March 07, 2008
DIY Vinyl Toys Show at Atomic Pop in Baltimore
We have been caught up in the sweep of graffiti-kid vinyls for quite a bit now... and then Atomic Pop came along and made buying them a local community service and so our addiction bloomed. Go check out their show of Baltimore Artists vs. the various do-it-yourself blank forms that have been coming out for the past year or so. I know I'm looking forward to Brian Ralph, Nolan Strals, and Ben Claassen III -- not to mention barako'munny from Kevin Sherry (right, photo by Rachel Whang) and tons more. |  |
 | Vinylmore Here's a CityPaper story about the show. And click the poster for a bigger view where you can actually read all the designers' names. |
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
January 30, 2008
A Second Helping of Sundance, Please
Pam Martin
Despite the dozens of eager fans star-stalking outside Fred Segal and, gag, the MySpace Celebrity Lounge, this year’s Sundance seemed a bit low key. Some films had already been picked up – one of the festival’s centerpieces,In Bruges with Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson, and Ralph Fiennes, is headed to theaters February 8 – and some A-list machines that were expected to be snatched up right away... well, weren’t.
One screening for my favorite film of the festival, Strangers, wasn’t even full. Granted, I saw it on a Sunday night at 11:45pm but Sundance is supposed to be a 24/7 party. I guess the crowds were up on Main Street trying to glimpse Adrian Grenier headed to the screening of his latest, Adventures of Power, or over at the library seeing the Hanks-fest Great Buck Howard, starring both Tom and Colin.
OK, I’m ragging on the people who seem to live in anticipation of seeing a celebrity in the flesh, but, truth be told, I’m one of them. My stomach jumped when I saw Adrian in the airport two days later. I kept a tally in my head of the celebs I saw during the five days I spent in Park City: Patricia Clarkson! Ben Kingsley!! Quentin Tarantino!!!
Does this make me lame? Is it a product of me living in Los Angeles? Is it normal that I’ve caught myself contemplating how Michelle Williams’ grief over Heath Ledger’s death compares to the grief she portrayed after losing her son and husband in another film I saw at Sundance, Incendiary? Maybe it’s time for me to get out of this town.
But that’s a discussion for another time. I didn’t go to Sundance just to freeze my toes off in a quest to see a handful of Hollywood icons (I can do that at home without the frostbite). I went to reunite with old friends and see new, great films. And that I did.
Strangers is a story of impossible love between an Israeli man and a Palestinian woman shot in Berlin and Paris during the 2006 Lebanon War between Hezbollah and the Israeli military. There was an outline for the film, but no script – all of the dialogue, including the actors’ reactions to the war as it unfolded, was improvised. Simply brilliant.
Incendiary is carried by Williams as a young mother grieving the loss of her son and husband after a terrorist bombing at a London soccer stadium. Screenwriter and director Sharon Maguire, who previously directed the polar opposite Bridget Jones’ Diary, has a gift for portraying strong, if complicated, women. Unfortunately, I don’t think this film has much hope of being picked up considering how war-themed films did at the box office last fall. Prove me wrong, Hollywood!
The second Fanning sister, Elle, stars as the title character in the colorful Phoebe in Wonderland about a girl who retreats into a world of fantasy inspired by the Lewis Carroll tale. I was a little put off by Felicity Huffman’s too-neurotic performance as Phoebe’s mother but Patricia Clarkson was perfect as Phoebe’s drama teacher – Heidi braids and all.
Of course, I would have loved to see more films but I also had to squeeze in requisite snowy-weather activities like skiing and snow tubing. Viva la Park City!
&npbs;
+++
And be sure to check out...
2007 Sundance coverage from Pam
2006 Sundance coverage from Jamie
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
January 23, 2008
Ask A Robot To Pick the Next President
As Super Tuesday approaches -- not to mention the race beyond it -- we thought we'd ask the robot public who they were pulling for... or perhaps they are predicting? We'll check back with them periodically in coming months to see how they respond to the ups and downs of the media circus.
Who should be the next President of the United States?
 Marquis-Minded Robot |  Ladylike Robot |  An Expensive Robot |  The Checking It Twice Robot |
Names and appearances of respondents have been altered to protect avoid retaliation from their employer-masters for their participation and opinions.
And to robots everywhere -- sorry we haven't talked in so long.
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
January 16, 2008
Lips of the Cherubim
Joey Cashiola
download web PDF with sound (13.1 MB)
download print PDF (14.5 MB)
Posted by Rock Heals at 08:00 AM
SUCCESS! Issue One
A Narrow House Occassional
73pp of poetry, artwork, prose and so on, edited by Lauren Bender
download web PDF (1.5 MB)
download print PDF (5.7 MB)
Featuring work from:
David Baratier | Jeffery Beam | John M. Bennett | John Berndt | Dan Breen | David-Baptiste Chirot | Mark Dickinson | Adam Good | Diana Bellessi translated by Cathy Eisenhower | Raymond Farr | Jamie Gaughran-Perez | Amira Hanafi | Jeff Harrison | Amy King | Richard Kostelanetz | M. Magnus | Megan McShea (with John Eaton) | a.e.m. | Tom Orange | Ross Priddle | Ric Royer | Cole Swenson | Chris Toll | justin sirois | Irving Weiss
Posted by Rock Heals at 08:00 AM
November 28, 2007
For Your Consideration...
We happened on this great blog, Indexed. Let it be a daily meditation... a glorious and graphical daily meditation on the nature of our world. Things both deep and shallow... nature and Nature.
For instance:
So go check it out: http://indexed.blogspot.com/
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:07 AM
October 10, 2007
internal memorandum 10
from the Grope Group, July 6, 2007 - Friday
Memo as received (PDF)
hitting send merely shot nitroglycerine into the hatchback's plastic cabin, steering to avoid barriers in rear of the fear – the strong signal igniting nothing & the wrong pediatrician burning terminal. It's the gadget's guts, not the bark or ribbed bit that changes the Jacuzzi torrents between you & the you we've been taught to follow. Mouth opens like a torn shirt. The human condition never changes, but the human experience Decepticons by the microsecond – we've downloaded paper walls whose compositions, when slide into a sheath of flesh, glow through that material like messages from the bottom of a pool. Swim with me then, as sound travels faster at the bottom of this well, a cistern no brothers or sisters could ever throw you into
+++
Previous Group Group memorandum
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
August 08, 2007
Don't Miss This Play (DC)
| Taffety Punk Presents "The Devil in His Own Words" August 10 - 26 Flashpoint Mead Theater, Washington DC Directed by Lise Bruneau Who or what is the Devil? Why is he here? Who does he serve? Tracing his appearances over the ages, Marcus Kyd has compiled scenes ancient and modern to find out. The Taffety Punks probe the darkest limits of our dreams to find the lifeblood of the world's oldest anarchist. |  |
More info about the play (ticket prices, times, etc) and the Taffety Punk Theater Company over here: www.taffetypunk.com
Posted by Rock Heals at 08:00 AM
July 18, 2007
internal memorandum nine (after CH)
from the Grope Group
debuting tomorrow, the new iAye will not only be a revolutionary, keyless media center & cellular phone, it will function as an electric shaver, portable dinner plate & multi speed personal massager. Someone will open its source, of course & the soundings we require for this device will need to feel like kissing someone with a mouthful of bells, like waltzing at the Policeman's Ball & standing inches away from a falling chandelier as it becomes sodium particles at your toes
pulling the fire alarm only produced gasoline from the ceiling!
hear the whole office screaming?
capture that emotion & condense it a one word sentence
stone all other ringtones to death with your phonic neutrinos
malicious Pirate, de-vice their cellular service by reversing their perverse ingenuity. The see & the bells are no longer two different practices – surging up, usurping the hiccup before the diaphragm spasms – rising down, saddle this unfamiliar medium to your cheek & listen to the veil of the eye echoing eyes
+++
Find out more about the Grope Group at this myspace page, including an earlier draft of this piece.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 PM
June 20, 2007
The Beginning of Beauty
Ryan Walker
ooh oooohh, Mel Nichols' The Beginning of Beauty (Edge Books) is a very good book.
Meets meets meets. Then they go their separate ways, and stay that ways in at least several ways.
It is rich, containing more than you are likely to expect from poems, so it kind of tumbles out like a popcorn sofa.
Such titles as "easy living with the sectional", "wild and foamy jaws", "limen", "'I fucked a dense torte' on your birthday", and “stretching like thumbless design”. One can't not read things so titled.
A little bit of the quick Raworth line, at times, but hmmm it's different, the lines seem more inhabited. There's perhaps slightly more of a sense of story or scene living through or around the lines. Nothing pushy or too complete, tho.
From “stretching like thumbless design”:
I met Rothko at Le Tour Eiffel red
against all the worn antiseptic Great
Books in Haiku very
curvy and smooth
with random Eiffel-orange giraffe effect
Those lines aren’t especially representative of the volume as a whole, but neither is anything else it contains. It’s a bit unruly in that respect. You like it that way.
Features and specs: 31 pages of solid state froth-free poetry with not a mot unjuste to be found, plus some additional pages for covers and things; edition of 150 copies; a wax sleeve with an enclosed physical thing and a detachable cover credit; translucent lining; color photo of a thing that resembles the physical thing in the wax bag; black construction paper.
The volume is in fact “Part 1” of The Beginning of Beauty. There is a subtitle: hottest new ringtones, mnichol6. The “mnichol6” is her email handle from her days at gmu.edu.
+++
[ed note: this title hasn’t made it to the Edge Books site yet, but you are resourceful and can figure how to get your own copy.]
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
April 11, 2007
Ask a Robot: Iraq Revisited
Back in November we asked some robots about U.S. policy concerning the situation in Iraq. A season and change later, an additional 20,000 U.S. troops are in-theater. So we ask...
Think this surge thing is gonna work?
 The Robot of the Collective Consciousness |  The Robot of Personal Ties and Tenderness | Marquis-Minded Robot |  Robot of Collected Information and Branded Attitude |
Names and appearances of respondents have been altered to protect avoid retaliation from their employer-masters for their participation and opinions. Some responses have been edited for length.
Previously on Ask a Robot: Your response to the President’s State of the Union address?
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:07 AM
February 28, 2007
Ignore The Deluxe Soundstage Behind the Curtain
Bob Massey
So my friend Cate is the assistant editor on this feature film. And they're mixing the sound on a stage at Warner Bros. in Burbank. Cate invited me to come check it out because it's a pretty nifty process.
So I show up in my big unsexy Ford van, get my temporary pass from the guard, and park in the visitors' lot next to a bunch of fancy sports cars. Eventually I find the room they're mixing in (it's a big place, that Warner Bros.). And I swear to you it's like they're on the bridge of the USS Enterprise.
picture is of an older stage but you get the idea
It's basically a multiplex-sized screen, a mixing board with somewhere around a hundred automated channels, six ProTools stations, and a bunch of other shit that goes "ping!" (The actual Macs are in a server room next door. Very quiet, very sexy.) Behind the board is an expanse of hardwood floor. Then on a small deck is a (auto-reclining) leather couch and some overstuffed chairs. Behind that is a table with snacks and stuff.
So the director of the film sits in the Captain Kirk position, with editors and such around him. Down in the Mister Sulu position at the board are between three and nine sound mixers. In various seats are the dialogue editor, the assistant to the composer, the film editor and assistant editor, and so on. I'm not clear on all the different jobs, but this is the kind of thing that makes movies cost millions and millions of dollars. The room itself, with mixers, is something like $1,500/hour.
Anyway, what's really crazy is when they kill the dialogue from the mix because suddenly you see the scene with all the background sounds -- wind, footsteps, water dripping, the creak of doors -- but no speaking. It's hard to describe how eerie it is. It's like God himself just reached down and wiped out whatever you were saying. And as a moviegoer, you don't really realize that every sound element in a scene was put there on purpose. It's not all just coming from the microphone on the set. These Foley (aka sound effects) artists have huge libraries of sounds and they build each scene's audio from the ground up. It's nuts.
Behind this room, by the way, is the Director's Suite, which is like a deluxe hotel room. Kitchen, shower, veranda, desk, enormous HD TV, and so on. And it's not just about luxury. These dudes (Hollywood directors are still predominantly dudes) spend crazy hours on the mix stage.
So here's the best moment of my visit. These guys who do the mixing have all worked there for years and years. Another guy rolls in who they haven't seen in ages, literally. So they're trying to remember when they last worked together. Finally, they were like, "Oh yeah, it was for Redux, right? You remember how we stored all those sound elements over at [wherever]? Well, somehow they lost them. The only reason that film got re-cut and re-mastered was because [someone] found copies of the sound elements in a trash can in a warehouse in London." What they were talking about, I learned, was Apocalypse Now. They had last worked together on the director's cut, but they had also worked on the original. And someone in the studio system just LOST all the sound effects somehow.
In. Sane.
After I left the Warner Bros. lot I drove over to the valley to help a pal pick up gear for a short film he's shooting. It was like the yin and yang of Hollywood. From upper-crusty white collar to hungover blue collar. Tatts, ironic t-shirts, and heavy boxes. We loaded my van up with light stands and clamps and crates and whatnot. But all those people at the rental warehouse are the people who make big directors look smart. The director’s name might go above the line, but it's their expertise that puts him there.
<< Previously from Bob Massey
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
February 20, 2007
Some Day You Will See Brandon Downing's Short Movies and Say Wow
And so closes our non-week of randomness. Come back and see us kick it proper for a Week 99 bash.
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
January 31, 2007
A Very Special Sundance
Pam Martin
Having a friend whose family lives in Park City, UT is a wonderful thing; especially around Sundance time. Though our trip was too short, we were still able to squeeze in a few movies and some stargazing.
The City
Park City is equal parts beautiful and freezing. It’s the kind of place I would love to live if I didn’t absolutely hate the cold.
Coldest/grumpiest moment: Waiting in line for newly released tickets at 7:30am on Saturday after only three hours of sleep.
Most unexpected pleasantry: It’s shockingly easy to get around, with festival shuttles running every five minutes and city buses that ask for “donations only.” Just make sure you get off at the right stop.
The Films
Our Saturday morning cold-fest yielded us a few tickets to Hear and Now, a documentary about a deaf couple in their mid 60’s, Paul and Sally Taylor, who decide to undergo an implant surgery that restores their sense of hearing – to a point.
This was easily one of the most emotional movie-going experiences I’ve ever had. Look for it on HBO in the coming months; and have some Kleenex in hand.
We also got to see Away From Her, actress Sarah Polley’s (The Sweet Hereafter, Go) first feature-length film as a director. This one was also about an older couple dealing with a medical condition – this time, Alzheimer’s. Not the kind of movie I would usually seek out, but it was good.
There’s one movie I’m kind of glad I didn’t get to see... Rumor has it that a few people were seen puking in the aisle during a screening of An American Crime, Terry O’Haver’s retelling of a gruesome 1965 murder, starring Catherine Keener.
I’m definitely intrigued, but I think it’s one I’ll Netflix and watch at home – perhaps with a bucket nearby.
The Celebrities
And then, of course, there were the celebs.
Our trip was bookended by Katherine Moennig and Leisha Hailey (Shane and Alice on The L Word) on the flight to Salt Lake City, and Camryn Manheim (The Practice) on the flight back.
Once in Park City, we had a few high profile misses – among them Kevin Bacon, who had just disappeared after posing for photos with fans on Main Street.
The most frustrating miss for me, though, was Miss Veronica Mars herself, Kristen Bell. I was standing right next to my friends when they all saw her, but, apparently, I’m blind.
And once again proving that he attends every event, regardless of whether he has any business there, we spotted P. Diddy, not once, but twice in the same night.
The first time he was walking down Main Street drinking from a bottle in a brown paper bag and the second time, a few hours later – still on Main Street – he and a friend were debating whether they should get cheeseburgers or turkey burgers for dinner. A question for the ages, indeed.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
January 24, 2007
Ask a Robot: The State of our Union
Last night (Tuesday, January 23), President George W. Bush delivered his State of the Union address to Congress and the American people. He declared victory in the War for Dikembe Mutombo's Citizenship to great applause, sending a wave of good feeling throughout the land.
With that hard-fought battle behind us, President Bush proposed bold new initiatives opening fronts in the War on Earmarks, the War on Junk Lawsuits Against Good Doctors, the War on Gasoline Usage, the War for the Right to Mention 9/11 At Any Time, and re-doubling our nation’s commitment to the War on the Deficit among others.
Today, as we wake up as a country living in a new world. Rock Heals turns to the robot community for their reactions to our President’s aggressive agenda. Opinions were surely mixed.
Your response to the President’s State of the Union address?
Marquis-Minded Robot |  Robot That Connects Names and Places |  The Robot of Democracy |  Robot of the National Pastime |
Do the President’s proposals set us on the right course?
Robot of Collected Information and Branded Attitude |
Has the President lost touch?
 Technology Assistance Robot | The Robot of Personal Ties and Tenderness | Marquis-Minded Robot |
Is the President guiding us into a better future?
An Expensive Robot | Marquis-Minded Robot |
Names and appearances of respondents have been altered to protect avoid retaliation from their employer-masters for their participation and opinions. Some responses have been edited for length.
Previously on Ask a Robot: Ask a Robot: New Years Resolutions, 2007
++++
Jamie Gaughran-Perez has interviewed robots concerning a variety of subjects over the past two years as part of an ongoing project.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
January 17, 2007
Hot House 5 for the New Year
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
 | [music] A Swedish band with a Spanish name that sings quasi-girl group songs in English? Couldn’t make enough sense to me. “God Knows” may feel repetitive at first, but with eat into your brain like Khan’s earwig thingy. Give it/them a listen on their myspace. |
[web-ish] If you accept submissions from people and get all kinds of random crap all the time, a little virus scanning goes a long way. A friend turned me on to this web-based one, HouseCall from Trend Micro and it’s done me well. Takes quite a while to run (it’s free people), just hit go and walk away. Check it out (thanks Mr. Durst) |  |
 | [poetry / web] A great new site from a great Baltimore reading series. If you are a Baltimore poetry-liker or someone who should be reading in Baltimore for the poetry-likers, you should check it out. Soon to contain more pictures, links to recordings of the readings, and more. Get on over there |
[tv] Heard The Wire is some of the best tv ever made? If you’ve “missed it all” rollback to Season 1 and catch up. A drama parading as a cop show with equal time/love for the good and the bad on both sides of the law. Class-casting is an ever-present subtext; Season 4 introduced a group of Baltimore junior high kids. It’s like your heart got jumped. |  |
 | [web / humor] My decompressor of the moment, poaching it for a few minutes every week or so. Funny pictures of cats, usually with added text … LOTS of ’em. Keep up with the latest development in cat-based humor. The picture shown is from my favorite subgenre … “I’m [on/in/etc.] your [object] [verb-ing] your [“related” object].” A phrasing that has been invading my own rhetoric. Git yr laff on |
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
January 03, 2007
Ask a Robot: New Years Resolutions, 2007
We figured we'd check in with the robots on what they hoped to accomplish in the year ahead. And in response to one of Rock Heals own resolutions, we were able to track down a whole new crop of robots as well as visit some old friends.
