Thursday, March 31, 2005

Music Club Report

Went to the Wed Folk Music Club at Water St. last night. Struck me as a good evening, boding well for the spring and early summer, at least. The restaurant and bar area were both reasonably full with people who seemed appreciative of the live music. The weather was perfect: 60s to 50s, light breeze, low humidity, and I think that helped.

Running the show, Laura was looking good, relaxed, happy. There were a couple older gents doing their best to stir the memories of all the Kingston Trio Fans. Their rendition of “I Don’t Give a Damn About A Greenback Dollar” played on shiny $1200+ Gibson 6 and 12 strings fit the cozy fraternal Bohemian Bourgeoisie atmosphere perfectly.

My selections for the night:

Tangled Up In Blue- A favorite of the proprietor
The Other Side- An original, Laura may play on her show this weekend (!)
City of New Orleans
The Beautiful People –original
Harvest Moon- for the couple in the corner –Not my Best Rendition
Unremarkable Me- Original-Trailer Jazz
Sardou Rd.- Original
Mister Brown-Original

Probably overstayed my welcome a song or two, but tempus fugit, caveat emptor, and all that jazz. Still got home in time to tuck Babydoll and Rocky in!

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Before the towers fell

It’s easy to put one person in the box. In fact that’s what the box does best. The current television media fixation with Terri Schiavo, the Pope, and Michael Jackson illustrates what a small screen the small screen is. Tens of thousands dead, tens of thousands living in oppression, rebellion, revolution rendered so many landscapes, backdrops different only in their state of flux, their pictures too big to encompass, their expanse too vast to contemplate.

It’s easier to focus on individuals. But as the camera draws in, in, in, the individual looms, and all matters become matters of self. The unrequited intimacy of celebrity coverage so closely mimics the actual intimacy of the mirror as to become indistinguishable. As television becomes our most flattering looking-glass we become most concerned with our own condition rather than that of our fellow man or all, in a word selfish.

Perhaps it has always been thus, but as the current narcissistic self-referential media maelstrom whips up, doing its damnedest to hide the many behind the one, I am more reminded of life before September 11, 2001 than of anything else. Are there more shoes to drop? Does pride goeth before a fall? I worry.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

The Nostril Story

The other day I was scratching my nose when, much to my surprise, one of my nostrils came off in my hand. I looked at it there. Looked kind of sad, really. Sort of like a pork rind with these twisted black aching allergic hairs sticking out of it. In a fit of spontaneity I popped it in my mouth and began to chew. It was wonderful! As salty and sweet as any sneeze, and those twisted black aching allergic hairs- they crunched like fried perch tails. And if you've ever had fried perch tails, well then you know what a deeply satisfying crunch that is.

While I was happily munching on my nostril, I began to wonder: Should I have my other nostril now, or save it for later? (While I'm eating nostrils and all.) Now I know some folks in this sad and sorry world who feel that the joys in life are so few and far between that we need to stretch them out, if only to break up the awful monotony. On the other hand, knowing myself as I do (and I do), there was the distinct possibility that if I didn't have that other nostril right then, I might never get to have it. I might lose it somewhere, like in the couch or at the mall, or worse yet- someone might steal it, while I was sleeping or in the shower with soap in my eyes, and then I'd be suspicious of my friends, wondering which one of them had taken my nostril- my last nostril! So, I decided it was best for myself, and all concerned, to have that other nostril immediately.

But when I tried to swallow my first nostril (which you recall me popping in my mouth earlier), those twisted black aching allergic hairs, resentful for having been stuck in my nose their entire existence, embedded themselves in the soft flesh of my throat, and grew thick and lush.

And as I laid down to avoid passing out from want of breath, I thought to myself, "You know, this is why you never do anything spontaneous."

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Paradise Found

It’s one of the truly beautiful days in Wilmington. The sky is baby-blue, what I believe is known as Carolina blue. I haven’t researched the origin of the term- I suppose in the age of Google it’s only congenital laziness which keeps me from doing so.

I never knew while living up in Vermont the positive effect sun and blue sky could have upon you. It’s quite a buzz. I’ve long felt that your local climate influences your attitude and outlook more deeply than anyone wants to admit. I wonder how quickly it marks you, how long it follows you around, like an accent? Rather than north and south, city and country, perhaps we should categorize folks meteorologically: 4 season vs. perpetual summer, wet vs. dry, overcast vs. clear?

Well, the most exceptional thing about this beautiful day in Wilmington is its utter commonness, particularly in contrast to the days of my former life in the Great Frozen North. Great day to be alive, and should be a great weekend.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Satellite Spectator

I probably got hooked on satellite weather back when Hurricane Bertha hit. Since then, I've moved steadily towards Doppler radar imagery. Nothing I like more than to watch a storm come in on NOAA's local radar, and the wonder of seeing it rain just as that red and yellow blob reaches you on the map. Maybe it's just that infant pleasure of flicking the light switch: light goes on- Light goes off- light goes on- light goes off. But it might just be the affirmation of seeing yourself on the map. I gotta get one of those GPS devices.

New Music Society

Some very worthy folks have decided to form a new music society for the Wilmington area. I'm wholeheartedly on board. Here's their call for members:


A formative meeting for a new cultural organization for area musicians and anyone with interest in supporting music as a community-building tool will be held on the UNC-Wilmington campus on Tuesday, April 5th, 7-9pm. Tentatively called, “The Roots, Rhythm & Blues Association of Coastal Carolina,” the group plans to encourage and assist performances of American music “from country to calypso, and to aid other not-for-profits through musical events and by generating community support and awareness of the positive impact of live music,” state hopeful organizers Scott Cable and Arthur Shuey. Topics to be discussed at the April 5th meeting will include organization name, board membership, meeting and event schedules, dues and nomination of acting officers. All individuals interested in blues, folk, C & W, jazz, soul, rhythm & blues, spirituals, reggae and other “American roots” musical genres are encouraged to attend the meeting. Planners also hope that existing local organizations, institutions, businesses and academies devoted to American music will designate representatives to become part of the planning process and governing body for The Roots, Rhythm & Blues Association of Coastal Carolina. The 7-9pm meeting will be held in Room 201 of Morton Hall, located between Crews Drive and the clock tower on the UNC-Wilmington campus, behind Randall Library. For more information about the organization’s meeting and goals, please contact Scott Cable, 371-1193 or Arthur Shuey, 343-9447.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Opening Night

The Curtain Rises... The ultimate distraction and end of all useful endeavor? A fatally inconsequential amusement? Or a frame for the chaos? A prism for the future? Only time will tell...