A Town without Music

Taking Chances Flagstaff is a little gem of a town filled with musicians. I mean, there is music going on here on any given night, with top-notch musicians doing their thing. Usually. Over the past couple of months, the town (obviously) has been silent. There is no music. It feels weird and sad. It was […]

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Riding into the Velvet Sunset

“Jenny said when she was just five years old
There was nothing happening at all
Every time she puts on a radio
There was a nothin’ goin’ down at all, not at all
Then one fine mornin’ she puts on a New York station
You know, she couldn’t believe what she heard at all
She started shakin’ to that fine fine music
You know her life was saved by rock ‘n’ roll
Despite all the amputations
You know you could just go out
And dance to a rock ‘n’ roll station
It was alright (it was alright)
Hey baby, you know it was alright (it was alright)”

– Lou Reed

photo of the Lofi Sofias playing as The Velvet Underground by Paul Perreault

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Fragments of Samsara

Mandala painting by Jill Sans.

sam·sa·ra
/səmˈsärə/
the cycle of death and rebirth to which life in the material world is bound.

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Early Morning Fire ~ American Sentence Day 94 of 108

I drift between wakefulness and sleep from around 3 to 4 am until about 5:30 – I fall back to sleep until 6, when my alarm goes off. It’s better when I surrender – maybe take a cool shower and then, drift in and out of sleep, thinking of dreams,
and noticing.

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So much filling a room

We moved to a small room in an annex to the Poetry Project at St. Mark’s Church. Nada Gordon was teaching – I think we were free-writing, getting warmed up.

My marriage was a disaster and I did’t necessarily feel like feeling anything – so I focused on the room and the sounds and the imagery and the energy of nervous writers filling the space. I put a lot of pressure on writing to take the place of music.

I’m guessing this happened in 2004.

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Nothing is Personal

It was a time when I was alone, not ready to be with anyone. Scorched by the last love affair, nerves still scarred over. It was a Monday night. My friend Leslie texted me, the model for her life drawing class didn’t show up – would I want to model? I said sure, I can be there in 20 minutes. I grabbed a bath robe, drove through the snow, and before I had a chance to think, I was naked in a circle of artists. Next day, I wrote this . . .

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