Posts tagged: Patrick Bocarde

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #37

Josh Killiingsworth and K.C. Killingsworth

Josh Killiingsworth and K.C. Killingsworth

Here’s to the ongoing recherche pour le luxe des divertissements et des réalisations, Three Friends Mondays invited performance in the caffeinated confines loops its engorged growl of destiny, the Show and Tell Open Mic following in self-reference like a massage after a hot bath.  Came March 23 all chilly and wet Napolitan at the gates, the “Blind Dates” edition heralding a harmonious trio afterward espied engaged in small talk, so magical was the chemistry.  Phase One already brimming with a misty essence, a prompt on the command line, the reassuring Americana of KC Craine gathering our focus and we were in for an evening.  Second Phase volatility underway, perhaps some of the pieces shared by Josh Killingsworth lyrically dark, but his voice oh so sweet, the subtle fingerstyle of his dad (another K.C.) accompanying on guitar gorgeous.

Ashia

Ashia

Safety glasses on, proceed to Phase Three, phenomena surge, careful, careful, the amazing cello and voice and brave musical endeavor of Ashia, molecules colliding, periodic table in question, theorem k.o.’ed by post-science, we’re learning again, observations reign.

Goodness gracious for spacious skies does The Show and Tell Open Mic strain at its leash on occasion, begun so on-time that even Splice Finders was caught in a half-assed leap for for the record button by the time Christine Honitsu White had begun in another language reciting.  Welcomed we the comedy stylings of Mike G reading Starlite Motel, then could Steve Williams and Constance Hall stake the pre-warmed own turf.  Patrick Bocarde brought us our monstre poétique knees with material by Rick J and Melissa Sillitoe.  ‘Twas Wendra who told us that all her songs are long, and it was Myrrh Larsen whose songs, including the aching “Homesick” which ends Part 1 of the Open Mic, are all about our longing.

Starlite Motel

Starlite Motel

Starlite Motel dove into Mike G’s “Deep End (for Dennis McBride)” and tagged relay Rick J baton sideways poem “When Nothing Gets Bored,” a restless play of words also by Mike G, scatters Melissa Sillitoe’s “Ashes.”  After Chad MD shares a little poem, Judith Fay Pulman springs into a poem by Rick J.  Then it’s bonus panels, accommodating Wayne FlowerMichael lifting a Luke Lefler lyric, Wolfgang Reinhard, The Ambassador of Truth, Christian Kenseth and the new Three Friends Caffeinated Librarian, Mikey Golightly.

We’ll meet you at the “page” where we host the Three Friends Mondays: Caffienated Art podcast with good intention in our hearts, Wonderful, but you feeling the molten golden goose-flesh raised virtuoso upon hearing this fulsome audio feature you may wish then future clicks to save away, angled sense and hanging out iTunes in the dry of the tiger, though it collates unwell wethinks, and scruffy unrepentant links, this formula denotes:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435468

The Show and Tell Gallery Podcast #9

For the second of three Show and Tell Gallery Productions events in one week the featured art was feeling multi-sourced and the touchable performers were  familiar and reliable.  Not so mit podcrash inducer Splice Finders feeling a patch of blackness, perhaps due to driving around Show and Tell Gallery Towers for half-an-hour looking for a parking place to touch, or perhaps due to the touched feelings of the besotted gentleman whom Richard Schemmerer astutely escorted “to another gallery.”  More likely it was Splicey’s maniacal desire to employ both mono- and tri-podal digital capturing thingies that distracted him just long enough that he did not notice the flashing standby light feeling like being touched on the stoic Olympus LS-10 until the middle of Eric McEuen‘s set. 
touching1
We’re afraid that you’ll need to go back to the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #30 podcast to hear the one about the fish – that toe-tapping one about, ironically, disappointment – because the only part of his set that was captured consisted of Eric’s touching interpretations of, among others, Neil Diamond and The Beatles, and the Splicemeitser cannot afford even the few cents in heartfelt royalties that would be due those deserving songcrafters.

