad he's decided to call Chicago his adopted home, expanding the literary scope of our city with a unique perspective.
4.11.2014
Ear Relevant: 04.05.14 - 04.11.14
Here's what's good for your ears this week. New singles, albums, tributes, and music videos ahead!
Ed Schrader (hey, that dude's album is in the banner to this website!) in his continuous quest to take over the world with his floor-tom-of-destruction released the second single off forthcoming Party Jail. Listen on his soundcloud.
Guitar superpower Ryley Walker has his new album streaming on Self Titled Mag and you can read his brief descriptions about all the songs. Yes, most of them are about drugs.
KSRA (aka Rachel Thomas) looped and wailed her way through a Chicago Singles Club showcase on Monday at the Empty Bottle and I picked up a copy of her album Petra. It's gooooood (listen here).
By now, most people know that Aimee Mann and Ted Leo have teamed up to form the Both. Besides making great music, the duo makes funny music videos (those things still exist?!). Watch below.
John Yingling premiered a new song by Beijing noise-pop trio Hedgehog called "DDDDDDreaMMMMMM"on Impose. Listen here.
And the music world lost another of its finest. Leee Childers, most well known for documenting the CBGB's scene passed away earlier this week. Watch this video from last year where he recounts interactions with David Bowie, Lou Reed, Sid Vicious and more:
Ed Schrader (hey, that dude's album is in the banner to this website!) in his continuous quest to take over the world with his floor-tom-of-destruction released the second single off forthcoming Party Jail. Listen on his soundcloud.
Guitar superpower Ryley Walker has his new album streaming on Self Titled Mag and you can read his brief descriptions about all the songs. Yes, most of them are about drugs.
KSRA (aka Rachel Thomas) looped and wailed her way through a Chicago Singles Club showcase on Monday at the Empty Bottle and I picked up a copy of her album Petra. It's gooooood (listen here).
By now, most people know that Aimee Mann and Ted Leo have teamed up to form the Both. Besides making great music, the duo makes funny music videos (those things still exist?!). Watch below.
John Yingling premiered a new song by Beijing noise-pop trio Hedgehog called "DDDDDDreaMMMMMM"on Impose. Listen here.
And the music world lost another of its finest. Leee Childers, most well known for documenting the CBGB's scene passed away earlier this week. Watch this video from last year where he recounts interactions with David Bowie, Lou Reed, Sid Vicious and more:
4.08.2014
Literary Chicago - Bonnie Jo Campbell, "Women and Other Animals"
Literary Chicago is series where I try to capture the essence of the city by how it is described in fiction, primarily from books that don't take place in Chicago.
"Hal always said Chicago didn't have anything that mattered. The Sears Tower is there, Bess had said, and Hal said the Sears Tower was just another tall building."
pg. 44 "Women and Other Animals" short story collection by Bonnie Jo Campbell. (1999)
 |
| via Calumet 412 |
"Hal always said Chicago didn't have anything that mattered. The Sears Tower is there, Bess had said, and Hal said the Sears Tower was just another tall building."
pg. 44 "Women and Other Animals" short story collection by Bonnie Jo Campbell. (1999)
4.07.2014
Simultweet: "Bathrobes"
Tweets happen so constantly, that coincidences are natural to occur. When they happen a tweet or two away in my timeline, I can't help but wonder about the collective Twitter-subconscious.
These two tweets about bathrobes happened five tweets away in my timeline, and 3,244,122,563 tweets away overall.
These two tweets about bathrobes happened five tweets away in my timeline, and 3,244,122,563 tweets away overall.
I'm reading at 8 @FranklinParkBK w/@KieseLaymon @jamiattenberg @dfoyble @00AMWC00 @sasha_fletcher. I'm still in my bathrobe! See you there!
— Jami Attenberg (@jamiattenberg) April 7, 2014
If I'm sipping on herbal tea and wearing a bath robe that means don't fuck w me
— Gabe Liebowitz (@GabeLiebowitz) April 7, 2014
4.04.2014
Ear Relevant: 03.31.14 - 04.04.14
Here's what's good for your ears this week. Music festivals, singles, albums, tributes, and music videos ahead!
Hozac Records announced the first details for Blackout Fest, May 15-17 at the Empty Bottle. Already announced are the Boys (yes, these Boys), the Dictators (yes, these Dictators), Shocked Minds, A Giant Dog, Rainbow Gun Show, First Base, 999999999, the Man, Counter Intuits, Nones, and Toupee.
Netherfriends released a new single featuring Black Matt called 'Seasons.' It's off the forthcoming Netherfriends Goes West album, featuring songs that sample Kanye West. Check it out on soundcloud here.
My friend John Serafin hosts a radio show on CHIRP Sunday nights / Monday mornings, midnight til 3 am. Here's the full three hours on mixcloud. This week features Warpaint, Herbert, Warm Soda, Martin L Gore, Will Phalen, the New Pornographers, Onra, She Speaks in Tongues, Archers of Loaf, and a billion others.
Massive Ego became just Ego last night with their record release show at the Owl. Besides making great album art, they make great music; check it out on their bandcamp.
