Best regards to you all.

Be good to each other, please.

She better get there soon, because last night I saw both John McCain and Barak Obama stumbling out of Lucky Cheng’s at a pretty late hour, and let’s just say that McCain didn’t look like he’d just been tortured…

While I admit to wanting to see an update on Godzilla, I just don’t enjoy seeing my home destroyed for kicks. So I ask you striking WGA members to please shift your explosive word processors to some other city. What the hell is wrong with pretending to blow up Washington, D.C? Leave NYC alone for a while.

Especially annoying is the shot in the trailer for Cloverfield of a massive fireball behind the Woolworth Building. Haven’t there been enough explosions downtown? And did they have to tear apart the Brooklyn Bridge? Same goes for you, I Am Legend. Leave the bridges alone. Leave New York alone.

Here goes…

Why the hell did I have to get sick? What the hell? Seriously, I’m pissed!

There are things I would like to do tonight. I’d like to see Kelli Rae Powell sing her fanny off at the Luna Lounge tonight. Sincere congratulations to the other finalists in the Williamsburg Live Songwriter Competition–but I want Kelli Rae to win.

I live approximately thirty steps from tonight’s venue. While I shouldn’t have gone last night to see her perform in the semifinals, I couldn’t stay in the bubble. Tonight I will just stay home. My presence won’t change the outcome. The same cannot be said for a certain hat!

In addition to seeing Kelli Rae, I was very much looking forward to hanging out with my new pal Teresa tonight. That’ll have to wait as well.

That wasn’t much of a rant, but it’s not doing me any good being annoyed by my infirmed condition (there, that makes it sound sooooo clinical). My job today is to get better.

I’m going to lay in bed as long as I can and listen to music and write. I have chords to learn on my guitar (I wish I owned a capo). I have calming tea to drink. Soup will fill my tummy, and dreams will fill my head.

Dreamboat is Kelli Rae Powell and Craig Chesler. I was lucky enough to witness their stage debut (as Dreamboat) back in September. They were brand new to me. I recall clearly how impressed I was with the songs. This time around I was doubly-impressed by the quality of the songwriting. Since seeing them that first time, I have had a few opportunities to see them separately, so while I am accustomed to the dizzying charm of Ms. Powell and the old-school smoothness of Mr. Chesler, their performance at Spike Hill still captivated me.

By “accustomed”…I know that when I listen to Kelli Rae, I’m going to be lifted out of whatever mess I’m mired in. It’s impossible to defend against her. When I listen to Craig, I know I can forget about my worries. His passion for music is a source of joy and comfort. Sort of like J.G. Ballard’s epigram about garlic: “If you can smell garlic, everything is all right.” So it is with these two and the music of Dreamboat.

Lara Ewen and The Unstrung Orchestra played the set before Dreamboat. I’d heard a few of her tracks via the internet, but live is always better, and this was a good night to be at Spike Hill. I’m actually listening to her CD Ghosts and Gasoline as I write this. Once again, showing up is the best reward. More good music has come my way.

Last night, I took a chance and went to the first night of the Williamsburg Live Songwriter Competition. It was surprisingly not awful. I suppose I should not have gone with low expectations, especially considering the concentration of talented artists in this area, and also because I went primarily to see Craig Chesler and Ellia Bisker (Sweet Soubrette)–they were both wonderful, by the way– but I stayed for the entire night.