Feeling: A Touching Show was itself missing the work of Gary Aker, who was feeling a touch of the crud on March 5, 2009.   That left Patrick Bocarde, Brittany Baldwin and Rick J to flesh out the touching performance portion of the feeling presentation with spoken words, whilst the visual art by Rage Anders, Melissa Armstrong, Dave Benz, Brittle Star, Nicolas Hall, James Honzik, Chris Ives, Elizabeth Kuzmovich, Richard Schemmerer, Anna Todaro, Robin Urton and Cathie Joy Young remains tactilely available at the gallery through March, 2009 or monetarily yours at the sensualist shrine of your choosing indefinitely.  Attendees Wayne Flower, Michael Berton, Tom Mattox, Christian Kenseth, Benjamin Fisher, and Dan Tree and Emma (and Celestial Concubine, who touched down at the after chow) have all long since felt the sheets and touched the pillow.   The Show and Tell Gallery Podcast caress thine soft ears just there, no, there, yes, that’s the spot, and on the spong-iTunes-a-dermis subscribus so if you want to, and you feel like it, then it’s okay, you can touch its link:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435468

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #34

Christine Honitsu White

Christine Homitsu White

The premise is that we never know exactly what’s going to happen.  Safe enough.  However, Christine Homitsu White, host of the Blue Streak open mic poetry series, warned us that her stuff would go from “angry-sad to happier to neither/or,” so thus could we emit a littly sigh and ourselves prepare.  She proceeded to deliver a scathing indictment of February (“no guarantees”), and told us she was glad that it’s over.  And too soon she herself had progressed to the end of her sheaf of border-crossing billetes poetas.  Then Christine introduced her friend and local poetry legend, Doug Spangle, who said he had always wanted to read from the Three Friends Coffee House stage and proceeded to do so, emerging from the mythology lab, rinsing any trace of predictability off the green apples of  “Pers.doc” and “Perseus Pursuing,” two sections from his titanic series of poems about the Portland bridges.  Finally, music duo The Blair-Rich Project played a quartet of songs, de-sugared verses arranged for vocals, guitar and a drum, their power surprising us in our caffeinated harness.

brp

The Blair-Rich Project

So it came to pass, churned flagrant and displacing reason’s flies and the butter fat of the mansion that is the Show and Tell Open Mic, it all-too welcoming the curiously strong new month and surprises it may bring, eh what? (yeah, man!)  Briefly filling-in for Melissa Sillitoe, the mortal caffeinaut Luke Lefler (how he mumbles! did he say she was having her ants photographed?) would kick-stab the engraving which began with poco diablo Dennis McBride who in the coarse dew of time ushered Pat Vivian to the landing to relive “Friday Night at the Maytown Tavern.”  Warn’t takin’ out the trash no more Mike (not a miso) G (ynist) – Saint Dick – alone, stalked by more poems of love and doom and death from Ric Vrana.  The male chorus line continued with J. D. Deverest and Christian Kenseth (kept us in the dark) unto another end which also had not as yet been determined: part one of the Open Mic podcast.

lauren

Lauren

Part two of the posted parade heard all attent to toasting birthday boy Wayne Flower ghosting, and continued with the finery of connoisseur of melancholy Rick J, songwriter Lauren who’d never really read his poetry, Tobiah, “better known as the Ambassador of Truth,” that being the truth that’s “out there,” and Michael gifted his militantly rhythmic poetry its open mic debut.  Hung at the extremity Patrick Bocarde with more strange creatures and Chad MD not displaying his queue card.

michael

Michael

If you go away on a winter’s day then you might as well go to the “page” where we host the Three Friends Mondays: Caffienated Art podcast but, Fortunato, laying, please leave the Sun, because in the end, the pods you cast are equal to the pods to which you passed another brick in the wall of wonder that is whozits’ monstrous aggregation-purveyor known as iTunes, now with more tar and caffeine than the other pod pers.capita, as sure as links is links:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435461

The Show and Tell Gallery Podcast #8

dscn6572

Melissa Sillitoe welcomes Laura Chase

Gallantly, the  evening air warmed up a skosh for the first First Thursday opening of the year for the Show and Tell Gallery, a return to the source for the unsinkable Melissa Sillitoe who, naturally, had wavered at the prospect of continuing to host receptions at her live-in artspace.  The turbulent economic predictions clapping together with last year’s unexpected retirement of First Thursday at The Core Gallery, which shares the same trough aloft, were conspiring to freeze out this humble and geeky operation from the flow of the more terrestrial galleries in the Everett Station Galleries building.  However, the enduring promise of fulfillment and monkeyshines obligado forecast another show, and with the Spring perhaps more will blossom.

Messenger (2008), acrylic on wood

Verily did Melissa rain-dance another lightning-strike event, turning first to prior collaborator Lea Keohane, who has stayed busy and brave during the Winter season and who has hung her delightful pieces along the main concourse in the sky above Everett Street amongst the isobars and areas of convergence and divergence in the wind field (which are helpful in determining the location of extreme points along the spectrum).   The next ray of sunlight belonged to Laura Chase, having returned fresh from West Africa to parlez pearly dewdrops of pop and samba, followed like a rainbow by the hyper-chipper hip-hop of  Inkre:mentals with an album soon to drop and who-all brought in many lovely attendees (of whom one was, to our surprise, our favorite check-out king Jason) to minglebrate with supporters Mikey Golightly, Anna Todaro, Mike G, Christian, James Honzik, Becca Yenser and The Dark Lord, among many others, in addition to saintly gallery volunteers Dwight Peters, Patrick Bocarde, Rick J and Eric McEuen.  For our part, we had a nice conversation in the back of the house with Wayne Flower, who pointed our anemometer towards his own visual expressions.

Inkre:mentals

Inkre:mentals

Podcast producer Splice Finders was criminally loved and appreciated by Inkre:mentals Justin Eder and Jesse Gardner.  The backatcha cloudburst of enthusiasm for this MC positive pair and the perseverance of Tiffany (aka DJ ASAP) upon a beat system less-than-loud ushered a warm front of victorious vibes through the assemblage, many of whose errant voices were captured in the sleety Show and Tell Gallery Podcast, which is in da here fo’ sho, we hope, what fo’ Broken Hours’ own technical difficulture re: this index has been de-rigged.

Representz the Show and Tell Gallery Podcast do too on the inexorable iTunes audi-file storm-gathering jet stream with this link-a-dink:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435468

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #30

michaelberton

Michael Berton

We’ve decided that this is a pretty neat thing, a quite beautiful thing, really, this Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art thing, this infinitely changeable thing, this unpredictable thing what it has been all along we suppose but one can’t really see such a trend in a small sample.  So we arrive at number 30, and after a month of caffeinated Mondays we assert, smiling, yet humbly, that this is a pretty cool thing, a quite handsome thing, really.

Milo Duke

Milo Duke

Consider the February 2, 2009 “Blind Date Edition” line-up, per se.  Initiating, delightfully, with the accomplished troubadour Milo Duke packing emotional and technical wallop-mastery and more tempo changes than a Tchaikovsky ballet; Michael Berton, deadpan voice declaiming his uncompromising verse, often cantankerous in its lack of punctuation and asphyxiation of grammar, all to sublime effect; and Ezza Rose bearing multiple stringed instruments, each an angel’s harp to accompany her stunning voice, rendering a canon of wicked-smart and delicate songs: “Power is a dangerous thing/And all the beautiful that it brings,” as she sings in “Storyteller,” and we can’t help but agree, regarding each of you, dear performers.   We who have the good fortune to be part of Show and Tell Gallery Productions are truly blessed, and we want you to always be a part of it, to return to it, to bring your friends, to show and to tell, as it seems to be real, and it feels good – a real, good thing.

Ezza Rose

Ezza Rose

And share we do, although we forget what we are doing, our shoelaces untied, in the afterglow of each week’s invited performance, leaving the power on, the mic open – an open, “on” mic available – it is not the Machiavellian star, rather it is the steel stagehand of the outstretched arms of the Show and Tell Open Mic, our nuclear ars gratia artis embracing our friends, our heroes, our champions all.  Is that why Melissa Sillitoe shares, as if revealing Secret Knowledge, the story of why she calls people “chipmunks,” who root for the roto-endearing Justin Parris – seems he’s got it as bad as we do, and his sink drain (rhymes with brain) is infested.  We scrutinize the inscrutable writings of Christian and we follow blind (could this be… an infirmary?), and that’s a fact.  And, you, young man, Dwight Peters… yeah, well…  there’s imagery here… that… well, our dirty mind is interpreting…  so… keep it up, man, this is… intense.  And, check it out: Wayne Flower sings – SINGS – a capella… you had us at “broken,” man, we tell you what.  We are grateful for Rick J, who is MySpace friends with Keats and we are but his brief and accidental audience – the reverse would be impossible to arrange, not even by Melissa Sillitoe, whose Astoria pilgrimages are apparently as legendary as our own.  We encounter the thoroughly digniified Tob(e)y, reciting from memory Tom Crawford’s “Pacific City” as well as one of his own, and betraying a depth of memory yet to fully expose itself to this brief and accidental audience. The present satori of Mike G’s writing “into a very dark and painful place” (see 3FM:CA #27) appears to us to be a lateral move.  Then appearing and disappearing in sequence let’s go down to Big Pinkside for the sage, steel-handed Patrick Bocarde vs. the modern yeti machines, and xonclude, delightfully,  with Eric McEuen showing off his infectious, three-week-old ditty “…for anyone who’s been disappointed.  Anyone in this room?”  Not us – not tonight, anyway.

