Discovered that a video of my dad's band, The Headlights, Tampa roots-rock phenomes circa the early to mid 90's, now lives on YouTube. I think this video was taken before they were chosen to tour with Roger McGuinn (of the Byrds).
I forgot how dreamy Steve Robinson was/is, how Steve Connelly makes me feel personally connected to Neil Young and Tom Petty--a timbre that shapes so much of my sensibility. what a character Scott Dempster is. And then, there's Danny DiPietra on the drums (video camera focuses on him most about 16 minutes in). Swimming in his drum element, perfect.
Oh yes, and--that last song Steve R. singes, "Unicorns and Rainbows"--helps me to realize why I failed at writing a concept-essay-poem for the new Gurlesque anthology. Because I did grow up with the Gurlesque, but it wash;t just or all about girls for me.
And here is a link to their performance with McGuinn on The Tonight Show. Dad does a Mary Tyler Moore ear tug at the end, to tell the family on the other side of the TV, far from LA, that he loves us.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Friday, August 1, 2014
thinking of Rebecca Solnit's Hollow City: The Siege of San Francisco and the Crisis of American Urbanism, being here to watch this swallowing sweltering suburb pivot into upscale urban chic...and wondering if there is any way to catch this wave and do I want to, having swum out of SF?
but an urban landscape, near warm water, is what gives me the most basic mobility.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
But I was not searching for that today. I was looking for an image of the cover of Memories of My Melancholy Whores. Remembering a connection between that book and the many ecstatic mornings in sex school when i spent meditating and sobbing about the viscera that binds sex and death. This would've been right around April 17, 2014. It was his last book, and it gave me a kind of wild and grounding permission.
Cien Anos de Soledad game me permission also--when I read it my last year in high school. When I was ugly and alone and hid in the bleachers to read during lunch. When my 12th English teacher (who was into Joseph Campbell and archetypes) was so enamored of me reading that book that he allowed me to write poetry about it in lieu of taking all major exams. One Hundred Years of Solitude solidified everything I knew about intimacy, both familial and sexual, about time and its shape, and the fundamental basis of reality as the marvelous, often horrific, sensual.
And here is this woman, he met in in an airport once, who I only hope is telling a true story--though that never really matters. http://www.newsweek.com/2014/08/01/gabriel-garcia-marquezs-secret-muse-finally-reveals-herself-261175.html
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
a long beach is a healthy beach, but in my body, no place traversable, the only place traversable for the physically disabled, Petra and Neil, come here and do Salamander!
sometimes i think of starting a beach access program here, but i'm still in hiding, still brooding on what can be done in the nonprofit industrial complex.
there was the water today and the light and the missing everyone, including people i have not or might not meet, yet. sending this orange-pink.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Sunday, June 22, 2014
as pseudo-discussion is much more calming and lovely in sepia filter. or, I suppose it is a newfangled goldenrod filterer. Calling AAA pr not, a clothes hanger, bourbon locked in the car, laundry not done, who should help or if there were ever to be any more help, was all part of it, but faded now except for the curve of mouths and necks. Imagine a background noise like platters of brornze being thrown against one another.