Posts tagged: Three Friends Coffee House

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #43

 

The Three Scrapettes

David Abel, Marko Whens, Tony Christy and Leo Daedalus

We love what we do at Show and Tell Gallery, and we ask for no more than a bit of attention paid to those whom we bring to the stage.  Melissa Sillitoe signs them up, Nikia Cummings spreads the word and I gruffly co-produce and capture things for posterity as best I can.

On May 4, 2009, The Three Scrapettes sont descendus parmi les vibreurs et le papier et les un bon nombre de mutant de cri avec des mots to bring us “2+2=3” – Sound Poetry and Paraperformance with a variety of “non-acts, sound poems, peripheral pieces, audience impersonations and wrong solutions” that paid back in full the efforts we expend to make Portland a more caffeinated and arty placebo.  They offermade up some biographicallistic fallacies: Marko Whens falsely proclaims to be the first poet to misspell (in? -ed.) every language.  Tony Christy‘s father was a scrap surgeon his mother a mitt mender.  Leo Daedalus imagines that the ideal expression of any particular art form would have to be realized in a different form.  David Abel studied with Massenet and Fauré at the Paris Conservatoire (1890-97), then lived uneventfully as a teacher and theorist.

Let loose in Three Friends Coffee House, the four of them made incomprehensible, joyous mayhem on indirect trajectories from Dada, Fluxus, Surrealism and Situationism. The Broken Hours Remix is all spoiled up by Splice Finders with his little with ACID Pro 7.0c thingly in his basement area with his stuff in there and everything, he likes to say.  Roughed out and rhyming, the RSS feed leads the sojourning data file hefty onto your portable sound charmer off the media Montserrat Internet Archives grabbing burny onto the twine shall occasionally meet:

Play

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

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

First Friday opening at the Hopscotch Gallery, March 6, 2009

A expectant thrush, a history of problems and the gracious hospitality of Three Friends Coffee House conspired to frost the flukes of fortune that trsulted in DJ Baron Landscape’s mordant and spotty hiatus from perfrmance.  Some ridiculous excuse is not even at hand to explain the reason why Splice Finders’ .wav file of the performance turned out all speedy sounding, but it did.  It simply carn’t be podcast, and those who missed the Firsst Friday opening at the Hopscotch Gallery, featuring nice, long sets by Dina Rae and Root Shocker, and a strange and wonderful appearance by 2010Gold, will simply have to piece a memory together with an ad hoc combination of sensory apparati.  To help stet the sage, we provide the

  • Si Begg, “It’s The Weirdest Thing,” Noodles Discotheque Vol. 4
  • Peter Broderick, “A Simple Reminder,” Touch (Type)
  • Marsen Jules, “Aurore” (edit), Herbstlaub (City Centre Offices)
  • The Camberwell Now “The Ghost Trade” (edit), The Ghost Trade
  • The Matinee Orchestra, “It’s A Fantasy World / Everyone Has The Right To Protest Even If No One Listens,” The Matinee Orchestra (Arable)
  • Erlend Øye/Röyksopp, “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out”
  • The Sandpipers, “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls”
  • The Herbed Brie Period By B. Blatherscape, Even

Although he has been auditioning vinyl from The Leaf Label, Memphis Industries, Marina, Arable and Type Records lately, the details of DJ Baron Landscape‘s first live set in a few years cannot be ascertained at WordPress time, except that it will take place at the First Friday reception for the March exhibit by photographer Dan Tree at Hopscotch Gallery, which is in the Three Friends Coffee House, 201 SE 12th Avenue, Portland, Oregon.

Dan Tree’s latest photographs take a gothic look at his friend’s MS diagnosis and how she feels to be living with a debilitating disease.  Dan lives in Salt Lake City, but he will be at the opening reception.

Musical eclectica from six to nine begins with DJ Baron Landscape from 6-7.  The warbling banshee Dina Rae, whose ethereal acoustic sounds simply must be experienced for oneself, takes the stage at 7:00 p.m., followed at 7:30 by Root Shocker, who disembarked from their home planet Curiose around the year 2299 touring their most recent album Ground Control.  At 8:00 p.m. it’s the hip-hop fusion stylings of 2010Gold, no es un hombre y no es buen dicho para hablar en el tercero persona.