Justin Parris

Justin Parris

Ars gratia iTunes, while a beautiful thing, may not have the same ring, at least not to our traditionalist ears, much less to those of Edgar Allan Poe’s, whose prose in The Poetic Principle goes “that would we but permit ourselves to look into our own souls we should immediately there discover that under the sun there neither exists nor can exist any work more thoroughly dignified, more supremely noble, than this very poem, this poem per se, this poem which is a poem and nothing more, this poem written solely for the poem’s sake.”  When we are taking a break from looking into our souls, might we remember that this thoroughly dignified podcast lives at the same old Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series page at brokenhours.net under the same old, dying sun?  We forgot to point this out last time.  Nevertheless, permit thyself to look into the sink drain of the modern yetiTunes machine, for there you should immediately discover the podcast, this very podcast, this podcast per se, which is posted solely for the podcast’s sake, and which can be subscribed to via this link:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435461

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #29

N.A. Terranova

N.A. Terranova

“It frees you up,” said N.A. Terranova to Rick J who, following the January 26th Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art performance, had commended her on having delivered all of her twenty-or-so minutes of spoken word hands-free-to relax in pockets, body swaying side-to-side and forwards on occasion, as she also chose to be free of the microphone, a choice that caused due concern on the hairline part of Broken Hours’ prodcast pod-inducer Splice Finders but he did not interject, and the levels they headed out fine it seems, perhapspossibly and moreovermaybe her al dente heralding issued a natural resonance that carried over into Rick J‘s set, which triggered another type of memory – not that to which one commits but rather that of which one is reminded by a word, an image, yes, a turn of phrase, yes, to wit, Rick has been habit-formatting our verse-drives to some of this material through his open mic sourcing, and here now our memories are liberated, aloft, fluttering, and swept away come the we to the look to the “top” of the index on the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series page at brokenhours.net and our third, dear incarnation of memory, the return of Fern Capella to the 3FM:CA stage; we to the “thee” to the she with Show and Tell Gallery Productions‘ and back again, a touch under the weather (“outside the windows the frosty moonlight hung” as we recall) but lettres belles et chansons to those who fell under the spell, whom were urged to rise and be true to ourselves and, yes, it does free us up.

Rick J

Rick J

Up on the same stage, remembering us all where and when it may have started, free-to-relax in pockets side-by-side with poets Mike G, Patrick Bocarde and Rick J free-assembled around Melissa Sillitoe with scripts in hand, followed by Mike G with the tremulous and timely “After Poets (for Curtis White-Carroll),” and we will remember that Christine echoed the recollections, and then a stirring Wayne Flower meditation-in-process for Sylvia Plath’s memory, and we do so recall Christian and Dwight Peters, and we are forgetting nothing (are we?), as indeed there was no more, rather a reincarnation of plenty, the Show and Tell Open Mic replenished, resounded, retold, re-shown, once again, it freed us up.

Fern Capella

Fern Capella

The best things on-line are free, and it turns out une iTunes is no different in that the Three Friends Monday: Caffeinated Art is freed up thereon, and it can be recalled, liberated to their favorite media player even, by swaying side-to-side and forwards on occasion to this link:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435461

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #27

Doug Marx

Doug Marx

Sometimes it takes just a little more time, no matter how determined to be on time one is.  When the time comes, I’ll spend more time discussing time but, for now, I haven’t got the time.  Here are the quick details, for the purpose at hand, regarding time:

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art happens every Monday from 7-8 p.m. at Three Friends Coffee House.  Immediately afterward there is an Open Mic that occurs for as long as it tends to occur – so far, it’s been about an hour, give or take.   The resulting performance quotient of the event generally occupies more than two hours of linear time, and thus we post the podcast in two parts, even though our tireless and timeless producer Splice Finders snips and frets over these hours upon the stage, removing as much deaf space as possible, making it more full of sound and fury, blessing it with every hope of signifying something.

