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!
[5:00p]
Alice Frisch (folk)
[7:00p]
Sterling Edge (pop)
[8:15p]
The Greenbelt Rascals (bluegrass)
[9:45p]
Coral Reef (reggae)
Nov 3 |
[10:30a]
Zumba $8
[6:00p]
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.
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