Tacocat released an awesome video for their anti-streetcall song, 'Hey Girl.'
Sadly, Frankie Knuckles, "Godfather of House Music," passed away this week from issues related to diabetes. I've never listened to much of his music myself and never saw him spin, but have much respect for what he did. Nicky Siano, friend for forty years, wrote a fitting tribute to him. Here's his remix of 'Blind' by Hercules and the Love Affair which never fails to make a party playlist of mine.
Hozac Records announced the first details for Blackout Fest, May 15-17 at the Empty Bottle. Already announced are the Boys (yes, these Boys), the Dictators (yes, these Dictators), Shocked Minds, A Giant Dog, Rainbow Gun Show, First Base, 999999999, the Man, Counter Intuits, Nones, and Toupee.
Netherfriends released a new single featuring Black Matt called 'Seasons.' It's off the forthcoming Netherfriends Goes West album, featuring songs that sample Kanye West. Check it out on soundcloud here.
My friend John Serafin hosts a radio show on CHIRP Sunday nights / Monday mornings, midnight til 3 am. Here's the full three hours on mixcloud. This week features Warpaint, Herbert, Warm Soda, Martin L Gore, Will Phalen, the New Pornographers, Onra, She Speaks in Tongues, Archers of Loaf, and a billion others.
Massive Ego became just Ego last night with their record release show at the Owl. Besides making great album art, they make great music; check it out on their bandcamp.
Tacocat released an awesome video for their anti-streetcall song, 'Hey Girl.'
Sadly, Frankie Knuckles, "Godfather of House Music," passed away this week from issues related to diabetes. I've never listened to much of his music myself and never saw him spin, but have much respect for what he did. Nicky Siano, friend for forty years, wrote a fitting tribute to him. Here's his remix of 'Blind' by Hercules and the Love Affair which never fails to make a party playlist of mine.
3.26.2014
Ono Part II
So even though I posted a huge long thing yesterday about Ono on Frontier Psychiatrist, I have even more scans that they gave me I wanted to share.These are a bit more wordy (reviews / previews of shows), including the Reader article I mentioned, so I didn't want to add them on a piece already as long as it was. These are for the intense fans. Enjoy.
The following is...well I'm really not quite sure what's going on. The cover of this newspaper says "Pavilion for the Arts, ltd. presents Robert A Fischer's THE JADED DRAGON (A Kah-Boo-Key Event in 5 Acts)." So take that as you will. It happened at the Germania Club on Saturday October 29th, 1983.
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| Review of Machines That Kill People in Aeon Magazine |
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| Review by Scott Michaelson in the Chicago Reader, July 1983 |
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| ...this review is currently not in the Chicago Reader online archives. |
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| Review in Matter Magazine |
The following is...well I'm really not quite sure what's going on. The cover of this newspaper says "Pavilion for the Arts, ltd. presents Robert A Fischer's THE JADED DRAGON (A Kah-Boo-Key Event in 5 Acts)." So take that as you will. It happened at the Germania Club on Saturday October 29th, 1983.
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| Order form for Kate Cincinnati cassette, with original calligraphy by Travis |
3.25.2014
The State
The State is one the most important television shows made in the America. It's absurd, it breaks the fourth wall, it's a combination of high-brow and low-brow, culturally- and self-aware, and along with Mr. Show, the closest thing that has ever matched the greatness of Monty Python's Flying Circus.
But perhaps most importantly, the theme song of the show is great, perhaps only second to Shadowy Men On a Shadowy Planet's "Having an Average Weekend" used on Kids in the Hall. The song is by Craig Wedren of Shudder To Think and Eli Janney of Girls Against Boys, based around samples from two Nation of Ulysses songs, an unsung hero of a band that seems all but forgotten.
In a sense Nation of Ulysses were a musical equivalent of the State. The loud, fast, and angry motif was countered by insightful and often humorous lyrics about both politics and relationships, not unexpected from a Dischord band. Likewise, their no-wave influence and philosophy regarding fashion was different from conventional punk ideology, as much of the State contradicted what had been done with humor at that point in time. In a time when both music isn't angry enough and comedy isn't funny enough, both The State and Nation of Ulysses deserve our attention again.
Embedding is disabled, so click here for a sketch from The State. Listen to the two songs that were sampled from for the theme below and get angry.
Now listen to one of the most important albums of the early 90s.
But perhaps most importantly, the theme song of the show is great, perhaps only second to Shadowy Men On a Shadowy Planet's "Having an Average Weekend" used on Kids in the Hall. The song is by Craig Wedren of Shudder To Think and Eli Janney of Girls Against Boys, based around samples from two Nation of Ulysses songs, an unsung hero of a band that seems all but forgotten.
In a sense Nation of Ulysses were a musical equivalent of the State. The loud, fast, and angry motif was countered by insightful and often humorous lyrics about both politics and relationships, not unexpected from a Dischord band. Likewise, their no-wave influence and philosophy regarding fashion was different from conventional punk ideology, as much of the State contradicted what had been done with humor at that point in time. In a time when both music isn't angry enough and comedy isn't funny enough, both The State and Nation of Ulysses deserve our attention again.
