Odd Words March 11, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street.add a comment
A couple of weeks back I posted up a link to a story about the young German novelist Helene Hegemann’s who was lifting pieces from other people’s work and calling it “sampling”. This week I’m deep into Ted Morgan’s biography of William S. Burroughs Literary Outlaw and reading about his “cut ups” which would include, sometimes, the work of other authors.
Burroughs and Samuel Beckett were seated together at dinner at a party and Beckett asked Burroughs, “What can you tell me. Mr. Burroughs, about thsi cut-up method of yours?”
“Well, Mr. Beckett,” Burroughs said, “what I do is I take a page of my writing and page of the Herald Tribune, I cut them up and then I put them back together, and I gradually decipher new tests. Them I might take a page of your writing, and line it up with what I already have, and do the same thing all over again.”
“Suddenly indignant, Beckett asked, “You’re using other writers’ words?”
“Words don’t have brands on them the way cattle do,” Burroughs said…
“You can’t do that!” Beckett said.
Burroughs would also take ideas from other writers texts and rephrase it as his own.. In the margins of books he owns he would write GETS, which meant Good Enough To Steal.
I guess nothing is new under the sun. Nothing, that is, except this week’s line up of readings and signings in New Orleans. It looks like a busy weekend, and its the weekend of the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Some drink may be taken, and by Sunday I fear I may be like Sweeney and any sharp sound may drive me to madness so try to keep it down.
§ Octavia Books will host and evening to benefit WWNO public radio as the cast of Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me (the oddly informative news quiz) gathers as Octavia Books to celebrate and sign books. Featuring:, Roy Blount, Jr, columnist Amy Dickinson and actor/newsman Mo Rocca. Octavia Books will donate 20% of all book sales from the evening to WWNO to benefit its new literary programs including “The Sound of Books” with Fred Kaste. Roy Blount, Jr. is the author of 20 books, most recently Long Time Leaving: Dispatches From Up South, and including Feet on the Street: Rambles Around New Orleans, Robert E. Lee, If Only You Knew How Much I Smell You, Roy Blount’s Book of Southern Humor and Be Sweet: A Conditional Love Story. Modesty aside, Blount has done more different things than any other humorist- novelist- journalist- dramatist- lyricist- lecturer- reviewer- screenwriter- anthologist- columnist- philologist of sorts he can think of.
§ Garden District Books will host a signing by Rick Barton for this new collection of essays Rowing to Sweden Thursday, March 18, 2010 5:30 p.m. Rick Barton’s first collection of nonfiction contends with an impressive range of cultural and political issues. These award winning essays display a keen and perceptive critical eye trained always on the zeitgeist, whether it’s the 1960s, the political climate of the new millennium or anywhere between.
§ At the Maple Leaf at 3 pm on Sunday poet Dennis Formento reads from and signs his new collection, Looking for an Out Place. Followed by an open mike. Formento is the publisher of Surregional Press and the author of five chapbooks. A sixth, Ra Blues Are, is forthcoming from Umteen Press in New Orleans. He sometimes performs his work with free-jazz band THE FRANK ZAPPATISTAS “outside jazz with a poet inside”) . With movement artist Nanette Ledet, he is currently working on a “cosmo-drama” featuring the poetry of New Orleans ex-pat and original beat poet, Bob Kaufman.
§ This Thursday 1t 8 pm 17 Poets! Literary & Performance Series hosts a poetry reading with two extraordinary poets: visiting guest, New York State-Susquehannaian MICHAEL CZARNECKI and New Orleanian MICHAEL FORD. Cxarnecki is a poet, storyteller and oral memoirist and the publisher of Foothills Publishing. Ford is a long-time resident of New Orleans. Ugly Duckling Presse published his first full-length book, Carbon, in 2006. His book Olympia Street (which includes the poem “These Violets”) was published in 2008 by New Orleans’ own Trembling Pillow Press. Ford’s poems have also appeared in 6×6 and YAWP: A Journal of Poetry and Art, North Carolina Review and Turntable & Blue Light. Ford currently teaches at UGA and is a PhD candidate.