Admission is free.  Certain special refreshments will be provided, other refreshments are always available at Three Friends.  Arrive early for optimal enjoyment.

DJ Baron Landscape rare live set: Friday, April 6 at Hopscotch Gallery, SE 12th and Ash, Portland, OR

Although he has been auditioning vinyl from The Leaf Label, Memphis Industries, Marina, Arable and Type Records lately, the details of DJ Baron Landscape‘s first live set in a few years cannot be ascertained at WordPress time, except that it will take place at the First Friday reception for the March exhibit by photographer Dan Tree at Hopscotch Gallery, which is in the Three Friends Coffee House, 201 SE 12th Avenue, Portland, Oregon.

Dan Tree’s latest photographs take a gothic look at his friend’s MS diagnosis and how she feels to be living with a debilitating disease.  Dan lives in Salt Lake City, but he will be at the opening reception.

Musical eclectica from six to nine begins with DJ Baron Landscape from 6-7.  The warbling banshee Dina Rae, whose ethereal acoustic sounds simply must be experienced for oneself, takes the stage at 7:00 p.m., followed at 7:30 by Root Shocker, who disembarked from their home planet Curiose around the year 2299 touring their most recent album Ground Control.  At 8:00 p.m. it’s the hip-hop fusion stylings of 2010Gold, no es un hombre y no es buen dicho para hablar en el tercero persona.

Admission is free.  Certain special refreshments will be provided, other refreshments are always available at Three Friends.  Arrive early for optimal enjoyment.

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #33

Eileen Elliott, Toni Partington and Constance Hall

Eileen Elliott, Toni Partington and Constance Hall

In changing, difficult times we lode our mothers and cling to our static, and these broken weeks are nothing if not changing, and cultish if not diffident.  You are reading this attentively, and we are grateful and starved for commitment.  While nicht nähernd the steady and inexorable keel of a cult, the ongoing series Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art once again extended its thermal-fleeced fingerlimbs northward to the region known as Vancouver, U.S.A. – the ‘Couve,  the “Ghost Town” implicit in Christopher Luna‘s observant munchings.  And veri-fiberly the invitation was extended pro looma towards Toni Partington, published in VoiceCatcher 3, Cascade Journal, NW Women’s Journal and others (her work, that is – not the humble invite from Show and Tell Gallery Productions).  Toni coaxed poet and award-winning artist Eileen Elliott and published writer/editor Constance Hall to turn a dreary late Winter evening into something of warm flickering ink and essence. Dalla memoria, nel carattere, Constance Hall shared from a prose poem drawn on her Sicilian family roots.  Eileen Elliott presented several elaborate pieces of visual art each varied in tone and texture and words to elaborate further the tale.  Then Toni Partington approached the accumulating ears with offerings from her upcoming poetry book, For the Love of Agnes, and other of her material that concluded with a poem for three voices, performed for the first time, all three writers onstage, Constance’s husband Steve Williams on bell; it was swell.

crashandbettycrop

The Crash and Betty Show

Another two-parter, a garter-grabbing, rabble-arousing combination free speech festival and Spring training wake, the Show and Tell Open Mic always follows 3FM:CA and the mixed metaphors long afterwards.  After a brazen plug for Oregon Society of Artists we were treated to three poems (including the poignant and aptly-titled “In My Dreams”) from Mike G (fresh off his first sick day in six years).  Darest the parenthetical wouldst overtake, we enjoyed a coupla musical ditties from The Crash and Betty Show, followed by more spoken sword face-offs, the first part/round the Dan (Raphael) and Walt (Curtis, also number five-and-a-half) show.