Embedding is disabled, so click here for a sketch from The State. Listen to the two songs that were sampled from for the theme below and get angry.
Now listen to one of the most important albums of the early 90s.
3.24.2014
A Band Called Death
Finally got around to watching this documentary about proto-punkers Death from Detroit. I had never heard of them before, and though they existed in the mid 70s, really no one in the world had heard of them until the late 2000s.
The band was three African-American brothers (Bobby, David, and Dannis Hackney), that made loud, fast, and angry music, before the Ramones, the Clash, and the Sex Pistols popularized the sound. Death was inspired by the Who and Alice Cooper, yet went faster, harder, and with more attitude. After no support in Detroit, the band moved to Vermont, still finding resistance and no audience.
Yet, through a string of bizarrely random circumstances, primarily Robert Manis (of Moniker Records) buying their single for $800 on EBay and plugging them to Drag City to reissue their material, the band has finally found their audience. The documentary is full of great memorabilia from the band and is quite touching. Only two of the brothers are still alive (as well as a fourth brother that wasn't in the band), and they are still so full of life and love, and certainly with a new found appreciation for their new found audience.
The only thing that was missing from the documentary was their thoughts on the punk scene that followed them (and was ignorant of them). Firstly, there's no mention of fellow Detroit noise makers MC5 and the Stooges and if they had an influence on the band at all. Likewise, there's no mention of their opinions of the Ramones and all these NYC and London bands with a similar sound getting record deals. The only meaning I can surmise about this absence is that they just weren't concerned with any of it. Two of the members formed a reggae band in the 90s. They started families, which they said was the most important things in their lives. They were all very religious as well, not a hot seller in the punk scene (one of the few reviews of the band wrote the headline “Rock ‘n’ Roll Please, and Hold the Religion”).
In the documentary, the brothers are super humble, and never bitter. It's amazing that they made such powerful music, visionary as it was, left to the obscurity of a few 45" bins for decades. I had the same thought as Henry Rollins did in the doc: this is why we go to record stores and take chances on things we've never heard of before. I know I've discovered more amazing music by taking chances on obscure records than I have from superflous PR emails that avalanche my email inbox every day.
Next chance I get, I'm picking up this record. In the meantime, here it is on Youtube:
And look for Rough Francis, a band featuring the three sons of bassist Bobby Hackney, who make original music as well as pay tribute to Death at every show.
The band was three African-American brothers (Bobby, David, and Dannis Hackney), that made loud, fast, and angry music, before the Ramones, the Clash, and the Sex Pistols popularized the sound. Death was inspired by the Who and Alice Cooper, yet went faster, harder, and with more attitude. After no support in Detroit, the band moved to Vermont, still finding resistance and no audience.
Yet, through a string of bizarrely random circumstances, primarily Robert Manis (of Moniker Records) buying their single for $800 on EBay and plugging them to Drag City to reissue their material, the band has finally found their audience. The documentary is full of great memorabilia from the band and is quite touching. Only two of the brothers are still alive (as well as a fourth brother that wasn't in the band), and they are still so full of life and love, and certainly with a new found appreciation for their new found audience.
The only thing that was missing from the documentary was their thoughts on the punk scene that followed them (and was ignorant of them). Firstly, there's no mention of fellow Detroit noise makers MC5 and the Stooges and if they had an influence on the band at all. Likewise, there's no mention of their opinions of the Ramones and all these NYC and London bands with a similar sound getting record deals. The only meaning I can surmise about this absence is that they just weren't concerned with any of it. Two of the members formed a reggae band in the 90s. They started families, which they said was the most important things in their lives. They were all very religious as well, not a hot seller in the punk scene (one of the few reviews of the band wrote the headline “Rock ‘n’ Roll Please, and Hold the Religion”).
In the documentary, the brothers are super humble, and never bitter. It's amazing that they made such powerful music, visionary as it was, left to the obscurity of a few 45" bins for decades. I had the same thought as Henry Rollins did in the doc: this is why we go to record stores and take chances on things we've never heard of before. I know I've discovered more amazing music by taking chances on obscure records than I have from superflous PR emails that avalanche my email inbox every day.
Next chance I get, I'm picking up this record. In the meantime, here it is on Youtube:
And look for Rough Francis, a band featuring the three sons of bassist Bobby Hackney, who make original music as well as pay tribute to Death at every show.
3.20.2014
Richard Hell - "I Dreamed I Was a Very Clean Tramp"
I was more than excited to finally read Richard Hell's autobiography. If you're not familiar with Hell, hit play on this video first before reading.
Blank Generation has been one of my favorite albums since I first listened to it sophomore year of high school. I thought it was better than anything else his contemporaries were doing at CBGBs, and even better than the Velvets and Stooges before him. It combined a feral physical nature with intellectual wit and humor, in the lyrics and in the compositions. It's the perfect album for a hormone-addled teenager: music about sex and art made by drug addicts.