Laughing All The Way To The Bank March 8, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street, cryptic envelopment.2 comments
I really need to try to manage at least one post a week besides Odd Words and I have a dozen ideas in my head or as jotted notes in draft articles but that seems to be as far as I can get lately. It’s a quiet time in New Orleans now anyhow, the lull between Carnival and the Spring festivals that starts on St. Patrick Day, but here on Toulouse Street we’re screening Koyaanisqatsi 24-7 on every wall and someone’s put the popcorn kernels down the garbage disposal again and you close your eyes before you put your hand down the hole but the soundtrack doesn’t stop and the vertigo starts to pull you into the screaming traffic scenes [don't hit the switch] the taillights flashing by like a demonic red meteor shower [pull your hand out before your head hits the switch] and the next thing you know you’re waddling across that double yellow line on all fours, frozen in the sudden lights and the sound of grinding gears. [Pause. Deep breath here. And another swallow of coffee.] So instead of an actual, thoughtful post here is more lazy quoting from better writers (itself a line stolen from Greg), a little piece that might cheer you up as you sit exhausted on the porch sipping (hah, slurping too quickly your third) beer, considering the potential intersection of your insistent Blackberry and the hammer you forgot to put away this weekend. Just remember, it’s always darkest just before the 1,000 lb weight hits the coyote. Be the roadrunner, not the coyote.
The Laughing Heart
by Charles Bukowski
your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.
Odd Words March 4, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street.Tags: Odd Words
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Is traditional literature dying, or merely transforming itself to fit new media and new ways of reading? Here’s an interesting piece on subjects like twitlit (attempts to write in 140 characters), the evolution toward flash fiction and other very short forms to fit the attention span of the multi-tabbed multi-tasker, and similar thoughts. Yes, some things deserve more time and space that 1,000 words or 140 characters, and always will, but I don’t think that devalues attempts to create for new media outlets. We write for ourselves (or why are we here?) but we are lying to ourselves if we don’t admit that we also write to be read. As traditional print diminishes and new channels open, it would be ridiculous to disregard them.
On a related note, this.
Also:
§ Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Rita Dove, the country’s first African-American poet laureate, will read at Tulane University’s McAlister Auditorium on Monday, March 8 at 7 p.m. The event is free and open to the public. After the reading, Dove will sign copies of her book. Dove won the Pulitzer Prize in 1987 for her poetry collection Thomas and Beulah, which places the lives of her grandparents in a richly vivid historical context.
§ Poets Michael Czarnecki, Daniel Kerwick and Thaddeus Conti read from their work at the Maple Leaf Bar Poetry Series, Sunday at 3 p.m. followed by an open mike
§ Barbara Johnson’s striking debut short-story collection More of This World or Maybe Another (HarperPerennial) took second place honors in Barnes and Nobles 2009 “Discover Great New Writers Awards.”
§ No email from Dave Brinks and I forgot what he announced last week as a feature because I was too busy chatting up that night’s featured reader, but you can usually find me at The Goldmine Saloon on Thursday nights around eight for the 17 Poets Reading Series. The feature last week was Sandra Beasley, and I strongly recommend you check out her work.
Update: This just in from D.B.– This week 17 Poets! features the contributions of two extraordinary, early twentieth century poets: Romanian TRISTAN TZARA and French author SABINE SICAUD (1913-1928). Poet Dave Brinks will present selected English translations by Lee Harwood from CHANSON DADA: Selected Poems, TRISTAN TZARA (Black Widow Press 2005); as well as selected English translations by Norman R. Shapiro from To Speak, to Tell You?: Poems, SABINE SICAUD (Black Widow Press 2009), www.blackwidowpress.com.
