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Showing posts from May, 2016

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Here's Genevieve's beautiful seven siblings on the dance floor making a pact to call each other once a week. We are at the birthday party for their father, Dr. Joseph George. There were 2 spanish guitarists there, the Herrera Brothers. At one point it looked like the big dance party wasn't going to happen as everyone was so busy socializing. My club owner instincts kicked in, plus the fact that I really wanted to dance, so I took Nonna out for a spin and the rest followed. I had to drag her away from the priest, who waiting patiently to bless the cake. I just walked up and said, "Can I steal her for a dance?" He said to take 2. I took, like, 10. Olé!

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Today I went to Mt. Zion Cemetery. I noticed on the map it was tucked back behind the cemetery I usually go to, Calvary. And I wanted to go to a Jewish Queens cemetery anyway because I told my friend Jacques Delaguerre that I would look for his grandfather's gravestone, which is apparently somewhere in Queens. An impossible task, but one which I was happy to begin. First of all, it was not easy to get into this cemetery. It is closed off from Calvary and you have to take a side street and enter in between the Sanitation dept. and a police station. The cemetery itself is overrun with weeds and flowers. The gravestones are very close together, almost haphazardly laid out. And mostly of a darker hue than the gravestones at Calvary. It is very different from neatly kept and organized Calvary cemetery. I couldn't help think about the chequered history of the Jews while I was here, especially those still alive during WWII. Cats were running around. And in one section I saw an aband

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I took Jim Behrle's book City Point out on a spin. I placed it in several City Points. When I got this book in 2000 I didn't know who Jim Behrle was. Now he's a friend. I didn't even know I knew him before I knew him. So it's like a flashback forward of sorts.  Also, I listened on this dance to the last Afternoon Sound Alternative of my favorite deejays 99 and Barry. I'm glad they are at least archived. But sad to see them go. So many good times listening to their music and rapport, as can be evidenced from reading past entries of this blog.  this guy looks like he just saw a ghost found this laying in the grass Why does this guy have a mustache on his hat? Biblical Archeology. Of sorts.

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Rows of appliances lined up like gravestones, or at least so it seems to me because I am dancing down Queens BLVD on the way to the cemetery.  This morning listening to the last Sound Alternative on KGNU from 99 and Barry. So sad to see them go, so much love for such masters of the radio. But here's to listening with feels.                    Green overtaking Green           The way these dissolve is like seeing time sped up These were inspired by Noel Black's new series of cartoon gravestone up on FB, "Eyebrow pomade? Seriously?" and "Add me to snapchat!"  "O' Barn" is a minimalist Whitman poem.                      Peering out from 1890 captured light

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Stumbled across this album on Spotify today. Which led me to explode into an ecstatic, religious, Dionysian experience. I didn't even make it outside. So to speak. Following in the immediate aftermath of receiving this art from Sante, who sewed this flag for the President. Following less immediately finding the cosmos imprinted on this petunia at home depot yesterday. Note how the flower reflects "Back To You" And the flag (within the flag) too.

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Went with Quinn and crew to see Radio Jarocha at Terraza seven. Music from The southern tip of Veracruz Mexico. We traveled there as quickly as is humanly possible. It was only for one song. But it was juicy and full on. Absolutely inside the star ready to explode to/from the womb. Which lead to this the following day Cloisters/guitar fest

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This is a little photo essay, Conceived while listening to Joel Davis' May 12th post-Prince afternoon sound alternative On afterfm.com. 

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Dancing into the nth of music totally defies death. Forever in the moment. All hail the DJ. Tonight at the Spring Fling at the poetry project. DJ/Rupture so righteous, blending Klesmer into Carribean into Bauhause. Decor by Zack Wollard. John Colleti, Lee Ann Brown, et al. Poets dancing, a dream come true. Holy sweat.  Long warm conversation with Anne Waldman afterward. I told her no one had done more than she had to foster the poetry community and fight the good fight. She seemed touched but also said she feels like she's failed! I said you can't take it all on your shoulders, you've done wonders.  I love her. Then on the train home started a conversation with a yoga teacher/ masseuse that went deep fast. Waves of good vibrations in the Tao. Angela Alfieri. Nah, I'm'a stay.

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Went hard to African percussion. Thanks Spotify for the readymade. Pure ecstasy of movement. A thousand and one sensations.  And we're practically there 

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Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock The houses are haunted By white night-gowns. None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings, Or yellow with blue rings. None of them are strange, With socks of lace And beaded ceintures. People are not going To dream of baboons and periwinkles. Only, here and there, an old sailor, Drunk and asleep in his boots, Catches tigers In red weather. -Wallace Stevens Indoor turned inside out to Listening to Vera Cruzian music done local in anticipation for Friday night. Perfect.