Somehow, the Glenview Public Library had a copy of Go Now, a novel Hell wrote in 1996, briefly mentioned in his autobiography. I remember being underwhelmed, and feeling like it was an On the Road ripoff (though I also devoured it). Unfortunately, I feel the same way here. Looking at reviews on Goodreads, a lot of people feel the same. He spends too much time on describing apartments he lived in only briefly, that it was a 3.5 star book, that moments of brilliance are overshadowed by half-baked prose, unnessecary tangents, and not expanding on stuff that he could have shed more insight on.
In high school, I read Please Kill Me three times. It remains one of my favorite books, and is an amazing oral history of the punk scene. So it was sorta disappointing to read a lot of the same stuff again and even some things that are almost line-for-line the same. I had hoped for more of Hell's post punk rock life when he was writing more, but he addresses his reasons for not doing this as the life of a writer isn't that interesting, difficutly in describing present day situations frankly blah blah blah. We want to read you, Hell, because we know you are fearless! Give that to us again.
And yet, I can't hate this book entirely. There are in fact some great anecdotes from the CBGBs days, and he has great descriptions of people like Lester Bangs, Dee Dee Ramone, Anya Phillips, and more, and when his poetry sticks out, it sticks out ("Everything that happened to her was weather," describing a girlfriend), but too often it feels like Hell is cashing in; the book is double spaced with blank pages between chapters, like he was just trying to get to a specified length and then call it a day.
It's not all bad. If nothing else, it's got me excited about that scene again, and what's come out of it. I'm rediscovering some LPs, like Robert Quine (Hell's guitarist) and Fred Maher's album Basic. Quine was a great and underrated guitarist, as angry as they come and with a unique style all his own. Check out 'Summer Storm' from that album:
For those interested in CBGBs scene, I'd recommend going with Please Kill Me. For those that want more of a personal account, read Patti Smith's Just Kids. For those that can't get enough (like me), go for I Dreamed I Was A Very Clean Tramp.
Blank Generation has been one of my favorite albums since I first listened to it sophomore year of high school. I thought it was better than anything else his contemporaries were doing at CBGBs, and even better than the Velvets and Stooges before him. It combined a feral physical nature with intellectual wit and humor, in the lyrics and in the compositions. It's the perfect album for a hormone-addled teenager: music about sex and art made by drug addicts.
Somehow, the Glenview Public Library had a copy of Go Now, a novel Hell wrote in 1996, briefly mentioned in his autobiography. I remember being underwhelmed, and feeling like it was an On the Road ripoff (though I also devoured it). Unfortunately, I feel the same way here. Looking at reviews on Goodreads, a lot of people feel the same. He spends too much time on describing apartments he lived in only briefly, that it was a 3.5 star book, that moments of brilliance are overshadowed by half-baked prose, unnessecary tangents, and not expanding on stuff that he could have shed more insight on.
In high school, I read Please Kill Me three times. It remains one of my favorite books, and is an amazing oral history of the punk scene. So it was sorta disappointing to read a lot of the same stuff again and even some things that are almost line-for-line the same. I had hoped for more of Hell's post punk rock life when he was writing more, but he addresses his reasons for not doing this as the life of a writer isn't that interesting, difficutly in describing present day situations frankly blah blah blah. We want to read you, Hell, because we know you are fearless! Give that to us again.
And yet, I can't hate this book entirely. There are in fact some great anecdotes from the CBGBs days, and he has great descriptions of people like Lester Bangs, Dee Dee Ramone, Anya Phillips, and more, and when his poetry sticks out, it sticks out ("Everything that happened to her was weather," describing a girlfriend), but too often it feels like Hell is cashing in; the book is double spaced with blank pages between chapters, like he was just trying to get to a specified length and then call it a day.
It's not all bad. If nothing else, it's got me excited about that scene again, and what's come out of it. I'm rediscovering some LPs, like Robert Quine (Hell's guitarist) and Fred Maher's album Basic. Quine was a great and underrated guitarist, as angry as they come and with a unique style all his own. Check out 'Summer Storm' from that album:
For those interested in CBGBs scene, I'd recommend going with Please Kill Me. For those that want more of a personal account, read Patti Smith's Just Kids. For those that can't get enough (like me), go for I Dreamed I Was A Very Clean Tramp.
3.14.2014
Song of the Day: Plastic Crimewave Sound - "End of Cloud"
About a month ago, I stumbled across a split between Oneida and Plastic Crimewave Sound at Reckless. Because I suck, I've only today listened to it for the first time. PCS's side consists of one 19 minute track of propulsive drums, chanting, feedback, and overall psychedelic mind-melting (and I say that fully aware of the hyperbole). It's good and it's on youtube. Turn it up loud:
A Note on "Tuesday, Nearly Midnight"
This post is in reference to the previous post, which you can see by easily scrolling down, or easily clicking here.
Yes, I recognize the dehumanizing aspect of calling some of my characters Bum 1, Bum 2, and Urine (as opposed to the more humanizing name for Portia, her real name, or at least the name she gave me). I did not have any direct contact with these fellas, and was really just an unintentional (and non-judgmental) observer but wanted to differentiate them from each other somehow. I wrote that post, because it was just something that struck me (stories about homeless or "crazy" people on the El are nothing new, and I'm certain I've experienced more bizarre situations) and I wanted to share the story of these three men and their brief interaction.