§ Poet and artist Thaddeus Conti will open a showing of his drawings at the Kevin Gillentine Gallery, 3917 Magazine St., on Saturday at 6 p.m. If you can’t make the opening, gallery hours are Monday to Saturday 10-5. Or you can stop by Conti’s Dinky Tao poetry reading Tuesday nights in the back bar of the Maple Leaf on Decatur St., where you will often find him with sketch book under his arm.
§ A closing thought from today’s Daily Rumpus email by Stephen Elliott of TheRumpus.net: “Something that keeps you occupied with no expectation of recognition is not necessarily art, it might just be television.” So don’t just slap it on the blog or stick it in a drawer. Go out and read or submit something.
A pig. In a cage. On antibiotics. March 1, 2010
Posted by me in Poetry, Toulouse Street, cryptic envelopment.add a comment
Some light lunchtime reading from the foie gras cube farm. Moo. Or Oink. Or something like that.
A Spell To Help Haiti February 26, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street.Tags: Concern for Haiti, Haiti, Shane MacGowan
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Pogues singer Shane MacGowan enlisted a group of alt-rock musicians — and one famous actor — to record Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ 1956 hit, ‘I Put a Spell on You,’ to raise relief money for Haiti…The new version of ‘I Put a Spell on You’ will be available via digital release on March 7 but can be pre-ordered from 7 digital. Proceeds from single sales will go to Dublin’s Concern Worldwide, which has been aiding Haiti for 16 years
God Bless & Keep You, Shane MacGowan.
Except I can’t buy it here. It’s only available in Ireland (and I presume the UK, since the online price is in Pounds not Euro). As Shane might say, what the fuck is up with that? Anybody who will get me this MP3 I will PayPal One (1) Pound Sterling (it costs 0.79) . Just promise me to buy me a copy so the money gets to Dublin’s Concern Worldwide.
Pirates will be punished by Concerned Haitian Supernatural Parties With Roots In Africa With Whom You Don’t Want To Fuck.
A Letter to Kendrick February 26, 2010
Posted by me in 504, NOLA, New Orleans, Toulouse Street, We Are Not OK.Tags: Crime, murder
2 comments
I got another memorial on my last posting of the murder victims of 2008, which reminds me (again) that I did not post a list for 2009. I will get to that shortly.
I went and saw a reading by the excellent young poet Sandra Beasley from Washington, D.C. last night and it reminded me of my own time in that city in the very early 1990s, a time when something in society just cracked and we entered the world of Clockwork Orange. I remember talking to my wife about a trip to Ireland. She was afraid to go to Belfast, and I had to remind her she was in much greater danger in Washington, D.C. going to the corner for cigarettes that she would be standing in the most dangerously partisan pub in Belfast.
And now I live in another routine contender for Murder Capital of the U.S.A.
I really need to get that list up.
I spent some of my time around and right after the holidays working on a vaguely related project that I thought answered the call that lead me to post the lists for 2008 and 2007. I think now I need to go get a cleaned up list posted and call for memorials again, but until then, here’s a tiny excerpt of what I spent early January working on in lieu of the list, a small piece of something tentatively titled Murder Ballads:
II. Dinneral
A man ought be able
to pick up his kid in
5 o’clock broad daylight
without some fool
drawing a nine
or a .40
in stupid fury,
people scattering on the street
slugs shattering the windshield
blood spattering the seats
A boy ought not
have to watch
his father bleed out
in a shattered car
on Broad Street
at five o’clock
in the afternoon.
Empty Mirror February 25, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street, cryptic envelopment, oddities.1 comment so far
On rare occasions I find myself wandering the an empty upper floor of the Counting House tower, looking for the mail room. It’s a hidden window back down a disused corridor lined with disheveled training rooms I have only seen in use once. I usually find the mail drop without too much trouble, even if I’m forced to stand for a while in the lobby and wait for someone who routinely deals in antiquated paper to come by so I can follow them in. While I’m waiting I study this painting that graces the elevator lobby. At least I think it is a painting. It looks like the sort of vacuous abstract a corporate decorator would select, something intended not to unsettle the cattle. Some days at work, I wonder if it’s a window into something, the tabernacle of some secret Vision Statement known only to the Upper Floors. Or a mirror reflecting the interior landscape of the Counting House. And if it is a mirror (and I often think it is) why I am not in it?
