Wednesday, February 22, 2006
This is a dog I like to call "pom pom." We love each other, very much. In fact, we have a whole end of "shakespeare in love" thing going on. You know, at the end when Gwenyth Paltrow has to go live her rich fancy dress life and Ralph Fiennes's brother has to go live his poor lonely life. Yeah, that's us.
This next note is from the yellow notebook. I wrote it during a "free write" in one of my classes. It made sense.
no song today, my computer is running out of memory, wah wah :(
Sunday, February 19, 2006
I've been thinking
about what it is that I love about writing stories
and why, even though my "style" isn't going to get my any $$$$
I still write fiction/prose/stories
I say "this is a story"
part of this whole grad school thing is learning to listen
to my own voice
I mean, I do listen to all the voices around me saying, you won't make any money off of this
"who is your audience?"
why isn't anyone asking me about the story?
Mousehead has been writing about prostitutes lately. Thus, I give you Darondo.
Darondo was a pimp.
Darondo did some singing.
Pimps, hos, that's the way it goes.
I found this post on Soul Sides, a soul music blog. It won't be accessible long, so checkitout.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Today, we have the *impulse moment.*
This is when a group of words jumps into my head and I need to repeat them over and over until I find a pen and paper. Usually, the pen and paper is found when I get home (from the train) and I immediately write the thought down. And stick it to my wall.
Then, as I am sitting at my very small desk, I stare at the wall and all the words and I go "what do you want?"
The song below is an old old song, usually sung in a "bluesy" style. This time it is by Jeffrey Foucault.
- He is a nice young man.
- He resides in Massachusetts.
- He is typically categorized as a folk singer.
- He can play the guitar like nobody's beeswax
- He shares a surname with a famous philosopher.
- Chris Smither thinks he's neat
- I think Chris Smither is neat
I highly recommend that you listen to this song. It is what the kids call "good."
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
This is a robot on a sticker w/ some random stamps all over hisself.
This song is by The Knife
Jose Gonzalez did a really gentle cover
But, you know, I like this version
I like when "cold" music gets all warm and fuzzy
Monday, February 13, 2006
Maybe next time.
Today was a good day, in all other areas.
- It is cold, but the sun is shining.
- I had an advising appointment today, to discuss my writing
- At the end of the appointment, my advisor, Captain Hard-Ass, said to me "You're tough."
- "You're tough" is a compliment and I smiled all the way to the train.
A while ago, sometime in December 2005, I posted that Sad Robot Records was defunk. That is a false lie. They still exist.
Carissa's Wierd was a band on Sad Robot Records
They are not a band any more
But the members are still making music
There is a li'l tribute page on MySpace
This song is by Carissa's Wierd
It's a Valentine's song
Happy Valentine's Day, you stinkers.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
This ocean, humiliating in its disguises
Tougher than anything
No one listens to poetry. The ocean
Does not mean to be listened to. A drop
Or crash of water. It means
Is bread and butter
Pepper and salt. The death
That young men hope for. Aimlessly
It pounds the shore. White and aimless signals. No
One listens to poetry.
(Maybe, says m.lady, it's just that no one listens)
Above, up there: notes on Saint Agnes, notes on a new story, sketches of a robot angel and a robot version of Klimt's "kiss," a new way to write the capital letter "J," and an attempt to draw a lamb.
My friend (her link is over there on the right, she's a lady who makes lovely music) has just released her first full-length album. Her name, if you will, is Rachael Cantu. Her album is "Run All Night."
The song I posted below will always remind me of a winter afternoon in New York.
Riding a brand new subway car.
My friend had this song on her ipod and handed me one of the ear buds so we could listen together.
So the train is rumbling underground and making its stops and people are coming and going and we're listening to this song and then the doors open and I hear this small voice.
And it's a little kid (wearing a jacket that's a little too big and holding his mom's hand) who is making this sound.
He sits across from me and he keeps singing, his facial expression is making me think that he is completely unaware of the sounds he's making. He sits across from me and he sings and I'm listening to this song and it just felt like every piece of the universe had found its balance.
Do you know what I mean?
I wrote a story about it.
My brother took part of that story and made a painting with it.
And now we're back to the song:
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
the volume turned up
you wrote in my red notebook
the sound of a shovel on the sidewalk
I've been asking people (friends, co-workers, strangers) to tell me their first/earliest memory.
I haven't written any of these memories down.
I've just been carrying them with me.
Letting them marinate in my brain and become part of my own consciousness.
Last night, I listened to some rock 'n' roll w/ my friend in his kitchen. These were also in his kitchen:
Yeah, I don't know.
The patch below was also in the kitchen. It is the first of the Chicago Patches!
I like that it is held onto the fridge with dinosaur magnets. That's good stuff.
Tapes 'n' Tapes is gonna be semi-huge. Maybe they already are. I don't know. What are the kids listening to these days?
Okay, you know what? You get two Tapes 'n' Tapes songs:
Hmm, they kind of remind me of Clap Your Hands Say, Yeah. I sat at the same table as the drummer for CYHSY at a wedding reception. Nice guy.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
This is a robot angel. Wings.
This is a still frame taken from a video I was working on. The video is going to die a sad little death because the camera battery died in the middle of the drawing and cut out some crucial moments in the creation of the robot angel.
oh, and also
I'm in love with Said the Gramophone.
Vox Vermillion is a band from Minnesota
Minnesota is a lovely place
Vox Vermillion is a band from a lovely place.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
This is another video:
You should check out the new links I posted over there on the right. They're literary.
I'm in a good mood today, so I'll post a song too. I lifted this one from You Ain't No Picasso.
I'm going to be honest with you, I saw Andrew Bird live once and was *very* much underwhelmed. But I do like the recordings of his music. And I really like the title of this song:
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
"If I have a problem, it is this: there is a store where everything costs a dollar"
From "Yours" by Gary Lutz.
From his Collection Stories in the Worst Way.
I highly recommend that anyone who is struggling with the short story as a form that must compromise between language and plot read some Gary Lutz.
- His stories are stories. Form be damned!
- (author's note: "prose poem" is the dirtiest word in the language. I just had to spit and I didn't even say it out loud. Ew, just typing this is making me feel like someone jammed a bunch of nightcrawlers into my mouth. Someone wash my mouth with soap. I prefer Dove, but Lever 2000 is fine too)
- He writes prose. (period!)
- The language is controlled and is, as it should be, the core magnetic force of the piece.
- The stories aren't for everyone.
- They're short.
- One sentence doesn't easily relate to the last or transition simply into the next.
- You shouldn't read more than 4 stories at a time, and that's pushing it.
This was made by the tonguethrust at the most recent of wine nights:
Janis Ian sang the song, "At Seventeen" which has the line "I learned the truth at seventeen that love was meant for beauty queens." da da da, you've heard it and probably sang along in some kind of drunken Bridget Jones ice cream binge moment. Or maybe that's just me...
a couple of years ago, my friend, Snickerdoodle, (he really hates that nickname, by the way) decided to make "At Seventeen" his debut karaoke song. Snickerdoodle is a big greek man with much facial hair. He was holding a pbr and his voice scritched and scratched and warbled through the whole 8 minutes or however long the song is. I think it's how "At Seventeen" was meant to be sung. anyway, tequila.
*this* Janis Ian song I lifted from the Songs: Illinois blog. It contains the lovely lyric "folk is the new black, it's cheaper than crack, and you don't have to cook" which may be the runner-up for sentence of the week.
bow, curtsy, baton twirl