Homelessness is an issue I think often about. When I was younger and went to Comiskey or the United Center, I always wanted my dad to give money to the homeless people, especially the street musicians, the bucket drummers and sax players playing da da da daaaaa da HEY! and the like. If I had a couple quarters in my pocket, I would always throw it their way. When I wanted to be a pro athlete (age six or so), I thought how one day I would be rich and be able to give all these guys money. It's an easy pipe dream as you get into your dad's luxury car, fall asleep on 90/94, and arrive safely back in the garage of a Glenview home.
Little did I know until I'd grown up a bit 1) how much of an epidemic homelessness is 2) how shitty it feels to play on the street and be perpetually ignored.
I can't tell you what the three guys on the train do with their lives. Myself, like society, continue to marginalize them as outcasts, people not worthy of knowing. But, granted, if three coked-out financial businessmen were on the train, I'd call them Suit 1, Suit 2, and Sniffles. Is that just train society? I remember in a Freshman year writing course in college we had to write an ethnography of a specific place. This involved visiting the same location a few times, making observations, interviewing people, and writing about it. An example of a previous student's work our teacher gave us involved the Red Line. The writer of that paper concluded how no one likes to talk to anyone else on the train, how we just get holed up in our own little worlds with iPods or reading material and ignore the actual lives of people and THINGS THAT ARE HAPPENING around us. Is that inherent to train culture though? Do I need to know about every stranger I pass by? Generally, I'm introverted. I don't like talking to people I know if it's avoidable sometimes.
I know this turned from a note to a ramble. I guess I'm just done with the train this winter and need the weather to get nicer so I can get back on my bike. I'm not sure my heart can take being on the train; I'll start giving everyone a quarter and pat myself on the back for being a good liberal, though neither of us will be better off.
Yes, I recognize the dehumanizing aspect of calling some of my characters Bum 1, Bum 2, and Urine (as opposed to the more humanizing name for Portia, her real name, or at least the name she gave me). I did not have any direct contact with these fellas, and was really just an unintentional (and non-judgmental) observer but wanted to differentiate them from each other somehow. I wrote that post, because it was just something that struck me (stories about homeless or "crazy" people on the El are nothing new, and I'm certain I've experienced more bizarre situations) and I wanted to share the story of these three men and their brief interaction.
Homelessness is an issue I think often about. When I was younger and went to Comiskey or the United Center, I always wanted my dad to give money to the homeless people, especially the street musicians, the bucket drummers and sax players playing da da da daaaaa da HEY! and the like. If I had a couple quarters in my pocket, I would always throw it their way. When I wanted to be a pro athlete (age six or so), I thought how one day I would be rich and be able to give all these guys money. It's an easy pipe dream as you get into your dad's luxury car, fall asleep on 90/94, and arrive safely back in the garage of a Glenview home.
Little did I know until I'd grown up a bit 1) how much of an epidemic homelessness is 2) how shitty it feels to play on the street and be perpetually ignored.
I can't tell you what the three guys on the train do with their lives. Myself, like society, continue to marginalize them as outcasts, people not worthy of knowing. But, granted, if three coked-out financial businessmen were on the train, I'd call them Suit 1, Suit 2, and Sniffles. Is that just train society? I remember in a Freshman year writing course in college we had to write an ethnography of a specific place. This involved visiting the same location a few times, making observations, interviewing people, and writing about it. An example of a previous student's work our teacher gave us involved the Red Line. The writer of that paper concluded how no one likes to talk to anyone else on the train, how we just get holed up in our own little worlds with iPods or reading material and ignore the actual lives of people and THINGS THAT ARE HAPPENING around us. Is that inherent to train culture though? Do I need to know about every stranger I pass by? Generally, I'm introverted. I don't like talking to people I know if it's avoidable sometimes.
I know this turned from a note to a ramble. I guess I'm just done with the train this winter and need the weather to get nicer so I can get back on my bike. I'm not sure my heart can take being on the train; I'll start giving everyone a quarter and pat myself on the back for being a good liberal, though neither of us will be better off.
3.13.2014
Tuesday, Nearly Midnight (Keep Chicago Weird)
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| Via Calumet 412 |
On the Green Line two men get on, I don't remember where. Somewhere past Central, heading downtown from the West Side. It might've been Laramie. They both sit in the aisle facing seats, one directly across from me, the other three seats to his right. One of them had a red, personal grocery-cart you only see old ladies, college kids in the South Loop, and bums with. A man that smelled like urine had already sat down next to me; we'd both of us got on at Harlem. Sadly, a man on the train who looks dirty and smells like piss is barely enough for me to think about; I kept my head buried in my book. City livin'.