Odd Words February 24, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street.Tags: Dan Baum, Helene Hegemann's, Jackie Collins, Jimmy Ross, plagiarism
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Note: I’m posting this week’s Odd Words a day early so I can get out a link to Dan Baum’s book signing at Octavia Books Wednesday night. I can’t make it. Let me know if we wears the pink hat. Update: Added Jimmy Ross as the featured reader at thsi week’s Maple Leaf Poetry Reading.
An interesting story on the coming generation (X? Y? What’s next: Z?) and it’s view of copyright. Frankly, this is plagiarism but I suspect there are people in the “information wants to be free” world who would disagree.
The publication last month of [17-year old Helene Hegemann's] novel about a 16-year-old exploring Berlin’s drug and club scene after the death of her mother, called “Axolotl Roadkill,” was heralded far and wide in German newspapers and magazines as a tremendous debut, particularly for such a young author. The book shot to No. 5 this week on the magazine Spiegel’s hardcover best-seller list.
For the obviously gifted Ms. Hegemann, who already had a play (written and staged) and a movie (written, directed and released in theaters) to her credit, it was an early ascension to the ranks of artistic stardom. That is, until a blogger last week uncovered material in the novel taken from the less-well-known novel “Strobo,” by an author writing under the nom de plume Airen. In one case, an entire page was lifted with few changes.
As other unattributed sources came to light, outsize praise quickly turned to a torrent of outrage, reminiscent of the uproar in 2006 over a Harvard sophomore, Kaavya Viswanathan, who was caught plagiarizing numerous passages in her much praised debut novel. But Ms. Hegemann’s story took a very different turn.
The author plagiarist claims ““There’s no such thing as originality anyway, just authenticity.” You want authenticity? Try using your own words.
§ Former New Yorker writer Dan Baum returns to Octavia Books (513 Octavia St.) to promote the paperback release of his book Nines Lives, which is described as a multi-voiced biography of a dazzling, surreal, and imperiled city, told through the lives of nine unforgettable characters and bracketed by two epic storms: Hurricane Betsy and the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Baum has written some silly things about New Orleans, but I think if I can manage one more Katrina book without finally coming to Katrina literary fatigue this is probably the one. (No, that’s not right. I haven’t gotten to Dave Eggers Zeitoun yet. Two more, and one more crack at David Brinkley’s enormously horrible hack job Deluge, then I’m probably done.) Anyway, I won’t make this event but be sure to let me know if he’s wearing the pink lid.
§ There’s a new trailer up for the forthcoming Walker Percy: A Documentary Film. (Hat tip to Maud Newton for the trailer link). The trailer will be screened at the opening of Loyola University’s new Walker Percy Center March 10. You can follow the film on Facebook if you’re into that sort of thing. (I am).
§ After a couple of delays (a canceled featured reader, the galloping Crescent City crud and Carnival, 17 Poets! Literary & Performance Series returns at the Gold Mine Saloon following a holiday break with featured poet SANDRA BEASLEY, author of Theories of Falling (New Issues Poetry & Prose 2008) and I Was the Jukebox (W. W. Norton & Company 2010), followed by Open Mic hosted by Jimmy Ross. Admission is free and open to the public.
§ I have an abiding interest in architecture (my father was one), so I have to admit this looks interesting although I’ll likely be at 17 Poets: Author Roulhac Toledano discusses and signs A Pattern Book of New Orleans Architecture. 5:30 p.m. Thursday. Garden District Book Shop, The Rink, 2727 Prytania St., (Uptown), 895-2266.
§ OK, you almost certainly won’t find me here, but it was too funny not to post: Jackie Collins will be signing Poor Little Bitch Girl. 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday at Harrah’s Casino (Masquerade), 8 Canal St. I’m not dissing Jackie Collins (OK, I am. I just prefer my trashy novels to have lots of hot inter-species zero gravity sex and tentacled aliens). It is one of my life goals to never set foot in Harrah’s and now I have another reason not to go.