Walt Curtis

Walt Curtis

Steve Williams rejoined the party with a Christmas poem and spotted the Stick Man.  Despite the bench-clearing brawl outside his flat Wayne Flower had just written “He Is Cruel,” whereas Chad MD had come to a realization and stepped up to the plate with “Honey,” and Christian Kenseth had dug out three poems and chose to share them after all.  End of Part One.  Simon Diamond shared a poem (“Return to Exile”) and an anti-poem (“Poets of a Technocratic Dreamcoat”) (in two parts) (yes, it’s often necessary).  Nathan Reynolds also delighted wtih a couple of new and adorable toss-offs.  Reinhard Wilhelm (Benjamin Fisher) imparted a dialectic dilemna “for everyone who calls themself a poet.”  Rick J commanded a uneasy quietude in the course of indeed being a poet, delivering three difficult pieces in the stillness.  Dwight Peters championed “A Merry Cause” and disturbing “Expressions of Joy (Paintings of 1,000 Different (Moans?),” and  purported rain boots stepped through the sharp distance tracing tears through “Sun, Salt, Sand and Time” with some guy’s rib (indeed there must be purpose in pain).  In extra innings, Garret Potter and “The Ambassador of Truth” (just a rectum his anger), off respective stints in the Texas farm system swing at the vacant space bubbles.  “There’s No Difference,” we’re told.  Viva le manque de différence!  Why did we stick around this late, then?

Oh, yeah, in order to record every at-bat for the podcast, naturally.  Watch out for the roadkill when you pass through here at the podcast home field advantage.  And peering over the DRM fence, waiting for one to fly out of the park, part and parcel of our spoken World Series, one of our biggest fans, iTunes chomps on a link, bun and relish the feed:

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

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #32

silly rob childish

Rob Gray

Intensity, brilliance, contrast… yes, those are nouns, exceedingly important to this nounery that bloguets forth of the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art and other art purveyed by Show and Tell Gallery Productions.  How easy it should be then to employ such parties du discours superlatives in the service of these lines regarding the February 16, 2009 event.  But ease be forewarned that this reckless hope may choke reconcile upsetting and broken ever-be, which is fine with us – we’re up to the challenge.  And so forth were welcomed the multidisciplinary Rob Gray and the multi-discipled Jack Klatt and there was intensity, brilliance and contrast and so forth.  Glorious, riveting and superb are words that also flow from the recollections of their performances, captured for part one of the audio podcast by the drooling and productive Splice Finders.

National Poetry Slam legend has it that Rob was a member of the first ever Ventura Poetry Slam team to compete at the National Poetry Slam competition in Austin, Texas in 2006.  Taking chances and not holding back are noun-like phrases that might suffice as euphemisms for his singular and industrious trail, as he has been making music under the pseudonym silly rob childish for four years, so far releasing sixteen solo albums and EPs.  Start looking for them; maybe start with Artshole of which he is founder.  On a whim, in the pursuit of adventure, he’s in Portland now, and we’re thankful for his new coordinates.

Jack Klatt

Jack Klatt

Also just moved to Portland (from somewhere near the Elektra label circa 1969) Jack Klatt arrives  “steeped in a long tradition of Minneapolis folk music” – thank you for the head start, Twin Cities.  His delicate odes and haunting ballads stick to the walls like smoke and shadows, which are nouns, but they are no substitute for these songs, and these similies are really no match for sitting quietly and listening to Jack sing and play.  Or should we call him “howlin’ bobbi lee” to maintain editorial consistency?  We just want to hear another one.  We strongly encourage you to catch either Rob or Jack, preferably both, to consume what they’ve made and enjoy what they do.

Comes a time to change the agenda to the Show and Tell Open Mic and employ nouns of shorter and more varied character.  Melissa Sillitoe (who may have the pseudonym “silly toe curatish,” what if everyone had one? send us yours today!) and Joel Wegman performed Melissa’s drama-in-progress-within-a-drama-in-progress.  Mike G (“gimme da Mike nowish”) shared an early indicator of his talents, and more-than-proper-nouns Christian, Judith Fay Pulman, Michael Berton, Wayne Flower, Paul Evans, Dennis McBride and Benjamin Fisher joined the chorus line with indicators extemporadish julienned, and… and even yours unruly among other wordy speakers mic-ish, as well as guitary music makish Colin and Dylan.  We made so much noise that silly splice fiendish was obliged to split the pod atom in two, always something, often glorious, riveting and superb.

Thus the resulting three-part, two-hours-and-change (sorry, but it’s worthish every moment) is to be found here, alongside others that came before and those yet to come, to Portland, to the inviting and Three Friends Coffee House, the “arty three friendish” of the coffee houses where this stuff happens and sticks to the walls like shadows, like art, even like… intensity, brilliance, and contrast.  Checked it out now?  Still have Jack Klatt’s closing song in your head?  Us, too.