So these
two new men get on. The one that's across from me starts talking about
someone who was hit by a train at 35th in Bronzeville. Then another was hit and killed on the West Side. When's he's not talking, he's snorting. He's trying to remember when it happened. Six, maybe five, four in the morning? More like 3 AM, he finally decided. The Green Line doesn't run that late, his friend said. After a minute of silence, he realized his faux pas. "I
wasn't trying to contradict you," but Bum 1 turns away. He took out a pack
of cigarettes. I think he was using the papers to roll a joint but I was
engrossed in this book or at least tried to look like I was and make myself part of the background
(as I typed all of this on my phone on the Blue Line a little while later, someone else has begun smoking
cigarettes).
Bum 2 turns to the urine soaked dude.
"My man. We got the same hat." It was a black beanie apparently with a Nike logo . "Black folks don't wear this," he said. "Only white folks and
Europeans. I got mine for 38.65. Almost 40 bucks I paid for this hat.
Tell you what, jack. I'll buy yours offa you. Ten bucks?"
Urine offers a mumble-laugh. "You said it was almost 40."
"15,
man, I'll give you 15 for the hat." No response.
"25." Nothing.
"30." Nothing.
"35. Man, I'll give you 40." He keeps going til 50 and he still won't give up the hat. Meanwhile Bum 1 starts nodding off. Bum 2 does the same before waking up again. "I was just messing with you, man," he revealed to Urine, before giving some sound economic advice. "But if anyone ever offers you 50 bucks for a hat again, I don't care, you take it. You hear me?"
By the time I'm at Clark and Lake and close my book, all three of them are nodding off, like three tramps at the end of the first act in a Samuel Beckett play. Could you imagine the stories Beckett would write if he lived on the West Side of Chicago?
"25." Nothing.
"30." Nothing.
"35. Man, I'll give you 40." He keeps going til 50 and he still won't give up the hat. Meanwhile Bum 1 starts nodding off. Bum 2 does the same before waking up again. "I was just messing with you, man," he revealed to Urine, before giving some sound economic advice. "But if anyone ever offers you 50 bucks for a hat again, I don't care, you take it. You hear me?"
By the time I'm at Clark and Lake and close my book, all three of them are nodding off, like three tramps at the end of the first act in a Samuel Beckett play. Could you imagine the stories Beckett would write if he lived on the West Side of Chicago?
3.12.2014
Poems About Bars: The Whistler (11.01.11)
I only write poetry about bars. This is from a few years ago. I think it's about Mike Reed.
'The Whistler (11.01.11)'
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| via Food Republic |
'The Whistler (11.01.11)'
The fern
stood next to the doorman
Who takes a break from his book to check an ID
Who takes a break from his book to check an ID
The
drumsticks clacked the rim
The sax was strangling the bass
Cocktails
Candlight
Wood
Leather
Brick
Curtains
The candle
flickered like a Parkinsons’d limb
His right elbow was dancing
It is only a
trick of the light
It is only a trick of the music
3.07.2014
Literary Chicago: Toni Morrison, 'Sula'
Literary Chicago is series where I try to capture the essence of the city by how it is described in fiction, primarily from books that don't take place in Chicago.
"...Then he leaned forward and whispered into the ear of the woman in the green dress. She was still for a moment and then threw back her head and laughed. A high-pitched big-city laugh that reminded Eva of Chicago. It hit her like a sledge hammer, and it was then that she knew what to feel. A liquid trail of hate flooded her chest."
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| via Calumet 412 |
3.06.2014
Montezuma's Revenge (Summer 2013)
Last summer after getting sick in Mexico City, I spent a few days in NYC ignoring how sick I was. I wrote this on the airplane ride from NYC to Boston, where I never really got any better. I didn't scribble as many notes then, but perhaps I'll make a part two to this. Since I have a cold today, this seems like the perfect time to post this.
Find three friends. Go to Mexico City. Eat street food. Ride bikes. Eat street food. Say goodbye to Craig. Be jealous of him three days later (later you find out his fate was the same). Go to the 17th best restaurant in the world. Drink Mexican wine. Eat ants. Get drunk.
Find three friends. Go to Mexico City. Eat street food. Ride bikes. Eat street food. Say goodbye to Craig. Be jealous of him three days later (later you find out his fate was the same). Go to the 17th best restaurant in the world. Drink Mexican wine. Eat ants. Get drunk.
Wake up the next morning. Urinate. Defecate. Get a
cappuccino. Get a bagel. Yes, a bagel. Plan your day. Defecate. Defacate.
“Shit.”
Enjoy room service for your last meal in Mexico City. Watch Argo. Watch Ted. Sleep on and off; never reach REM state. Read the Wikipedia
page for “Montezuma’s Revenge”.
Go to the airport. Eat a banana. Relax. Feel better. Run
through DFW. Sweat; but make the connecting flight. Land in LGA and patiently,
but frustratedly wait for your luggage which is on the next flight. Arrive at
friend’s place in Bushwick. Wait for him. Listen to Saves the Day. Andy comes
home; trade stories. Pass out
and sleep in. Feel better. Go out. Get coffee. Go to a beer
garden. Play bocce. Drink a beer. Talk with friends. Talk about music and
writing and music writing. Drink more beer. Eat a slice. Smile, laugh. Go to
the park. Meet more friends, drink more beer. Eat tacos.
Regret those tacos.
