D ants,
Dancing away the years are we over here at the D.
For over a decade! This weekend we have entertained so many feet!
This
weekend, we start with Moses Walker! Moses played with the Clamdaddys
for years every Wedneday night and is one of our favorite people and
musicians on the planet. Free! Then there is a cool indie show on Friday
night with Marlo Narwhal and friends. Marlo Narwhal is a fusion of
alternative rock and experimental blues-prog. Think Captain Beefheart
meets Primus, with a little Lee Scratch Perry? Because we are keeping it
weird.
Saturday Dusty Bottle Boxcar Band is back. This is highly
danceable jug band music. Dikki Du on Saturday night is always the best
Zydeco dance party around. Dikki Du is Zydeco royalty from Louisiana,
Roy Carrier's nephew.
And of course, salsa on Sunday night, caliente.
And of course, salsa on Sunday night, caliente.
|
4:30p Moses Walker! [7:00p] Nick Rockwell [7:45p] Electric Sunday $5 [9:00p] Marlo Narwhal, Big Thirsty Girl, Arturo Complex $5 |
[10:30a] Zumba $8 [4:00p] Music Lessons Of Westminster band recita [7:00p] Dusty Bottle Boxcar Band $5 [9:00p] Dikki Du and The Zydeco Krew $10 |
|
[2:00p] Baby Boogie, bring your kids into dance! [8:00p] Salsa Dancing (lesson at 8pm, Sabor de la Calle at 9pm) $8 |
Yours,
D pants
D pants
Extra Credit:
Roberto
Bolano has become well known as a novelist, but he is also a poet. In
fact his novel The Savage Detectives is partly about the state of poetry
in Mexico City. Here is a selection of his poems, from BOMB Magazine.
34. I dreamt I was a really old Latin American
detective. I lived in New York and Mark Twain
was hiring me to save the life of someone without
a face. “It’s going to be a damn tough case, Mr.
Twain,” I told him.
35. I dreamt I was falling in love with Alice Sheldon.
She didn’t want me. So I tried getting myself killed
on three continents. Years passed. Finally, when I
was really old, she appeared on the other end of the
promenade in New York and with signals (like the
ones they use on aircraft carriers to help the pilots
land) she told me she’d always loved me.
39. I dreamt I kept sleeping while my classmates
tried to liberate Robert Desnos from the Terezín
concentration camp. When I woke a voice was
telling me to get moving. “Quick, Bolaño, quick,
there’s no time to lose.” When I got there, all I
found was an old detective picking through the
smoking ruins of the attack.
40. I dreamt that a storm of phantom numbers was
the only thing left of human beings three billion
years after Earth ceased to exist.
42. I dreamt I was 18 and saw my best friend at
the time, who was also 18, making love to Walt
Whitman. They did it in an armchair, contemplating
the stormy Civitavecchia sunset.
44. I dreamt I was translating the Marquis de Sade
with axe blows. I’d gone crazy and was living in the
woods.
46. I dreamt I was an old Latin American detective
and a mysterious Foundation hired me to find the
death certificates of the Flying Spics. I was traveling
all around the world: hospitals, battlefields, pulque
bars, abandoned schools.
--
34. I dreamt I was a really old Latin American
detective. I lived in New York and Mark Twain
was hiring me to save the life of someone without
a face. “It’s going to be a damn tough case, Mr.
Twain,” I told him.
35. I dreamt I was falling in love with Alice Sheldon.
She didn’t want me. So I tried getting myself killed
on three continents. Years passed. Finally, when I
was really old, she appeared on the other end of the
promenade in New York and with signals (like the
ones they use on aircraft carriers to help the pilots
land) she told me she’d always loved me.
39. I dreamt I kept sleeping while my classmates
tried to liberate Robert Desnos from the Terezín
concentration camp. When I woke a voice was
telling me to get moving. “Quick, Bolaño, quick,
there’s no time to lose.” When I got there, all I
found was an old detective picking through the
smoking ruins of the attack.
40. I dreamt that a storm of phantom numbers was
the only thing left of human beings three billion
years after Earth ceased to exist.
42. I dreamt I was 18 and saw my best friend at
the time, who was also 18, making love to Walt
Whitman. They did it in an armchair, contemplating
the stormy Civitavecchia sunset.
44. I dreamt I was translating the Marquis de Sade
with axe blows. I’d gone crazy and was living in the
woods.
46. I dreamt I was an old Latin American detective
and a mysterious Foundation hired me to find the
death certificates of the Flying Spics. I was traveling
all around the world: hospitals, battlefields, pulque
bars, abandoned schools.
