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Frenchman Desire Good Children February 27, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in New Orleans, NOLA, Poetry, Toulouse Street.
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Heard Chuck Perkins do this with John Boutte’s band Saturday night. Amazing piece.

Odd Words February 24, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in Odd Words, Toulouse Street.
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I have a review of Richard Katrovas’ Mystic Pig (Toulouse Street’s Favorite Book In A Long Time) coming up in TheRumpus.net’s Last Book I Loved series, but a member of my small writing circle (partly in reaction to my own mention of Walker Percy’s The Moviegoer, which she was reading at the time) is thinking of suggestion a Last Book I Hated alternative feature.

In that vein, I some how managed to traverse the last decade without reading David Foster Wallace. Before I could bring myself to tackle the hefty Infinite Jest (when I’m also dying to read Roberto Bolano’s equally weighty 2666), I decided to start with his stories. I am just about through the collection Oblivion and I am flabbergasted. The man is clearly talented, and I have no problem with stories that proceed almost entirely from the narrator’s first person internal dialogue. I like his style, whether writing entire in first person stream of consciousness of “Good Old Neon” or the title story “Oblivion” or the Hitchcockian eye-of-the-camera perspective of “Mister Squishy” but there is something that might be described as edgy but equally well as creepy about his stories. His characters are well rendered, the stories compelling, but there’s just something about the people in this collection that make my skin crawl. It’s like watching Hitchcock without a Cary Grant. His characters are all deeply flawed and bleak anti-heroes whom Wallace skillfully and slowly flays alive, and none manage to generate any sympathy.

Perhaps that is ultimately his point, but I seem to keep falling into bleak books (Oblivion) and movies (Synecdoche, NY; Fight Club; Crash) lately. And yes I also made it through the last decade without seeing Fight Club until maybe a month ago. I feel like I’m badly in need of ordering the collected films and recordings of Firesign Theater and settling in for a long weekend of cheap beer, Chee-Wees and silliness. Scratch that; FT is too serious. Maybe The Complete Monty Python or bog help me Cheech and Chong. I think I may give another, short Wallace collection a try before I decide whether to pass on Infinite Jest and just declare myself an Official Old Fogey and go re-read Gravity’s Rainbow instead. Feel free to try to convince me otherwise.

And so, on to the listings. Remember to email me if you have something going on.

§ On Thursday, February 24 @ 7:30pm, 17 Poets! Literary & Performance Series proudly presents a reading by Louisiana poet KIM VODICKA. Our feature will be followed by OPEN MIC hosted by JIMMY ROSS

§ Mid-City author Ian McNulty discusses and signs his book, Louisiana Rambles: Exploring America’s Cajun and Creole Heartland at Garden District Books Thursday, Feb. 24 from 6-7:30 p.m. Louisiana Rambles is a book that delves beyond the clichés and the well-worn tourist circuit to reveal the true richness of America’s most unique and culturally vibrant region. As this travel narrative and guide wends through the Cajun and Creole communities of south Louisiana, you’ll experience the history, the people, the food and the music of a place and a way of life like no other. Garden District Books is the only indie bookstore where you can’t buy A Howling in the Wires, but we’re not holding that against them on account of the charming and knowledgeable staff.

§ Join Octavia Books (and your humble narrator) on Saturday from 9-11 a.m. at the Saturday Crescent City Farmers Market for a cookbook signing, cooking demonstration & tasting with Troy Gilbert, Jerry Edgar and Jacques Soulas featuring their new CAFÉ DEGAS COOKBOOK. I’m not cooking much lately, but this is my mother’s favorite restaurant, Troy is a Swell Guy (and Howling contributor and all around fine writer) and my sister the irrepressible foodie must have a copy.

§ On Sunday, Feb. 7 3ish at the Maple Leaf Bar Poet Biljana Obradovic reads from her work, along with her Xavier University poetry students, to celebrate her 50th birthday!

§ If you haven’t caught former T-P book editor Susan Larson’s new radio program The Reading Life, you can get schedule information and podcasts of past shows at the WWNO-FM website.

By the time this comes out I will likely have finished the last story in Oblivion. Maybe it will have changed my mind, but I am thinking likely not.