§ Local poet, fiction- and play-write and Jimmy Ross will be the featured reader at this week’s Maple Leaf Reading Series, The South’s oldest continuous poetry reading series. Free admission. 3 p.m. Sunday. Maple Leaf Bar, 8316 Oak St. Update: I figured out who the featured reader was because Jimmy told me last night. He is the MC for the open mike at the weekly 17 Poets event, and is a long-standing fixture at local literary venues. I think I definitely need to make this one to present for Jimmy, who says such kind things when he introduces me. And because he is one of the most interesting characters and voices on the local circuit.
§ I also recommend Dinky Tao Poetry a weekly free poetry reading (drinks extra) with open mic. 9 p.m. Tuesday, in the back bar at Molly’s at the Market, 1107 Decatur St. New Orleans. The most relaxed event I’ve ever been to and cheap PBR to boot.
§ I still haven’t been to this one, but I promise to check it out soon: Loren Murrell hosts a weekly poetry and spoken-word night with free food. Free admission. 8:30 p.m. Wednesday. Yellow Moon Bar, 800 France St., (Bywater), www.yellowmoonbar.com. And I have it on good authority that there is in fact free food.
Pedestrian I February 19, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street, cryptic envelopment, oddities.2 comments
…and there is no sharper point than that of Infinity.
– Charles Baudelaire, Paris Spleen
What use syphilis and opium if the supreme derangement of the senses is as simple as a stroll into work, the sensation I have standing at the entrance to Union Street that the diminishing buildings are not an optical illusion but instead a part of my daily progression into the office, that to walk down this street will gradually reduce me to a size appropriate to my beige cell in the corporate cube farm. How much larger my little box with its cloth lined walls will seem then, and my own insignificance in the trackless ant farm of the Counting House will be not a symptom of the modern disease but just a fact of what I become when I enter the building, a transformation as easily accomplished as putting on a tie.
If the fools had never given me a cell phone with a camera, none of this would have occurred to me.
Odd Words February 18, 2010
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Oops. Post Carnival delirium led me to forget to post an Odd Words this week. All I’ve got is an Odd Word which seems appropriate to the last few weeks:Pandemonium. Origin: 1660–70; after Pandaemonium, Milton’s name in Paradise Lost for the capital of hell; see pan-, demon, -ium.
If you’re looking for a list of literary events, visit Nordette Adams New Orleans Literature Examiner. I’ll be back next week.
Adiu Paure Carnaval February 17, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street.Tags: Adiu paure, Carnaval, Carnival
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I think I was rehearsing the role of Monseiur Carnaval from that ashen taste in my mouth and the gritty feel to my brain this morning. I must save my energy for eight hours of meetings at work so here is last year’s Ash Wednesday post (which I think I will just schedule to auto-post every Ash Wendesday until the end of time.
At the conclusion of Carnival in Nice, France, an effigy of Monsieur Carnaval is burned, the ancient story of the burning man, the sacrifice in fire. As told by Mama Lisa’s World Blog, in that rite Monsieur Carnaval “is responsible for all the wrongdoing people do throughout the year. At Carnival time in France, Monsieur Carnaval is judged for his behavior throughout the preceding year. Usually he’s found guilty and an effigy of him is burned.”
Accompanying the ritual is a song, and I offer the lyrics collected by Mama Lisa below, both in Occitan (the language of the Troubadors) and in English. I suggest you click the link to open in a new tab or window so you can follow along as far as the MP3 goes.
And so, from New Orleans, Adiu Paure Carnaval.
