Saturday, February 24, 2018

the making of

A couple of weeks ago I collaborated with the indubitable thad wenatchee and others to write a radio play. See more on how it went:

Wednesday, February 21, 2018

Monday, February 19, 2018

zomg veg

With winter's advent I've been enjoying vegetable mash. Today I chopped up potatoes--red, purple, yellow--and carrots of similar hues. J'adore the vibrant colors. I can't wait to nom on this delicious vegetable mash with a side of sauerkraut. A salute to my German foremothers!

Saturday, February 10, 2018

3 in 1 (night)

Some friends gave me and a pal tickets to see Gramatik at the Showbox. I'd seen him once before in Austin (opening for STS9). This show was all-ages and completely sold out, and the crowd ranged from baby-ravers to head-nodding bro's to all-out-dancing super fans. The light show was fun, and the beats solid but a little herky jerky. I left longing for more of a groove.
However, this being Seattle, the show was book-ended by two more random but no less entertaining musical experiences.
Beforehand, over PBRs at the Blarney Stone, we enjoyed checking out an energetic guy with a guitar, keyboard and some kind of auto-tune, throwing himself body and soul into covers from Kool and the Gang to Daft Punk.
Afterward, we tried to get into the Baltic Room (still a $10 cover at 12.30am--c'mon), then Sugar Hill (only $5 but looked lame), finally landing at the Crescent. No cover and karaoke in full swing, hosted by Vivien Gabor in full-on lemon yellow drag finery.

Tuesday, February 6, 2018

riffing

Twice this past week I found myself seated in a Capitol Hill establishment, riffing on a creative piece with a good friend. Trading puns, bad jokes, playing with words until we hit on something that makes everyone's faces light up.
That's it. 
Ooh, put that in.
Did you get that?
One piece is finished--in the can, a two-act radio play presented on Sunday on Hollow Earth Radio. It was a group effort, predictably sloppy in some parts, and surprisingly sharp in others, and in the end, a lovingly-Frankensteined production.
The other piece is just beginning, a much bigger work.
All this plus my own writing and video tinkering equals a tired but satisfied creative brain.

Saturday, February 3, 2018

lil peep

How do you separate the artist from the art?
Can you? Should you?
It's very much a topic these days.
I struggle.
I swore off Woody Allen movies long ago but lemme tell you, if MJ comes on in the club, I'm going to be dancing, as will everyone else.
I didn't know much about Lil Peep before he passed of a fentanyl overdose a couple of months ago (and maybe a month after he performed in Seattle).
Then I read a gushing, rather hysterical remembrance piece in GQ and I went back and listened to the one song I was familiar with, witchblades.
It's dark material and a translation of an even darker, more desperate life.
There's no denying his charisma, his talent.
Be forewarned, if you listen to this song, it'll linger in your memory.
He burned bright. He's gone.
The conundrum persists.

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