Seek and You Shall Find February 23, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in Toulouse Street.
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Today’s Search Engine Terms:

тату мертвый анархист

Maybe Attractive Russian Women really are looking to meet me. I should probably order some Genuine! V-1-a-g-r-A, and a R0lex so they’re suitably impressed, but I’ve just emptied my spam folder.

Fear of Falling February 23, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in poem, Poetry, Toulouse Street.
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In my own country I am in a far-off land
I am strong but I have no force or power
I win all yet remain a loser
At break of day I say goodnight
When I lie down I have a great fear
of falling
–François Villon

(taken from Hunter S. Thompson’s Hell’s Angels)

Repent Now! Nothing Down! Easy Terms! February 20, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in Carnival, Krewe du Vieux, Mardi Gras, New Orleans, NOLA, Toulouse Street.
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You know carnival is upon you when you wake at the crack of noon from the daylight leaking into your bedroom, drag yourself to the window to open it a crack and find the sun is shining, the birds are singing and you think: oh, the horror. You retreat back to the bedroom where the three-way lamp is on its dimmest setting and contemplate the bed but you’re still fighting a head cold through all this and you and the sheets both feel greasy and unclean after the last few days so you drag yourself back to the kitchen and make coffee. Hot, black, chicory coffee that complements the blackened whiskey and cigarette flavor of your unbrushed mouth; you can almost imagine the tiny crows picking over your tongue, the fly-specked battlefield of last nights revelry. You pad barefoot into the bathroom for an endlessly satisfying piss that seems to go on as long as a honeymoon at Niagra Falls, then step over to the basin and contemplate your face, the black makeup under your eyes that won’t come off with soap and water and you think: that looks about right. A shower sounds good but you think, another cup first and you sit and scroll through the messages of all the friends in from out of town, already making plans for the rest of the weekend and decide in for a penny, in for a pound. After a long, hot shower you amble back into the bedroom and count your boxers and decide the mass of laundry in the corner can wait until tomorrow. You pour some more coffee and answer emails, return calls and you think about the long road ahead to Shrove Tuesday and you know come Ash Wednesday it won’t be so much a matter of repentance as falling out with the unholy spirit, muttering in tongues, into a deep and pleasing exhaustion, your Dionisiac spirits appeased for another year.

Seven Deadly Spins February 19, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in Toulouse Street.
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O children of Night
Who among you will run with the hunt?

Getting ready for Krewe du Vieux and the Seeds of Decline’s demonic theme with Corvus Corax, the band I would cheerfully follow into hell. See y’all there.

Odd Words February 17, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in Odd Words, Toulouse Street.
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The Exquisite Corpse, Andrei Codrescu’s literary journal, appears to be dead by it’s website. There’s no explanation, no farewell, just a homepage giving the start and end dates of the publication and site over the world NO on a background of submissions. Bookslut has some thoughts on a recent study of the lifespan of literary journals. This is New Orleans. We should at least manage some sort of second line.

§ On Thursday, February 17 @ 7:30pm, 17 Poets! Literary & Performance Series proudly presents a reading by poet & novelist ANDREA BOLL, author of The Parade Goes on Without You (NolaFugees Press 2009); and musician/songwriter writer DUSTY COVERS.

§ Le Cru du Loup Garou Presents: Lupercalia — La Balle des Loups Garous on Friday, Feb. 18 atg 8:00 pm SHARP with: “This Ship o’ Fools” written and performed by Herbert Kearney and Moose Jackson at Reneavus, St. Claude and Spain Street, Followed by: Slow Danger Brass Band Parading us to the Skull Club for: U.D.D.U and a crazed cajun-celtic jam. Bring yer fiddles. Cajun food by Nick Slie. Dress as your favourite beast (costumes required). Suggested Donation $10 at the door. Proceeds go to fund the Secret Loup Garou Canoe Parade!!! For more info: Come to the ball. Vampyres will be served free stake.

§ And remember to save the date for the upcoming launch-tasting-signing of the Café Degas Cookbook, authored by the bloggerific author and award-winning writer Troy Gilbert along with restaurant owners Jerry Edgar and Jacques Soulas 2/26 at the Crescent City Farmers Market, 700 Magazine St. (Corner of Girod St.)