Adiu paure Carnaval
(Occitan)
Adiu paure, adiu paure,
adiu paure Carnaval
Tu te’n vas e ieu demòri
Adiu paure Carnaval
Tu t’en vas e ieu demòri
Per manjar la sopa a l’alh
Per manjar la sopa a l’òli
Per manjar la sopa a l’alh
Adiu paure, adiu paure,
adiu paure Carnaval
La joinessa fa la fèsta
Per saludar Carnaval
La Maria fa de còcas
Amb la farina de l’ostal
Lo buòu dança, l’ase canta
Lo moton ditz sa leiçon
La galina canta lo Credo
E lo cat ditz lo Pater
Farewell, Poor Carnival
(English)
Farewell, farewell,
Farewell, poor Carnival
You are leaving, and I am staying
Farewell, poor Carnival
You are leaving, and I am staying
To eat garlic soup
To eat oil soup
To eat garlic soup
Farewell, farewell,
Farewell, poor Carnival.
The young ones are having a wild time
To greet Carnival
Mary is baking cakes
With flour from her home.
The ox is dancing, the donkey’s singing
The sheep is saying its lesson
The hen is singing the Credo
And the cat is saying the Pater.
Baron Samedi Gras February 13, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street.Tags: Begindymion, Endymion, Samedi Gras
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A patron for our annual Begindymion Bacchanal here in the middle of Samedi Gras Endymion madness, the loa Baron Samedi is “…a sexual loa, frequently represented by phallic symbols and is noted for disruption, obscenity, debauchery, and having a particular fondness for tobacco and rum. Additionally, he is the loa of sex and resurrection, and in the latter capacity he is often called upon for healing by those near or approaching death, as it is only Baron who can accept an individual into the realm of the dead. Baron Samedi can also be depicted as figure who crosses traditional gender boundaries, either through cross-dressing or by exhibiting bisexuality.”
See you at the appointed time and place. If you’re drinking rum, tip your glass as you enter and leave for the Baron, and leave him a cigarette. Or something.
(H/T to Bart of B.Rox for this excellent picture, which now adorns our door to keep the Kennerites at bay. Photo taken from CevilyDevil’s excellent collection of Voodoo art here.
Odd Words February 11, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street.add a comment
No, I didn’t forget exactly but between the Superbowl and Carnival things are a bit of a mess here on Toulouse Street. In fact, largely due to parades all weekend, there’s nothing much going until after Tuesday. Or, rather, there is way too much going on, but nothing to list here. (Incoherently cogent example here). Ah, well. 17 Poets is canceled for tonite, and so is the fabulous Muses parade. Maybe I’ll get something written. And decide what to wear Carnival Day.
Until then, I leave you this:
“IN TIMES OF NATIONAL PERIL, ABOMUNISTS, AS REALITY
AMERICANS, STAND READY TO DRINK THEMSELVES
TO DEATH FOR THEIR COUNTRY”
–Bob Kaufman
What Has Happened Down Here Is The Wind Has Changed. February 10, 2010
Posted by me in NOLA, New Orleans.Tags: election
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Some thoughts on our recent election are up on Humid City.
One Flood. One Team. One City. One People. We need to prove ourselves equal to our own opinion of ourselves, to the standard set by this election and by the Saints. Out football team has shown the world. Now it’s our turn.
Remember Haiti February 10, 2010
Posted by me in NOLA, New Orleans, Remember, Toulouse Street, je me souviens.Tags: Haiti
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As I slowly crawl out from under Saints in the Superbowl fever and contemplate Carnival, I want to note that the number one search bringing people into this blog is Haiti. I know everyone in New Orleans is terribly distracted right not but it’s important we not forget. Their recovery (as well we know) will not be a matter of weeks or months, but years and decades.
Take a minute to stop and catch up on the news from our island sister. If you haven’t donated yet (or you only pissed away $10 on the entirely worthless Red Cross), stop to give a few dollars. I suggest International Medical Corps, which I’ve been following since my nephew Will was hired by them. He is now the logistics leader on the ground for IMC.
The bonds between Haiti and New Orleans run deep. Remember.
