Wednesday, August 24, 2005
let song birds sing*
*poem by ethel rackin
(w/ "...it's Saturday/which stands for all Saturdays/a song is a drug you tell yourself you need
till need takes over and you really do")
(BTW, i miss you around here, ethel, if you read this)
hi friends.
finally tapped into our neighborhood blog because i wanted to mention bird if another hasn't already.
jared my bird/boy, who's now snug in boulder not phila had, when home, splurged and bought andrew bird's *the mysterious production of eggs* as well as *weather systems* - something we (j & i) heard him (a.b.) do live at the tin angel on 2nd st a couple years ago & which was so astounding and intimate almost as if it didn't divinely happen at all - but back to "...eggs" - i don't know maybe a.b. is well known among us but in case not if there's anyone you listen to this season or year let it be him because the stuff's far too delicious if not life-changing to not partake. so much so that i've kept close - even still almost prefer to keep it to myself or mention him sparingly i guess because you know what happens when. &/but i felt bad for him & gang a moment when he came to town back oh what maybe 8 yrs when i was one of maybe a dozen who showed up for The Bowl of Fire show. didn't seem to phase a.b. who put on perhaps the best smoking violin & tragic shadow not to mention the spine tingling compositional performance i've ever seen. maybe i cried for joy
there's that,
hsn
ps
philadelphia is a rough town, no doubt and that's consensus among all influx handsdown. certain poets and some boheme aside & possibly their exceptional exception(s) are directly resulting from the former. diamonds, blues, that sort of thing. philly? salt/vinegar potato chips.
pps
& i adore joe massey but the New Sincerity Manifesto is maybe a tad ironic don't you think she sez not to invalidate but applaud such postmodern delight & i can say that now without cringing maybe as a challenge but that's ...
&tc
wow, look what happens when i think i can sleep in the next day i get all wound up at eleven or whatever it is.
how come nobody's writing/talking about
-gaza? i'd like the egyptians to come here tonight & guard the crazy camden border two houses down
-or russian oil? i just don't have time, otherwise...
(w/ "...it's Saturday/which stands for all Saturdays/a song is a drug you tell yourself you need
till need takes over and you really do")
(BTW, i miss you around here, ethel, if you read this)
hi friends.
finally tapped into our neighborhood blog because i wanted to mention bird if another hasn't already.
jared my bird/boy, who's now snug in boulder not phila had, when home, splurged and bought andrew bird's *the mysterious production of eggs* as well as *weather systems* - something we (j & i) heard him (a.b.) do live at the tin angel on 2nd st a couple years ago & which was so astounding and intimate almost as if it didn't divinely happen at all - but back to "...eggs" - i don't know maybe a.b. is well known among us but in case not if there's anyone you listen to this season or year let it be him because the stuff's far too delicious if not life-changing to not partake. so much so that i've kept close - even still almost prefer to keep it to myself or mention him sparingly i guess because you know what happens when. &/but i felt bad for him & gang a moment when he came to town back oh what maybe 8 yrs when i was one of maybe a dozen who showed up for The Bowl of Fire show. didn't seem to phase a.b. who put on perhaps the best smoking violin & tragic shadow not to mention the spine tingling compositional performance i've ever seen. maybe i cried for joy
there's that,
hsn
ps
philadelphia is a rough town, no doubt and that's consensus among all influx handsdown. certain poets and some boheme aside & possibly their exceptional exception(s) are directly resulting from the former. diamonds, blues, that sort of thing. philly? salt/vinegar potato chips.
pps
& i adore joe massey but the New Sincerity Manifesto is maybe a tad ironic don't you think she sez not to invalidate but applaud such postmodern delight & i can say that now without cringing maybe as a challenge but that's ...
&tc
wow, look what happens when i think i can sleep in the next day i get all wound up at eleven or whatever it is.
how come nobody's writing/talking about
-gaza? i'd like the egyptians to come here tonight & guard the crazy camden border two houses down
-or russian oil? i just don't have time, otherwise...