What are your New Years resolutions for 2007?
 An Expensive Robot |  CY-8E11E |  Selection Assistant for Commercial Interests | Another Robot Substituting for a Dead Person |
Robot of Collected Information and Branded Attitude |  Inspired by Nonsense Bot |  Amy the Robot |  Doesn't Seem to Be from Around Here Robot |
Names and appearances of respondents have been altered to protect avoid retaliation from their employer-masters for their participation and opinions. Some responses have been edited for length.
Previously on Ask a Robot: What should we do in Iraq?
++++
Jamie Gaughran-Perez has interviewed robots concerning a variety of subjects over the past two years as part of an ongoing project.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
December 13, 2006
for kari
Michael Ball
kari,
" let's begin again "
is the last line yet at the same time
is the entire last page of your book - obedience -
___
you'd always signed off in your e-mails -
"peace
kari"
and
" again thank you for everything, for your kindness, understanding and
support.
peace
kari "
___
What and that we'll continue learning, experiencing, accompanying you -
your life & work reading rereading again & again . . .
Courage Compassion
For With
___
Thank you for everything, for your kindness, understanding and
support.
peace
Michael
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
November 15, 2006
Ask the Robots: What should we do in Iraq?
Following the midterm elections in the U.S. – many believe there is a mandate for a new course in U.S.-Iraq policy. But Iraq is a mess and any next step will carry the country into a new set of problems. What to do? We turn to the robots…
What is our next step in Iraq?
| The Robot of Personal Ties and Tenderness | Robot of Collected Information and Branded Attitude | Selection Assistant for Commercial Interests | The Robot of the Collective Consciousness |
Names and appearances of respondents have been altered to protect avoid retaliation from their employer-masters for their participation and opinions. Some responses have been edited for length.
Previously on Ask a Robot: Does George Bush care about black people?
++++
Jamie Gaughran-Perez has interviewed robots concerning a variety of subjects over the past two years as part of an ongoing project.
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
November 01, 2006
The Director's Cunt: Mrs. Garrett in Surrealism's Bad Rap
Garrett Caples
they just keep teasing me
and you know like they like they don’t know
—Bob Marley, “Hammer”
Come in! I’ve been asked to write some account of Surrealism’s Bad Rap, and though I fear it is giving away the game a little too early, I also immensely enjoyed trivia concerning albums I loved as a lad, haven’t the heart to refuse, indeed am dying to display my minute cleverness and, I realize, no one may care later. Thus may I gratify my vanity, and perhaps satisfy a curiosity in whose existence I’m uncertain I truly believe. Let me say here too that I have a constitutional disdain for poets who write extensive essays about their own poetry, or indulge in theories about it. But this again is an album, so fuck it.
1) “Four Tune” was recorded in my apartment, not, as the liner notes indicate, at the St. George Poetry Festival staged by Joshua Beckman back in 2002. I was the last reader at the all day event, which made me nervous because I figured everyone would be gone by then. So I went up and read 2 or 3 or 4 poems, a very short set because I figured people were exhausted, but there were still enough people in the theatre for a resounding burst of applause, a combined effect of its being the end of a truly successful event, the relief, nonetheless, at its end, as an entire day of poetry can be taxing, and, I imagine, some gratitude to this final reader for not droning on and on now that he had the mic. For me, it recreates the “feel” of the moment, inflated by time and my ego.
It is in fact the most recently written poem on the album, an attempt to write something sonically different from anything I’ve done before. The text is composed entirely of four letter words in couplets. Note the fuck-up on the verse “gums / gems,” where I say “gums gem.”
2) “Synth” is dedicated to Jeff Clark, originally appearing, I think, in a batch of 31 copies for a party marking his 31st birthday then subsequently published in the E edition of the journal 26. Vaguely related, in my mind, to his “Chocolate and Mantis,” which opens his magnificent second book, Music and Suicide (FSG 2004).
3) The text of “Robocop” was initially generated as liner notes for an album, Sooltime (2005) by the band Sool, which featured funny little news broadcasts about Robocop. I liked the text so much I kept it among my “real” poems and couldn’t resist the opportunity to throw it on the album even though, as a recording, it definitely “imitates” the Sool album, and is therefore in some sense derivative. [listen to "Robocop"]
4) “Turning on the Tongue” is dedicated to Barbara Guest; the title came from going to eat with Andrew Joron at a Salvadorian restaurant that served tongue in huge, tastebud-dimpled slabs. I confess I love tongue, am too afraid of mad cow to pursue this dish with vigor, but at the time, I riffed on the conceptual wrongness of eating a muscle using the very same muscle itself. It was, I said, “turning on the tongue.” The detached phrase, in its ambiguities, pleased Andrew so much I used it for a poem, though the poem has absolutely no connection to the incident which generated the phrase.
Graham Connah provided the most cosmic keyboard substance to the goofiest beat I could concoct using presets in Apple’s primitive Garage Band software. The beat and vocals are the earliest things I recorded for the album.
5) “Ordinary History America” is somehow dedicated to John Ashbery; either from meeting him around the time I wrote it or from thinking hard about his work, as I do from time to time.
6) & 7) “Assassin Raising Scalpel” and “‘I Have Seen Enough’” are both about Philip Lamantia, the first dedicated to him shortly after meeting him and published in The Garrett Caples Reader (Black Square Editions 1999), the second dedicated to his wife Nancy Peters, after visiting his apartment for the first time after his death. All the description of birds in the poem are literally true, except of course, one didn’t start telling me a story. Nancy told me the lawnmower story.
8) The actual last poem of the St. George Poetry festival was “Light Sleeper (Elegy for George Harrison),” a much shorter poem as befitted the occasion described above; turned into a song by my friend Jeff Mellin, a brilliant though underknown artist who runs the Stereorrific label (www.stereorrific.com) and the non-profit Waxfruit Arts Media Collaborative (waxfruit.org); only song on which I don’t actually appear.
9) “Untitled” is recorded as four separate simultaneous vocal tracks, seemingly related to the notion of a singular personality becoming a collective plural that is kinda “in” the poem. It used to have a title.
10) & 11) “Puna Baedekker” was published in The Garrett Caples Reader, inspired, of course, by Mina Loy. “The Mermaid’s Diaper” is simply “Puna” set to a track with greatly multiplied vocal parts rendering the words almost inaudible, hence the subsequently recorded but first-presented “plain” version, recorded while I had a cold. (I accentuated, rather than hid, my congestion, just to add a different vocal texture.) [listen to "The Mermaid's Diaper"]
The “Mr. Ashbery” movie dialogue samples at the beginning of “Mermaid” are too good to give up. Sole hint: woman saying “I dig” in the first bit is Charlotte Rae, later TV’s Mrs. Garrett, from The Facts of Life.
12) & 13) “Bianca” and “Liquid Diary” are two love poems.
14) The text of “T.Rex” is taken from “The Slider” in The Garrett Caples Reader.
15) GCR again; first poem in the book.
16) GCR, title stolen from a song on the first Mötley Crüe album, Too Fast for Love.
17) “Godzilla” is a true story about meeting the rapper Yukmouth that I published in a Norfolk, VA music magazine called Ninevolt and later in The Philistine’s Guide to Hip Hop (2004), a little cafepress thing we did based on the Ninevolt articles. The title is not based on the “Windows for Dummies” model but rather from my nom de plume for the Ninevolt pieces, which were signed “The Philistine.” One love to J-Stalin for his reminiscences and rap.
Matt Mitchell recorded the music to this tune some years before on a four-track, for his extremely limited-circulation cassette E.P. called Joe “Robbie” Blount. It was an instrumental called “Stomping Ground of Insects.” My one technical contribution is that the track was like 3 minutes and it takes at least 7 to read the story, so I had to loop the song’s two main movements twice each to achieve the necessary length. But this groove has always knocked me out, reminding me of Velvet Underground.
18) “Hugo Ballin’” is Andrew Joron reading a Dada sound poem by Hugo Ball, with a beat in which I was trying, completely unsuccessfully, to imitate the kind of beat I imagined E-40’s son Droop-E would have made for it. I may have missed the mark but I nonetheless appreciate where the shot landed. My personal favorite track.
19) “Prufrock Shakur” was first published by Kevin Killian and Dodie Bellemy in their magazine, MIRAGE/Period(ical), and was dedicated to Creely and Lamantia after their deaths. Andre Breton is sampled saying “Ma Femme” from his poem “Free Union” on the album Surrealism Revisited. Geoff Dyer and I recorded this version the night Tookie Williams was executed and if you listen closely, near the end I’m double-tracked in a sort of call and response mode saying, “Tonight they’re killing Tookie Williams / Don’t kill Tookie Williams.” They did.
20) GCR again.
21) “Little White Noise”: Someone requested I write a text but this wasn’t at all what he had in mind so I kept it and started using it at readings. This version was recorded at my friend Rob Norris’s studio on absinthe, so I sound a little drunk, which I was.
22) “Lucid Cloud” comes from the same session and bottle of absinthe.
23) “Wallace Stevens in the 4th Grade” is a title I stole from a Robert Bly poem, because I thought it deserved a better poem, or at least something remotely Stevensian. Stevens exerted the single greatest influence on my earliest attempts at poetry, but I tend to think of him as a shit these days, particularly after reading his essay “Insurance and Social Change” (1937), in which he recommends the Insurance company he helped run (Hartford) invest in cemeteries to turn a profit under Soviet Communism and German and Italian Fascism (Opus Posthumous 236-237). I admit I should have been warned by titles like “Like Decorations in a Nigger Cemetery,” probably made some allowance for “the times,” but the coldness with which he proposes to profit from the impending European War destroyed my former love for Stevens. It’s hard to take pleasure in his work anymore, though my astonishment at “what he could do” in a poem admittedly remains.
24) “Uncle Bud” is made from Graham Connah’s keyboards and a sample I cooked up into a beat of Zora Neale Hurston singing some of the folksongs she collected in Florida. The original is available somewhere on the Library of Congress website.
25) “First National Anthem” I remember I began writing in a parked car, and it was a wistful piece, really about my happiness at the time of knowing Brian Lucas and Jeff Clark, who were the first poets approximately my age I’d ever met that I didn’t think were a drag, though please temper my arrogance here with knowledge that I didn’t go to an MFA program so my opportunities in this regard were at the time slight. But Brian and Jeff I loved and still do, and we had a few exhilarating years hanging out together in San Francisco/Oakland as young poets before each moved away in turn. Recorded one afternoon with Geoff Dyer, who perfectly improvised the parts one after the other, it was basically the first completed track on the album.
26) The title of “Clothesline Ballet” is taken from Fats Waller, while the poem is taken from the GCR. Last poem in the book as well as last poem written for it.
27) The unlisted bonus track is called “Sitting Inside a Box,” and was entirely recorded by Rob Norris, including the guitar solo I “pretend” is mine, in his home studio one evening by himself. I loved it—wouldn’t let him “improve” any of the takes because he sounded so in tune with himself that night—and merely added what seemed to me a Ray Davies-ish voiceover during an empty verse. This song he wrote one night about his ill-tempered parrot, Forrest, immediately laid it down, and forgot about it, until we rediscovered it accidentally while listening to the “absinthe” vocal takes and deciding which to turn into songs.
The “blind baby, cook” business that occurs on multiple tracks with Mr. Norris comes from what in retrospect is an off-color, if not racist skit about a blues-singer named “Blind Melon Chitlin” from a Cheech and Chong album that we listened to one night in high school on mushrooms. I apologize for perpetuating it, but it is the single longest running in-joke of my life (well over 20 years at this point) that Rob and I, whenever we greet or take leave of one another, or indeed need to tie off a mutually-understood conversational implication without a word, use Blind Melon’s “Yaow” and, if necessary, can communicate quite extensively using the “Yaow” in its different intonations and moods. And we’ve been unable to drop it, even when we once didn’t speak to each other for over two years. The minute we began to talk again, the “Yaow” was fully embedded in the conversation. Let me just say, too, no guitarist has ever quite astonished me the way Rob continues to do, and if I could solo like I pretend to here, I most certainly wouldn’t be a writer.
Overall, the idea for me was to make an album, as opposed to a recording of myself reading my poems, and the texts are treated with a certain amount of contempt or indifference—pretexts, if you will, for doing the tracks—and while I acknowledge that the album is a mess in terms of mixing and even certain basic vocal recordings, I recall that, too, sonic clarity was never in itself a premium to someone whose favorite records as a teen included the Stones’ Exile on Main Street or Velvet Underground’s White Light/White Heat. Aside from the spur of the moment addition of West Oakland rapper J-Stalin when he was at my apartment one day, I couldn’t bring myself to ask any of the hip hop artists I’ve become friendly with to give me music because sonic clarity is necessarily vital to these artists; I was too embarrassed to put my work alongside theirs. All the same, with all its shortcomings, I regard Surrealism’s Bad Rap, not as a work of genius certainly, but as an interesting and, on its own terms, quite successful work of art.
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
Pop on the Easel: the Art of Jeff Mellin
Garrett Caples
Jeff Mellin was the first and quite possibly only genuine pop song writer I’ve ever met, despite the fact, years after our initial encounter at Livingston College (Rutgers), I’ve unexpectedly become an occasional, half-willing, professional music journalist. What I mean is that Jeff was the first person I met who approached both the art and the craft of the pop song from a perspective close to my own as a listener. He had an enthusiastic yet by no means uncritical appreciation of the classics (the Beatles, say, or Dylan) but too could savour those genuine, if ephemeral or even vapid pleasures, of Brill Building hackery, Tom Waitsian Cole Porterism, Jim Croce’s AM tongue in cheek, Donovan’s “I Love My Shirt.” The joy of pop songs is often quite simply their utter ridiculousness, for which Jeff retains a keen, though unironic relish. Some of my favorite memories of college are just sitting around his dormroom, paging through the massive hardbound Beatles studio session logbook, seeing who added what little part when, wanting to know how it was done in the studio, though, as a songwriter armed solely with an acoustic guitar and Johnny Cash’s pickless style of strumming, Jeff had already arrived. He wrote crazy good songs like “Geologic Time,” a genre-piece of the you-don’t-like-me-so-I’m-leaving-not-that-you-give-a-shit-anyway school, which climaxed with the embittered long view of: you think you are so pretty, think you look so fine, but girl your life won’t mean a thing in Geologic Time, a conceit which allowed him to work in words like “trilobites,” which is what seems to me the true goal of pop lyricism.
Later after college, when he began making music in studios, his writing changed, with perhaps slightly less emphasis on the obvious lyrical cleverness necessary to the naked acoustic strummer, just as Dylan’s going electric afforded him a whole new set of writing possibilities. Yet still Jeff would endlessly turn out gorgeous lines like she reads my face like a novel, but she skips to the end of the book, or brilliant changes in scope, like a frog on the back of a whale, both from “Typical Male,” a song he recorded with his mid-’90s pop garage band, the Eddies. And of course his art continues to evolve in unanticipated directions, like the golly-Buddy-Holly simplicity of “Blue Corduroy,” from his 2001 solo album Good for a Gander (Stereorrific, 2001).
Still, while it’s often difficult to gauge the worth of pop lyrics printed on the page without musical accompaniment, it’s remarkable how well his forthcoming book of lyrics, Skin and Bones, reads, as lyrics in the poetic sense. Slightly archaic, perhaps, with their unfussy rhymes, though entirely free of neoconservative Wilburism in the handling of line and meter, Jeff’s lyrics considered as poetry at their best evoke the only-just stylistically-belated (late 1940s), yet entirely individual and intense poems of Weldon Kees; even at their least effective, they have the readable lightness of Edward Arlington Robinson, and everyone knows Paul Simon made “Richard Corey” a better song than it ever was a poem, which illustrates my point nicely.
Being a close friend and collaborator, my feelings on Jeff’s abilities are perhaps biased. All I care to add is the fact that Jeff once took a poem I wrote, “Light Sleeper (Elegy for George Harrison),” and turned it into the lyrics of a beautiful tribute to one of the most profound men ever to have the mantle of “pop star” thrust upon him. (Coincidentally, I’d copped the title “Light Sleeper” itself from a song, by Oakland rapper Saafir, the Saucy Nomad.) Clearly Jeff and I were both feeling Harrison’s loss in a similar way, though I was astonished he wanted to use my poem instead of his own lyrics, which are so goddamn good. It may be the highest complement my poetry has ever received.
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:00 AM
October 25, 2006
Hot House 5 For October Cometh
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
 | [tv] A steam punk sentient robot? Mr. Dog? Emperor Zombie? Abe Lincoln (yes, that Abe Lincoln)? A monkey with a machine gun? Nothing really describes this one sprung from the mind of Mike Mignola (Hellboy). If you scour, I’m sure you can find it online somewhere. We hope (yet doubt) they’ll make more. |
[music] A little folk and a lotta crazy. A little instruments and a lotta drums. I’m loving their freeform approach to songwriting (Lyrics? Fuck’em. We’re just going to screech on this one). This is my fave of their albums and “Tigers” is my favorite song. Everybody’s loving everybody’s loving tigers tigers tigers. Get it |  |
 | [web] Chalk this up as another doing one thing and doing it great web site in the tradition of Is Lost a Repeat?. To paraphrase someone else, the thing about weather.com is that you have to think about whether you need your coat or not. Check for yourself |
[food] This book will wring out your soul, in a good way. A man takes care of his son in a post-apocalyptic world, simple enough. If you’ve read a post-apocalyptic book you’ve been through this plot before. But the telling is incredible. And it’s a quick read. And yes it is almost entirely gray. Get it Extra credit: Samuel Delaney’s Dhalgren. |  |
 | [food] So you’re trying to make mousaka and the recipe is calling for “herbs de provence.” Herbs de provence? What the hey? Enter Gourmet Sleuth’s handy substitutions guide. Can’t find cracker meal? They’ll hook you up. Get subbing |
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
October 04, 2006
Ask The Robots: How would you respond to a North Korean nuclear test?