HOO DOO DAT February 8, 2010
Posted by me in NOLA, New Orleans, Toulouse Street.Tags: Saints, Super Bowl, Who Dat
2 comments
After they took away my mini-Bring The Wood Bat (“you’re going to hurt somebody”) I grabbed this voodoo doll off of the food table and applied it as shown through the late fourth quarter. The rest is history. I’m either donating the doll to the Smithsonian or auctioning it off on eBay.
If you look closely (it’s burned out by the flash) the doll has Peyton Manning’s face after the on-sides kick.
More when I make a second pot of coffee. Or have a beer. I’m leaning toward beer.
Cool Runnings February 5, 2010
Posted by me in NOLA, New Orleans, New Orleans Saints, Toulouse Street.Tags: Super Bowl
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It’s bad form to quote yourself, but three years later it seems enough time has elapsed and it’s the perfect way to begin this post:
A few years ago at work, the almost entirely female office crew where I worked put up one of those silly white board quizzes that the office morale officer is in charge of. The question: what movie makes you cry.
I knew I had to post up an answer: Cool Runnings.
Any guy who watches this film and doesn’t start to tear up when the Jamacian bobsled team stand up after their crash and carry their shattered sled the final yards down the run, and the hard-assed European team leader starts clapping, is either suffering from a tear duct disorder, or something slightly more fatal.
I wrote the Cool Runnings piece in January 2007 after we lost to the Bears. I wanted to remind everyone, most of all myself, that sometimes in defeat there is victory. I wanted to remember that imaginary moment when the four outsiders picked themselves up from defeat and near death and carried their broken bobsled across the finish line. I want to remember that was the moment in which they became Olympians.
I wanted to remember that sometimes its is OK to cry for joy.
I don’t know what will happen Sunday on the field and in the end I know it will only matter to those who live and die by sports talk radio and the betting line. For most of us, for those of us who remember why they are called the Saints, who parked at Ursulines and walked into Tulane Stadium long ago, who have seen it all come and go over 44 years, I know what will happen in New Orleans and in a hundred thousand rooms around the country where people who lived here in early August 2005 live today: a moment that will eclipse VE Day, the moon landing of Apollo 11 and Obama’s election. Grown men will weep in front of their wive and children, the dying will gladly give up the ghost late that night because they made it to that day, and thousands of children will be conceived who will all be named after Saint’s players.
And people in Miami at the game shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here.
Odd Words February 4, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street.Tags: Odd Words
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Carp. Between work, a cold and the collision of Carnival and the Super Bowl, I completely forgot to write up an Odd Words column this week. So quick before the day gets any later:
§ 17 Poets ends its holiday absence and resumes its weekly run tonight at The Goldmine Saloon at 8 p.m. with a reading & party for poet and author Rodger Kamenetz on his 60th birthday.
§ A bit of random fun: a Java Haiku generator. And to go with it, what I was thinking while I was having a cigarette right before I remembered I needed to write this post:
The way the rain falls off the fascia,
fat pillow-mint shapped drops
float down slow as snow.
§ And finally, a helpful list of publications that regularly publish from the slush pile, courtesy of TheRumpus.Net.
Sugar Skulls Rule Krewe du Vieux January 31, 2010
Posted by me in Carnival, NOLA, New Orleans, Toulouse Street, parade.Tags: Krewe du Vieux
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Hoo Doo Flambeaux January 30, 2010
Posted by me in NOLA, New Orleans, Toulouse Street.Tags: Carnival, Krewe du Vieux
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Well Krewe du Vieux comin and it won’t be long.
I been making my suit and singing this song.
Hoo Doo Flambeaux gonna come on strong.
Gonna Keep on dancing till the morning come.
Hoo Doo. Hoo Doo. Hoo Doo Flambeaux gonna get them Colts!
Fantabuloso cart art by Sam Jasper.
Who Dat Says De Own Who Dat? January 29, 2010
Posted by me in NOLA, New Orleans, Toulouse Street.Tags: Saints, Who Dat
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FYYFF. We are the Who Dat.
