January 2011
42 posts
An evening well spent
Trying to explain Riot Grrrl to my mother.
This should obviously be a movie
For nearly three decades, Landis has visited museums across the US in various guises and tried to donate paintings he has forged. As well as Father Scott, he has posed as “Steven Gardiner” among other aliases. He never asks for money, although museums have often hosted meals for him and made small gifts. His only stipulation is that he is donating in his parents’ names – often his actual...
WatchCaught the tail end of this documentary, Herb and Dorothy, after the State of the Union on PBS. Maybe the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. The best part, which you can’t really tell from the trailer, is that after collecting art their whole lives on a very modest salary, they swore never to make a profit from it. They eventually donated the whole thing to the American people, via...
“Speaking candidly, as one citizen to another: We still have time… but not...”
– What I wish Paul Ryan had actually said tonight.
Geese Over Mendon Ponds
They came upon us the way I was once afraid that a tornado would: a black mass in the sky, roaring and cackling, the occasional high-pitched squeal like metal on bone. There were thousands, as if in this sparse winter, nature was indulging a little.
I really want to start memorizing poems
New project: one poem a week. I really like the idea of having a body of knowledge to draw on independent of books or access to the internet. Like if I get thrown in prison or something. This seems like a good list to use. This one’s first, since I already know the first stanza:
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful...
Cicatrise
To heal through the formation of scar tissue.
Just got back from a whirlwind trip to New York for Punch Brothers’ pBingo. Highlights: a bluegrass cover of Paperback Writer and Chris Thile playing unamplified Bach, alone at the very front of the stage, towering above the five of us in the front row. Incredible chinese dinner at Hop Kee. Driving across the Manhattan Bridge and through the industrial wasteland of Jersey City.
Low points:...
Men in Hats
The tracks of a streetcar in the snow below Wonderful Eugene Smith’s Sixth Avenue walkup are the rings of Saturn, the shore of a cosmic ocean across which only pie and Thelonious Monk can voyage. Zoot’ll carry you to the other side, but no pennies for thie Charon, that’ll be some smokes and one set of peerless shoulderblades please.
My skin sloughs off as I sleep - when you wake, a thin dusting of pink will trickle into your nostrils
I have left cuticles in the thicket of your eyebrows, curling filaments of keratin inside the Poems of Walt Whitman, The Paris Review. I am falling apart.
When I cut my hair, circles of red line the floor like ringworm. The cuttings are in a baggie in the bedside table. When I...
Tell Them I Don't Know What to Say
Truman Capote drank himself to death, into this Pennsylvania night snagged on the trees by the freeway
I lost a button in the theater and afterwards in the silence, clutched my chest.
Early morning skiing
If I’m run down by an overenthusiastic nine year old who’s been let off his leash, its been a good run.
“True: the tough guys in detective films and westerns had better comebacks. They...”
– Marlon Brando: The Original Punk by Joe Koch, from Punk’s January 1976 inaugural issue.
do you like tall men? do you like country music?... →
moshxjordecai:
do you like tall men?
do you like country music?
do you like pat doyle?
do you like the idea of seeing me attempt to play bass?
if you answered yes to at least one of these questions, come see brock evans and the rocky mountain doubles at the bug jar on wednesday. 8pm. $5/$7
pat is 5’11”, and…
I like all of these things. I will be there, so should you.
Secret Families.
jamesdereksapienza:
THE GRIEVANTS and friends are recording an eight hour music piece called SECRET FAMILIES today at The Dress Barn. No one will ever listen to it in one sitting.
This has gone from minimal to hardcore to totally fucking brutal, and now there may or may not be fake gregorian chanting happening in the basement.
“For God’s sake,” Ms. Mullan said, “if you like bacon, you can have bacon here.”
– I WANT TO BE SENT TO THIS NURSING HOME. I mostly mean when I’m old and lose my mind.