The band strikes up and in they roll, and one must wonder at the grandeur of it all – the captured creatures in their cans, the aerialists always about to die, the specious dominion of the cracking whips, the stark nobility of the tumbling fools. And at the vortex, false director of them all, the ringmaster, hawker of lies, shim-glib limner, well cloaked hacker of consumption, gin-soaked grin fronting the spectacle. Out prance the chattel, out prance the curs, out prance the indentured and the spangled and the wry. What will they do, and how will they fly? Only the dark of the tent will tell. And you should know, though few folk do, that the circus issues also from your mind, and dwells there, is from there, from each of us as we will the world. Why else would we cheer, and gasp, and pray, but for seeing ourselves in the fray? And the horses neigh, and the lions cower, and the elephants roll for the baited crowd, and the women dance, and the clowns stay sad, and the band plays on, each note familiar, each note dun until we shape a new familiar, a new family, a new will.
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ANNOUNCE :: Longtime Bay Area poet and pianist Steve Arntson has his first book coming out this month, titled To and From on the Day for Night Coast. Release party is on Saturday, June 10 at the Frank Bette Center for the Arts in Alameda. Steve’s been writing absolutely fabulous shit for decades, in my opinion, mostly what I would call metaphysical nature poetry – much of which he can rattle off by rote. I urge you to come by that Saturday, if you’re in the area, and check out his reading and pick up a copy of the book. Click here for deets. And if you’re not in the capacity to stop by, do order a copy from Berkeley’s own Regent Press. And expect to be transported.
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Team beat. Yeah! We number one. Yeah! You little. Yeah! We bigger. Yeah! We the best. Yeah! You not much. Yeah! We, you. Yeah! We,you. Yeah! We real. Yeah! You other. Yeah! We important. Yeah! You shit. Yeah! You other. Yeah! You other. Yeah! Stay over there. Yeah! Fetch my drink. Yeah! Fetch my car. Yeah! Clean my car. Yeah! Clean my toilet. Yeah! My my. Yeah! Mine mine. Yeah! Not yours. Yeah! You nothing. Yeah! I own you. Yeah! Die in pain. Yeah! Eat my shit. Yeah! Fuck you. Yeah! Natural order. Yeah! Natural order. Yeah! Team beat. Yeah! We number one. Yeah!
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ANNOUNCE :: Tobias Brill, an intense artist I know from Hawai’i has a show of drawings and paintings going up at the Wicked Grounds Kink Cafe & Boutique in SOMA, San Francisco. He rarely exhibits here so this is a big deal. I’ve know Tobias for years and his work has become increasingly radical – how many artists can you say that about. He calls his art a “a kind of psycho-sexual meditation.” That is an understatement. He also refers to it as “deviant, subversive, homoerotic, juvenile, dark and X rated, but also intimate, humorous, honest and real.” That’s a little closer. Just click on his name to check out his website and you’ll see what he (and I) mean. Or just look at the print I’ve pasted below. Or both. Then click here for the deets about the opening on Thursday, June 22. And drop on in for a taste.
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Rough and tumble falling down, falling down the hill. Gravity will have its way, falling down the hill. You can stop and you can climb, falling down the hill. Pretty soon you’ll join the rest, falling down the hill. No big matter, no big bad falling down the hill. It’s the natural order yo, falling down the hill. We accomplish lots of things falling down the hill. Trucks and children, pies and rings, falling down the hill. Pretty darn much everything falling down the hill. Gravity’s a stern taskmaster falling down the hill. Does it really matter if you climb or if you spill? You will face your final fate falling down the hill. So why not dance your tango as you’re falling down the hill? Why not make your morning song, your metaphors, your trill? Why not love your lovelies, make your mark and take your fill? You can even change the world while falling down the hill. You can do most anything falling down the hill. Trip and tumble, flip and glide falling down the hill. Learn to use your moment, find your balance, love the thrill. Since no matter what you do, you’re falling down the hill.