Thursday, November 15, 2012

Love letter 11/15/12

D notables,

Hey! Been trying to meet you...

Maybe this weekend?

Nov 16
No cover all night!


Jazz Gem
Jennifer Leigh Cress, Brave Song Combo

Volunteer Funk Dept.

Nov 17

Music Train Family Concert Series: Johnny Barber and The Rhythm Razors $7 adult/$3 kids

Deborah Hill and The Sugardaddies $5

The Duke Street Kings  $5


D Script

Extra Credit: Today is the great poet Ted Berrigan's 78th birthday. So here's a great poem by the man himself.

Last Poem

Before I began life this time
I took a crash course in Counter-Intelligence
Once here I signed in, see name below, and added
Some words remembered from an earlier time,
'The intention of the organism is to survive.'
My earliest, & happiest, memories pre-date WWII,
They involve a glass slipper & a helpless blue rose
In a slender blue single-rose vase: Mine
Was a story without a plot. The days of my years
Folded into one another, an easy fit, in which
I made money & spent it, learned to dance & forgot, gave
Blood, regained my poise, & verbalized myself a place
In Society. 101 St. Mark's Place, apt. 12A, NYC 10009
New York. Friends appeared & disappeared, or wigged out,
Or stayed; inspiring strangers sadly died; everyone
I ever knew aged tremendously, except me. I remained
Somewhere between 2 and 9 years old. But frequent
Reification of my own experiences delivered to me
Several new vocabularies, I loved that almost most of all.
I once had the honor of meeting Beckett & I dug him.
The pills kept me going, until now. Love, & work,
Were my great happinesses, that other people die the source
Of my great, terrible, & inarticulate one grief. In my time
I grew tall & huge of frame, obviously possessed
Of a disconnected head, I had a perfect heart. The end
Came quickly & completely without pain, one quiet night as I
Was sitting, writing, next to you in bed, words chosen randomly
From a tired brain, it, like them, suitable, & fitting.
Let none regret my end who called me friend.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

11/1/12 News

D friends,

We've been playing with ways of seeing the letter D for a decade now. As a prefix it is a reversal, as in "de-friend". As a preposition it may mean "of" or "from", as in "de amor". One might argue that these two meanings of the word are themselves opposites. There is a kind of yin and yang here, the "reversal" leading to the opposite, toward another "of", toward a new "from". The shape of the letter D is thought to derive from the pictogram for Door. It does indeed look like a Door. When you enter in through this Door you reverse your "of" and find yourself within the frame work of a different "from". Ahi estas de la amistad.

Come through our Door this weekend and find out what we're talking about.

Nov 2

No cover all night!
Alice Frisch (folk)

Sterling Edge (pop)

The Greenbelt Rascals (bluegrass)

Coral Reef (reggae)

Nov 3

Zumba $8

Denver Family Institute benefit w/ Clusterfunk and more (rock and roll dance covers). $10 suggested donation.

That's what we're talking about.

See the website for the rest of the scoop.

Next Wednesday we are going back to a blues jam format hosted by Todd Johnson. Our thanks to Farm Jazz for filling in over the summer!

Extra Credit: Here's a powerful poem of understanding, one to remember, by Martin Espada
Solil­o­quy at Gun­point”
for José
I sat in the car,
win­dow down in the sum­mer,
wait­ing. Two boys
from the neigh­bor­hood
peered into the car
and did not rec­og­nize me,
so one opened his gym bag
and flour­ished a revolver
with black tape on the han­dle,
brush­ing the barrel’s tiny mouth
against my forehead.
I sat calm as a burn­ing monk.
The only god in my med­i­ta­tion
was the one who splices the rib­bon of the film:
a screen of gun­men with sleepwalker’s gaze,
con­fi­dent detec­tives in silk neck­ties,
the coo­ing of hostage nego­tia­tors,
solil­o­quy at gun­point
recited with­out stuttering.
I spread by hand
as if to offer salt
to a lick­ing dog.
The script said give me the gun,
so I said give me the gun.
And he did.