3.04.2014
Michael Robbins, 'Alien Vs. Predator'
His own poetry is quite absurd. Lots of plays on words, lots of contemporary cultural references, philosophical references, poetic references...you get the idea. The poems are very abstract, in the sense that you shouldn't expect to read a poem and come away with any cohesive sense of what you just read.
Overall, I enjoyed the collection. I don't read a lot of poetry, but I'm sure I would read more of it if I knew more people that wrote like this. It was fun to read, and fun to read out loud and I found myself laughing while reading more than anything in quite some time. I decided to take some of my favorite lines, and rearrange them into a new poem. Since I could never write a poem that referenced Sartre, Star Wars, Joy Division, Freud, and David Bowie, I'm letting Robbins do it for me. If you're intrigued by these lines, check out some of Robbins' unbastardized work on the Poetry Foundation's website and follow him on twitter. Looking forward to another collection set to be released later this year.
'Ode to AVP'
If hell, like Soylent Green, is people,
every little hermit is the one true God.
She's not the droid you're looking for.
This baby is disgusting. Fuck you, baby.
Hold me close, tiny reindeer.
I get my news from Meerkat Manor
I think I left my uterus in your uterus
Please don't get me started on astronauts.
I measure my pleasure in AMBER Alerts.
Let's put the Christ back in Xbox
by licking the nun and kicking her habit,
the elephant of surprise.
You shouldn't drink diarrhea
unless you bring enough for everybody.
Life is but the interpretation of a dream.
Gently, gently down the drain.
This is Uncle Tom to Ground Control.
Love will tear us a new asshole.
Now I'm required
to register as a sex pretender.
The business school has softer
toilet paper, so I do my business there.
Sing "Crimson and Clover" over and overy
to the dollar dollar bill and yes yes y'all.
3.03.2014
Netherfriends
Anyone who follows me on social media already has seen me post a bunch about Netherfriends, but what the hell, why not one more?
I probably met Shawn Rosenblatt, sole member of the band, sometime at Columbia College when we both attended, though we didn't really know each other until I interviewed first in 2010 (I interviewed him again last year as well). I've since seen him play with a band and solo, in bars and basements, and in various states of inebriation (myself that is, although probably him too). I took this video of him at Subterranean, a show which I borrowed a friend's van to drive Shawn to after his was stolen.
Now, he's released his newest album P3ACE (pronounced "Three Peace"). It's got hip-hop beats, looping guitar and keys, and some of the catchiest hooks you'll hear this year. It's more than worth your time, and odds are if you're reading this, you've already heard it. If not, click below:
I probably met Shawn Rosenblatt, sole member of the band, sometime at Columbia College when we both attended, though we didn't really know each other until I interviewed first in 2010 (I interviewed him again last year as well). I've since seen him play with a band and solo, in bars and basements, and in various states of inebriation (myself that is, although probably him too). I took this video of him at Subterranean, a show which I borrowed a friend's van to drive Shawn to after his was stolen.
Now, he's released his newest album P3ACE (pronounced "Three Peace"). It's got hip-hop beats, looping guitar and keys, and some of the catchiest hooks you'll hear this year. It's more than worth your time, and odds are if you're reading this, you've already heard it. If not, click below:
2.28.2014
Algren, Allen, Baudelaire
"Yet once you've come to be part of this particular patch, you'll never love another. Like loving a woman with a broken nose, you may well find lovlier lovlies. But never a lovely so real."
- Nelson Algren, Chicago: City on the Make (pg. 23)
"Then a kid came along to offer a hand
But before she had time to accept it
Hits her over the head, doesn't care if she's dead
Cause he's got all her jewelery and wallet
You might laugh you might frown
Walkin' round London town
Sun is in the sky oh why oh why?
Would I wanna be anywhere else"
Why yes, I did just put a Nelson Algren quote and Lily Allen lyrics side by side. Something about them makes sense though. Both of their civic pride stems from things people generally hate about cities. There's a grittiness to the city that each tries to capture. Ok, so Allen has been accused of inauthenticity about the people she's describing since her dad is rich and famous (which Algren was neither the former and still isn't the latter). Perhaps its both's understanding of irony that makes me equate one with the other. Going even further back, Baudelaire, about Paris, as quoted in the intro to Algren:
This attraction is odd. Because I feel it too. Maybe it's because I grew up in the suburbs, but I like living in a city that has a rough reputation. Of course, it doesn't even have to be as ugly as all that. Looking at the 10 day forecast, the temperature doesn't ever reach above freezing, and it's been like that consistently for months. Why the actual fuck do so many of us live here? "The Cubs suck." "The trains suck." "The politicians are corrupt." The city is demonstrably and demon-ously segregated. There's little support for artists. That's why even Algren moved away!
So obviously there's great things about the city. The food is great. The music is great. The parks are great. The coffee is great. Malort is great. The skyline and architecture are phenomenal. I walked into the Silver Cloud alone last night and left feeling better. I met drunks that argued about music and started conversation before introducing themselves.