People can slam Williamsburg until the cows come home, but the truth is this little burgh (and Brooklyn in general) has a high concentration of quality artists. I love living here. Last night, I had the opportunity to enjoy the efforts of many spirited songwriters, even though I disagreed strongly with the results of the judging.

~~~~~

I’m going to stop here. While I have more to express, if I don’t push this machine aside and get to cleaning my apartment, I’ll never forgive myself.

I look out the window and there’s sunshine. Marathoners are out there now, winding through the five boroughs of New York City, and my feet want to join them. Maybe this stack of mail can wait another few hours.

I want to go out and play.

• Strangers who become acquaintances who become friends
• The street cats of Williamsburg
• Foodswings
• Live music
• Fearless Artists
• Naked Mud Music
• The woman on the L Train who thanked me for giving her my seat. That was one of the sweetest “thank yous” I have received in many months.
• The Williamsburg Book Club for inspiring me to read more than the occasional New Yorker magazine.
• Stain Bar
• Amy King
• The child, dressed as an elephant, who offered me a candy when she thought I was crying. After putting some rewetting drops in my eyes to deal with my bothersome contact lenses, I wiped away a few rivulets chasing down my face and a child on the street thought I was crying. She quietly asked her mother something and then approached me with her arm outstretched. He mother explained the gesture, yet the girl did not speak. She did look at me, and her look was one of understanding. I’ve been there, she told me with that strong little face of hers. I thanked her and accepted the candy, and then she ran off to catch up with her friend Optimus Prime.
• Kit Kat bars
• Small elephants and grand gestures
• Angelica Kitchen and the kanten parfait
• My brother
• An unexpected failure that has already taught me
• Remembering my dad
• Chai

I am desperately and eternally in love with Elizabeth Cotten.

This video shows her with Pete Seeger from his Rainbow Quest television program. I don’t remember seeing this show when I was a kid. I can’t imagine I would have sat still for it, though.

This song is back in my head thanks to a local performer. Matty Charles does a boisterous version of it. Hearing it done live again has refreshed my memory. I hadn’t listened to anything by Elizabeth Cotten in years. Thanks to Matty’s cover of “Freight Train,” my love affair with Libba and her music is back in full swing.

She played her guitar left-handed. Her style of playing was unique: Cotten picking, they called it. All I know is when I listen to her play a calm settles over me and her songs wiggle right into me and set up camp. Like a hot cup of cider on a cold day. Like a mother’s hug when you’ve landed hard. It’s hard to feel bad when I listen to Libba Cotten.

I saw this poster on Al. Duvall’s MySpace profile and I decided to pass it along.

Sounds like a good time.

“I’m not your buddy…holly.”

If they think I’m Elvis Costello, then it makes this costume a two-for-one deal.

Now that I have told you my costume concept, I don’t have to do it.

Happy Halloween!

I’m glad I went. I was very impressed by the strength of the pieces read, and the poets were all charming and entertaining. I’m hardly an expert when it comes to poetry, but I know when I hear something good, and this was good.

MiPOesias is a very cool online mag. I recommend it highly.

Amy King has seriously good taste. (She also has very cool hair, so if you go attend the events she is involved with, you can see for yourself.)

BIOS of the poets who read Friday night:

CYNTHIA SAILERS is currently writing a dissertation on Narcissism and
Perversion in Pathological Group Organization. She is a board member
of Small Press Traffic, and previously co-curated New Yipes Reading
Series (formerly New Brutalism).

DANA WARD is the author of New Couriers (Dusie 2006), I Didn’t Build
This Machine (Boog Literature, 2004) & The Imaginary Lives of My
Neighbors (Duration, 2003). Recent poems have appeared in Mirage
#4/Periodical, string of small machines, Small Town, & other places.
He lives in Cincinnati & edits Cy Press.

PETER DAVIS’ book of poems is Hitler’s Mustache. He edited Poet’s
Bookshelf: Contemporary Poets on Books That Shaped Their Art. His
poems have appeared in journals like MiPOesias, Octopus, Court Green,
Rattle, and McSweeney’s. His music project, Shot Hand, is available
through Collectible Escalators. He lives in Muncie, Indiana with his
wife, son, and daughter and teaches at Ball State University.

AMY KING is the author of I’m The Man Who Loves You (BlazeVOX Books, 2007), Antidotes for an Alibi (BlazeVOX Books, 2005), and The People Instruments (Pavement Saw Press, 2003). She teaches Creative Writing and English at SUNY Nassau Community College, is the editor-in-chief for the literary arts journal MiPOesias, and is also a member of the Poetics List Editorial Board.