Once upon a time we justified invasion of a country with the spectre of weapons of mass destruction (WMD). Today we ask robots on the street how they would respond if North Korea were to conduct a nuclear test.
How would you respond to a North Korean nuclear test?
Marquis-Minded Robot | Robot of Collected Information and Branded Attitude | The Checking It Twice Robot |  Simulated G Robot |
Names and appearances of respondents have been altered to protect avoid retaliation from their employer-masters for their participation and opinions.
Previously on Ask a Robot: Does George Bush care about black people?
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Jamie Gaughran-Perez has interviewed robots concerning a variety of subjects over the past two years as part of an ongoing project.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
September 13, 2006
Hot House 5 from 9,000 ft (The Telluride Film Festival)
David Wilson
David Wilson rolls with a dangerous mix of charm and intelligence. He organizes the True/False Film Festival. Fortunate for us, he played our man in the field.
 | Day one. Staff screening. It's Babel, a film that I know nothing about. This is the best part of Telluride. The films are secret until the day the fest starts, and they're pretty much all world premieres. What this means for me as a viewer is that I have no baggage, no reviews, nothing. I watch a movie with Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett and it makes me cry and gasp and, here I get maudlin, believe in the transformative power of movies. | |
 | Lightning strikes again with Severance. If you had told me that Telluride, bastion of cinematic purity, would show a comedic slasher film, I just might have done a genuine spit-take. But this film is so good. More Aliens than Alien, it's also laugh-out-loud funny. | |
 | Yes, Telluride has the hits, and that's what most of the folks who pay $600-$3500 for their passes want to see. But those hits will all be in movie theaters in a matter of months. What makes this fest great (and makes me travel 1,000 miles to volunteer for them) is bringing films like Playtime back into the public consciousness, and in a gorgeous 70mm print no less. The film, by Jacques Tati, is a hyper-modernist slapstick comedy - Keaton via Beckett maybe. Mostly, it's just SO good. | |
 | Asger Leth, son of Jurgen Leth, whom we all know from the 5 Obstructions, made a doc about Haiti. It's called Ghosts of Cite Soleil and it's fantastic. Telluride doesn't really "believe" in parties, so they saved up all their party mojo for Toronto, where Wyclef Jean played a hour of party bangers, and I got to stand next to Ron fucking Perlman, who was wearing some sort of ECKO Wolverine shirt or something. | |
 | Telluride is the most beautiful place I've ever been. It's expensive and ridiculous and all that stuff, but it's still just ridiculously gorgeous. |
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
September 06, 2006
Slash Circle Slash: Drinking with Matt Sesow (Part 1 of ???)
Interview by Jon Lee
Matt Sesow is a punk. Matt Sesow hates art. Matt Sesow thinks your life is boring. Matt Sesow is doing what you want to do.
I met Matt Sesow in 2001. He was quiet, cute and not at all what I expect when I think of an artist completely fucking with the art world’s business and aesthetic conventions. Then I went to his 2001 show at Corcoran’s White Walls Gallery. I realized this quiet, polite and handsome guy was doing something I hadn’t seen in the DC art scene: He was making art because he had to.
By the end of 2001, Sesow was painting full time in his small, turpentine-soaked studio apartment in Adams Morgan. Today, the man is constantly painting and constantly showing. He’s had plays written in response to his paintings. He’s been given fellowships and glossy spreads in magazines and papers. Matt Sesow is a successful painter and he doesn’t give a shit. Well, not really.
Matt and I sat down on April Fool’s Day 2006 to drink way too much beer and chat about work, art and whatever the hell came out of our mouths for over four hours. When I arrived at Matt’s studio, he was finishing up a painting called Japanese Boy Learning to Play Guitar.
JON LEE: So, you think of this painting as a failure?
MATT SESOW: They all are. The ones I struggle with the most are the ones that are most successful for other people. For me it’s a lot of paint. It’s muddy. It’s just a lot of paint. And it’s probably done.
JL: Do you like any other artists? Are there any other artists you admire?
SESOW: I don’t like paintings. I don’t like art. I really don’t. I think it’s stupid. I go to shows and I hate it all.
JL: There’s not one artist out there? You like Picasso, no?
SESOW: Not really. I was looking at his book today. A lot of it looks junky. Like, a lot of his stuff looks fast. Yeah. I really don’t like art. I really don’t like art. This is a scoop.
JL: Yeppers.
SESOW: I don’t like painting. I don’t. I see something in Bacon and De Kooning. But I don’t like them. I mean, I’d rather have my paintings up in here than a Bacon, or even a Basquiat. When I look at other paintings, I always think they are junky and fast. Like there isn’t enough paint on them. I don’t think people use enough paint. Especially in America.
It’s really funny. People that are privileged and have electricity are skimpy on paint. It blows me away. You should never skimp on paint. You should paint like a millionaire.
I used a whole fucking tube of Prussian blue today. I was squeezing it on and suddenly it was done. It’s like twenty bucks and you’re done. But, you know, it’s fine.
JL: Well, and you’re going to sell that.
SESOW: For forty bucks at Sowebo. Seriously. If nobody buys it online, I’ll take it to Baltimore and some kid with a mohawk will say, hey I like that and I’ll say eh forty bucks and he’ll buy it.
But online it’s gonna be $300. Because I want the kid with the mohawk to have my painting over some bourgeoisie pig in New York City. Although I do have a lot of great fans in New York City and I love them all. But I would rather the blue collar or the lower income people have my paintings. I’ve given my paintings away to people before because they liked it. I mean, if you like it, take it. I don’t care. I’ll do more. You need that kind of freedom as a painter and an artist.
To have that freedom you have to squirrel away all your money. I guess people need cell phones these days. I don’t have one. But try not to have a car. Live in a city. You can’t really live out in Paducah, Kentucky and be an artist. I almost moved to Paducah. You really can’t. You can’t. You need to have open studios. You need to go out and see a homeless man throw up on a church step. You need to see that. You need to hear stories about muggings and protests. You need to hear the 42 bus hissing all day. You know? Otherwise, you’re making it up.
JL: Answer honestly. What do you do?
SESOW: God. I don’t know. What do I do? I try to keep myself from getting depressed. I constantly strive to be different. Or to continue to be different. That’s what I do. But what I think defines us is our youth. And lucky me, I got hit by an airplane when I was youth[sic]. So what happens to us early on is probably what defines us the most. Fortunately for most people, or unfortunately if you are trying to be a painter, most people have normal lives in America. Maybe drugs, divorce, but really, it’s a normal life.
We are defined by a moment. That moment might be getting married or having a child. Which is great, congratulations. But for me, if I tried to do those things I wouldn’t be happy and I would end up shooting myself.
Oh, I’m going to paint about my kids today. Or I’m going to paint about the PTA today. Which is fine. And you know what, families are more important than being a painter. I didn’t say that out loud did I? I will never have a family. Other than these children in here. These are my children.
JL: Having a kid and painting are actually similar things. They are affecting the world. The passion that is on these walls is creating something. You may even deride it, but when it goes out in the world and goes on people’s walls, it’s doing something right? It’s more than decorating.
SESOW: I think at current estimate, there are around 5,000 Sesow paintings. And eBay is mysteriously silent. There were two in the last two months. And those people will be paying full price from now on. You put my stuff on eBay, you’re dead to me.
JL: What’s wrong with eBay? Why can’t people sell your stuff on eBay?
SESOW: Because I’m not dead yet. They can buy an original from me for less than what it’s going to cost them on eBay. And what I do now, when I see something on eBay, I recreate it and put it on my web site and sell it for less.
eBay is the anti Sesow. Artists on eBay should ask themselves what they are going to buy with that money. What are you going to buy with that money? You going to buy a car? Are you going to buy a girlfriend? Or are you going to buy paint? Are you going to buy canvas?
You need to ask yourself, where does your money go? eBay to me is money. And what are you going to do with your money? It’s silly. I’m going to make a million dollars? I don’t know what I’d do with a million dollars. I’d do the same thing as I’m doing right now.
JL: You use your web site to sell artwork. People using eBay are doing the same thing.
SESOW: It’s bidding. It’s thirst for unattainable things. It’s like a flea market. You want to be the first one to grab the pink underwear because everyone wants the pink underwear. I used to live in San Jose for three years. We used to go to the flea market at this big drive-in theater on Saturday and Sunday. We would go to the flea market and there would be hundreds of vendors.
People swarm around things on eBay because other people give things value. You can create a false sense of interest in a product. Like I could have my friends artificially bid up the price of my paintings. Intellectually, I think selling paintings on eBay is a scam. Making money doesn’t mean success.
JL: You are a successful artist. Did you want to be a famous artist?
SESOW: 99.999999 percent of artists wanted to be artists. They wanted to be painters. They want to be famous. I never wanted to be a famous painter. I think I wanted to be famous. But I wanted to be a famous porn star. Seriously. Or like a Bill Gates.
JL: You didn’t want to be a painter?
SESOW: You know me. I don’t live the painter life. I don’t go out and fuck chicks. I don’t go out and fuck. I don’t go out and… I don’t go out. I don’t go out in Adams Morgan and say, eh I’m Mat Sesow the painter. I don’t go to Starbucks and Tryst.
JL: I’ve only been out with you once besides art shows and you were at the Black Cat.
SESOW: And I was probably passed out drunk. Because I can’t deal with it. I can’t fucking deal with the idea of being a painter. Here I am. My studio is safe. This is safe land. When I go out to shows… It’s a disease I have. Um, alcoholism is what they call it. But seriously, I can’t deal with it. I can’t deal with people dealing with me as a painter. I want people to deal with me as me. I didn’t sit in my bedroom when I was twelve and say I want to be a painter.
JL: Well there are people that do.
SESOW: 99.9 percent of painters do. Your readers do. I challenge them to travel. Join the Peace Corps. Do it.
Stay tuned for more…
Japanese Boy Learning to Play Guitar, Matt Sesow, 2006
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
August 30, 2006
Ask The Robots: Does George Bush Care About Black People?
A year ago yesterday, Hurricane Katrina rolled over New Orleans leaving death and destruction in its wake. An emotionally overwhelmed Kanye West, on live TV, struggled to make sense of the tragedy then baldly stated, "George Bush does not care about black people."
One year later, President Bush has certainly recognized many of the mistakes of the the federal governments action in response to Katrina. But we felt we owed it to Kanye to follow up, Does George Bush care about black people yet? Who better to ask then the Robots who walk among us.
Does George Bush care about black people?
The Robot of Personal Ties and Tenderness | Robot The Connects Names and Places | The Checking It Twice Robot | Marquis-Minded Robot |
Names and appearances of respondents have been altered to protect avoid retaliation from their employer-masters for their participation and opinions.
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Jamie Gaughran-Perez has interviewed robots concerning a variety of subjects over the past two years as part of an ongoing project.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
July 05, 2006
Hot House 5: Vacation Survival Guide
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
Rock Heals made the tough trip to the beach for you! We’ve spent our time researching the must-haves for the 2006 vacation season. Don’t be caught riding the lazy river and sipping a baybreeze while the cool kids snicker.
 | [music] Born to Run for the open-window drive to the beach. Nebraska for sipping on a drink after the sun goes down. As Mischa Barton, cultural bellwether, said with her dying breaths in the OC finale, “It’s the summer of Bruce, baby. If you can’t get with him, you can’t get with me.” |
[dvd] British Comedy isn't “my thing,” but League of Gentlemen is as funny as I've seen in years. Set in a small town (Royston Vasey) with its local shop for local people – things get very wrong very fast. Verité camerawork and genre bending (soap opera, horror, etc.) work together toward a single-minded goal: making the funniest funny. One day I found myself trying to explain why I wanted “Rape our dead mouths” written on my wife’s birthday cake, thanks LoG! | 
|
| [book] I read a review of this and said, “Tracey, here’s the book you’ll want to read on vacation.” I was right. About a guy who walks across Afghanistan in early 2002, which probably ain’t so much an advisable idea then or now. Seems he has some time on his hands. Check out the NYT review I read. |
[food] Tilapia, red snapper, catfish – I’ll take ‘em all. Nothing says summer like fresh pico de gallo, simple guacamole, chipotle mayo and some grilled fish for killer tacos. We subbed habañeros for chipotle at yesterday’s Fiesta de la Indepencia -- freedom requires improvisation. Take heed: marinating time for the fish is roughly the length of a World Cup match – you don’t want the fish to cook in the marinade, and you won’t want to miss that goal in the 85th. Enjoy with Mexican beer, margaritas, and/or our fave Paloma. |  |
 | [activity] Drop your heart rate. Drop your blood pressure. Drop everything. And plant your head to pillow for the Slumber of the Ancients. We’re talking serious 8-hour+ stretches. Adrenaline is so late-90s. Don’t be caught dead on bungee cords, kite jumping, or moving faster than a lumbering gait. |
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 PM
June 28, 2006
A Letter From Galina
[Received 6/7/2006]
Hello,
I want to start my first letter from a question: "Is it possible to be happy without LOVE?"
I think that you will agree with me if the answer will be "NO WAY." Love is the most beautiful and exciting thing! It inspires us only for doing positive things towards each other.
One very famous writer said: "The beauty will rescue the world." I agree with his words but still would add: "LOVE and Beauty will re-secure the world."
There's love to God, to Mother, to a child to the country where you were born, and there's love that joins a man and woman. That is the LOVE I'm looking for! And I'm seeking for the man who is eager to have this life-long adventure. Will you join me for this trip?
I do realise that it should be very difficult to say "Yes" from the first letter having no idea about me. I just offer to get to know each other better though correspondence that will reveal many things about each other whether we match perfectly or not.
Well closing my first letter, just want to thank you for reading, and I really hope that you'll share my point of view.
Good-bye,
Galia [sic] S.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
June 21, 2006
So Very Los Angeles
Bob Massey
From the continuing correspondence of our man in the field.
Today I saw a very L.A. thing. It’s a sunny Saturday, so I walked down to the coffee joint in my neighborhood. It’s the kind of place that bakes its own bread and croissants and cookies, which is a rare phenomenon these days (most places scoop that shit out of a plastic tub – I know, I did it for a living at one time), so people swarm the joint. There’s tables on the sidewalk and people tie up their dogs, so there’s also lots of good dog-scratchin’ to be had, for free.
Now, to my knowledge, this neighborhood is not particularly celeb-heavy. Not in a Paris Hiltony kind of way, anyhow. It’s mostly hipsters and latino families and musicians and writers. The two celebs I have personally seen in my neighborhood are Maggie Gyllenhaal and Kiefer Sutherland. And I wouldn’t have seen them at all if someone hadn’t pointed them out to me. My celeb radar is milky thin.
Which perhaps is the root of this anecdote. Because I was sitting there outside the coffee bakery dog joint when the guy next to me got up to leave. And as he was making his way past me, some dude at a nearby table gets up and pushes a CD at him. The following is a close paraphrase of what he said: “Hey, excuse me, I’d like you to listen to my CD, it’s a mix of electronica and indie, it’s from the heart, you know. I produced it myself.” At first I thought the guy was handing them out to everyone on the sidewalk, so I kinda ducked down into my magazine, because, sorry, but odds are about a hundred to one that his CD is awesome. But he only gave the one CD to this one guy. Who took it, said something vaguely encouraging, and walked off with a friend.
The thing is, I have no idea who the accostee was. And I know a silly amount about music and the people who make it, from obscure to ubiquitous. So it’s interesting to me that the accoster a) knew his face, b) had a CD for him, and c) had the stones to push it on him at a bakery. I’m also amused by his spiel (“It’s from the heart. I produced it myself.”) – not in a snarky way, but in an affectionate way, since I myself say idiotic things just talking to cute songwriter girls after their sets. And it probably says a lot about me – good or bad I don’t know – that I would never in a million years shove a CD at someone I admired, not if it was Leonard Cohen himself. So is my artistic output doomed to obscurity for that reason? If that accoster is the one in a hundred who’s genuinely great, is he now on his way?
Los Angeles. Where hope springs eternal. Until it doesn’t.
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Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
June 14, 2006
i.e. reading series: new time! new place! (b-more)
Saturday, June 17 will bring the wonderful i.e. reading series to it's new venue and time.
Saturday, June 17, 7pm
Chris Mason, Marshall Reese and Mark Jickling
i.e.
1821 N. Charles Street
Baltimore, MD 21201
(410)-727-1953
Here's a map
Yes, they names a whole store out of it...
For more info on the readers go over here -- a new schedule should be available soon.
Posted by Rock Heals at 05:00 AM
May 24, 2006
Write Zombie Haiku and Win!
Write a zombie haiku. Send it this way. Be awesome. Win a copy of Buck Downs' Pontiac Fever. Simple enough? Some definition:
Zombie Haiku: Short poem about, involving, or from the point of view of zombie or zombies. Need not be all out 5-7-5 style (syllables, I mean). If you need further definition of 'zombie,' please leave now.
Send it to: submit at rockheals dot com
(as in submit to the zombie fury)
Send it by: Howzabout June 30, 2006 -- that should give you plenty of time.
You could win: a copy of Pontiac Fever from Buck Downs (one winner selected by the official Rock Heals Committee on Zombie Literature)
We'll post examples as they arrive -- but thought we'd leave it wide open to interpretation for now. Have at. Have fun.
adorable zombie plushie from nopunchbacks
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Two tracks and more info on Pontiac Fire over here in case you missed it.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
May 03, 2006
Things I've learned in Hollywood
Bob Massey
People think that Hollywood is this 24/7 bacchanal of sex and liberalism, but perhaps they should point the pointy finger at Wal-Marts across America. That's where respectable ladies (and shady screenwriters) buy the trashy novels that provided the following purple prose.
For your amusement (and for a screenplay project I have to do), here is a list of actual sexual euphemisms from actual "romance" novels.
Do not try these at home.
