Tuesday, May 31, 2016


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!

Tuesday, May 24, 2016


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 abandoned lawn mower, several tanks of gas, some sweatshirts hanging over fences and a full backpack on the ground. It felt as if someone would jump out at me any moment. A spooky vibe.

But it was also pretty great and I look forward to going back.

They had these terrible stickers on many of the gravestones. I don't know what PC means in this case, probably Paid Care, but I hated seeing them mar the beautiful sculptural work. 

This couldn't be more beautiful.

This look says so much.

the hat blends into the stone

Here's another of those terrible stickers. "Endowed Care" Assuming this means "marked for upkeep." Grief.

This one not marked "endowed care"

So much beauty hidden among the stacks.

the body must have escaped.

I was listening to Joel Davis' May 12 set on KGNU's Afternoon Sound Alternative (archived on AfterFM.com.) Joel had this amazing Gil Scott Heron high hat riff that he mixed into some different strange versions of Paul Simon's "50 Ways to leave your lover." In the center of this amazing moment there was a sound clip of some musician saying that Prince was the best jazz musician alive, and I realized that Joel might be commenting about the 50 Ways of leaving a musician he loved, Prince. It was an especially poignant deejay moment. It felt that way, anyway, as this was a show dedicated to Prince. All the ways we leave our lover, death chief among those 50. Anyway, I hit a bump and a book fell out of the children's seat on the back of my bike, one I had found a few weeks ago in the magic Free Library on Queens BLVD. I looked down on the grass to see what had fallen and saw the above book lying in the grass. Just as I was hearing the words "50 Ways To Leave Your lover," I saw the words, "Thirty Days Has September." A lovely serendipity of sound.

Friday, May 20, 2016


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.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016


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

Monday, May 16, 2016


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.


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


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

Saturday, May 7, 2016


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.


Went hard to African percussion. Thanks Spotify for the readymade. Pure ecstasy of movement. A thousand and one sensations. 

And we're practically there 

Wednesday, May 4, 2016


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.