Spring Gleaning

Having the attention span of a gnat in recent months, I haven’t read much.  But it’s Spring, so I’m attempting to de-clutter my brain as well as clean my room, maybe squeeze in some words…in baby steps.

So I’m grazing among 6 collections of short fiction, trying to read a story a day.  I’m slightly stuck on ZZ Packer, reading a third in a row <a href=”View” _mce_href=”http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/2641579-mignon-ariel-king”>View”>http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/2641579-mignon-ariel-king”>View all my reviews</a>

Prince

Just found this pretty illustration of Prince by Unknown Artist:

Kanye, Brother, what the…?

I was all ready to say, “The media is blowing things out of proportion again!” but that was unnecessary, Kanye.  Truthful, but not necessary.  She’s 19.  It makes sense that we’re just not that into her, but let the girl enjoy her moment.  Call her.  Twitter.  Something.  But apologize already!

[Update:  He did apologize the evening this was written.  I think he's right to deduce that he seriously needs a vacation.]

Jimmy Cracked Com(edy)

Now that I’ve publicly harassed my friend Brian over those beloved Red Sox, I feel a need to thank him for introducing me to Jimmy Tingle’s Off Broadway Theatre.  For years after he left us gradschool pals to head home to the mid-West, Brian came in for First Night.  Sure, I complained about being dragged out into the near-arctic climes on the Common to view ice sculptures that I could see perfectly well in the nice, warm glow of daylight; but I also saw a lot of cultural events and unique entertainment that never would have lured me without Brian’s prompts.  One year, he treated me to a Jimmy Tingle show in Davis Square, actually bribed me to get off the couch.  So with the closing of Tingle’s Theatre, I feel especially sad because to me it’ll always be Brian’s hang out.  Bravo, Brian!  Adieu, Jimmy!  Warmed by the heat of the Twilight Zone marathon, I’ll quaff champagne to the both of you this New Year’s Eve.

Just Say ‘Yes’ to Classic Rock in Boston

July 20th, 2007 by makingpoetry
What’s up with Rock fans in Boston? Last weekend I went to hear one hell of a Classic Rock band, Shoot the Moon, but the size of the audience did not do them justice. Most of my old college friends are not into Rock, but the Bostonians who braved the heat and half-million crowd to see Aerosmith on the Esplanade last summer are fans of true Rock. They buy Steven Tyler’s gritty sound by the CD-ful, maybe go to Red Sox games and support the troops (despite having a serious problem with this war-waging in and of itself).  Why aren’t you folks turning out to see younger rockers?! Classic Rock is seriously American. Is the problem that older Rock fans (Watch it, now!) don’t actually go to concerts, thinking there will be tons of “youngsters” there, and young people are closet Rock fans (It’s so violent, dude.); so nobody shows up? It’s live Rock!

Granted, I’m so into Steven Tyler that he’s in my memoir, and one of my favorite poems to read at open mikes is “Oxygen & Aerosmith”, which is lots of fun in combating stereotypes about how stuffy we Bostonians are–but still…. Yup, I think drugs are stupid, but Sex and Rock ‘n’ Roll still go together, and lead singer Sammy Miami is too sexy! There is a connection between musicians and poets that is organic and electric. In person, when the thump of amplified drums and guitars tuned into a certain wavelength, this poet was lifted, transported on a natural high. Sounds good, right?

There’s nothing like a clear, mellow-masculine voice and long, denim-patchworked legs that goes better with the jangle of a tambourine, shaped like a crescent moon. Maybe you can slap some sensuality into your humdrum weekend next time these guys are in town. It’d be a shame to lose them to New York! Get a temporary tattoo stamped onto your hand, and have a blast. Your endorphins will thank you!

http://www.myspace.com/thefirstbandonthemoon