- Manroot, man meat, seed bags, storehouse of the nectars of love, purple tulip, love juice, love honey, volcano gush, standing tall, engorged, life force, velvet steel, rod, turgid shaft, sword/sheath, organ, column of flesh, pillar of manhood
- Chalice of flesh, dewy petals, silky love grotto, mound of venus, honeypot, nether regions, mossy grotto, throbbing loins, dewy lips, pleasure bud
- Filling her tight sheath, impaling himself into her femininity, lock/key, fire/ice, entrance to her secret citadel, sword/sheath, weapon of flesh, dance as old as time, scale the peak of passion, climb the cliffs of ecstasy
- Cones of flesh, globes, diamond hard nipples, pert milky breasts/ nipples, nubbins, puckered nipples, pouting nipples, rosebuds, pleasure bud,
- Paroxysm of pleasure, milked dry by the rhythmic pulse of her climax, growl of release, burst inside her like a tidal wave, reached her zenith, brought to pleasure, scalding pulsations
It sure is good to be here in Gomorrah, CA, where we all we do is sip mint juleps at poolside and sup on the nectars of love.
Deadlines? Please. I'm scaling the peaks of passion.
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New-ish 'round here? Don't worry there's much more from Massey where this came from. Get on it.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
Hot House 5 for May
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
 | The creators of our beloved Pocket Ninjas comes back for more with the Pocket Stache. Rotofugi is plum out of ‘em – so you’ll have to look around to find one of your own, or wait on the nimble fingers of Shawn and his clone army. Make sure to hit their site to read up on the Stache’s checkered past |
Many times during this second season of Lost, my wife and I wondered allowed to one another, “did they decide to just suck?” Whoever left the writing staff was a real loss. But with The Map, Mr. Abrams stepped up the game – wrapping a thousand questions in a tiny package, promising answers… someday… sorta, and giving us something that’s just frickin’ cool. Google away for more than enough views of it. |  |
 | As the Boss said, and then Billy, …roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair… Well the night’s bustin’ open, these two lanes will take us anywhere… My first driving song for the season. Check it out over at Thrill Jockey. |
No shit, this is the best thing to come out for kids’ in a long time. Stripped away everything the kids don’t care about and all that’s left is pure amazing. The kids TV critics (all three of them) like to call it “the first operetta for pre-schoolers”… if that gives you a sense. Current house fave: “Wonder Pets Save the Skunk.” Get a good sense of it online |  |
 > | Who has time for a list of 10 funny things, Dave? Really! One of the many inspirations behind the Hot House 5’s – when he’s on he’s on. I tried to pick one of the more absurd as my example, below. But this guy’s humor is wide ranging, so give it a whirl and another and another. Enjoi, I say! |
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
April 26, 2006
Fan The Flames: We Have a Winner
 | Did you think we'd forgotten? We got distracted. We apologize. But we do have a winner! 1. hoyasrule (71) ... 2. treeball (70) ... 3. G-Money(56) ... 4. jamie jeep (50) ... 4. The Wood (45) ... 6. Emily's picks (42) ... 6. mistermarr (41) So now the official winner is 'hoyasrule'. We know who you are Georgetown-lover. And really, a big part of the delay was making sure we had the perfect prize. Check out this shit! |
Roni to the Rescue (a book from Doma)
Find more about it at their site. We gushed about Doma recently over here.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
March 29, 2006
"Fan the Flames Challenge" Final Four Update
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1. hoyasrule (71) ... 2. treeball (70) ... 3. G-Money(56) ... 4. jamie jeep (50) ... 4. The Wood (45) ... 6. Emily's picks (42) ... 6. mistermarr (41) And the unofficial winner is 'hoyasrule'... since none of us were crazy enough to have picked this Final Four. If you are routing for George Mason to take it all, you are not an American. |
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
March 22, 2006
"Fan the Flames Challenge" Update
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1. hoyasrule (47) ... 2. G-Money (44) ... 3. treeBall (42) ... 4. jamie jeep (38) ... 4. Emily's picks (38) ... 6. mistermarr (37) ... 6. The Wood (37) Hold on to your helmets -- still a lotta ball to be played. What's up Witchita State? What's up George Mason? Love yuh both. Unfortunately only one of you can go on. |
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
March 15, 2006
"Fan the Flames" Tournament Challenge
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No purchase necessary and the winner will get a copy of the rhp002: Who's That Kickin' Yr Ass? and other cool stuff we'll figure out along the way.
To enter, you'll have to go through Yahoo's system and agree to their terms. Yes, they've been a little sketchy lately with private information, but we figure most of our readers have a login there.
1. Go here: http://tournament.fantasysports.yahoo.com/
2. Jump through hoops
3. Join this private group (Group ID#): 116500 with this password: rockheals
4. Make your picks
5. Enjoi le tourney
*monster lived who had bought my jacket I stretched my neck eagerly to look for that I received soon recalled me to myself and put me in the road back to the hotel like living they tell me on a sand heap underneath a burning glass He looked strong In going towards the door I passed the person who had come in and saw him plainly the opening prospect confused me I know that my juvenile When we came at last within a stage of London
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
Hot House 5 for March
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
 | I stumbled on Astronaut Jesus over at Kid Robot (store for toys by graffiti kids that I shouldn’t be spending my money on when I have my own kid to feed). Tis awesome. Then I did a little digging and found that DOMA is a group of [sic] Argentines that started out in the Buenos Aires street art scene in the late 90s and branched out from there. No, doesn’t mean shit to me either. Check out their stuff cuz it’s all kindsa hot. |
The other day I was at an ATM at an obscenely early hour and was faced with a new option when entering my pin. The regular “OK” or skip directly to Fast Cash $20. My whole transaction reduced to a 4-digit entry + 1 button pressed. We love the creativity that looks at a simple everyday thing and finds a way to save seconds here, wasted energy there. For real, this development will give back hundreds of thousands of combined hours across lives. Time that can be used to sit on hold while waiting to plead with the bank for an extension to your credit line. Whoever came up with this, you are a genius. |  |
 | There is no better panacea for writer’s block or a mental rut. The Oulipo are (to be way reductive) a group who use rules and constraints to unlock / access new creativity. Poetic formalism on crack, where crack is less harmful. See “A Void” by Perec -- a novel written without the letter e in French, and then translated to English still without e). One fave from the Compendium: n+7 -- replace words in a work with the words that come 7 later in the dictionary. Imagine what happens if The Sailor's Illustrated Dictionary: Full Explanations of more than 8,500 Terms and Phrases Used by Sailors, Boaters, and Seamen is your dictionary… Get it over at Small Press Distribution (or your bookseller of choice) |
Sarah White played in one of the great Charlottesville 1995 bands, Miracle Penny – and then moved out to San Francisco. From there she put out a couple of solo albums on Jagjaguwar – one of which was Bluebird (2000). This song, Crazy T, will stir up all that early-to-mid twenties nostalgia that’s buried deep inside (or will be). At least it’s beautiful to me. Get the album Check out some of her other stuff for free What she’s up to now |  |
 | As the Wu-Tang so presciently stated on their classic 1993 track Clan in Da Front – [Villanova] Killa Beez, we on a swarm! Sure, Villanova is the Wildcats but nobody gets caught up in Nostradamus’ details. Four little guys running their asses all over the court. Shit, they’ll put a 5-guard team out on the floor. Big men? Whodat? And that’s why we picked them as the winner in our Fan the Flames Control Group. |
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
February 22, 2006
1. Bury 'em Above Ground
That’s just the way they do it in New Orleans (think water table) – leading to some amazing cemeteries. Add to that age + weather + a city that’s always in flux and you end up with this hodge-podge of crooked rows, a wild pastiche of architecture, and a variety of states of disrepair, good restoration, and mis-guided restoration (granite for one). When I head back, I’m going to get to a whole lot more cemeteries – New Orleans, like Baltimore, has more than its fair share.
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Hot House 5: Lovin' Up Some New Orleans
1. Bury 'em Above Ground
2. Herbsaint & Apertifs
3. Spoiled by Tom Varisco
4. Krewe of Barkus Parade
5. Ironwork
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
2. Herbsaint & Apertifs
A great example of “New Orleans is back.” Fine dining, but not overly so. A killer menu – if a bit skimpy (read: nearly non-existent) for the vegetarians among us. Luckily la famille Gaughran-Perez eats fish in our veggie diet. Check out the menu at their site. But true to form I stuck with the special – in this case it was skate wing. Yum.
But the piece de resistance showed itself when we opened the menu – a listing of apertifs. Of course drinking is de rigeur in New Orleans – but I’ve always been a quality over quantity guy. My years as a bartender led me to see plenty of quantity and led me to appreciate the craft of drinks from a killer martini to the Perfect Manhattan. Here I went with some French fortified wine – and while I’m usually a wine guy (somehow grew out of that) nor a sweet guy – this one was just right to get my eating off on the right foot.
A short stay and a toddler meant I didn’t get to investigate the depth of fine drinking New Orleans has to offer. Next time around I’ll search out the city’s best Sazerac (rye, absinthe, bitters, sugar) and then Tyler’s Ultimate-style perfect my own recipe – that will obviously substitute bourbon for rye – as God no doubt intended.
Other food highlights included
Beignets (duh)
Dick & Jenny’s (on Tchoupitoulas)
Hot House 5: Lovin' Up Some New Orleans
1. Bury 'em Above Ground
2. Herbsaint & Apertifs
3. Spoiled by Tom Varisco
4. Krewe of Barkus Parade
5. Ironwork
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
3. Spoiled by Tom Varisco
Found this little book (4x6, 20-ish photos across 40-ish pages) in a shop on Royal. I’d been seeing the remnants of hand painted signs of dissent, distress, and warning on buildings and plywood around the city when I randomly can across this book of photography. From its brief intro:
Most residents could not return to their homes for at least three weeks after Hurricane Katrina hit. They found their homes without power and their refrigerators filled with spoiled food. Most refrigerators were placed outside for pick up and disposal.
Graffiti ensued. And Tom documented it.
Do some armchair rebuilding, your 12 bucks + $1.50 shipping well-spent here:
http://tomvariscodesigns.com/spoiled/
Hot House 5: Lovin' Up Some New Orleans
1. Bury 'em Above Ground
2. Herbsaint & Apertifs
3. Spoiled by Tom Varisco
4. Krewe of Barkus Parade
5. Ironwork
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
4. Krewe of Barkus Parade
Mardi gras is full of parades – more than a dozen of them at different times over the course of the week+ that is Mardi Gras, following a variety of routes across the city and (mostly) into the French Quarter. Of course, this year’s parades are smaller with fewer floats, fewer marching bands, and so on. But they are still happening and still big fun. And they are all thrown by “Krewes” which are some kind of group with a nomenclature that looks as good as “Massive” sounds.
The Barkus Parade is basically “the parade of dogs in funny outfits with their owners that are very often in funny outfits, too.” Great if you are toting a toddler like I was. I don’t know if the Wizard of Oz theme was specific to this year, or the way it always is.
But the other great theme – and one you saw all over the city in t-shirts and graffiti and folk art – was the general discontent (to put it lightly) with FEMA, the government response, Mr. Bush, and so on. I like to see a healthy degree of public dissent where it is deserved – mixed with wit and creativity that takes it from protest to living political cartoon. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any good pictures of this in action (see toddler-toting mention above – I was lucky to get photos at all, and most of them came out blurry).
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Hot House 5: Lovin' Up Some New Orleans
1. Bury 'em Above Ground
2. Herbsaint & Apertifs
3. Spoiled by Tom Varisco
4. Krewe of Barkus Parade
5. Ironwork
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
5. Ironwork
You know the New Orleans architecture look – these big balconies with all sorts of iron finery. Those balconies are called galleries (to them, a gallery is self supported, while a balcony is not – but the locals call them balconies for the most part) and functioned in an air conditioning role. All over town – but especially in the Garden District – you find gorgeous wrought and cast iron work – both locally made and imported from around the country and across Europe. Master craftsmanship, regionally specific, and generally wicked.
The love of ironwork spills into the cemeteries with there odd gates that were never really explained.
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Hot House 5: Lovin' Up Some New Orleans
1. Bury 'em Above Ground
2. Herbsaint & Apertifs
3. Spoiled by Tom Varisco
4. Krewe of Barkus Parade
5. Ironwork
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
February 15, 2006
Feb 27: Damaged Goods: The New Vaudeville
The Taffety Punk Theatre Company will kick your goddamn ass. I don't even know who is doing what, but there will be drama, comedy, films, music. In a word: joy.
The Black Cat
Washington DC
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
February 01, 2006
More L.A. Shite from Bob
Bob Massey
I did a total effing triple-take the other day as I passed this cemetery down the street. It’s called Hollywood Forever. Do I shit you? I do not. It’s like Hell and Hollywood switched doormats. The only thing missing in this scenario is a sign arching over the 101 as you drive into town that reads “Relinquish hope all ye who enter.” Because over the door to the netherworld it clearly reads “Hollywood Forever.” God I hope not. Maybe something like Fish Tacos Forever. That I could get with.
Only rating a double-take was the neighborhood pole-climber for SBC (our phone/DSL provider). She’s totally hot. She’s rocking a utility belt and a helmet, too. Shexshie. This neighborhood must be her beat because I’ve seen her on this street a couple of times. She’s so hot, in fact, in that baby-tee and tool belt, that I kinda sorta wondered if I wasn’t witnessing some kind of B-roll to a porn shoot. You know, the big twist is that instead of the hunky male repairman at the door, it’s the hot – uh – pole climber. Here to fix the cable. Sir. Oh, are you having trouble with your pants?
Which brings us to blimps. There’s a lot of them in this town. I don’t know why. So far I’ve seen the following blimps: Sanyo, Goodyear, Met Life and this multi-colored, vaguely Keith Haring-style blimp. Which turns out to be the Ameriquest blimp. Five thousand school kids painted it. As blimps go, it rules. Which is saying a lot because blimps already ruled pretty hard. But the greatest thing about blimps is that you can hear the low drone of their engines for several minutes before they pass directly over your house. This gives you time to run out to the front yard in your boxers like a panting idiot and stare up at the sky, giggling with unmanly excitement. If you’re so inclined. Not that I am.
http://www.soaringdreams.org/news_051205.html
I am, however, inclined to declare that every song ever written about Los Angeles in general, and Hollywood in particular, is shit. I submit as evidence: “Ventura Highway,” by Crosby, Stills and Nash; that stupid Sheryl Crow song where she sings about Santa Monica Boulevard and which springs to mind unbidden whenever I turn onto the damn thing; “Free Fallin’,” by Tom Petty, which shut up already, I can hear you protesting from here, but, I’m sorry, Tom Petty mostly sucks; some Bob Seger song that I forget – no wait, every Bob Seger song. I’m considering the obligatory exception for Tom Waits.
I saw a guy who looked like Tom Waits, actually. He was pushing a grocery cart packed with scavenged household items towards Sunset from Silverlake Blvd. Three sheets to the wind. But really cool leather coat on. Come to think of it, it probably was Tom Waits. Just practicing his act.
Maybe I’ll come to see that as the problem with Los Angeles. Everyone practicing their act all the time. Like hummingbirds. You probably didn’t know this, but hummingbirds are digitally-rendered animals created by Hollywood and unleashed into the wild. It took me this many years and a move to California – where the hummingbirds flit and flicker outside my window, in Matrix-style bullet-time, every day – to realize. I wonder which effects house created them? ILM? ESC? Or maybe they’re animated by Pixar or someone. They’re really impressive. I see them and my mind hears Aphex Twin. There’s nothing in nature that makes me hear Tom Waits though. Unless bourbon grows in the wild.
Okay, I take back that snippy comment about everyone practicing their act. It was really cool to talk to this guy on Sunday -– someone I see in the neighborhood every weekend -- who’d just gotten back from Sundance. He was so unfashionably excited because he’s in a new movie that premiered there. It’s “Art School Confidential,” the new Terry Zwigoff joint written by Daniel Clowes. He plays an art student accused of murder. He was so pumped because he said the movie’s hilarious, and the crowd laughed at his scenes, and it was a thrill being there of course, and so on. And then the guy refilled my coffee mug and brought me some silverware. I welcomed him back and we both grimaced.
[Ed. note -- see last week's Hot House 5 for JGP's view on Art School Confidential. Small world, yo.]
+++++
New to the Massey? Get stuck in the tractor beam of rawk! that eminates from his previous letters:
Los Angeles. Hell Yes.
This is Los Angeles: they paved the river
This is Los Angeles: they paved the river (part 2)
Snow Is Overrated
+++++
Too much blimp? No such thing. |
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Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
January 25, 2006
Hot House 5: Sundance Edition
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
So many things have conspired to result in seeing even fewer movies than expected – luggage arriving three days after us, altitude-induced toddler vomiting, caring for a toddler in general. But we managed to outfit ourselves in Target head-to-toe for a few days and soldier on. So here you have it, not so much Sundance as SLC-Park City-Utah. With a liberal dash of Malkovich (who couldn’t be farther from liberal).
1. Art School Confidential
I have a mixed opinion on this movie, but seeing the premiere with all the hoopla, and the stars, and the director, and Dan Clowes made it better. Lotta derivative stuff that coulda used editing, but also plenty of funny. And Malkovich. I’d rank it as “see on DVD.”
http://imdb.com/title/tt0364955/
2. Way Up There
Rock Heals is based in Baltimore, which more or less rests at sea level. The entire state of Maryland has a paltry mean elevation of 350 ft above sea level. Park City, where most of the festivaling goes down, ranges from 6,800 ft to 10,000 ft. The light quality is gorgeous and the mountain views are “something else.” The lowest point in Utah is 2,000 ft above sea level for chrissakes.
3. After-Movie Q&As
People asking directly off The Actor’s Studio stock list… heart-felt inquiries on subjectivity… repetitions of questions already asked and the snide responses they invite. What gives, didn’t the average Sundancer attend college? But their cretin-ocrity is your enjoyment if you’ve brought the right company. We amused each other in the interludes by perfecting our “John Malkovich having an orgasm” impersonations. Mine’s getting pretty good.
4. The Red Iguana
The best Mexican I’ve eaten. Focus on the five distinct mole sauces – be sure to ask for a mole sampler when you sit (no charge). My meal featured the Mole Negro: “Chile mulato and fennel seeds fuse together with spices to make this Oaxacan treasure unforgettable.” They ain’t lying. There’ll be a line, especially if Sundance is on. And don’t expect décor – this one is about the food.
(forgive them their web site, but it has the info you need)
5. Celebrity Sightings (duh)
Let the starfucking commence. Glenn Close is as frenetic at brunch as she is in Fatal Attraction – love her as an actress, but can’t imagine her as a friend. It is not cool to photograph Redford at his resort. Kevin Smith schlubs the luggage in an aircart for his girlfriend just like you do – and he’s going bald. John Malkovich has man-boobs, but he’s still fucking Malkovich. SuChin Pak is wicked cute in person, too. Dave Navarro is one tiny fucker. Crispin Glover – sporting a velvet, pinstriped, navy blazer-thing – is now and always will be the bomb shit. Maybe’s include someone that mighta been Kumar blurring by while we ate ice cream, and Patrick Fugit if he’s been losing weight.