§ And yet more food: On Feb. 29 at 6 p.m. at Octavia books immerse yourself in the world and food of one of the world’s greatest playwrights as Troy Gilbert, Chef Greg Picolo and Dr. Kenneth Holditch give us a presentation, signing and tasting featuring DINNER WITH TENNESSEE WILLIAMS. Like Hemingway to Cuba or Mark Twain to the Mississippi, certain writers are inextricably tied to their environments-the culture, the history, the people, the cuisine. The plays of Tennessee Williams evoke the ambiance and flavor of the South. Part food memoir and part cookbook, this fresh look at the world of Tennessee Williams-both in real life and in his plays-is the perfect book for literary lovers and food lovers alike.

Remember, if you know of something notable drop me a line to make sure I know about it.

The Brain Fever Bird February 16, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in cryptic envelopment, The Narrative, Toulouse Street.
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Henry lay in de netting, wild,
while the brainfever bird did scales

– John Berryman, Dream Song No. 5

It’s 4:30 a.m. in Richmond, 3:30 Central River Time and I lay in the bed after five or so hours sleep, my brain racing as it is wont to do with a hundred crowded thoughts, working out scenarios not for the next act or chapter or stanza of some fiction but for my life, favoring the worst outcomes as if I were speed reading one of those disaster manuals that were popular in the bookstores a few years ago. Perhaps it was too much coffee yesterday to stay awake through a day-long training, racing through my veins, but I know this happens far too often: awake at 4 a.m. wondering why, unable to control galloping thought, two giants wrestling–my limbic or as i prefer lizard brain clamoring for rest while the conscious brain spins and clicks like a movie projector and I think of John Berryman’s line: “the brain fever bird did scales”. I take half a pill to calm my nerves, as people used to say, and as rest slowly starts to come creeping back I think of some words I wrote a few months ago in a writers’ circle during free writing on the same subject, and this blog entry occurs to me and I find myself grabbing the cigarettes off the night table, coming over here to turn on the light and read that old exercise and write these lines, to find and quote from that journal.

I seem to spend most of the night in REM sleep, wake frequently from dreams all through the night. This particular disorder is a typical symptom of insomnia or sleep deprivation, but I am infrequently truly insomniac, often go easily back to sleep from these episodes. Is this a disorder in the clinical sense, or more a temperamental disorder of the humors, a part of who I am (Gemini, Sagittarius moon; blue eyed once (long ago) blond; shy at first but garrulous once started). Is it perhaps a reason why I am compelled to write, the Spring tide river of images and floating fragments of stories that rush through my sleeping brain? When I wake with only the vaguest notion of the recent dream but have grasped, in that moment lying in the dark, that perfect line I struggled with before and cannot sleep unless I write it down, perhaps under take an entire revision knowing I will suffer for it in the morning, I do not think this is insomnia but something akin to inspiration. The disorder is not my own but the world’s and the poem is the only antidote.

Odd Words: Lupercalia Edition February 13, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in Cajun, Carnival, cryptic envelopment, Mardi Gras, New Orleans, NOLA, Odd Words, Toulouse Street.
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Poet, playwright and performer Ray “Moose” Jackson got this out by email last night, and I wanted to get it out here right away so you have time to think of creature costumes if you’re so inclined. It doesn’t say and I haven’t asked but if this is the longer version of a short excerpt about an Irish sailor in the slave trade I heard at the Goldmine a few months back, “This Ship ‘o Fools” should be fantastic.

Le Cru du Loup Garou Presents: Lupercalia — La Balle des Loups Garous on Friday, Feb. 18 atg 8:00 pm SHARP with: “This Ship o’ Fools” written and performed by Herbert Kearney and Moose Jackson at Reneavus, St. Claude and Spain Street, Followed by: Slow Danger Brass Band Parading us to the Skull Club for: U.D.D.U and a crazed cajun-celtic jam. Bring yer fiddles. Cajun food by Nick Slie. Dress as your favourite beast (costumes required). Suggested Donation $10 at the door. Proceeds go to fund the Secret Loup Garou Canoe Parade!!! For more info: Come to the ball. Vampyres will be served free stake.

Odd Words February 10, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in books, literature, Odd Words, Toulouse Street.
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This week’s big new: the Maple Street Book Shop used book side was burglarized by someone who not only new how to crack open a safe, but also which were the valuable first editions. I think this character needs a name, and The Literate Bandit is the best I can come up. Do me one better and I’ll buy you a beer.

