Take a few lessons from Skateboard Man. Not quite so much about how to skateboard. But about how to be determined! To skateboard through life. It's tough out there downtown.
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Here's an instrumental track I made yesterday, taking two passes on my Guild classical guitar. Calming music for crazy days. If you like it, download it for free at the link.
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As we settle into self-containment and life constricts to several rooms, I wish to look around and note folks still publishing worthy original content online. Back in the Days of Yore, pre-Plague, when we were all young and innocent and didn't tweet-rage or sh*tpost, there were these things called 'blogs.'
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I don't know whether spending the better part of a day crafting a music video from an old performance is the height of absurdity and uselessness as a tsunami of global suffering bears down upon the human race. But we could do worse, as we hunker down together, than to listen to this Clementines version of Hazel Dickens' great "West…
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With so many of us house-bound, my restless spirits may have been grunting about for some space and spaciousness. Here are 10 views from all around West Virginia for a little relief from cabin fever quarantine.
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A soul-sister Appalachian pal sorta-kinda challenged me to record something straight to smartphone as part of the contagion social media movement afoot of Quarantine Performances. Here's a first take from the John Lennon Memorial Studio of Appalachia.
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If we cannot feel joy in daily pandemic life at the moment, perhaps we can find some teensy joys in our shut-down experiences. as daily human interaction telescopes down to our living room couch. A contagion meditation on carrot videos, Falstaff and a 'furiouser and furiouser' ruling regime
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We all let out a sigh of relief in the building when HD Media bought the Charleston Gazette-Mail. A West Virginia guy with deep pockets, if a middle-of-the-road, non-fire-breathing dragon sort. But still! A sort-of, quasi-liberal new owner, for one of America’s renowned, way-liberal, fire-breathing, storied small newspapers. But... did we get that wrong?
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In which we go deep on the gorgeous Scottish-Irish ballad "Wild Mountain Thyme and its faerie-filled backstory. And let you hear what this sweet ballad sounds like—twice. With thanks to Simon the Singer in a Quaker living room.
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I am standing on Times Square. Just arrived from out of the ground, like some gopher. Probably like most everyone else who is not a jaded New Yorker, my sense organs are in a state of stasis. Of overwhelm. Of a weird mixture of delight and alarm.
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Sometimes, nothing else will take your mind off crappy news of the day than Ann Magnuson channeling David Bowie. I've been combing through my old video archives and seeing what's worth preserving and—as an old therapist liked to tell me—"lifting up" for your attention.
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I have decided I don’t need a shelf of poets in my life, right now. One, two or three—will do. But who? One’s for certain. I travel with him these days, tucked into a pocket of my rucksack.
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Here are some black-and-white love letters from falling back in love with New York City, after a long time away and lifetimes ago, while still trying to say hello to David Byrne in person.
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When all the things you read sound like noise, propaganda or sales pitch come-ons (sometimes, all three at once), then it's time turn to Other People's Poetry, for a break. In this first of a series, Auden's homage to fog.
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Sister Mary Pellicane has been at the business of being a nun—and being alive—a long while. On the occasion of her 98th birthday, meet this still feisty, still questing nun's life story.
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