Honorable Mention: People Clapping at the Credits
Sorry, my first time to big industry to do’s. I can only think that you must be sitting next to your boss if you are clapping for the production company.
And special thanks to: Tracey Gaughran-Perez and Beth Adams for the photos -- and to David Adams for scoring the premiere tickets.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
January 18, 2006
Get This (from the mailbag, sorta)
Ed note: Oft-contributor Mike Grau shot over an email this week that he'd found in his unsent box. It's from 2000-even. How does that happen?
Date: Mon, 10 Jul 2000 21:35:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: mikegrau
Subject: Re: random moment
To: Jamie Perez
fuck. get this: tonite i was walking home from bryant part, where they were showing the maltese falcon on a big outdoor screen, when on 39th between bdwy&7 i spotted a four-foot high karate trophy--right there in the middle of the sidewalk. it was strange. i stood there gazing at this massive hunk of fake marble and plastic gold. an elderly couple stopped to look at it too, the old woman going so far as to touch the two figurines atop, forever frozen in a pair of roundhouse kicks. such a trophy was meant for a grand master. I couldnt imagine the tournament in which it was won.
in a flash i thought of wrapping it in cardboard and mailing it to you at your new place in michigan--a four foot karate trophy standing in the middle of your new apartment. it would have been brilliant. it would have been hideous. But alas, i walked on by.
then i got home at 1115 and obsessively checked my email for no good
reason, and i got your note. being i as not one to ignore the fortuity of coincidence, i quickly finished my glass of scotch and headed back out the door, back to the gleaming trophy, wondering how strange i would look carrying it home, imagining what the weight would feel like on my shoulder, calculating how much newspaper, cardboard and packing tape it would take to send this mammoth halfway across
the great nation of ours that produced such a monstrosity. but after three blocks (long street blocks, mind you, not short avenue blocks)...but after three long blocks, back to the corner of 39th & bdwy, my trek led me to fruitlessness. the karate trophy was gone. my maltese falcon had taken flight.
its the compulsive things in life that can be the most disappointing. or like my father once said: "it's a long day at black rock."
-m
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
December 28, 2005
Zombies vs. Ninjas
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
In 2005 we saw two distinct little stuffed things rise to the top of the little-stuffed-things heap. This week we offer a simple comparison guide to help you choose which is right for you and your family. Your Winter Gift Giving Holiday may have passed, but any day is a good day to give the gift of zombies and ninjas.
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vs. | 
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| www.nopunchbacks.com | www.shawnimals.com | |
| zombie | ninja | |
| unique individuals | clone army | |
| lovingly handmade | clone army | |
| undead | death-dealer | |
| voodoo | bujinkin (ninjitsu) | |
| eats your brains | disembowels you with thumbs |
Posted by Rock Heals at 09:00 AM
Art Basel Miami: A Seth's Eye View
Seth Adelsberger
Leaving the December cold of Baltimore for a week in South Beach was a no-brainer. Art Basel Miami is the largest Contemporary Art Fair in North America, with six other sub-fairs that feed off its pull (NADA, Scope, Omni, Pulse, Aqua, and Frisbee). I packed all of my smallest drawings and one larger deconstructed painting to be rebuilt on site in the hotel room at Frisbee. This being my first art fair, I had no idea what to expect. The sputtering and smoking cab that delivered from the airport to my hotel didn't bode well. But, after some Peruvian ceviche and a few Coronas, anything seemed possible. Over four days much art was seen, much dinero changed hands, great food was eaten, and alcohol became a permanent resident of my body. Here are the top ten happenings that made the trip transformative.
Hotel room installation at Frisbee. Works by Andrew Schoultz (SF), Ryan Wallace (Brooklyn), and Seth Adelsberger (Bmore).
[ed note: We’ll add links to these throughout the week; in the meantime, God gave us Google for a reason!]
1. Deitch Projects "Live Through This" Party. Off the chain: Paperrad, Taylor Mckimens, Misaki Kawai, Matt Leines, Devendra Banhart. All-star and out of control.
2. Aqua Art Fair. The best art fair, hands down. Almost all of the work here was top notch. Mostly West Coast galleries. Slick, hip, casual, clean, free entry, well lit, and reasonably sized. The layout was perfect, allowing it to avoid being overwhelming. Bought two works on paper from Winnipeg based Other Gallery. One: a collage from Billy Grant (of Dearraindrop.) Another from 23 yr-old up-and-comer Krisjanis Katkins-Gorsline (watercolors and drawings a la Inka Essenhigh).
3. Jacob Ciocci of Paperrad and Slow Jams Band: 1/2 Hour of Power at Frisbee Art Fair in the Cavalier Hotel (the "anti-commercial" art fair that I had work in -- I didn't sell anything. but i guess that makes sense). Shit got crunk. Props to Anat Ebgi and Jen Denike for organizing Frisbee, and Ben Jones on the projections.
4. Herwig Weiser's installation in Lisa Ruyter’s shipping container on the beach for Art Basel. Weiser is a new media artist working in Cymatics and Ferrofluid. The result: two interactive stations resembling turntables where you could turn different knobs that morphed the ones and twos (respectively a circular pool of black fluid and a tondo landscape of obsidian magnetic shards). Bleeps and woozy sounds resulted as the dark fields mutated according to the combination of frequencies. There were also precise, diagramatic, color drawings. Blew my mind.
5. Gavin Brown Party at Angel Ultra Lounge -- our last effort of Friday evening to get into an exclusive party and the closest I have come to what a Studio 54 experience must have been like. Notable historical context: Gavin Brown is notorious for being arrested at his controversial 2004 show "Drunks vs. Stoned."
6. Chillin’ on the beach. Cloudless sky. Fresh Air. Blue Water. Walking along Ocean Drive you could hear Christmas music coming from beachfront stores. Weird.
7. Neil Farber (The Royal Art Lodge) drawings: 2 juicy rainbow drawings with hundreds of tiny heads. Taylor McKimens’s large irregularly shaped collage on panel. Eddie Martinez's drawings at NADA.
8. Dinner with Elizabeth Huey, Erik White (both NY painters) and Jaimie O' Shea (Editor of Juxtapoz) on Espanola Way.
9. Grand Opening Reception for french Gallerie Perrotin’s Miami branch: a 13,000 sq. ft, two floor factory space, still unfinished. Large enough for three concurrent solo shows and 2nd floor group show. The walls were whitewashed plywood. Stacks of drywall accented the yard out back where hour devours and a gourmet dinner were served as DJ's spun remixed oldies. Among the artists Perrotin represents: Mariko Mori, Takashi Murakami, Bernard Frize, Maurizio Cattelan, and Sophie Calle. Frize’s tight, patterned, meditative, B&W op paintings made my head hurt (good). Maybe it was all the free wine and mojitos (also good).
10. Scope “Culture on the Verge” party, rooftop of Towhouse Hotel. Enjoyed free refreshments and reading material courtesy of Red Stripe and The Fader. Amazing views of the South Beach architecture.
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Rock Heals loves Seth’s work – check out a piece of his that showed up here in the past:
Jansen Acid Test Dictionary Painting
Posted by Rock Heals at 08:00 AM
December 21, 2005
Snow Is Overrated
Bob Massey
December 2005
Okay, okay. Los Angeles has SWEET weather. Really, dude. Dude, no really.
Actually, it's true. There is nothing to complain about weather-wise. Except when it gets below 70. My driveway is lined with fruit trees. In order it goes: grapefruit, tangerine, orange, lime, lemon. Mango or something on the other side of the driveway. This rules, and yet so many people take it for granted. Those people are freaking stupid. I will probably become one of them.
I started reading this book Tina gave me about L.A. exiles. Did you know that Stravinsky and Schoenberg both lived here at the same time? And feuded? And were tennis partners?
I live in Silverlake, which is the Mt. Pleasant of Los Angeles. I'm down the street from spaceland, which is the Black Cat of Los Angeles.
Man, the screenplay-writing life is kicking my ass. In a good way, though. If you're gonna write formulaic crap for a living, this is a real step up. Not that I'm making a living at it yet, but potentially. And i can sling the formulaic crap, brother. They love me here when they notice me.
For a town with a lot of shitty music, there's a fair amount of cool music in this town, but you have to look for it. And stay out of west Hollywood. But you were gonna avoid that anyway because your tits aren't firm enough. You should see my new ones though. Damn!
The Knitting Factory here looks like a strip mall and it's really disconcerting.
There's this cafe up the street run by (apparently) Cuban exiles. Pictures of Castro and Ché everywhere. Español spoken. And they don't serve any kind of coffee i've ever heard of before, but it's all yummy. AND they just put up a hand-written sign to alert their customers that they now have the internet wireless.
I saw this Wim Wenders movie that you will probably never see, called 'Land of Plenty,' and it had Michelle Williams from Dawson’s Creek in it. And she was totally amazing – who knew? Co-produced by scott derrickson, who made 'The Exorcism of Emily Rose.' Who is himself kind of a weird but fascinating badass. But the thing I love about this pairing is that he and Wim Wenders are really tight, and Wenders is said to HATE horror movies, yet because he likes Mr. Derrickson so much he critiqued an early version of 'Emily Rose.' these are the odd things you pick up in Hollywood. Remind me to tell you my story of totally randomly meeting Emily Rose at a bar.
The upshot: I'm shocked to say that so far I really like L.A. At least the east side of it. But I've been working my ass off, too – so ask me again in three months when I've gotten out of the house more.
You are all encouraged to come visit, and then to fall in love and move here.
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See more from our intrepid L.A. correspondent:
Los Angeles. Hell Yes.
This is Los Angeles: they paved the river
This is Los Angeles: they paved the river (part 2)
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
December 08, 2005
Gwydion vs. The Sudoku At the End of Time
Gwydion Suilebhan
I've just ended a torturous, brief, passionate love affair, and I'm greatly relieved.
My now-ex-girlfriend's name is Sudoku, and if you've never met her yourself, I hope you never do. She's an international sensation, a mathematical genius with a pleasing symmetry. Almost everyone who meets her falls immediately and hopelessly in love.
She is, of course, a game. No, more than a game: a riddle, written in numbers, that only a strict application of numerical logic will solve.
Let me tell you more about her. (Actually, I'm going to let Wikipedia do it for me.) Sudoku is "a logic-based placement puzzle," the aim of which is "to enter a numerical digit from 1 through 9 in each cell of a 9×9 grid made up of 3×3 subgrids." (Think of a tic-tac-toe board with miniature tic-tac-toe boards inside of each square.) It's deceptively simple; you stare at it thinking you REALLY ought to be able to figure it out easily, but it just gets harder with every square you solve.
On two occasions last week I lost a couple of hours trying to solve a fiendish-level sudoku. But when I finally finished the second one, I felt... hollow. The numbers all started to look the same. I thought about how silly the completed grid was when set against the filled-out Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle, which I finish most every week. There was no knowledge required to fill out the grid, just the ability to hold several possibilities in your mind at the same time. Should that square be a seven? Wait: if it's a seven, then the eight in the next row has to be wrong... which is right?
And that, perhaps, is the key to why sudoku's so popular. It's not about esoteric bits of knowledge, which are harder and harder in our increasingly knowledge-filled world to hang onto -- it's about large amounts of undifferentiated data, which we seem to have ample quantities of in the age of the internet. Sudoku requires the solver to sift through information, not to have any on hand.
If you'd like to sift through some yourself, I recommend the online version at the Times of London website. But if you're like me, you'll find yourself spending less time there after a while. I may be living in the age of information, but I don't have to like it. I'm built to store knowledge, not find it.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:40 AM
Project Gulliver: Status Report, December 2005
Raji Krishnaswami
In another feat of Japanese ingenuity, Finance Minister Shingo Ando determined 3 years ago that Japan’s single most profitable export of post-Meiji Japan was New York Yankee Hideki Matsui.
Thus begun the Hideki Matsui Cloning Challenge, codenamed “Gulliver” (in recognition of Matsui’s size advantage in Japan i.e. Lilliput, and in part due to Godzilla copyright disputes). With a sample collected in the 2003 postseason, off-spring were generated and incubated in a short 2 years. As you can see from their relative size at 10 years of age, they have acquired the signature Matsui girth.
Later in the event, Matsui tearfully revealed that he is, in fact, their father.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:30 AM
November 30, 2005
War Rugs
Justin Sirois
[Ed note: Please excuse the previous mis-edited version that appeared early Wednesday (11/30). We gotz our shit straight now!]
Apparently I’m Johnny come lately to the war rug scene, but when it comes to “global” folk art scenes one might have a little leeway, say, you might need a few decades to get hip to something because the damn hub is halfway around the world in a place where you’d get shot for being who you are. American. Ouch. Late this summer I was walking around Baltimore with my girlfriend and we stumbled upon a small Persian rug store, a shop tucked away in the older waterfront district known as Fells Point. It took a few minutes for us to spot a small, 2 x 3 foot rug hanging among the typical larger weaves. On it, a little map of Afghanistan stood out, surrounded by tanks, helicopters, RPGs and crudely drawn Kalashnikovs. Befuddled, I asked what they were and the sales person had little to offer. We left. Came back an hour later. Visa. Instant obsession.
A little internet research turned up some enlightening information: The women of nomadic tribes in Afghanistan have been weaving for centuries, the oldest known rugs dating back to the 4th century B.C. Large area rugs typically do not depict images, they are crammed with decorative shapes and intertwining pattern. Smaller rugs sometimes have figurative illustrations. These pieces show everyday things, animals, townspeople, villages and landscape in brilliant vegetable dyed hues. Serene images of camels grazing in sandy landscapes, mosques stand on brightly colored fields. In the year that I was born (‘79), all of that changed. The soviet invaded Afghanistan and the war altered everyone’s life forever.
We got Rambo 3 and they got a decade of brutal fighting. In the end, Russia pulled out and admitted they had invaded. Afghanistan, the poorest country in the world, struggled to survive.
When the Soviets retreated and harsh Muslim Sharia law became adopted, women were no longer allowed to work outside the home. They were to have no outside acquaintances, could only speak to their husbands and children, and, hidden under burkas, were stripped of their individualism and economic independence. Further, Sharia law forbid images of animate objects in art. Birds, horses, and even people disappeared from their beautiful rugs.
As a result, women began rendering small rugs in the themes of their new hostile, militant environment.
The earliest examples look much like pre war rugs and the insurgence of military imagery is subtle. Multicolored towers (Mosques) are surrounded by geometric patterns and richly dyed medallions are housed by crisscrossing diamonds, but a closer inspection reveals bombers and helicopters hovering above their colorful roofs. Some prayer rugs have rows if munitions along their margins, tiny pointed bullets aimed at the knees of the occupant. Stylized tanks blend into abstraction, jeeps rove around poppy fields.
Smaller rugs seem to have the most obvious weaponry. Inside a bullet border, symmetrical rugs show grenades and Kalashnikovs (Russian AK47s) on radiating red backgrounds. These longer, vertical rugs tend to be the most psychedelic, neon tanks and flatly woven planes sit around large pink and green rocket launchers, maroon helicopters with USSR painted on their sides fill the crowded composition. It’s clear that this imagery took its time infiltrating: weavers tested out subject matter to see what would work and what men (the market) would tolerate. It is possible that the larger rugs, because they take more time, will have to least amount of weaponry, making them more attractive in the commercial marketplace.
Some of the must intriguing rugs tell stories. I bought this piece from a dealer in Pakistan via Ebay and had to reluctantly open a paypal account to get the goods. It arrived in a DHL bag with the handwritten words “women’s handbag, GIFT” scrawled on it. F customs. This rug was probably created during the nine year (‘79 – ‘88) Soviet war or before the Taliban’s Sharia law strictly forbade humans and animals in art.
What we see here is a large Soviet invader with a hammer and sickle on his forehead and a giant hand coming down from the sky. He towers above Afghanistan as well as the common people. Is the hammer and sickle (hand) massaging evil ideals into the man’s head? Is it a puppet metaphor? Afghan freedom fighters surround him, probably with US bought arms (catch phrase of ’01 “blowback”). Four of them aim and charge, small tanks provide support. A large bomb and jet fighters litter the top of the rug, marked with the enemy’s red nomenclature. There are traditional images as well, men, camels and oxen, at the bottom of the congested composition (Pakistani?), watching the fight. Heavily stylized, the geometric figures resemble hieroglyphic carving with fragmentation grenades carefully lobbed at their heels.
One of the most notable differences in these pieces is the symmetry has been abandoned; the functional medium of “rug” has turned into the free expressive “canvas”. Women, silenced by either sexually discriminating law or foreign invading rifles have transformed tradition into expressive resistance. Are these pieces intended to be prayer rugs or are they just smaller because of their content? Either way, when you kneel to pray these issues will stare you in the face.
It is unclear which pieces were woven in the period of Taliban rule between ’88 and 2001. It’s safe to assume most or all rugs excluded animate objects and the underground art movement of these shadowed women hibernated for over a decade. War rugs were still made, but probably in the more traditional styles of Afghanistan. Crazy Shit was about to happen though.
(insert Crazy Shit a la ((Allah)) terror attack on NYC)
With the invasion of US forces in 2001, shortly after September 11th, new themes emerged. Giant communists disappeared and smart bombs and bunker busters rain down from high. These smaller rugs have common themes and copied motifs: text (both English and Arabic) have been copiously added. These two rugs, bought from separate dealers (Texas / Miami) show almost the exact same composition and imagery by two different artists. With a map of Afghanistan in the center, the wool canvas has been filled with invading Bradley tanks and hovering Apaches. Arabic (or Farsi?) script at the top reads “The army of the Taliban is leaving Afghanistan”. Northern Alliance and US vehicles roll down (from the North) to bring the battle straight into Kandahar, other treaded machines rumble about, choppers scan caves for you know who.
One of these rugs is rendered with a little more precision, cleaner text, words spelled quasi- correctly, rifles and RPGs straighter and to scale. One says “made in Afghanistan” and the other, “maden afgaanistan,” an odd label stressing the fact that yes, “these fuckers are legit, you’re not going to find these at Walmart”.
Rugs that really catch Westerners’ attention are the 9-11 memorial rugs.