Similarly, there’s silli iTunes appish, where your i.d. sticks to the silicon like the proverbial binary in the gold mine just a-picking at this link, take a byte:

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

Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art #31

Ah, to do what one does, shrouded in scaffolding, ready to bow before the eternal critic, exposed by the full moon, the great god memory, and to lose something temporal, and by its premature death it may never graze in its silicon pasture alongside those of its kin.

Lexi

Lexi Stern

Whereas digital audio files abundant and indiscriminate have Splice Finders’ mighty Olympus LS-10 captured lo these many months, yet another important series of consecutive minutes has slipped by its slurpy circuity due to an imperfect specimen of the otherwise popular and convenient SD memory card.  Having claimed its last victim, the offending puce de mémoire en plastique de sort malheureux has been indelibly stigmatized and withdrawn from professional use (if we make any other such use of anything any more), and that broken vessel may even be permanently disposed of by our obsessive pack rat podcast producer.  Some day.  Anyway, early the next day, featured invitee Nikki Jauron took the news with grace, and with the depth of experience that attends the likes of us who have banged our heads against the wall of sound only to receive the concussions of technical difficulties.

Cat

Cat Dynes

Nikki also displayed endearing grace  on February 9 of ’09, as the Three Friends Mondays: Caffienated Art designated driver, affording her friends Cat Dynes and Lexi Stern a generous portion of the road, and following at a safe (it seemed) distance with her own discursive deliveries, mostly composed of the poignant observations contained in her recently-published Hot Sauce-Flavored Coffee, as well as the necessarily quirky story behind its tongue-teasing title.  You will hear and no doubt enjoy Cat and Lex’ strong, hummable songs (about girls, they confess) on the podcast.  But (sigh) you won’t hear Nikki’s fine, fluid writing – writing of a nature that is so honest and familiar that one says to oneself, “…yes! I can relate!”

Mr. Timer

Mr. Timer

The sinister bent circuitry broke with the hour at that climactic moment as the detail devil struck again; we have another, drier and more elaborate explanation for what happened, which Nikki has been given and has cheerfully accepted.  No matter how we may describe this unfortunate event, Show and Tell Gallery Productions has sought to move beyond this tragedy and will seek to present and podcast a Nikki Jauron reading in the future.

Now we can kick off our muddy boots and lie by the road, waiting to trip up the passing poets and dreamers, the various condiments in our subsequent boisson de café express des arts et des lettres: The Show and Tell Open Mic. As if to compensate for the aforementioned loss, deliberate reduction by volume (except in the strange case of Dwight Peters, to whom Splice chose to add 2.74db) was done with the podcast file of the open mic.  Hey, the stage was already set by Melissa Sillitoe‘s new friend/foil Mr. Timer, whose poetry-crashing is well-documented and whose oddly masculine moniker will be forever entombed in the Broken Hours blog.

Christine White

Christine White

The affable Mike G (for “grail-road”) constituted the choicest cabooster of Mr. Timer’s quickly faded glory toot sweet, Christine White wrapped us up in business poetica old and Neruda, and by the time Wayne Flower had brought back all of our heartbreaking memories of youth, our latest attendee had become Mr. No-timer, the possessed (eek!), see-yah.  Christian shunned the new shit and instead dealt with some old shit.  And, as if to fling ourselves headlong, past the moon, down the side of the road to eclipse Valentine’s Day, we seat past 3FM:CA invitee/bigfootiphile Dennis McBride, and he loads us into his double-shot Stanza Cause of death sling, sharing love, talking sex, noting death “by death” on another certificate of authenticity along with which we can post this one here, without all that it is missing, for posterity.

Perhaps you’ve fully mooned this iTunes link before, but in case you need to go back down that road, find what you’re missing and not what we’re missing (domo arigato, Mr. Time Thief), the Three Friends Mondays: Caffeinated Art podcast can be subscribed to via that golden Apple’s DRM Queen of the Sky, and tell ’em Bigfoot sent you:

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

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

WordPress Themes