Culture, San Francisco, Poetry, Music, Reviews, Short Stories and Life
It seems there are always floors to walk upon Brown and cool Stretching wall to wall to wall From hallowed to concrete hall From Temple to Church From Park to Station And Station to Park again. It seemed to me That there were always floors But some of them were banned: Walking upon them an […]
MoreI know, I know, it’s hardly winter out here in Cal-i-forn-i-a, but it is…kinda. San Francisco gets chilly, windy, foggy and rainy. It is one of those days that the wind and rain just can’t drive off the fog, and it settles down this low laying part of town like a fallen silk stocking or […]
MoreIf you have been following me at all you will know how I feel about Patti. Punk Queen extraordinaire, poetess, Rimbaud in skinny jeans and smeared eyeliner. The thinking rock and roll fan’s crush, and possibly the most fun I have ever had listening to anything in my entire life. The doyenne of CBGB’s least […]
More“…Keith Richards cutting his hair in 1967 influenced rock and roll as much as Link Ray slicing his speakers up to get that distortion, I ain’t kidding you.”….Billy was in a talkative mood. I was busy staring at a colt out the window, dark bay with a broad white face, his mother staying close by, […]
MoreI guess I should have known when I saw the small sized men’s shirt in the charity shop, that it was not the best idea. There was Keef, in all his junkie hey-day glory, cigarette hanging from his lips, mirrored shades, the torn and frayed elegantly wasted Keith that we all know, and I thought […]
MoreIt has been a long day, I woke up tired, and it didn’t get much easier. I wish they would stop messing with clocks. I wasn’t quite sure what I needed to hear at this time of night, but threw on Transformer and hoped for the best, quickly realizing my random choice worked just fine. […]
MoreEnough has been written about the crazinessness of Chic Corea’s piano, the tightness of the band, the wild flights of fancy the takes you on a trip past some heavy Egyptian caper in the opening Pharoah’s Dance, past the beguiling intoxication of Bitches Brew, Miles chasing an idea or a vibe, confusing, counter cross beats […]
MoreI woke up after a cold and fitful night in our hard won camping space in Teddy Roosevelt National Park, pulled my hair back into a messy bun, retrieved my beanie, pulling it over my ears, and headed outside with my canteen to find some fresh water to boil for a cup of tea before […]
MoreHere is Speed Limit, Neal Cassady, driving the Merry Prankster’s bus, Furthur, down the road, in I think 1964. A perfect amalgam of space and time and wing and a prayering it down those twisted roads I travelled in our own bus, Beastie. All good buses deserve names. The hippies and Kesey’s glorious acid freaks […]
MoreIt gets to a certain point in a drive where your driver starts to glaze over, no wind, from the east or west, through any open window is going to revive them, and things get shaky and a little dangerous. This is the time when as navigator you have to take over and find somewhere […]
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