These montages not only tells a story, but they leap from the attack on the United States to the United States attack on the Taliban government. The illusion of depth is unique to the 9/11 rugs. In previous motifs, only small tanks hint at implied perspective, but here, the two main figures (twin towers) are drawn in sophomoric 3D. The overlaying American and Afghan flags, linked by a dove of peace, adds a simple field of perspective in contrast to the flat overhead view other pieces. In fact, the flags cut the composition in half, the top (state sponsored terrorist attack) the bottom (state sponsored regime change attack) and plead for peace in the middle? Both planes ram the twin towers, you see the planes enter as well as the massive explosions they birth, flight numbers woven next to each wing. An aircraft carrier, floating at the bottom, launches a giant missile, the letters USA taking up most of the deck.
Source material, for the first time, is taken not from the surrounding area, but from the propaganda leaflets dropped by coalition forces. Pioneered by the British in World War One (we can credit General Swinton, 1914 - he paid for the initial cost out of pocket and recouped his loses after the battle) , the tactic of blasting the enemy with paper fliers as psychological attacks has endured for almost a century. Handing out leaflets to civilians is a more contemporary approach to sway would be converts of the new insurgency. These black and white fliers provide models to work from and the collage approach seems more natural as one leaflet can be placed above another before the first fiber is threaded. It is strange that the poorly designed and pixilated military leaflets are being used to create hand made folk art. An extremist government executes a makeshift, but brilliantly orchestrated terrorist attack in which one financial center is hit and the media is given ample time to film and photograph the second impact in real time. Images/audio from the event are broadcasted all over the world so the symbolism of the event permanently wounds the psyche of the Western world… the number of casualties is secondary to the visual shock of a global capitalistic center melting (see Jean Baudrillard “The Spirit of Terrorism” 2001). Stills are photoshopped onto dollar size leaflets and passed around by the retaliating/liberating party to promote olive branch style winning of hearts and minds. Images are then collaged and transcribed into rugs by the oppressed population of the extremist government.
One of the most subtle and strange images depicted on the 9/11 war rug isn’t the crisp autumn colored explosions or the leaping businesses men and women (my particular rug doesn’t have falling New Yorkers, but some do). A lone news copter spies from above the fiery towers. In no leaflet is there a civilian helicopter and I’ve yet to see, even though some aerial photos were taken from them, a helicopter in the background of stills taken on that horrible morning. The artist has placed this hovering eye above the scene right in the middle of the composition. Intentional or not, the conceptual juxtaposition is a little eerie. The people of Afghanistan, with satellite dishes hot glued to tin roofs, understand this is a media war and it has infiltrated their most shadowed places. I know it's a stretch.
The lines of intent are blurry at best and the 9/11 rugs, with their wiggly rendering and contrasting colors, aren’t obvious protest signs or shouts of solidarity. Many questions puzzle the viewer. Did the artist leave in the peace dove because this is what she wants… peace? Is the artist just copying the leaflets because they are interesting? Was the artist skilled enough to omit the dove all together? Rugs that say “The army of the Taliban is leaving Afghanistan” show US forces destroying Afghan vehicles, but the predominant weapons that we are shown aren’t US rifles; they’re Russian surplus and outdated bazookas. Afghan flags are raised, not stars and stripes.
Unlike the Zapatista rag dolls of Chiapas Mexico, which are made to glorify the rebels robbed of their land, these rugs don’t seem to have a firm stance or position. They document a culture of turmoil and sorrow, of two very different ideologies bashing heads in our multi media global village. It’s as about as postmodern as you can get.
Posted by Rock Heals at 06:40 AM
November 16, 2005
Hot House 5: Novels
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
Sometimes you need six. Some reading you shouldn’t miss – all from the “literary fiction” genre more or less. I’ll hit some other genres another time – I’m not one of those, “I only watch films” types.
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<< The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner Spring 1993; wrapping up my second year of college; three day break b/w classes and finals. I was never much for studying. Day 1: coming down with horrible cold; take some Contact; sleep 12 hours, through much loud knocking on my door. Never take Contact again. Day 2: feverish but not quite delerious. Start reading the book for no real reason and am soon just about eating it. The Quentin section blows me away. Day 3: pull into the station with an empty but warm feeling in my stomach. Borrowing a line from elsewhere, when Faulkner is on, he’s so fuckin’ on. |
| Waiting for the Barbarians, J.M. Coetzee >> You can’t really get a grip on where or when this book takes place. On the edge of an empire – where the center and periphery meet. Probably a great one to read in a course on post-colonial lit. – but for me it was one of those great mythic stories – like Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children or Kafka’s Metamorphosis – about a man making his way through a world that’s crumbling around him and fighting the one that is crumbling inside. Maybe it happens nowhere, but it’s a real nowhere. |
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<< Defoe, Leslie Scalapino You’ll either love or hate this one. On one level it is about novels themselves – Robinson Crusoe by Defoe being what many consider the first of the English-version of the form. But Scalapino inject her emptied-self / anti-perspective / writing and reading as the experience approach to the form to create a lyrical, diffuse and obtuse read. She also brings the video for A-Ha’s “Take on Me.” I swear. Though I’ve never seen her admit it... |
| All the Pretty Horses, Cormac McCarthy >> The beautiful elegy to the western novel that The Unforgiven was to the western movie. Though, with a lot more of the beautiful. You’ve seen this narrative before: character takes journey into wild and finds him/herself. But the unassuming virtuosity of the story-telling, pace and characters is hard to match. I think the first of the two follow ups (The Crossing) was far too much about the story-telling and forgot the power of the “unassuming.” Didn’t even bother with the third. Oh, the first “chapter” is strange as fuck, I don’t know what he was thinking. Just forge ahead. |
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<< Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace Bear with a little synesthesia. If The Sound and the Fury, Sid & Nancy and Infinite Jest were songs, they’d all end on the same beautiful and tragic chord I’ll never tire of hearing. The writing is pretty “hey look at how good a’ writer I am!” and 2,000+ pages makes for quite a personal investment, but crossing that finish line you realize you’ve just read one of the most human books you’ll ever pick up. |
| Bastard out of Carolina, Dorothy Allison >> I read All the Pretty Horses and this one just about back-to-back over a couple months and thought an unparalleled time of great literature had begun. Bastard is that great piece of southern hard-luck memoir – starring that quirky, intricate mess of a trailer park family – told in that confident, wise beyond its years, dirty-realism voice that you’ve been wanting to read. I don’t think they actually live in a trailer park. And the next few books I read disabused me of the “time of great literature” notion. |
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Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
November 09, 2005
Lisa Jarnot's One Hundred Hat Memorial
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
Someday, my daughter will rebel against whatever it is Trace and I stand for. And on good days, I think that this won’t come in the form of going GOP on us, but will in fact be in becoming all kinds of politically active and opposite-of-apathetic. “Fuck you old man, anyone can be an armchair critic,” she’d yell over her shoulder as she marches out the door with a shotgun on her shoulder. A girl can dream.
Rock Heals always intended to profile all kinds of people who are “doing their thing” beyond the writing we so often showcase. To date, I think this had consisted of my interview with Narrowhouse Recordings. I know, I’m fearsome when I have a goal.
But that brings us around to Lisa Jarnot’s One Hundred Hat Memorial. Many may know Lisa as poet extraordinaire (you can use Google, figure it out buster), but you may not know she knits. I didn’t, until I got an email announcing this project she had underway.
As she says, “Since the fall of 2004, I've been knitting hats in memory of soldiers and civilians who have died in the conflict in Iraq. I am opposed to the war and to George Bush's "War on Terror" policies.
“For me, these hats give a sense of the physicality of war – lots of skulls rattling around there in the desert.
“I'm asking people to wear these hats, keep their own heads warm, and be a walking memorial to a fellow human being who died in Iraq.”
So when Rock Heals came around a year or so later, I knew this would be something I’d want to feature. After much procrastinating I sent her some questions. She sent back answers in a pretty timely fashion, and then I procrastinated more.
Last week the U.S. casualty count passed 2,000 –a ghoulish sorta landmark. God knows (where God = a reporter that does his/her research) how many Iraqi civilians have been killed – but it seems like Iraqi dead have outnumber U.S. soldiers something like 20 to 1 in the news lately. Ugh. So I realized it was time for me to get off my ass.
I sent her questions and she responded:
“I had started my blog a few months earlier and had been posting obituaries of soldiers who had died in Iraq. I decided to combine projects and try to map out and keep track of the death toll in Iraq through my knitting project.
“The first hats went to friends, and then people started asking if they could buy them. The response has been positive throughout. (I sometimes get negative comments on the blog re: my political views, but that seems to be part of the process of blogging.)
“The best thing about the project has been the individual stories – some people have asked to have their hats dedicated to soldiers from their hometowns, or soldiers who they had some other personal connection to.
“It really does help to bring the war into view in a new way. And I think it's useful to "fight the power" in these kind of grassroots ways. Internet technology makes the connections really immediate – it's been a great way for me to be in touch with people all over the country (and all over the world) regarding the war and anti-war organizing.
“I also think that real change takes time and consistent effort – an ongoing revolution. And partly it's a matter of communicating with others and doing something every day to make the world better. That's how I like to think of it at least.”
It was supposed to be a back and forth kinda interview – but she really said it all.
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A year ago I got on board as hat 57 – and promptly forgot about it for a year. Then a handful of weeks ago I got an email from Ms. Jarnot saying it was time for me to offer up my dedication. And so Hat 57, a Bunny Sheepinator (Ms. Jarnot’s suggestion) is for Pfc. Nathaniel DeTample.
Searching the web, I came across Pfc. DeTample. He was a 19-year old National Guardsman – so though he was proud to head out and serve his country, I don’t think he signed up for the Guard to head overseas. One of the things that gets me is how many of the casualties have not been the “traditional forces” you’d expect in a conflict like this.
Pfc. DeTample was a wrestler and an Eagle Scout before going off to college, where he was a criminal justice major. I was a wrestler in high school, and I got pretty far in my West Point application before backing out (people who know me well enough today find both of those a little surprising... I come from a military family, yo) – it’s not that he and I are “the same” or anything, but it definitely struck a chord with me when I read about him. And it made me think, “what a fucking waste.”
All the hats are ordered now – you’ve missed a chance at that. But this isn’t meant to be an advertisement for Lisa’s project. Take it as a reminder that we can all do our part – get out there and throw a rock at something.
Visit the One Hundred Hats Memorial
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
From the Mailbag: Can you be like a man?
We receive tons of mail at Rock Heals. At least a letter every other week. I know you've seen this-style gag before. Give us a break, we didn't have anything that we could really publish with a piece about the fact that tons of people are dying in Iraq daily...
My name is Joann Mcginnis and I am 27 years old. I currently weigh 175 lbs thanks to the help of HOODIA. I was a long time ephedra user and was suffering from major with drawl when it was taken off the market. My symptoms were horrible and I had heavy depression and fatigue when I stopped using it. Nothing was helping me and I gained my weight back (despite working hard at the gym) til I was up to 217 lbs and 20% body fat. At that time my girlfriend of 4 years had left me and I was having severe mental issues and my confidence was zero.
Joann McGinnis (currently 175 lbs)
Joann is a funky name for a guy and we have no idea what HOODIA was.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
November 02, 2005
This is Los Angeles: they paved the river (2)
Bob Massey
I’ve been here about six weeks and in that time I’ve been on a serious cheeseburger bender. Specifically, Jack in the Box. I dunno what happened, I probably hadn’t eaten a bona fide cheeseburger in fifteen years. But when I was a kid in East Dallas, there were Jack in the Boxes on either side of our neighborhood. So my mom would take us there, on the way to or from things, probably twice a week. For years, even as an adult, I could still smell those cheeseburgers in my mind. They smell like feet.
Guess what? They still smell like feet. Mmmm, yummy feetburgers.
Yeah, so I’ve been running a lot more.
One vice I have not succumbed to is the roving ice cream pusher. Actually, there are two who work my neighborhood. They cruise by in the afternoon and you can hear the tinkly, muffled jingle from blocks away. Sometimes they blend to make some weird Tom Waits nightmare soundscape.
I love to watch these trucks because without fail I’ll see some Angeleno toughguy with neck tatts running down the street, shrieking like a little girl and waving a dollar. In the immortal words of one great American: “You’re bad now. But you were eating an ice cream cone! And I saw you! That’s the shit you can’t hide, you know? You got your fuckin shit, but you eat ice cream and everybody knows it. The whole fuckin’ place knows it. Ice cream eating motherfucker, that’s what you are.”
One thing Los Angeles does to make up for the lack of squirrels (as noted in the previously): snails. Real snails with curly shells. Not slugs. Man, I felt like I was seven years old the other day when I saw one crossing the driveway. You know, you only see them in cartoons if you come from anywhere east of Koosharem. They’re fucking cool.
There was this whole thing about the indignities of a DMV visit that I was gonna screed on, but it’s too exhausting. Maybe next time. I will say that California DMV is filled with angels and light compared to the DC DMV. The DC DMV makes a Calcutta slum seem pleasant and efficient.
[Here's the one that started them all: Los Angeles. Hell Yes]
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:40 AM
October 26, 2005
This is Los Angeles: they paved the river
Bob Massey
October 16, 2005
One of the tricks to moving to Los Angeles, or anywhere, is finding the oases. I’m not the hugest comix head, but I’m so glad I walked into Secret Headquarters, on Sunset near my place.
This guy Dave is one of the owners and he appears to be there on Sundays when I’m done with brunch, and a couple weeks ago when I first cruised in there we got to talking about Fugazi and the East Coast and stuff. He lived in Boston and came out west pretty recently, as I recall.
So I cruised in today and he not only remembered my name but greeted me with comments about the East Coast weather (it rained yesterday, overcast today – people think the world is ending).
Today we talked about crazy fantasy loft spaces in not-at-all lovely downtown L.A. – places where you can put a half pipe in the back and a sweet bar and kitchen in the middle. He showed me pictures of this one joint he’d been to in which the back part of the warehouse had been removed to create a grassy yard with an outdoor clawfoot tub for showers in the sunshine. We agreed it would only take a couple million bucks. He’s got a comic store and I’m a writer, so we’re all over that shit.
And since we’re dreaming, when I’m Prime Minister of L.A. I’m gonna unpave the river. Is that not the punchline to some Los Angeles joke? – They paved the river. Nice work, imagineers.
This shall be my last word for today: David Lynch: born, Missoula, Montana. Eagle Scout
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Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
October 12, 2005
Hot House 5 for Oct. 10
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
Read ‘em and weep.
Be sendin’ along anything that needs noting.
(( submissions at rockheals dot com ))
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<< Ben Claassen Ben just took second in the Baltimore City Paper’s comic contest – but he’s first in our heart. His site (and is stuff) is end-to-end great, but then at the Small Press Expo (yeah we’re putting our geek on our sleeve this week) he showed us this just finished this love letter to his Katrina-beleaguered town and snagged us all over again. from bendependent.com |
| Steve, Don’t Eat It (@ The Sneeze) Someplace between David Sedaris and Fear Factor, one man’s self-imposed journey into the heart of culinary oddicy. You gotta start with Cuitlacoche which hooked us for life. And then we saw a Quesadilla Huitlacoche on a menu and were this close to ordering it in that “taste this milk – is it bad?” kinda way. Cuitlacoche |
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<< Call The Doctor Sleater-Kinney (1996) The Tokyo Rose had a lotta great shows in its run, but whenever we explain that to people we always mention that S-K played there a few weeks before they broke. We’ve been rockin’ this album all week – it’s gotten even better with age. |
| Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell >> People told me to read Ghostwritten and then Number9Dream, and I slept on ‘em both. Then I got this as a gift. It’s a great read. I usually find Chinese Box kinda narratives too witty-cute to stomach, but somewhere between the plot plot and more plot and pure joy of writing talent this one took me away. Those other two books are next. Check the way lame UK cover! |
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<< Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Al Robbins As Grissom’s opening one-liners are getting more and more tired, the doc gets better. He always gets that tossed-off whip of a line that isn’t saying anything, but is still flirting with something dark you probably don’t want to know about. That and his hands are to the brim with intestines. |
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
October 04, 2005
Belligerent
K. Lorraine Graham
“Don’t go down to the beach. Alfred Hitchcock is on the beach,” he said.
“Did you say Alfred Hitchcock is on the beach?”
“Yes,” he said. “It is best not to camp there.”
The train station was dark and full of fruit bats. Subsequent bus stations were also dark and full of fruit bats.
The runway was a dirt airstrip. Around the airport was a stone wall that we used to play on, jumping from stone to stone, kicking some of them off.
“My sister can skip faster than your sister,” he said.
“My sister can skip fast,” he said, “even over rough ground and rocks.”
The office wasn’t far away from the airport. You used to come home for lunch. One evening I went to get you. By the office door was a man chewing beetle nut. His teeth and lips were bright red.
Beetle nut is bitter. Cola nuts, from Africa, are bitter at first but then sweet and contain caffeine and theobromine. Theobromine is a stimulant like caffeine but different. It is supposed to improve ones mood. When I chew cola nuts I become belligerent.
He said, “Carrots have vitamin A. Vitamin A is powerful magic—it will help you see in the dark.”
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:40 AM
September 28, 2005
Los Angeles. Hell Yes.
Bob Massey
September 2005
[Ed note: What follows is the first in an ongoing series of dispatches from the heart of Tinsletown. Here’s a bio for Bob I found on a site for an opera he wrote and staged. Yes, I said opera... more on that another time. Bob splits his time between music-making and writing for Spin, The Washington Post, and others. His music steals shamelessly from the visceral impact of post-punk, the emotional palette of classical, and the sonic range of experimental music. Massey has toured and recorded with Jean Smith, Telegraph Melts, Tsunami, and his latest, the Gena Rowlands Band; and has composed scores for film, dance, and the web. [He used to] curate the Punk Not Rock composers’ salon in Washington, DC [before he up and left for L.A. to pursue some kind of movie-related writing career that will undoubtably crush his soul]. Bracketed edits come from RH with love.]
These observations will be somewhat scattered and random until I hit a groove. Right now I’m kinda in the weeds, workwise. Nonetheless…
No kidding, on my first full day in town some short, buff, generic guy walks by and a dinner companion stage-whispers, “Hey, wasn’t he on [insert sexy twenty-something dramedy I’ve never actually seen here – like Party of Five, maybe].” I thought that would take a week, at least.
To calibrate the import of this event, know that once in D.C. I freaked out because Michael Kinsley walked by.
On a day that Princess Di was in town.
(I’m sorry.)