Everyone that lives in this city has a broken nose. If they don't, they move to New York (but something else is probably broken inside of them). I take my broken nose and I stare right at you and make you look at it, and the city does the same. LOOK AT ME the Sears Tower demands. LOOK AT ME the El train roars. LOOK AT ME the South Side pleads. LOOK AT ME the city sings in unison.
Why oh why would I want to live anywhere else?
- Nelson Algren, Chicago: City on the Make (pg. 23)
"Then a kid came along to offer a hand
But before she had time to accept it
Hits her over the head, doesn't care if she's dead
Cause he's got all her jewelery and wallet
You might laugh you might frown
Walkin' round London town
Sun is in the sky oh why oh why?
Would I wanna be anywhere else"
- Lily Allen, 'LDN'
Why yes, I did just put a Nelson Algren quote and Lily Allen lyrics side by side. Something about them makes sense though. Both of their civic pride stems from things people generally hate about cities. There's a grittiness to the city that each tries to capture. Ok, so Allen has been accused of inauthenticity about the people she's describing since her dad is rich and famous (which Algren was neither the former and still isn't the latter). Perhaps its both's understanding of irony that makes me equate one with the other. Going even further back, Baudelaire, about Paris, as quoted in the intro to Algren:
"I love thee, infamous city! Harlots and
Hunted have pleasures of their own to give,
The vulgar herd can never understand. " (from 'Epilogue')
This attraction is odd. Because I feel it too. Maybe it's because I grew up in the suburbs, but I like living in a city that has a rough reputation. Of course, it doesn't even have to be as ugly as all that. Looking at the 10 day forecast, the temperature doesn't ever reach above freezing, and it's been like that consistently for months. Why the actual fuck do so many of us live here? "The Cubs suck." "The trains suck." "The politicians are corrupt." The city is demonstrably and demon-ously segregated. There's little support for artists. That's why even Algren moved away!
So obviously there's great things about the city. The food is great. The music is great. The parks are great. The coffee is great. Malort is great. The skyline and architecture are phenomenal. I walked into the Silver Cloud alone last night and left feeling better. I met drunks that argued about music and started conversation before introducing themselves.
Everyone that lives in this city has a broken nose. If they don't, they move to New York (but something else is probably broken inside of them). I take my broken nose and I stare right at you and make you look at it, and the city does the same. LOOK AT ME the Sears Tower demands. LOOK AT ME the El train roars. LOOK AT ME the South Side pleads. LOOK AT ME the city sings in unison.
Why oh why would I want to live anywhere else?
2.27.2014
Literary Chicago: Jack Kerouac, "On the Road"
Literary Chicago is series where I try to capture the essence of the city by how it is described in fiction, primarily from books that don't take place in Chicago.
"Great Chicago glowed red before our eyes. We were suddenly on Madison Street among hordes of hobos, some of them sprawled out on the street with their feet on the curb, hundreds of others milling in the doorways of saloons and alleys. "Wup! wup! look sharp for old Dean Moriarty there, he may be in Chicago by accident this year." We let out the hobos on this street and proceeded to downtown Chicago. Screeching trolleys, newsboys, gals cutting by, the smell of fried food and beer in the air, neons winking - "We're in the big town, Sal! Whooee!""
pg. 239, On the Road by Jack Kerouac (1955)
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| via Calumet 412 |
"Great Chicago glowed red before our eyes. We were suddenly on Madison Street among hordes of hobos, some of them sprawled out on the street with their feet on the curb, hundreds of others milling in the doorways of saloons and alleys. "Wup! wup! look sharp for old Dean Moriarty there, he may be in Chicago by accident this year." We let out the hobos on this street and proceeded to downtown Chicago. Screeching trolleys, newsboys, gals cutting by, the smell of fried food and beer in the air, neons winking - "We're in the big town, Sal! Whooee!""
pg. 239, On the Road by Jack Kerouac (1955)
2.26.2014
Travis from ONO covering 'Jesus and Tequila'
I've been working on a monster of a piece about Ono over the past couple weeks and watching a lot a lot a lot of youtube videos about them. This was one gem that particularly stood out, since the quality isn't that awful. Probably the most musical thing Travis has been a part of.
And what the hell, here's another Ono video from 1984. Just as unique today as they were then.
And what the hell, here's another Ono video from 1984. Just as unique today as they were then.
Magritte X Chicago
Trying (yet again) to get back into the blogging game. I feel shitty
when I can't find the motivation or subject matter to write about. For
some reason last year I became really inspired, and I feel that coming
on again. So, for my first post in what has become a handsome amount of
time, obviously I'm going to share some sketches!
I've had the idea to paint 'The Son of Man' with the Chicago star instead of an apple for some time now, and hope to get around to it eventually. Rene Magritte has long been one of my favorite painters. Chicago has long been one of my favorite cities. It only makes sense to combine the surrealism with one into the surrealism of the other.
I've had the idea to paint 'The Son of Man' with the Chicago star instead of an apple for some time now, and hope to get around to it eventually. Rene Magritte has long been one of my favorite painters. Chicago has long been one of my favorite cities. It only makes sense to combine the surrealism with one into the surrealism of the other.
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