This is not a simple, arty bypass, gotten dirt cheap, baby.  It’s because time requires space – file space, baby.  The average size of one hour of these 16-bit, 256 kbps, joint stereo, real-time (mostly) mp3 recordings is roughly 115MB.   That may mean a lot to you (or zero to your power of ten may equal nothing all), but when one accesses an 100+ meg file on the internet, one consumes a great deal of that which is called “bandwidth,” and depending on your connection-speed-thingy with the big web-deelie, it may not be worth your time to try to listen.  That contingency does not discourage us from giving you the best times of our time, graced freely and willingly by the artists who take the time out of their times to entertain and enlighten us.

“My brutal, weary-of-me-methinks Broken Ears, suffering,” our namescape Baron Landsake might say, “this is another one for the ages, the times are yearning, and just in time, timelessly, unto time eternal” came poets Sean Patrick Hill, Doug Marx, and Andy Budor at nearly the appointed hour on Monday, January 12, 2009.

“Andy is a transplant from Michigan and he,” says Andy, “is fascinated by Oregon’s landscape, flora and fauna.  Ancient philosophical Taoism and the expression of its principles by contemporary teachers currently influence his thinking and poetry.  He cooks and cleans for his wife who (sic) he chased across the country.  They are both owned and are being trained by two kittens.  He pays his taxes and mortgage so he can hide under the wisteria tree in his backyard and write poems.”

Doug’s poems have, once upon a time, Doug recalls, “been published in a variety of literary journals and magazines such as Willow Springs and Harper’s.  A chapbook, Sufficiency, was an Oregon Book Award finalist in Poetry. ”   Without question a master of timing, Doug regularly makes time with The Reverb Brothers, the “Eagle Time” band for Fridays from 5:30pm-7:30pm at the legendary White Eagle Saloon (836 N Russell St in Portland, OR).

Sean, meanwhile, all the while, admits to being “a travel writer, husband, soon-to-be-father and sometime-teacher in Portland, Oregon.  His poems are currently in Exquisite Corpse, elimae, Alba, diode, In Posse Review, Juked, Ditch and The Corduroy Mtn, and are forthcoming in Willow Springs, New York Quarterly, Copper Nickel, Apocryphal Text and Quarter After Eight.”  Whew!  We guess Sean’s gotta write, and it also seems he’s gotta right to waltz into the Three Friends Coffee House, that paramonger of perk on Portland’s East side and the epicenter of Show and Tell ProductionsCaffienated Art series every Monday, and rip coffee a new asshole.  Cancer?  Hmm.  Please forgive us for not caring so much between refills.  All was made better by Sean and his well-chosen friends, and by the end of the transcendent “White River Junction” our lives had been spared, for an hour at least.  By then we were even re-thinking our penchant for the bitter brew.

But there is more time, and lots more coffee, and this time it’s the audience – our turners-out for the now-officially-monikered Show and Tell Open Mic.   Our “more time” is shared by, among others, Christine White, who turns off the phone at night, Joel, who was outside when Melissa was saying her stuff, and a Black-Sabbath-quoting Patrick Bocarde.  “I haven’t read in a long time or very many times,” insisted Dwight Peters but we suspect otherwise.  We know that  Mike G has read recently and very many times although he cautions that his writing “is about to move into a very dark and painful place.”  How will we be able to tell?  We’ve also listened to Rick J recently and frequently, yet he’s seldom seemed as rambunctiously surreal as he did that time.  Melissa Sillitoe wasn’t timing anybody but she chose to time herself, followed by Ara without an “S” or Sara without an “h” (we thought it was the latter) suffering from “about a six-month identity crisis.”  Troy left us with something thrown together “really quick,” and, now, finally Nathan, now, again.

Since you’re spending time here, you can the visit the podcast, which lives nearby on the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series page at brokenhours.net.  And what rough beast, its hour come at last, slouches toward your headphone jack waiting to be imported? Why, it’s only iTunes, which allows you to access the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Series podcast!  Take these chains, please, starting with this link:

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295435461

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