L.A. Story redux, no. 1 – referencing the scene where Steve Martin strides purposefully out to his car, gets in, starts it up, drives forward one car length, stops at the house next door, turns it off, gets out, strides purposefully up to his neighbor’s door.
Trader Joe’s has two parking lots: one adjacent to the store, the other three doors down – maybe twenty yards apart. There is always a line of cars jockeying to get into the lot adjacent. The other lot is always half-full.
Related observation: damn, there’s a hella buncha donut shops in this town. I’m not even kidding. Every strip mall – and this town is nothing but strip malls, apparently – has one. It’s like the devil designed this town to torment bulemics.
I was going to my car (sans donuts) and I passed under a tree. Something scuttled higher into the branches but I couldn’t see what. It was that moment that I realized I hadn’t seen a single squirrel since my arrival in Los Angeles. I looked all around me. Nothing. On the east coast squirrels create a background hum of activity, sort of like your refrigerator. You don’t notice until it stops.
And yet those yappy little Paris Hilton dogs are everywhere. Coincidence?
(Evolution?)
Friday night a guy invited me to see a show at this industrial space inhabited by some Art Couple. It was a bunch of experimental noise performances curated by Sharon Cheslow, whose name is super familiar, and who I feel like I should know from her D.C. days, but apparently I don’t. She’s nice though. Anyway, the first guy was named Jeff something but he goes by Unimpregnable. He set up a table covered with effects pedals, knobs tweaked just so, plus a mic and an enormous PA. Back to the “crowd,” he punched some button, emitted an unholy shriek into the mic, and for twenty minutes pounded the everloving shit out of the table, which caused the gut-rending roar to modulate according to the violence done upon the table. It sounded like a space shuttle launch. It looked like So. Much. Fun.
Outside, a bunch of latino kids in fancy dress got into a street brawl. Ladies too. Fists, feet, manicured nails, beer bottles all made contact with human skulls. I really thought we should combine the two events but no one wanted to help move the PA.
Los Angeles. 2005. Hell yes.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:40 AM
crab hash (for 2)
the Kevin Thurston
[Ed note: While most recipes are kitchen-tested by our panel of a dozen schooled chefs, we're letting this one rip with nary a taste. Let us know how it goes for you. Irresponsibly yours, RH]
1 container of back-fin or jumbo lump
1 yam
1 sweet onion
1 red pepper
peanut oil
1 tbsp butter
salt
pepper
old bay
hot paprika
cut yam, sweet onion and red pepper, toss in peanut oil, salt & pepper.
place on a baking sheet in a 375 oven for one hour
drink beer, smoke, do dishes, whatever
when the veggies have cooled, heat a pan (i like cast-iron, but anything'll do). add butter and a bit of oil (to raise the smoking point) to the pan. add crab. add old bay. stir. add veggies. add paprika. stir. warm through. plate. eat.
i've vanquished evil
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:20 AM
September 21, 2005
Hot House 5 for Sept. 21
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
A handful of capsules on things that are making life a little better. This is about what’s hot hot hot – and heat ain’t no slave to the new. Be sendin’ along anything that needs noting.(( submissions at rockheals dot com ))
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<< We Love Katamari Katamari Damacy was the best $20 I spent in 2004. Beautiful, simple, funny-as-crap, perfectly executed. Proof that you need a good idea, not a multi-million dollar development budget, to get a “game of the year” nomination (we call that hope for gaming). Now comes the sequel with levels inspired by / requested by the legions of cult fans. Even with the steep 50% price hike (now $30!), we so can’t wait. Why do I think I’ll have bloodshot eyes, carpals tunnel pain, and the munchies around 4 a.m. Saturday morning? http://katamari.namco.com/ |
| Marty from RockStar: INXS >> The real deal. Yes he has tone issues to work on. Yes his stage dancing can be uncomfortably off-kilter (TGP notes, what do you think it was like seeing Mick Jagger dance for the first time? while not saying this guy is the next Mick Jagger or anything). And yes you have to wade through the limp non-joy that are Brooke Burke and Dave Navarro’s attempts at hosting AND the band’s brainwashing-like repetition of the phrase “our band, INXS.” But Marty is an intense motherfucker when he stands still. And I think his jaw is hinged like the aliens on V – he could totally gulp down a kitten. Official Site (watch out, his profile pic up there is wicked quee-yuh + his songs are on iTunes, I think) He didn’t win... who cares, he’s still awesome. |
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<< Ouija Interview No.1: Theo Wallis, Sarah Becan (2003) Gorgeous, poignant, and funny. Prob. my fave minicomic bought to date – at least of those that had a narrative. So many minis are crap for narrative, story, writing, character... this ain’t. Full page panels, with each being more or less the same – ghost answers questions. Simple yes, but saves all the love for the writing. http://www.jakze.com |
| M.I.A., Arular >> I was talking with a friend about how bad this year was for hip hop – all the Kanye up in my face and decomposing 50 Cent half lives (as opposed to Wiley or Jay-z v. Dangermouse last year, or the recent past’s Neptunes boom). But then memory catches up and I’m like, oh shit, this M.I.A. album is awesome, check it out. Chanting rhythms that’ll make you think of whatever double-dutch games filtered through whatever sandlot playgrounds in whatever country she’s from. I’m not here to do research, just pointing out the good. And don’t fear the “skits”... what is the bane of every other hiphop album on the shelf is refigured into something wholly different here – and some of the best the album offers. http://www.miauk.com/ (this site is one kinda web old school – think like early Todd Oldham sites, or superbad) |
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<< Lost returns To whom it may concern: don’t fuck it up don’t fuck it up don’t fuck it up don’t fuck it up, please. |
Posted by Rock Heals at 08:30 AM
September 14, 2005
Second-String Covers
Every week we litter the cutting room floor with covers that just didn't rise to the top. This week we offer a sampling so you can see a little of what Rock Heals sees when it is chillin' vacation style.
If you're on dial-up, God bless you -- right now we are, too. Ghetto.
Posted by Rock Heals at 09:15 AM
A Little Tardy, But Getting There
Supercar, nooooooooo!
A few hours behind here. Contributing factors include:
1. The jerk who hit the super-car in a McDonald's parking lot. See photo above... that's my bumper cover detached from the bumper. The grill is gone as well. And there is a huge wheel scuff and scratch down the side. Incompetent driver, you suck.
2. Spending a week in the Outer Banks of NC for a much needed vacation. Struggling against dial up.
3. Not really a delay, but the fam is eagerly watching the course of Ophelia. We were evacuated from here 2 years back. That is so not happening this year... We've had enough of hurricane news.
New Rock Heals within hours.
Posted by Rock Heals at 08:01 AM
August 31, 2005
Ryan McGinness Kicks Serious Ass
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
Click images to enlarge.
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In July, my daughter and I went to the Contemporary Museum (Bmore) for an exhibit called, “Beautiful Losers: Contemporary Art and Street Culture.” We had the place to ourselves and went room to room while M_ sang and danced – her preferred way to take in a show. |
| I’d seen a number of the involved artists before, but Ryan McGinness was new to me and stopped me dead in my tracks. From the paintings themselves to the mural-ing of the wall behind them, there was no way you could just walk on by. | 
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The flatness, the mix of representational stencils and Victorian (?) arabesques freed from their typical “border” role, the tangled accumulation of signs and symbols, composition that takes both design and painting. The guy is totally rocking. |
| The exhibit itself is in parts, and if you haven’t been yet, you sadly missed the section with these paintings. More on what-where-when over at the Contemporary’s site, www.contemporary.org (somebody was on it when they snagged that URL!). | 
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The exhibit's on to Tampa next – check out Ryan's site, for all his upcoming shows. You’ll also find a portfolio of his work to date – with peeks back in time to see how his stuff evolved to where it is today. And where he is today is a real treat. Make sure to get out and see it sometime. |
Posted by Rock Heals at 07:12 AM
August 24, 2005
Run Two Back for Thurston
this is what it looks like when you see god in his underwear
We made a mistake. Lauren Bender sent her Kevin farewell on Wednesday but our Junk Mail filter got all kinds of aggressive and swept it from my view. Shoot.
So we include the love she sent along. We pledge to get all Stalin and edit the archives so it is as if this mistake never occured.
From Lauren Bender
here housepainter
Ms. Bender shares of life's sublime secrets (Directions for making a genital print)
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:10 AM
August 17, 2005
Who is Kevin Thurston?
(thanks Ric)
Kevin's poetry, noted for its eccentricities of typography, language, and punctuation, usually seeks to convey a joyful, living awareness of sex and love. To date, Kevin has written three poems: Horny, Horny (1995), Tush Push (1997), and Dung Cock Grope (2001). Thurston is also an accomplished fibber and burglar, whose work includes stealing a watch through an ebay "pay-and-run" (in collaboration with Greg Marinaccio).
Kevin Thurston, 2002
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:10 AM
August 10, 2005
Narrowhouse Anniversary Reading (nyc)
You know we like some Narrowhouse. Come see their anniversary reading, in concert with New Lights Press, at the Bowery Poetry club. See the flyer for details.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:05 AM
July 20, 2005
12+ Questions for Narrowhouse Recordings
Over the course of the past few months, leading up to their latest CD release, I chatted up one of the Narrowhouse brains, Justin Sirois. You’ve seen his work around these and other parts. If you haven’t, you should.
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Rock Heals: What is Narrowhouse Recordings and how did you get started?
Justin: I’ve struggled with describing narrow house to people for the past year and a half. At first we [Andrew Miller and I] approached it as an “avant garde poetry record label”, but the term was too loaded and people were like, “what the hell is avant garde, anyway”. Now I just tell folks we’re a record label which produces progressive writing, some political work and some experimental poetry. Maybe approaching the label from an indie rock background might have made the whole thing seem odd, but it’s definitely interesting to treat poems the way you would a full length album.
We were definitely fly by night when we started. Anselm Berrigan agreed to record in the summer of 2003 after reading at the Washington Printmaker’s Gallery. I remember being a bit nervous about asking him to do a record because I really had no idea what I was doing. At that point we didn’t have a proper studio (not that we do now) so Andrew and I drove to New York to record the album. Fortunately, and this might sound completely insane, a friend of mine worked as an IT guy at Quad Studios in Manhattan – the infamous place where 2Pac got shot (first, nonfatal) in the lobby and where hundreds of pop stars have recorded.
We were all a bit weirded out by the whole experience, but Anselm was extremely professional while the 90 channel solid state logic SL 9000 J series did its thing. That’s probably the most ridiculous part about the experience, using one channel on a million dollar sound board for a CD of poems… if The Rza only knew. Seven hours later we had all the tracks down and we left. Legally we couldn’t credit Quad because we recorded it independently, off their clock, but the irony endures. We even found packs of Dutch Masters and unopened Playstation 2’s under the bed in one of the studio guest suites… nice!
So where's the name come from?
Narrow house is an old euphemism for a coffin. I’ve seen it used in older poems, not sure who wrote it originally… just Googled it and Dickinson popped up. It’s also Baltimore feeling/sounding. All the city row houses are narrow and the coffin imagery evokes a bit of (the) Poe who has a strong presence here, you know, with the Ravens being so popular. Yikes!
One of the hurdles facing any new venture, and one that keeps most of us from starting, is resources. We see time and time again, a little ingenuity go a long way in getting a new project off the ground. What has it taken to keep Narrowhouse afloat?
I’ve been paying for all of the recordings and related expenses, but we initially started off with an individual awards grant from the Maryland State Art Council. It’s been a bit rough starting out, but that’s expected from any new “business.”
As far as promotion, we rely solely on the website acting as the main resource for audio downloads, photos, and interviews. Kevin Thurston has helped a great deal with spreading the word with his interviews and reviews section (double.wide:) and we try to talk to as many people as we can at readings and openings. The more established creative community in DC has been extremely generous; I’d feel a bit out of the loop without them. We do need to focus on distribution though, hopefully SPD will pick us up when Rod’s project is complete.
[Random dialog, and then Narrowhouse turns the interview around a moment.]
Are you going to the Ottobar tonight (Will Oldham)?
Yeah. [Ed note: I didn’t have tickets and the show was sold out – which I didn’t expect, I thought the place held many more people. The people ahead of us in the sold out line had a pretty lady who sweet-talked their group in. I just looked at the door guys and said, yeah, I can’t really compete with that. We drank upstairs for about 20 minutes, and then got in later after some crowd had filtered out, or pity got the better of said doormen. It was a great show.]
How do you go about planning, selecting and soliciting each release?
I guess we stumble into writers as we go. For the most part we’ve known each writer for a short period of time before we approach them, or they’re friends of friends. Garrett Caples, who lives in Oakland, will be an experiment for us though, in a few different ways. He might engineer the entire album by himself (vis-à-vis his home studio) and then send us the audio so we can choose an artist/photographer that fits the sound for the layout. His project will be a blend of poetry and very heady trip/hip hop – should be a fun album.
Planning varies from project to project. We’ll travel if we have to or train/bus/fly writers out to our studio. We mainly rely on the internet to keep in touch with everyone while a project is being engineered and designed – sending PDF proofs or snail mailing CDs for approval. Andrew and I have a plan to streamline the recording process a bit, we were a bit sloppy with Rod’s sessions, but only because of technical difficulties (multiple locations for recording, traveling from Baltimore to DC, computers burning and not burning correctly).
How’s distribution going?
We need to get on that. Right now you can order directly from our website and people in the area can travel to Bridge Street Books in DC. Hopefully SPD will pick us up once Rod’s CD is finished. They should, we’ve had everyone from John Yau to Anselm write letters of recommendation to them. I understand if people are finicky about CD projects, they can be corny, but we’re trying our hardest not to be.
More on resources – how much does "business sense" (likelihood of breaking even even, or even getting a head a little to help fund more stuff) factor into the projects you undertake?
If or when Narrow House begins turning a profit I’ll begin treating it like a business. Until then it’s something fun and meaningful that I do. Of course I have to think about sales (which is a bummer) and we choose more established writers who will most likely sell enough copies for us to break even, but that goes for any industry unless you’re ceiling or costs are next to nothing. We give promotional copies away to universities, the media and friends in the field, but we can’t hand out CDs or leave them at bus stops like your favorite “Free Xerox At Work Press”.
Funding slows us down a bit. Our goal is to release a project once every six months. I can afford to do that out of my own pocket, but it does hurt a bit. We’ve had help from benefactors which is both flattering and encouraging and I give much love (free buttons!) to the real people who give us cash instead of napster-ing Berrigan tracks. That would be a gas.
Do you find it difficult to "keep it going" after the initial adrenaline rush of your first release?
I go through irritating bouts of self doubt, but no more than the (normal?) creative person. Going to readings and talking to like-minded people keeps us motivated because writers are interested in what we’re doing. It sounds cliché, but when you love someone/something the feeling definitely changes or seems less potent, but then you learn to adore it/him/her differently or you appreciate other aspects you didn’t notice before.
The Third Factory Attention Span 2004 listing made us smile and we Google ourselves (everyone’s guilty pleasure) to see who has linked us up, all of that keeps us believing. Most of all I love the community which is growing around the label, it’s the type of culture work that is the most rewarding.
To date, what was the best Narrowhouse moment?
I’d have to say… right now it would be recording Anselm’s record at Quad with tall boys of MGD and 2 Pac’s ghost cringing in the sound booth. Or, when on the way back from our anniversary party at the Bowery Poetry Club we stopped to get gas and watched a U-Haul burn in the parking lot. It was horrible to watch fire fighters pull chunks of melting furniture out of the back of a smoking truck, but it was also kind of beautiful. Hopefully the family was insured.
The worst?
Drunk driving in a Howard Johnson parking lot in St. Mary’s Maryland at three in the morning (where the Women in the Avant Garde CD was recorded) and sailing over an invisible median. Andrew’s rim was bent so bad that he had to replace it along with the shredded tire; we spent the next day getting (more) drunk at a creepy diner across the street from the mechanics.
So, tell us about the new Rod Smith CD.
It’s definitely the funniest of the projects that we’ve produced, funny in a jabbing at your kidneys kind of Rod Smith way.
The opening line is “Sorry Officer, I thought you were a shape shifting rat,” which, I think, is one of the revolving titles of Snips (a cut up poem that changes each time it is read). Originally the first line was “Junior, stop making faces at the chickens.” That cracked me up even more, but we accidentally cut off Junior and it ended up sounding like “unior”. With all the roadblocks we had with this project we opted to cut the second title in there, appropriated from a line in the middle of the piece, to avoid a fifth recording session. Thankfully, the nature of the poem allowed us to do so without ruining the integrity of the work.
I love the whole CD and I think the recording adds a lot of personality to the work that doesn’t translate onto the page. Rod has a very dry, rough style of reading, but his deadpan delivery is perfect for the content and rhythm of the work.
For some reason he reminds me of a really heady, abstract Lewis Black. He might not like that and it might not make any sense, but his work kind of asks, “You know what I’m saying?” and you’re like, “For the most part, yeah.” It’s political, intellectual and humorous but only fully accessible if you pay attention. Did I say Lewis Black?
Rod was very intuitive about the continuity of the tracks, we shared a vision about how it would flow; a few not so serious tracks moving into very language based, more challenging work and then back into something like “All of It’s Gone to Moneyland,” a poem he co-wrote with his daughter that’s cute and anti-capitalistic. I believe that you have to take a lot of care when you organize an album like this. You’ve got to balance the work so the audience doesn’t get bored with too much preachy political work or too much difficult language all crammed together that might take five, ten, twenty replays to understand. Like Anselm’s CD, there’s a section of a long poem at the end of the album, one of my favorite pieces “The Good House,” the entirety of which could fill an album by itself. Then there are very short tracks that are under a minute long to break up the pacing. Basically, it’s the same philosophy as creating a mixtape, you have to be sensitive about how it flows, from beginning to end.
[Rod and I] are both thrilled with the art work as well. Tim Davis, a brilliant photographer from NYC who teaches at Bard, offered up three photos. They’re all very different and it was difficult making them work together into a package, but the whole project turned out great.
What's next for Narrowhouse?
John Yau has agreed to record and we’re extremely excited about that. Personally, I own him a lot as far as turning me onto the New York School poets and Nathanial West and a bunch of other great writers when I was in college.
