Skip to main content

first night

C and I went out to see Henry Rollins last night; it was our first night out together since Chicken Licken was born. Almost six months.

Henry has mellowed a bit. He's older, somehow smaller. The bad language has been almost completely excised. It's a spoken word tour, and what he speaks about is travel and politics. The bad-dream stories about growing up, the death-legion stuff of his Black Flag days is gone now. He's doing travel writing in front of a microphone, with liberal doses of apology and hope (for America, for the future, etc).

The one aspect of former Henry which still comes through -- in spades -- is his relentlessness. He walked out on stage, assumed a pose in front of the microphone, and then started talking, with force, with energy, for three hours. He did not pause, he did not pace, he did not get a glass of water. And my ass *melted* into that church pew.

Of course, his best piece was about commitment: about being the most creative force that you can be, and always blitzing that hill, and never phoning it in. He certainly doesn't.

p.s. Thanks to Jill and Jamie for looking after Oona; I'm a little concerned, however, that her first words this morning were "white power."

Comments

  1. Phil has the best advice - never phone it in - always 110% - life is short :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous4:40 pm

    Wonderful, håber du to havde en dejlig aften sammen. (Wonderful, hope you two had a lovely evening out together) I'm talking Danish to everyone I know now. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  3. I like the sound of this guy - but thanks for the tip, Ill bring a cushion.

    Was Oona also wearing a pointy white hat when you got home?

    ReplyDelete
  4. the little witch is me!!!!
    im following you twice :D

    have a nice weekend!!

    ReplyDelete
  5. It sounds like it was really 'time' for you to have an evening out!!!It also sounds like a bit of a talking-marathon!Interesting!
    Annamaria :)

    ReplyDelete
  6. I've always been torn by Rollins, but I certainly admire his passion. And how fun to get out of the house!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Aw, I'm jealousl. I'd love to see him.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the indisputable weight of the ocean

People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m

Oona Balloona (doesn't care about new tables)

Well, it's Friday, and since I'm pretty depleted in the chit-chat department, I might as well put up some pictures of Ol' Giggles At Ghosts before Grandma starts sending me hate mail. Man, what a goofball. At this rate it's going to be, like, eighteen years before she has gainful employment and moves out of the house. I mean, come on . * * * * * C is especially crazy and frantic today. About two months ago she decided that she no longer liked our dining room table (take that, dining room table! no more BFF for you!). Since then she's switched the dining room and kitchen table (and all the rest of the furniture in the house -- about thirty times, but that's another story) as a provisional solution while she scoured area stores for an upgrade. And she thought she had found one, on Wednesday, at JYSK ( Whatever , I said). But when she ordered it, JYSK called back to say that they were really low on stock, and that the stock they did have was damaged, and

some paintings to keep you company

  at the stations of seeing ; mixed media on cradled wood panel, 24 x 30 inches.   $350 local.     At the Stations of Seeing I expected something on the level of poetry moving the machinery within but instead it was wreckage and difficult instructions Recursive Procedures for Life Structures and that sort of thing. IF—THEN—ELSE where the option is optional CASE, which is multi-situational DO—WHILE the function is zero BREAK and LOOP again and again until failure. please CALL, if you can, or while you are still missed. . . . I went away for awhile, for various reasons, and now I am starting to come back. Where I finally end up is anyone's guess, but one of the stations on the path of that return is a willingness to sell my art again; this post is about just one of the larger paintings I currently have for sale for clients and customers in the Kingston area. A good place to start. The prices for these works are lower because the transaction is personal, easier — come by my stud