OK, please god not another book I need to find time read but a 517 page long sentence? How am I supposed to resist that? And then there is Bukowski’s cat, courtesy of Maud Newton [sigh]. Or consider visual poetry. Or don’t. Interesting as art but I haven’t made up my mind yet about its claim to poetry. Is “I Saw The Number Five in Gold” mathematics?

This has been a productive week in many senses but not in terms of thinking of anything clever to say here. One book review, one semi-decent blog post and a couple of poems and I cleaned out this place from end-to-end, finally removing the dead bee that’s been on that one window sill since I moved in. His name was Fred, and I miss him already but I’m not emptying out that vacuum cleaner cup and picking him out of all that stuff.

§ Octavia Books hosts a reading and signing of Brad Richard’s poetry collection Motion Studies Thursday at 6 p.m. Richard teaches creative writing at Lusher High School in New Orleans. Nicole Coley says, “the poems in Brad Richard’s extraordinary new collection Motion Studies are lush and lyrical, passionate and elegant.”

§ 17 Poets! features novelist ROBERT ANTONI, a Commonwealth Writers Prize winner and Guggenheim Fellow, followed as always by open mike hosted by the irrepressible impresario of open mikes Jimmy Ross. The Maple Leaf is an open mike this Sunday.

§ R. Stephanie Bruno will be at Garden District Books on Saturday, Feb. 5 at 1 pm and again at Maple Street Book Shop on Thursday, February 10, 2011, 6:00 to discuss and sign New Orleans Streets: A Walker’s Guide to Neighborhood Architecture. According to Indiebound, “One block at a time, this guidebook offers an expert’s perspective on the architectural diversity and details of New Orleans’ unique neighborhoods.”

§ On Saturday, Feb. 12 Maple Street Book Shop will be hosting the Furtastic Fundraiser donating 20% of their proceeds from both the used and the new shops to the LA-SPCA’s Feral Cat Program and The Sula Foundation, along with a silent auction for several things which the email doesn’t mention.

§ And remember to save the date for the upcoming launch-tasting-signing of the Café Degas Cookbook, authored by the bloggerific author and award-winning writer Troy Gilbert along with restaurant owners Jerry Edgar and Jacques Soulas 2/26 at the Crescent City Farmers Market, 700 Magazine St. (Corner of Girod St.)

Remember, if you know of something notable drop me a line to make sure I know about it.

Crafting The Illusion February 8, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in Toulouse Street.
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The jigsaw is easy once you get the hang of it. Stay just outside the lines, and think about how you cut before you start so you don’t bind up the blade trying to turn too sharply. Maybe I should have gone to a school with a shop class because it will takes years of life after college to figure out these simple concepts. The large shed that houses the floats of Krewe du Vieux is full of people getting ready for the parade but the noise echoing off the metal roof of saws and nail guns, the laughter and chatter of the people standing around while others bend to the work all disappears in the whine of the saw and my concentration on the cut lines.

By noon the den smells of Popeye’s friend chicken and sawdust. Coffee quickly gives way to beer by early afternoon but I hold off because I’m still working the jig saw. It’s cold in the high ceiling warehouse space with the doors wide open and no heat, but I chose my fingers over the illusory warmth of beer. Between cuts I stop to stretch my back and look around at the other krewes. The parade is only weeks away but most floats are just starting to come together into recognizable platforms for the parade On some, there are just a few people intently working. Others have some busy hands and many more standing around a table covered with food and drink talking and laughing and planning the final details of costumes.

Each sub-krewe is its own tribe with its rituals and mores, its habits and taboos, its own manner of building the float, whether it’s a crew of two or three or a crowd milling around waiting for someone to give them something to do. We are lucky to have two stage carpenters and a talented artist to give shape and direction, and plenty of willing hands. Another krewe has captured an architect friend as a member, and he told me the captain was flabbergasted that he had to measure the float before he could start drawings. I don’t know anyone in our den neighbor krewe but clearly someone put a lot of thought and artistry into their float. It’s a matter of pride, because the standing rule for detail work is: it must look good in the dark to a drunk for 30 seconds. Yes, we do it for the crowd and in subtle competition with the other krewes but we mostly do it for ourselves. Why else would you stand in a freezing shed contorting your back or kneeling on the cold concrete to give it some relief except for the love of what you are doing?

We went looking for some two-by-four scrap for bracing and there lots of whole lumber but few scraps but you don’t dare take anything without asking and I come back empty handed. Even through someone stole our krewe’s sawhorses I would never steal a piece of lumber. It’s just not done. The krewes are as jealous of each other as two tribes of aborigines staring at each other over the creek that defines their hunting grounds. Any breach of our few taboos is guaranteed to get the poison darts flying, even if the darts are words. It’s better to take a break and wander around and admire another krewe’s handiwork, to complement something clever and file it away for the future. Like the Mardi Gras Indians the first step in float construction is to tear it down to the base deck, and start over again, and we’ll need ideas for next year.

Our krewe, Seeds of Decline, is one of the largest at 70 marchers and the oldest, dating back to the days when the parade was called Krewe of Clones and marched out of the Contemporary Arts Center. At some point the CAC decided the salacious satire had gotten out of hand, incompatible of their vision of themselves as a serious art institution, the sort that attracts board members from the same classes as Rex and Comus. A theme without some sexual reference is almost unimaginable. I won’t divulge ours yet but I will say that of the seven choices one could easily make for costume, I think Lust will edge out Gluttony in a city famous for both.

The big krewes all hire out their float work to one of the local companies that specialize in this branch of stage artistry, but in Krewe du Vieux we build our own on small carts pulled by mules or a few hired hands with a tow bar. All over the city now you can see the long, flat-bed trucks slowly becoming some family or neighborhoods or club’s truck float, but that is mostly a matter of just decorating the side panels. We take it to a level where we will try to rival the professional float builders (who often just tart up an existing shell just enough to fit the theme, not much beyond what the truck float builders do). We build our own as best we can, and the best are small scale models that can rival anything the professional do. With our carpenters and artists’ guidance I know that even though we’re getting a late start, it will be spectacular. I can’t say too much before the parade but when you see the spinning carousel of sinners go by think: I helped make that. I painted the bear, of course.

Street Cred for the Wet Bank February 8, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in 504, New Orleans, NOLA, Toulouse Street.
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OK, I can’t resist tooting my own horn. Here’s an interview with David Simon on the relationship between truth, fiction and newspapers in which he references the three local blogs he says gave him inspiration in producing Treme: the Back of Town blog about the show, Ashley Morris: The Blog, on which one of his characters was partially based and some blog called Wet Bank Guide.

It’s not that Simon sees no value in blogging or “the internet.” He says that bloggers can sometimes force traditional media to cover important stories. And, in the course of discovering the real, known-only-to-locals New Orleans he depicts as a co-creator of “Treme”—which is about to finish its first season on the air, and has been picked up by HBO for a second—he cited three locally written blogs as sources of inspiration.

[Insert completely inauthentic "aw, shucks" here, for both Wet Bank and the Back of Town.]

The Sad, Sad Sargasso Sea February 6, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in Toulouse Street.
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I should probably save this to lede this week’s Odd Words, but it’s too good not to want to share it now. Maud Newton [sigh] collects quotes on fact and fiction and the autobiographical impulse. Today’s favorite from the list:

“When I think about it, if I had to choose, I’d rather be happy than write. You see, there’s very little invention in my books. What came first with most of them was the wish to get rid of this awful sadness that weighed me down. I found when I was a child that if I could put the hurt into words, it would go. It leaves a sort of melancholy behind and then it goes. I think it was Somerset Maugham who said that if you ‘write out’ a thing… it doesn’t trouble you so much. You may be left with a vague melancholy, but at least it’s not misery — I suppose it’s like a Catholic going to confession, or like psychoanalysis.” — Jean Rhys

This led me to Google The Wide Sargasso Sea, read long ago in college, and I think the tale of the dislocation of a colonial to an unfamiliar and unhappy England will have to go on the read (or re-read) stack, if only for its sense of connection with my own twenty year displacement from this northernmost outpost of the Caribbean to the vaguely alien country farther north.

All this happened, more or less February 5, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in books, literature, Toulouse Street.
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This may have to join Mr. Beckett and Mr. Morrison in a box over in the sidebar:

“All this happened, more or less”.
Opening line of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five.

My daughter is in a class exploring “Truth, Lies and Literature”, which the syllabus describes thus: “Asking how and why literature manipulates truth to formulate a story, this course raises questions about why truth in storytelling matters. We will examine texts in which falsity is to be believed; in which biographical details invade what is claimed by the author to have no relation to himself or his text; in which the reader is also a character; and in which historical or literary fact is altered or invented.”

I’m trying to puzzle out why they assigned Cat’s Cradle as the first book instead of Slaughterhouse Five if they are interested in the intersection of truth and fiction. Given my interest in what might best be described as creative reality (also known as Creative Non-Fiction), I think with a little help from me she’s either guaranteed an A–or an F–depending on the teacher’s view of things. Truth is important; so is beauty, but in art truth is malleable just as it is in our own memories, shaped to fit our own sense of rightness. Anyone who is so convinced of a consensual, group truth will never get to Truth. Beauty is the same. Which artist’s work is more beautiful: Keat’s or Bukowski’s? I think I know the consensus view but I learned years ago at the race track not to follow the crowd. That’s not where the money is. Show me the money.

Odd Words February 2, 2011

Posted by Mark Folse in Toulouse Street.
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“One reached for the end of any thread in the tangled yarn of what we know and pulled: the thing unraveled and that was poetry.”
–Andrei Codrescu

I’ve got nothing clever to say, at least not at the top of this week’s Odd Words. It’s been one of those weeks but I did manage to cobble together a brief set of things over lunch hour the last two days. First off, a review of Andrei Codrescu’s The Poetry Lesson which the reviewer (and in some places the author) suggest is not a novel or poetry or a non-fiction account of an Introduction to Poetry Class so much as in introduction to the mind of Codrescu pondering poetry.

17 Poets! Literary & Performance Series is back after the annual Dec-Jan break. The inaugural 2011 show this Thursday, February 3, 2011 @ 7:30 pm featuring the Native American poet, storyteller & spirit healer REVEREND GOAT CARSON with special guest COCO ROBICHEAUX. Here’s a look down the road at the big features scheduled so far at the Goldmine:Here’s a look down the road at the big features scheduled so far at the Goldmine:

  • Thursday, February 10 featuring novelist ROBERT ANTONI, a Commonwealth Writers Prize winner and Guggenheim Fellow.
  • Thursday, March 10 featuring poet JOHN SINCLAIR, legendary Blues Scholar and Cultural Activist.
  • Thursday, March 24 featuring poet DARRELL BOURQUE, Louisiana Poet Laureate.
  • Thursday, April 7 featuring our NEW VOICES IN POETRY series.
  • Upcoming dates in May include Book Signings & Readings with poets: LEE MEITZEN GRUE, BERNADETTE MAYER, EILEEN MYLES and JAMEY JONES.

OK, this is different, in fact it’s downright Odd: the Maple Leaf Book Shop will be hosting a band–World History– on Feb. 4 from 6-8 pm. From the band’s website: “World History began in the winter of 2006, as a collection of songs written and recorded aboard several boats in Seattle, Washington. The project has since evolved into a laughing, stomping, yelping collaboration between Neil Campau and Jamie Menzel. They most often write songs about historical characters and events that are rarely talked about in compulsory school textbooks, and their lyrics provide hints of their anarchist anti-politics. Campau provides the majority of the vocals, alternately strumming his rusty autoharp and breaking guitar strings, while Menzel lends her soft vocals and intricate flute melodies, and from time to time, breaks something in a percussive fervor. Whether performing a raucous, triumphant historical retelling or a foot-stomping sing-along, World History continues to captivate audiences from living room to back porch.”

No other big signings this week but my mouth is watering waiting for the upcoming launch-tasting-signing of the Café Degas Cookbook, authored by the bloggerific author and award-winning writer Troy Gilbert along with restaurant owners Jerry Edgar and Jacques Soulas. This one’s at the end of the month but save the date: 2/26 at the Crescent City Farmers Market, 700 Magazine St. (Corner of Girod St.) .

Remember, if you don’t send me your event it doesn’t have a change to get in: markfolse ~AT~ rocketmail ~DOT~ com.

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