He is a special type of creative person, one who has, over the course of his career, bridged many gaps between the art world and the poetry world. You look at the scene and you’re like, “everyone should be collaborating with each other in this cross disciplinary way,” but it’s not happening so much. It’ll be cool to have John choose an artist for the packaging, someone who complements his work both orally and in conjunction with the content. He’s an outstanding reader and an audio project might open him up to an even larger audience. After that, Garrett Caples will definitely break some ground with his album, I’m super curious about his trip/hip hop/poem style and how he’ll develop it for the record. Hopefully we can release some CDR projects with lower print runs as well.
Who do you want to record most?
After hearing c.’81 by Alice Notley on the Frequency/Penn Sound site I can’t get it out of my head. A project with her might be in the works via Rod and Anselm (her son). I’d love to work with David Berman or Dan Higgs, both are writers I respect for a number of reasons and I know their projects would expose a younger audience to great writing. I’d love to put out any audio interviews William T. Vollmann might have stashed away, maybe some Tenderloin- or Sarajevo-related recordings if they exist. These people aren’t active in the “poetry scene”, but they’re writers who would benefit from recording their work and sharing it.
Locally… Blaster Al Ackerman would be perfect, he’s a real gem.
Ashbery would be great for obvious reasons.
Since you are running a poetry record label, who is the most interesting reader you've heard and what is the reading you wish you had recorded?
Even though I can’t get through even one page of his written work, Kenny Goldsmith’s performances are outstanding. I need a pocket recorder.
Things Rock Heals didn’t get around to asking about, though Justin wishes we had: elves, diet soda, video games, CNN, arm wrestling and peanut brittle.
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Narrowhouse Recording’s latest release is Fear the Sky by Rod Smith. It’s chock full o’ great poems, order directly from Narrowhouse Recordings. It should be at Bridgestreet Books (DC) soon enough, and maybe SPD, down the road.
Learn more about Narrowhouse’s releases and projects at http://www.narrowhouserecordings.com/
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:30 AM
July 06, 2005
Rod Smith CD Release Party: Baltimore, July 30
Read the flyer. Get the details. Be merry.
You'll be reminded.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:30 AM
June 08, 2005
Activity Report No. I
Operation TIPS
c/o Homeland Security
Dear Norm,
I drive under your Report Suspicious Activities signs frequently, and read them each time. I had thought, before the world changed, in the years those signs were erected over the highways, that it was a little bit suspicious to build those signs at all: ‘Congestion Ahead’ is not worth it, as everybody who drives here already knows it’s already true, the signs were thus merely infuriating, to those spending gas on the parking lot beneath them. But now I understand, that their installation, and the cameras, sprouting on poles of their own like metallic mushrooms, or clinging to lamps and bridge edges like barnacles, was prescient. A prescient precedent, set for a bellicose President. How was I to have known the world would change like that September morning changed it? Now, as I sit in the traffic, the TIPS-line flashing over the lanes, I realize that I am suspicious.
This is not to say that I suspect I’m a sleeper, though I sure can sleep, or that any of my own behaviors as witnessed by myself since that day have raised any doubts in my mind about my own loyalty to the Republic, its Constitution and its Emperor. No, indeed. I am not suspicious of myself, in that way (and trust those who read my e-mail to know when I should be designated a ‘person of interest’ better than I), but, well, I am sort of sensitive to language, ‘hyperlexic’ some call it, others, ‘infuriating literalness,’ but the effect is the same: I parse and parse, wringing every meaning I can from the presented syntax, like bureaucrats pun, by compulsion. So the question arises, which the signs already beg:
What is suspicious activity? The way it seems to be intended, suspicious activity is anything which could be construed as an ‘Islamist’ surveying or moving equipment or renting vans or buying fertilizer or aluminum tubes, PVC pipes, sheetrock or spongy vanilla confections, and such an ‘Islamist’ could be anybody but probably darker of skin than Dan Rather, and bearded. Or are they? Aren’t they swarthy, evildoing enemies of freedom, or do they look like Patriot McVeigh? Of course, it does not mean adherents of the docile and politically impotent religion of Islam, or Sikhs, not these.
But ‘suspicious activities’ might be those undertaken at the direction of a suspicious mind: following those dark men with the boxes; looking askance at the speakers of the tones of Arabic, Pashto, Farsi; watching the minarets; lurking, or even voicing incendiary ideology, on the discussion boards. The fact that the mind harbors suspicion, that harboring is such an activity.
Norm, I gotta tell ya, I’m suspicious. Suspicious of just about everything susceptible to interpretation. Suspicious of the text, the context, the subtext and the author. My suspicious activities consist in this interpretation, and reinterpretation, of the metrical assonance of the sound-bytes, and the framing programs, the curious repeating leitmotif of the severed head in the news, like a fugue, ‘Islamist’ snuff films in counterpoint to abortive decapitation strikes, the head- shots, the pot shots, and the talking heads. By the bankruptcy of the third estate, abdication of the first, and the scripted, juggernaut ascendancy of the second, all to the fanfares of the debauched and complicit press, who keep We the People informed, more like Hamilton suggested than Jefferson’s proscription. I’ve been suspicious all along, Norm, but I’ve kept quiet, because I’ve been busy. Busy being scared by the suspicious proliferation of American flag stickers and stick-pins on imported cars and Italian lapels—“love it or leave it” emblazoned in red, white on blue Chinese tee shirts by religious prisoners across the Pacific. I am suspicious because salaam now indicates evil, pacific stands for surprise attack, columbine (rhymes with combine, carbine) now a dove of death diving under desks, and the cradle of civilization is also the pyre on which civilization is toast, a holocaust to a god that drinks up the souls of those who die angry and scared, adrenalin concentrated in their brains and veins, briefly, before it flows with the blood, a god that speaks to us through a burning Bush, the oily scion and high-priest of his own oily sign of vincit omnia. Oh, I’m suspicious all right, Norm, all day, every day, sometimes more, as the headlines roll off the wires, the wires pull, prod, hobble and shock.
Now that I have reported on myself, identified myself as constitutionally suspicious, will you hire me to write propaganda for the Reich? Keep me close like Sun Tzu’s enemy.
Thank you, sincerely, for your time and consideration. I will await your knock at 0400, or any other time you need your propaganda parsed.
Yours,
Pére A. Gnoyde
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< Previously from The People’s Peaceable Assembly Line Next >
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
May 25, 2005
Tequila on my Mind: La Paloma
Intended for mature audiences. Please drink responsibly.
Do you think of Tequila as liquid rage(r)? The inspiration of too many a drunken injury? The prelude to some unearthly illness?
It need not be.
Tequila is made from the blue agave, for chrissakes. Take a look. Not your average distilled bread. This is the liquor most perfectly paired to the Summer -- as scotch is to Winter.
Five or ten years after you latest tequila sickness, you’ll be ready to really taste it. (Until then your body will likely reject the flavor as poison -- it’s some kind of biological reflex. No, really.)
In its refined and aged form, Tequila carries a complex flavor to sip over ice, maybe with a light squeeze of lime. In a less refined form, it makes for a perfect mixer. We all know the margarita, or at least its demon kool-aid cousin you can get at Mexican food restaurant chains. Among my many snobberies is the real margarita v. the kind you get outta a blender.
But today isn’t about margaritas, it is about a carbonated refreshment, with the emphasis on refreshing, that is stirred not shaken. La Paloma. I drink maybe two or three dozen carbonated drinks a year, and this Tequila Soda is all but 4 of them. I think I read about it in the New York Times one day (a vastly under-rated source of drink inspiration).
La Paloma
1. Grab a highball glass.
2. Drop in a health amount of ice.
3. Add about 2 ounces of gold tequila -- about two shots. (Please note Cuervo Gold gets its gold color from food coloring, I hear. I always recommend Sauza Hornitas as a mixing tequila.)
4. Squeeze in the juice from half a lime.
5. Fill with grapefruit soda (like Fresca). OR if you find yourself near a more chi-chi food store, snag a mexican lemon soda -- I think that is where this drink started, below the border.
6. Stir and enjoy, beeetches!
One alternate to try on this one is ye ole salted rim. I go with Kosher Salt. You should have it around for a lot of cooking anyway, and those little “Margarita Salt” things are lame. You can’t go wrong with a salt rim on a tequila and citrus concoction. Or really any citrus-based mix drink -- salty dog, anyone?
Next up in recipes, I’m going to keep with the summer + cali-mexicana theme and talk about my favorite variety of fish taco (don’t knock ‘em till you’ve tried ‘em).
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:10 AM
May 18, 2005
Best of the Web: It's a Wookie, Wookie World
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
Every once in a while you come across a something on the webnet that brings all that is good in the world together in one bite-sized serving. Consume, pass along, return to the dreary. Devil Doll and Radiskull. Candystand. Peanut Butter Jelly Time. The Star Wars Kid.
But every once in a while something transcends the ephemera of this fleeting 72 dpi world. Something special that you hold close, even hoard. As I write, I fear the word will get out, bandwidth will be overdrawn, and it will disappear forever. I take this risk for you.
As you prepare to put a little Sith in your step, take the time to stop by the Planet of Wookies I carry in my heart. It starts subtle, but gets better and even better with age. (Without speakers, you are nothing.)
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:04 AM
Reading @ Current (Baltimore), May 20
Friday, May 20th, 8:30 pm
Current Art Space
30 South Calvert, Baltimore
(410) 244-7003
Poetry and other work from:
Kevin Thurston
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
Lauren BenderJustin Sirois
All these people have been involved in these spaces in some form, show the love.
We will.
We will.
Rock you.
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:01 AM
May 11, 2005
Activity Report No. VII: You Should Know a Nut
Brought to you by The People's Peaceable Assembly Line
Ed. note: What follows are from a series of letters that have been written to Norm, the man behind the Department of Homeland Security's tip line. You are sure to see more of these in the future.
Dear Norm,
I thought you should know, not
that there's anything inherently suspicious, per se,
in such conduct, that there is a round-headed
man with wispy hair standing out there
between the mailbox and the road, with
a wistful, dreamy gleam in his eye,
almost, arguably, the shine of religious fervor,
as though he'd just whetted his evangelical
blade on fresh scripture, consecrating it to blood,
or was a prospective pipe bomber casing the place,
or lying in wait, a disgruntled postal
customer, for the carrier to arrive.
If you should ask him, he will just say
here I am, waiting for a letter from
that cute red-headed girl, but I
have not asked him. I see that he is surely
a nut, intent on orchestrating a great grief.
Please act before it is too late!
Yours, in liberty,
Terrified in America.
++++
< Previously from The People’s Peaceable Assembly Line Next >
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:06 AM
Activity Report No. X: too quiet, you know
Brought to you by The People's Peaceable Assembly Line
Norm, it’s quiet. Too, quiet, you know? The newspapers
are a blanket of snow, silent under the layer of lies,
compressed on the surface by the chill. Too quiet, in
the street, the subways, the lines. I thought hate was loud,
but it makes no more noise than an almond joy, eaten
on the way into the subway. Sometimes you feel
like a nut; sometimes you’re an enemy of the state
getting taken down over nougat and a layer of caramel,
while the citizens who are doing nothing wrong
stride by with their holsters slung low, and tied
above the knee against the quick draw that might be
called for between double mocha amaretto half-caf
and lowfat hazelnut soy chai if somebody (you
know the type) should step out of line at starbucks.
They are doing nothing wrong; they have no fear. . .
but Norm, nobody’s talking, there is only the cash
register and the sound of the frothing wand, now,
each patron eyeing the other’s scalding beverage and
trigger hand, wondering who’s faster, who’s the greater
threat. That woman with the almond joy, that eco-
terrorist breast feeding her mewling brat on the bus,
that blind and diabetic man with the gumdrops; Norm,
we didn’t want them in our militia anyway, take them away.
++++
< Previously from The People’s Peaceable Assembly Line Next >
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:04 AM
Activity Report No. XIV: legostomperfallguy.com
Brought to you by The People's Peaceable Assembly Line
dear norm:
right about the time I thought of
"fall guy" episode reenactments
with legos and stompers,
i've pretty much felt suspicious
of myself norm.
heather locklear norm. lee majors, norm.
solving crimes, loving ladies, and
doing stunts.
together
in a hot tub norm.
and they could be on the internet
as finest of digital conversion technologies
free me to store and edit video and to post it
and the finest in talking giraffe technology
can sell me the legos
surely their are internet toads
who traffic in stompers (no pun intended, norm).
i'd film them in stop-motion, norm
exhausting scene by scene reconstructions
i would attain the scripts norm.
then all the world could live, or relive, it
believe, norm.
bored people in offices would swoon
and send links to all their bored friends in other offices
and soon there would be www.legostomper.com, norm
and knockoff websites like www.legostompers.com
and i'll sell the movie rights
and i'll be rich! i'll be rich!
stompers will rise again, norm.
please dispatch thought control blimp expeditiously.
ASP
++++
Next from The People’s Peaceable Assembly Line >
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:01 AM
April 27, 2005
This Month In Search (April)
In this (just about) monthly feature we use analyze the keyword searches resulting in traffic here at Rock Heals as a warped and unreliable bellweather of our cultural moment.
So analyzing the keywords from the past couple weeks, we find (line items show term(s), hits and percentage of total search traffic):
The past few weeks have been huge for John Shanchuk -- the people are turning out in droves to hunt him down. In a surprise development, within a month his rapid rise has eclipsed the competitors -- the ever-popular Whack Off Wednesdays, Heroin Gangrene, and even Kricfalusi 2005.
Keep an eye on the Alphabet Song and Taco Salad in May. For both, we'll see thinking unify and followers exponentiate. You can never have enough letters or taco salad in the Cult of May.
Somedays, we are what we want.
Also in Week 7
more from Unabomber Haiku by Mike Grau;
Previously on Rock Heals
Week 6 Is Habit Forming with another installment of 911 Diaries, a photo from Raji, and a review of Katamari Damacy!
Week 5: Yankees In Last! (But so are the Sox) with a short play from Brian Calandra and a recipe
Week 4: Perdue, the Pope and Bellows. Oh my! with 911 Diaries, Mike Grau, and music from M_GP
Week 3 Waits Patiently for Spring Weather with a comic from John Shanchuk
Week 2 In the Time or Rock Heals with poetry from Justin Sirois; and
Week 1 Where it All Began with poetry from Mark Wallace
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:00 AM
April 20, 2005
Katamari Damacy: Tetris 2004?
Jamie Gaughran-Perez
So I'd never written an Amazon review -- but when I picked up Katamari Damacy late last year, I couldn't resist. So... here it is. Go get it. Now.
Addictive, deceptively simple, very well executed... Very basically put, you collect stuff by rolling over it with a sticky ball, but its amazing how gracefully perspective shifts as your katamari goes from 1 inch in size to 1 mile and from collecting shirt buttons to skyscrapers and bridges.
And if you thought "All Your Base Belongs To Us" was funny in any way, you'll really enjoy all the story interludes.
Be warned, the graphic approach is very very basic and will remind you of pixel art or C64 games at times -- this is no doubt completely intentional. But if you are looking for super-realistic graphics, don't come here.
Also in Week 6
I wasn't even on the clock... by D_, our paramedic in the field
Previously on Rock Heals
Week 5: Yankees In Last! (But so are the Sox) with a short play from Brian Calandra and a recipe
Week 4: Perdue, the Pope and Bellows. Oh my! with 911 Diaries, Mike Grau, and music from M_GP
Week 3 Waits Patiently for Spring Weather with a comic from John Shanchuk
Week 2 In the Time or Rock Heals with poetry from Justin Sirois; and
Week 1 Where it All Began with poetry from Mark Wallace
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:10 AM
April 13, 2005
Californian Taco Salad (for accompanying a tequila drink)
Yeah a recipe... got a problem with that motherfucker?
It is the season of cilantro. Have you noticed how damn good Cilantro has tasted for the last month? Is it something in the soil?
My latest cilantro-infused eating is this update on the Taco Salad, perfect with your favorite Tequila-infused beverage (La Paloma is my favorite -- and surely a recipe to come). It comes in two parts -- the chips and the salad.
Start with the oven-preheating and chip prep; switch over to pulling the salad together, and so on. It’s light and easy. Get on it.
Serves 4-ish, as a side.
“The Chips”
You need:
- Vegetable or Canola Oil (Vegetable or Canola)
- 2 Small Corn Tortillas
Make ‘em:
1. Preheat the over to 425
2. Brush a cookie sheet lightly with oil
3. Brush Tortillas lightly will oil on one side
4. Cut tortillas in 6 pieces and place dry-side-down on the cookie sheet
5. Bake about 10 minutes or until they look crispy but not burnt
“The Salad”
You need:
- A good bunch of spinach (or one of those 5 oz. bags)
- 2 Avacados, cubed
- 2 Mangoes, cubed
- Tomatoes, diced large
- 2 loose tablespoons of rough chopped cilantro
- Juice from have a good lime
- Olive Oil to taste
- Salt and Pepper to taste
Make it:
1. Place the ingredients through the cilantro in a large bowl.
2. Squeeze lime over the ingredients.
3. Add a couple splashes of Olive Oil. Salt (somewhat generously) and pepper.
4. Toss gently -- you don’t want to destroy your avacados (if you want to make guac make guac -- if you want to make this, be gentle).
5. Test the levels and adjust salt and oil as necessary.
The Finish
Serve in bowls ringed with the chips.
Have someone make your drink while you put on the final touches.
Kick it.
Also in Week 5
Deliverable by Brian Calandra
Also on Rock Heals
Week 6 Is Habit Forming with another episode of 911 Diaries and a review
Week 4: Perdue, the Pope and Bellows. Oh my! with 911 Diaries, Mike Grau, and music from M_GP
Week 3 Waits Patiently for Spring Weather with a comic from John Shanchuk
Week 2 In the Time or Rock Heals with poetry from Justin Sirois; and
Week 1 Where it All Began with poetry from Mark Wallace
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:05 AM
March 30, 2005
For the Love of Free Stuff
Here's a bitchin' new IM icon for anyone who wants it. You'll be minutes ahead of everyone on your block.
Just right-click and save. If you have a Mac and no right-click, I'm sure you know what you need to do.
Also in Week 3
Buttermilk John, John Shanchuk
Also on Rock Heals
Week 6 Is Habit Forming with another episode of 911 Diaries and a review
Week 5: Yankees In Last! (But so are the Sox) with a short play from Brian Calandra and a recipe
Week 4: Perdue, the Pope and Bellows. Oh my! with 911 Diaries, Mike Grau, and music from M_GP
Week 2 In the Time or Rock Heals with poetry from Justin Sirois; and
Week 1 Where it All Began with poetry from Mark Wallace
Posted by Rock Heals at 12:04 AM