Odd Words January 28, 2010
Posted by me in Toulouse Street.add a comment
Between the NFC Champsionship and Krewe du Vieux this weekend, I don’t have time to pound out an Odd Words this week and a quick check of all the usual listings shows nothing much going on. (Did I mention its Krewe du Vieux weekend?) So I’ll leave you with this one bit from the last time I had space to wander the interwebs:
What possessed artist Zak Smith to create an illustration for every page of Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow is probably beyond reasonable human ken, but it’s a fascinating project. Once you get to the page, click on illustration index to see the pictures. Once I’m past Carnival I could see myself spending way too much time looking at these.
Oh, and the 17 Poets series at the Goldmine Saloon should start up again next week after their holiday break.
Holy Holy Holy Shit! January 26, 2010
Posted by me in New Orleans, Toulouse Street.2 comments
NOLA.Com is generally a wretched place (with the exception of Big Red Cotton), but then–with apologies with Allen Ginsberg–there are things like this from one wretched70:
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The Saints are holy! The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
The noise is holy! The po-boy and crawfish and grillade
and boudin holy!
Drew Brees is holy! everybody’s holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Every Yat’s an
angel!
Jabari Greer as holy as the seraphim! Today even da mayor is
holy as you my soul are holy!
The Under Armour is holy the Ben Gay is holy the blocking dummy is
holy the fans are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Archie holy Morten holy Buddy holy Hebert holy
Domilise holy Hap Glaudi holy Vic n Nat’ly holy Buddy Bolden
holy the unknown bag-heads and suffering
Aints fans past — holy the hideous human angels!
Holy ya mama up at DePaul’s! Holy the cooks
of the gumbos! Holy Kerlerec!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop
apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana
hipsters peace & junk & drums!
Holy Chris Owens and the mystery of eternity! Holy
Bourbon bursting with midwestern Girls Gone Wild! Holy the
mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone Kardashian, up in the skybox! Holy the YURPs and brangelinized newcomers! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell-
ion! Who digs Marrero IS Marerro!
Holy Marigny Holy Ninth Ward Holy Calliope &
Harahan Holy Destrehan Holy Algiers Holy Gretna
Holy Gert-town!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the
clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy
the third down conversion holy the drive-thru daiquiri joints!
Holy the corruption holy the slothful holy the backward holy the
loving holy the visions holy the hallucina-
tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the
abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours!
bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent
kindness of the soul! Holy Saints in the Super Bowl. Ya heard?!
Super Sunday January 26, 2010
Posted by me in NOLA, New Orleans, Toulouse Street.Tags: Big Chief Howard Miller, Creole Wild West, Here Come The Saints, Super Sunday
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In all of America and most of the developed world, if you say Super Sunday people will know exactly what you’re talking about: that winter weekend when the whole world eats and drinks itself into a stupor while watching a football game.
Here in New Orleans, we have no problem with the first part of that proposition. Hell, we’re the experts when it comes to celebratory excess, and we don’t need the NFL to tell us when it’s a good idea to drink a bit too much. Thanksgiving is for us just one of a long series of meals that would give a Roman senator indigestion.
Super Sunday, however, is not about football but about the Mardi Gras Indians. Here on Toulouse Street, we admire the Odd way things in New Orleans sometimes come together, so here for your other Super Sunday enjoyment, Big Chief Howard Miller of the Creole Wild West gives us absolutely the best song for getting ready for the Big Day. No, not Mardi Gras. The Other Super Sunday. Don’t be fallin’ out of the house with no needle and thread in your hand.
I think he might need another Gloria de Cubana January 25, 2010
Posted by me in NOLA, New Orleans, Toulouse Street.Tags: Ashley Morris, cigar, Gloria de Cubana, Saints, Superbowl
1 comment so far
after last night. And maybe a wee tot of Jameson’s. OK, not a wee tot. I think a bottle. And po-bo. And another smoke as well, all before that date the rest of the world confuses with Super Sunday.
or at these independent New Orleans bookstores:
