Articulate

I accomplished a small personal feat last night.  I attended the launch of Open Heart Farming, an annual poetry journal that features fabulous poets from across Nova Scotia celebrating farming and food.  It is a spin-off of Open Heart Forgery and has proven to be quite successful.  The launch was at the Spring Garden Library and it coincided with the launch of the July issue of Open Heart Forgery (my poem ‘Hello, stars.’ is included).    

I made my way from my workplace to downtown Halifax in the almost unbearable heat.  I crossed from Dartmouth to Halifax on the ferry in search of a cool breeze but all I got was a sunburned nose.  I ducked into The Foggy Goggle for a bite of dinner and enjoyed their air-conditioning before trekking up to grab some Second Cup coffee that might maybe add a bit of pep to my step.  It partially worked but when I found myself in the program room at the library with a room full of poets and poetry lovers, that’s really what lightened my gait.  I love being among these people; creative, tender souls who possess an amazing command of words and their own hearts. 

The majority of the evening was devoted to the farming journal with a small chuck of time set aside at the end of the evening for those of us Open Heart Forgers who wanted to celebrate the release of the July issue.  I looked around the room, fifty-six people all tolled and thought to myself, ‘There are too many people here!  I’ll never be able to stand in front of them and read.  Maybe there won’t be time for me.’  However, after listening to all of those people read their poems and share their stories, I agreed quietly with host Mary Ellen Sullivan when she said that those who get up to read are brave.  I reminded myself that the whole point of getting up to read WAS bravery, it took courage and it was something I need to continue to be, brave, courageous and buoyant about my work.  So, when my name was called I marched right up to the front of the room, up onto the little stage, stood in front of the podium and spoke into the microphone (A MICROPHONE! Jeeeeebles!), made a warm joke and read two poems – ‘The Company We Keep’ and ‘Unfinished Woman’.  Didn’t even break a sweat, stumble or falter.  I handled it like a pro and when I sat back down and the full gravity of what I had just accomplished made me feel ten feel tall and worth ten million dollars.  Public speaking is still an ongoing battle for me because of my stage fright.  I am in no way a spotlight kind of person but it feels natural and beautiful to stand up in front of others and share a poem, something you have thrown your whole gut into and have them respond.  As we were all saying our goodbyes and slowly filtering out of the program room, fully enriched with creative energy, I received some wonderful feedback and kind words.  A complete stranger told me I was one of the loveliest humanists she’s ever met.  Perhaps one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.  She said for her, my poems have a deep human thread in them as well as a profound feminine power.  I can’t think of a better compliment.  It is a rare occasion where I can discuss the genesis of a poem or about writing in general aloud and have someone listen so intently.  That may be the best of all.

So yes, yours truly accomplished a small personal feat last night.  I stood up in front of the largest group I’ve read in front of to date, fortuitous, confident and passionate.  I presented myself to an attentive audience; I made eye contact (which means I looked at something other than my paper which is huge for me) I was relaxed, content and enjoying my own words.  I was nervous that with the aid of a microphone I might be too loud or talk too low but once I got in the groove I felt I was speaking at a decent volume and because I hadn’t read either poem aloud before I was mindful of intonation and pronunciation.  Those are always the areas I’m most afraid of but I done good!  Small step for me, one giant leap for mankind, yeah?  What a great night.  So pleased I forced myself to go when it was hotter than Hades here.  A creative growth spurt?  I think so.  Yay me!  Small miracles exist.

In propinquity,

Nic

Dear Enemy

Dear Enemy

in my winter of discontent

I wrote you a bantam poem

so that you may dance

but

it was stolen from my desk

lifted from a thinking woman’s

pile of un-sated beliefs

I imagine the guileful culprit

will recite the pejorative nouns

with profound fatigue and regret

whatever the ceremony

my faithful mandate of polarized

ideologies always handled with aplomb

reactionary attempts to deconstruct

spoken in some pinched narrow voice

enacted with priggish mannerisms

your poem

on loving a man with a particular quality

tolerating his unrefined imperfections

and turning to him for unbridled advice

is really about how we compromise

and continually manipulate each other

a typewritten archive carefully measured

in a fatalistic rhythm aptly proportioned

reverence

the unfortunate verity of its disappearance

means your poem remains anonymous

in the sustaining circumstance of privacy

intimacy shared

intimacy denied

imbued with a sense of irrational longing

my trusted voice denied its target audience

stolen by the enemy

stolen for spite

by someone who does not think you

                warrant the attention

**

It's Open Heart Forgery open mic night!  It's hot as Hades around these parts so hanging out at the Spring Garden Library might be a little bit sweaty but I'm looking forward to mingling with writers and maybe read a  poem or two if I'm for it.  I'll have a bit of time to kill between the end of the work day and the event so I'll likely drown myself in ice water and try and scarf down a bit of dinner.  I am still feeling a bit of left over elation from Matt's show on Sunday.  I love it when the good feelings linger.

Not much else to report except I just ate a really sweet apple and it seemed to have quenched my thirst for the time being and I'm 3/4 done my crossword.  Not to bad for my Monday (your Tuesday) eh?

Stay cool, kids.

In propinquity,

Nic

Learning To Lose Control

Matt Epp at The Carleton, June 23rd, 2013

I feel as though every time I write about Matt Epp I sound like a big ol’ sappy broken record.  But, my vastly talented friend from Winnipeg deserves the accolades, the praise; he deserves world domination.  There simply is no one else like him, Matt Epp is an exceptionally rare artist who fortifies his audience and writes songs that reach into the core of your humanness and culls the best of you out and upward.

This was a unique visit to Halifax for Matt.  He’s fond of Halifax and said he’s never come for a show without at least spending a week.  This time, his band van pulled up in front of The Carleton at the same time we did to secure good seats for the show, sip on sangria and enjoy each other’s company.  Watching bands load in, I always feel bad, like I should be grabbing a bag of cords or a guitar case to heave in.  It comes from carrying gear for my brother throughout the years.  My friends and I sat and nibbled on our fine food and drink while the band busied themselves with turning the tiny Carleton stage into ‘Amoria’ complete with Turkey’s flag, a sign of love for Matt’s wife who hails from that country and as a sign of solidarity for their people who are facing trying times. 

I had a few minutes before leaving for the show to listen to a few songs by French Press, Matt’s opening act.  I was impressed with her songwriting style and the unique loveliness of her voice.  Her live performance did not disappoint.  She performed for us a set of songs she sang beautifully with an acoustic guitar and won the room over with her delicate presence and her talents.  Our table was in unison, unanimous in that we predict big and wonderful things will happen for Chantal Emond.  She is graceful and lovely and added those exact qualities to an already exceptional group of traveling musicians.

It was wonderful to be present for Matt’s Halifax return because he brought with him his brand new record ‘Learning To Lose Control’.  This tour was in support and celebration of a record that hundreds of people made possible.  To make this record, Matt enlisted the help of his fans, family and friends.  Using online fundraising to reach a specific goal in order to pay for the recording etc.  With each donation he created this fantastic youtube ‘thank you’ videos to each and every person who put money in the pot to pre-order the record.  I was so pleased to see him reach his goal that allowed him to release such a tremendous record.  It’s beautiful.  The songs, the artwork, the packaging.  Simply gorgeous, an important extension to his already inspiring and indelible body of work.

The last time he played at The Carleton it was just he and his guitar.  This time around, he brought his band, The Amorian Assembly’ with him.  In addition to his most excellent bassist Joel Couture, he had The Wooden Sky’s drummer and a guitar player called Mike Tuyp (tagged as ‘The Best Tuyp’) with him.  Delightfully, Chantal Emond joined them all for the duration of the show, her voiced added such a beautiful texture to the new songs and the ones I love from his past efforts.  It was a full, vibrant sound with Matt’s soulful voice at the helm.  Together, they played several songs off of ‘Learning To Lose Control’ and a handful of his best songs and there are many.  I was particularly pleased that he played ‘Too Cool’ from his ‘Safe or Free’ record.  It was one of the first songs that really drew me into his music so it has a special place for me.  During the song last night I was busy jamming in my seat, singing along as happy as could be, so much so Matt acknowledged my singing from the stage.  It’s just one of those songs you can just groove to, feel the salt of the earth absorb into your soul, it just takes you like a wave and you’re surfing on its crest in complete peace.  And really, that’s what I derive from all of Matt’s music, peace.  Inner peace.  It makes every fiber of my being feel content and blessed to be alive.  That’s the power of good music, the architecture of a passionate artist.  Matt is indeed one of those.

He took a moment in the night to speak about Jay Smith, the grave loss we all feel, he shared some of his thoughts and feelings, but mostly he remembered Jay for being an exceptional songwriter and broke into ‘Romantic Fool’.  I sucked back the tears but felt the love filter through the room.  Further proof that the strength in music does indeed sustain us, it lets us feel every single thing as we should because life is emotional and painful and joyful and ongoing and most importantly, it aids us in our healing.  It’s altogether poignant and beautiful.  Needed, crucial and life affirming.  I am certain that Jay was there in every note.  He certainly was in our hearts.

It was another night of absolute elevation for me.  I really respect and believe in the music Matt writes and shares.  He is consistent with his positive essence, his innate storytelling ability and his reasons to rock.  One of my favorite Canadians brought a new record, a superb band and the love of music with him.  If you weren’t present, you missed out.  Truly.

I left the bar not only inspired, peaceful and blessed but full of a great sense of creative purpose.  I showed up with dear friends for a dear friend and came away a little bit of a better human being for having been there.  If music is magic, Matt Epp is an efficient magician who dazzles and dares one to delve deep, for love of self, each other, God and the world.  For those things am ever grateful and continue to revel in his work and pay it forward any chance I get.  He deserves that.

The Carleton really is the best venue in Halifax for live shows.  I am a big believer in the ‘listening room’ concept and really appreciate that I can spend my money on a show and as a serious music lover, sit and listen without having to hear people banter over the band.  I want to experience a song, an artist when I buy a ticket.  I can do that at The Carleton and it’s amazing.  Major props to the owners and staff for always being so hospitable and for booking world class artists like Matt Epp.

‘Learning To Lose Control’ is a phenomenal record.  It even features Serena Ryder.  It’s available on iTunes and if he comes to your town, at the merch table.  I know you’ll want to add it to your music library.  Be warned, if you buy one record, you’ll want them all.

In propinquity,

Nic

Fretful Woman

Fretful Woman

a fretful woman

a wild azalea

veering toward blessedness

smeared in a thick film of devotion

draped in soft sheaths of loyalty

she can see the moon blindfolded

above the luxurious spring woods

but you are impossible to convince

& you remove her from time

your irrepressible need 

to have the upper hand

has become everything for nothing

she

a fretful woman

a wild azalea

has become the thunder of the storms

has become a torch song of burning love

you with your cigar

her with her wine

an exemplary fantasy

a fretful woman

a wild azalea 

has overcome every poem she's written

because of your reactionary philosophy

because of the changes in the weather

a fretful woman

survives

despite you

**

Forbearance.  I’m fortunate to be a patient creative.  My current foray is taking it’s good old time materializing.  I’m still listening for the whispers, the answers, with my eye on the world for outside inspiration.  Zelda Grady, the narrator of ‘Large-Hearted’ is still looking for clues, for answers and I trust that when she has more to share, she’ll share.  It’s also a dire challenge to write a story within a story.  I’m literally writing two stories at once.  I fear I’ll be editing for a very long time and I may even outsource the task to a willing participant to make sure that I’m not missing any of my mistakes this time around.  I’ll pay in a bottle of wine or a reasonable substitute (chocolate, coffee etc) if you’re willing.

I finished this girl power/self affirming poem this morning when I was supposed to be cleaning my room.  There’s always tomorrow.  Writing comes first, right?  I broke open my treat I bought at the Freak Lunchbox yesterday, a Cadbury Curly Wurly, streamed Matt Epp’s new record (which I will OWN tomorrow when I go to his show!) and finished playing with the structure and the lines, adding and subtracting and tidying it up.  I sat back and re-read and found myself nodding, that’s how I know it’s time to share.  Poetry sometimes cuts into my prose writing but I don’t altogether mind because I am writing and there’s no rush, I’m not under any deadlines and I’d prefer a story to come slowly so I don’t feel rushed.  I am certain that Zelda has my back so I’m quite content.  I do look forward to you all being able to meet her.

Lovely Saturday.  It was hot and sunny when I woke up this morning.  It’s a little overcast right now but I am hoping that it’ll brighten up again and get out of the house and be out in the world.  I’m enjoying my four day weekend.  Passport business was completed yesterday as well as a few other things I can’t get to when I’m working weekdays until 4:30pm.  I had a good lunch at The Lower Deck, pecked at my story, did a crossword in pen and nursed a red beer then got my hair cut.  I bought myself a leave in conditioner from the ‘Milkshake’ line that smells like chocolate.  It’s delicious and is lightweight which works better for my hair.  I can’t wait to shower just so I can spray it in.  Nom.

ONE MORE SLEEP UNTIL MATT EPP!!!

Happy Saturday to you.  Sing at will.  Hug people.  Read a poem.  And have fun.

In propinquity,

Nic

Hello, stars.

Hello, stars.

If you wish it so

I will shape every

lovely word

quietly congregating

in your warm heart

set them into the stars

so that the keenness

of their true meaning

might whisper
                in your ear

whenever darkness falls.

Only if you wish it so.

**

A little poem off the cuff.  Slightly romantic but nothing special.  Just a few thoughts, a few words on something that resembles love and loyalty.  Two things I believe to be precious commodities, two things that are far too rare.

So, it's John Taylor's 53rd birthday today.  Yes, that John Taylor, from Duran Duran.   I have a lot of love and deep respect for him.  In addition to being the wallpaper on my adolescent bedroom walls, he has served (both in Duran Duran and his solo efforts) as a huge portion of the soundtrack of my life.  Not only with his music but the music I was turned onto because he liked it.  Same can be said about art, books and films.  I love how inspiration is, a long succession of moving sentiments passed down from one blown mind to another.  I admire his creative spirit, his fortitude, is attitude and his art.  I am grateful mostly though because through him, his decisions and and music, I met some of the most incredible people who live in all corners of the world, who have become my extended family, my heroes.  These women and few men remind me that this big crazy world is still beautiful and that there are always things to be grateful for even when the chips are down.  I have watched these people get married, have babies, be present to celebrate their accomplishments, support them with hardships; and for the few we've lost, Bec and Lisa, we remember.  The friendships I have formed have elevated my life, made me better and they continue to inspire me to be better still.  John Taylor made all this possible.  That, is a beautiful thing.  He is the man.  And for that and because he's just a good egg, I wish him a very happy birthday today.

It's the eve of my four day weekend.  I took vacation days tomorrow and Monday.  I have some errands to run, one of which is to apply for a passport.  After I hit publish on this little ditty I have to do my check-list:  birth certificate, passport photos, form fully filled out and most importantly my money.  The goal is to take a week-long trip south with friends as a late birthday present for myself and my friend Colleen.  My birthday is in December, hers is January, exactly one month apart.  For this milestone, we're planning a girls getaway in the Spring of 2014.  Sad to say that it'll be my first official grown-up vacation.  A real vacation.  Exciting stuff.  That's the current plan.  Who knows what next year will bring.  If all else fails, I'll hop on a plane west and go visit Ruthie, one of my most important comrades gained from the Taylor times.  Anything is possible.

On the writing front, I got another little chunk written this week.  Slow going but I'm enjoying the process.  I'm hoping these four days off will be productive.  And of course, this is Matt Epp weekend!  Sunday night at The Carleton!  Yayayayayay!  I'll be on inspiration overload Monday, just you wait and seeeeee.

Still feels like a work night because I'm pooped.  Brewing a small cup of vanilla tea and crawling into bed.  I won't turn the TV on tonight, instead I'll use the time to reflect, count blessings and send my prayers up.

Hug your people.  They need you.

In propinquity,

Nic

Write The Light

I am working slowly on my current story.  Little by little.  I wrote a poem yesterday but it isn’t ready for public consumption, not sure I even like it enough to share it.  How does that happen?!  I think it was one of those rare moments where I tried forcing myself to sound inspired and I simply wasn’t.  I was frustrated, wavering between the right and left brain (as Ruthie often talks about) and I have been so rooted in my not so creative rut that forcing it wasn’t making any magic happen.  The silver lining is that I still put pen to paper and wrote something.  No one said you’d always get a masterpiece.  I know, speaking for myself, it takes more than one clear shot to achieve the desired end result.

In addition to the pages of notes I have and the almost 2000 word count on ‘Large-Hearted’ I have also been thinking about it around the clock despite the fact I’ve not made clear progress.  It’s playing like a movie in my head and the narrator seems to really like me, she’s always chattering but she talks faster than I can jot it down.  My hope is to spend some quality time with her over the weekend and see what happens.  There’s simply no excuse to not be writing since I have a computer in my writing room again.  I am thinking I’ll venture out into the world with her though.  Go eat some lunch, drink coffee and eavesdrop on the masses.  Some of my past dialogue/song lyrics/poetry comes from things I’ve heard people say. 

Work has been steady but I did manage to have a bit of fun last weekend despite the long stretch of rain that we’ve been having.  I went to see Matt Mays, it ended up being indoors at the Cunard Center (not really my favorite venue to see a show)  but was still full throttle.  The Red Bull Tour bus is a cool concept.  They basically took a transit bus and converted it into a fully functioning sound stage that has been touring across Canada, hitting the hometowns of the acts slated to play.  For us, they brought it to Halifax for Matt Mays.  He shared the groovy stage with Young River and The Meds and as usual Matt Mays and Co. pulverized their audience with pure rock ‘n’ roll intensity and irreverent emotion.  It is still heartbreakingly apparent they are still mourning the loss of Jay Smith but they leave you with the sense that the power and belief in what they do for a living and their collective hope keep them afloat, further proving music’s powerful ability to heal.  I wonder how long it will be before he can make it through ‘Chase The Light’ without crying.  I wonder how long it will be before I can listen to ‘Chase The Light’ without choking up.  I have a feeling it won’t be anytime soon.  Their sing-a-long for ‘On The Hood’ (one of my favorite singintothehairbrush songs) was so much fun and required skilled audience participation.  Another highlight for me was them pulling out ‘Terminal Romance’.  So so good.  I’ll be seeing Matt Mays again in August at the Shore Club with friends.  I’m pumped for that.  One of my favorite East Coast bands playing in one of my favorite East Coast locations in Hubbards with my best friend and other amazing humans.  It’ll be a time and it’s also something to look forward to.  But, before that, I’ve got Matt Epp’s CD release to look forward to.  He’s bringing his band and an opening act called French Press to The Carleton on June 23^rd.  If you aren’t familiar with him, you should check him out.  Counting sleeps now!

Matt Mays, Red Bull Tour Bus 2013

For now, I’m just happy it’s Friday and when I go home tonight I know I don’t have to wake up to an alarm and with any luck, it’ll be sunny.  Oh, I also have a new kitty.  I call her Lola.  It’ll take some getting used to, to have another furry creature underfoot.  Sookie has been gone for so many years now I’ve forgotten how altogether delightful a pet is and how pesky they can be.  Getting to know her habits and personality will be fun but my sneezing and the fur-balls, not so much; having said that the good far out-weigh the bad so even though she technically isn’t mine, I’ll care for her like she is.

Come ON end of day!  Spend your weekend with people you love doing things that make you happy.

In propinquity,

Nic

Versifier

Versifier

contemptuous title

to aggrandize

the appraisal

of my inferior talent

to write

silly poetry

inflammatory wit

pathetic fallacy

hand over pen

pretend poet

pretentious critic

struggling narrator

w/ fraudulent fare

versifier

wracked with ambition

nonsense verse               

anthologized

my life’s work

                vilified

among acrid artists

                for sport

**

A critic can certainly play an integral role in the way your creative endeavors are received by others.  Critics pose as a public arbiter of taste, opinion and acceptance, their job is to assess all forms of creativity.  Some of their critical thinking and weighing the pros and cons of a piece of work are managed by a certain kind of critical thinking, based on reputation and their own acute judgments.  A critic can make or break a movie, an author, a political figure and influence popular opinion.  In this same breath, it can also be said, we are our own worst critics. 

I often find myself opposed to a critic’s opinion, on the opposing end of the judgment and/or argument so I sometimes perplex myself when I refuse to listen to the negative reviews of let’s say Baz Luhrmann’s imagining of  Fitzgerald’s ‘Gatsby’ why I am so insistent to believe the (sometimes) negative self-talk/analysis of my own work?

A conundrum at best, hence the enclosed poem. 

I write for pleasure, because I believe in it, the act, the process and the end result.  I believe in putting something good into the world and I would like to think I do that with my writing; of course it isn’t going to appeal to everyone but to those that it does, I hope it imparts a bit of goodness.   Stories and songs and poems are universal languages, spoken in all sorts of different tongues, dialects, tones, styles and rhythms.  It’s so amazing to be among the long line of noise makers who liven up our culture, enrich the world and cherish the intention to pay art forward, in the spirit of sharing and inspiring others.

I understand critics have a job to do and I respect that.  I understand in many ways they are a necessary evil, like taxes.  I just like finding out for myself, what I like, what moves me, what disturbs me – all art is worthy.  All art means something to someone.  There are all sorts of things I’m not fond of but I appreciate the things people who love them take away.  My tastes are a direct measure of my morals and values and there are some things that defy them, which make them fascinating and thought provoking.

Taste, it’s all subjective.  It’s all relative.  We are individual as artists, as people and as consumers.  I like that even though there are universal languages we are still able to love what we love and ponder the things we don’t.  I like to listen to my gut, my heart and my intuition instead of any critic.  I would also be wise to apply that likeness to myself.  Right?

Happy Tuesday!  

In propinquity,

Nic

10 Steps To Becoming A Better Writer

Aside from Chuck Palahniuk’s excellent writing advice he dispensed to me in a handwritten letter: ‘Never be afraid to look like an asshole,’ the best advice to follow is to write.  The following rules apply, it states you must do your work, you must apply yourself and if you do, whether you want to or not or feel you have nothing to say, every word counts.  Every. Single. One.

If you ever question yourself (or others about yourself) whether or not you are a writer or an artist, you most likely are.  Steven Pressfield, in his amazing book The War of Art says this:  The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident.  The real ones are scared to death.  (Btw, I mention this book as suggested reading for ALL creatives.  It’s an important book and when in doubt or creative crisis should be referred to.)

After I finished my last short story, I was nervous.  I’ve been so overwhelmed with ideas and thoughts and characters and stories that they were coming faster than I could get them down on paper.  I am certain, in the flurry to record everything; I missed a few bits and pieces.  Nevertheless, I have been truly enjoying the process and the influx of fiction invading my noodle and taking up all of my time.  It’s certainly better than wasting precious time on things that dull or spirit and with people who try and break it.  This writing adventure has centered me and caused me to re-evaluate a few things and to take better notice of what matters.  For me, it’s staying true to myself and listening actively and intently to the songs of others.  And by others, I mean my friends, friends like Joseph Whistle, little Charlie Roop, Mr. Wincey, Harriet Weeks and Augustus Cade.  I write for them.  And for me.  But, the key is to write.  There were days I wrote one sentence, one paragraph, one word.  Eventually, I amassed a whole story.

Just write.  What’s in you.  Every day.  One word at a time.

I can’t wait to see where ‘Large-Hearted’ takes me. 

And the weekend is once again upon us.  Once I make it through this day, I plan to get caught up on sleep from the mind-numbing insomnia I suffered for days on end.  Some of which could be blamed on marathoning ‘Game of Thrones’ to catch up to the devastating ‘Red Wedding’ episode everyone was freaking out about.  As discussed with others already, the cutting off of Jamie’s hand and the bear scene were just as disturbing to me.  The wedding, while I knew would be brutal still left me speechless, more-so he killing of Robb Stark’s pregnant wife.  I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to un-see that; that more than anything else terrified me.  I also started reading The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, a heavy ambitious book that has so far been good.  I’m not very far into it but I can tell it’s going to be profound.  For something uplifting, I have a Matt Mays show tomorrow evening that is now going indoors because of Storm Andrea Whatshername.  It’ll be my first show at the Cunard Center believe it or not but I just look forward to having my ears filled with the sounds of a White Falcon and a kick drum in my chest.  Some people do yoga …

Happy Friday, amigos!

In propinquity,

Nic

Annie

BREAKING NEWS!

American portrait photographer Annie Leibovitz is someone I quite admire and it turns out I will soon be able to ogle her work up close and personal.  It has been announced that the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia will become a permanent home to an exhibit of her magnificent work.  The exhibit, described as a private donation will be a HUGE coo for our gallery and for me, a personal delight.  I have been appreciative of her work since I was a child and consider it a tiny bucket list item to be able to see her work in person.  How thrilling!

I look forward to discovering which of her iconic photos will be included.

One of so many amazing portraits by Annie Leibovitz, Patti Smith.

In propinquity,

Nic

Artistic Snafu

Artistic Snafu 

while you are in the process of

revising your bloated masterpiece

I will ponder your deliberate 

choice to avoid a dramatic ending 

you will resort to arbitrary criticism

of my delicate unabashed poetics

that have been earnestly delegated to 

piece together your splintered patience

I would happily congratulate you

on your rich fictional histories

but it is a commonplace error 

for an admirable reader to prolong

false & undeserving accolades

it is an artistic snafu

what I can accomplish in 4 or 5 sentences

takes you more than 600 long-winded pages

your melodrama is palatable

but my prose is a world of passion

you reveal yourself with great reluctance

it hinders your almost extinct sincerity 

but 

I am a bestseller & open to interpretation

you are a faunt of envy

of this

to others

I say nothing

**

Moral?  Envy, jealousy, boastfulness get you nowhere.  But, confidence, belief and hard work do.  Just my few cents worth.  This applies to any facet of life, art and work.

After finishing 'Hardscrabble' I wasn't sure anything new would materialize in the way of story ideas.  I went a few days resting my noodle, watching TV, reading a little and being otherwise casual.  I was eating dinner at a friend's house, grilled cheese and soup, when an idea formulated.  The working title, which I really like, is 'Large-Hearted'.  I've only written the first paragraph, a small paragraph mind you but it is brewing.  The only way I can really describe it, as of the idea I have now, is that it is a story within a story.  I'll know more when the characters fill me in.  

Nothing else going on in my little world right now.  I started watching S3 'Game of Thrones' last night.  I thought I'd better catch up since everyone has been going postal about the 'Red Wedding' episode.  I haven't read the books so the event won't come as a complete shock to me but I have been avoiding most of the spoilers.  Oy. 

I also watched S1 of 'Smash', the now canceled series from NBC starring Debra Messing about live theatre/Broadway in New York City.  I LOVE this show, a musical, complete with musical numbers and high drama.  S2 comes out on DVD in August.  I can't wait!  I wasn't sure I'd like it but I ended up loving it. Something light-hearted and fun and something to get me over my '30 Rock' hangover.  Excited that 'True Blood' and 'Dexter' are starting this month.  Holy cow, it's JUNE!

Happy hump day, folks.

In propinquity,

Nic

Dunvegan’s Wagon Wheel

Old Crow Medicine Show @ Olympic Hall.  Halifax, NS  May 31st. 2013

It was hot as hell in Halifax this weekend; the weather wasn’t bad either.  Live music held the hottest tickets in town and I was one of the devilish denizens to partake.  Allow me to share with you my harmonious adventures.

Friday night, Old Crow Medicine Show rolled into Halifax for the first time on their tour bus adorned with a makeshift clothes line in the Olympic Hall’s parking.  An American string band based in Nashville, Tennessee, Old Crow are revered for their old-time bluegrass slash folk slash alt country flavor.  Most know them from the run-away adoration of ‘Wagon Wheel’ – there have been many a night in bars where that song became the sing-along anthems for beer slugging partiers; every night in fact.  But, OCMS are so much more than the vibe of one beloved song.

In his review in the Chronicle Herald, entertainment reporter Stephen Cooke said they ‘blow hot like a train whistle’.  Boy, do they ever.  Friday’s show, the Olympic Hall, decorated in strung mason jars and low hanging chandeliers, was sold out to an adoring crowd hell bent on whiskey and having a rip-snorting good time.

The seven piece band complete with banjo, dobro, mandolin, fiddle, upright bass and harmonies that put you in the stories their lyrics tell, had music lovers hooting and hollering, stomping and jigging.  There wasn’t a bum that wasn’t wiggling, I kid you not.

They played some of my favorite songs in their discography including, ‘Humdinger’, ‘Carry Me Back’, ‘Alabama High Test’, ‘Mary’s Kitchen’ and of course, they ended their infectious show with ‘Wagon Wheel’.  It was their encore though that garnered the most cheers and audience participation.  The boys returned to the stage and broke out into ‘Barrett’s Privateers’, a hometown staple, a song we’ve heard thousands of times but never as affecting and as awe-inspiring as their rendition.  They floored the already electrified crowd and for those few minutes we Maritimers were melded together in musical solidarity.  The heat may have been sweltering but the music was hotter.  Just ask anyone who was there, they’ll back me up.

I didn’t see a lot of the opening act, Shakey Graves.  He, Alejandro Rose Garcia, entertained the sold out hall, warming us up for the main attraction with bluesy honky tonk delights.  Just one guy, with an acoustic guitar and a kick drum and what I’m guessing are a lot of really great songs.  I wish I had seen more.

I had a blast getting sweaty, drinking beer, singing and dancing with my friends.  If you missed it, you missed out on something really special.  A little bit of bluegrassy fun is good for the soul.

The Stanfields, Casino NS.  Halifax, NS.  June 1st, 2013

If you think my Friday night was a time, you should have been at Casino NS with me for what may just be my favorite show of the year thus far.  The Stanfields are fast becoming, in my opinion, one of the best bands to ever emerge from the East Coast of Canada, right up there with Matt Mays.  I’ve seen them play a handful of times and each time I do they just get better and better and faster and more fantastic. 

The band from ‘up the hill’ sauntered casually on stage, strapped on their instruments and broke into a thunderous set of raucous rock ‘n’ roll fused brilliantly and meticulously with a traditional sound that they play effortlessly.  The Stanfields have an uncanny ability to open their audience up to an experience, to let loose, to get lost in the sounds and the energy that passes back and forth between the stage and the floor.  Their shows are interactive and if not for the ear splitting decibel of their rocking I have my suspicion their hardcore fans would righteously out-sing them.

One of the things I love most about any live show is the sing-a-long aspect.  I love when a room full of people so in love with a piece of music and the artist(s) who make them band together and just wail.  It gives me goose bumps because it always reminds me that in music there is much power; healing power, uniting power, confident power, and religious power.  So many shows feel to me what I imagine it must be like for some to attend church and cull their peace and praise from and for God.  Music is about feeling, movement of the spirit and contentment of the soul, and is just as easily derived from a piece of music performed by someone who radiates belief in their art as it is to attend mass.

The sing-a-long of the night award goes to ‘Crocodile Tears’ (which I am still humming from my work desk this foggy Monday morning).  The entire Schooner room full of Stanfield fans joined voices and swayed with their beers raised and their eyes closed belting out the heartbreaking break-up song with so much feeling I may or may not have wept a tiny bit.  That power, you know?

I have a lot of respect for The Stanfields.  They have worked so hard to achieve the successes they are currently enjoying and the ones they still readily deserve.  They are true, humble artists with a passion for music and the essence of rock in their guts.  Their show Saturday night left me smiling, with a happy heart and a ringing in my ears.  And, that I’m still humming this morning is a true reflection of the stellar time that was had.  I can’t wait see them again and if they roll into your town, go.  You won’t be disappointed.  They really do rule.  They will be world famous.

Opening for them were Town Heroes and Carleton Stone, excellent bands both.  It was my first time seeing Town Heroes and my second time seeing Carleton Stone.  I was quite impressed with the dimpled front man and his band.  I can’t recall my first impression when I saw them open for The Stanfields last year but they definitely caught my attention this time.  I look forward to hearing his/their new record.

In short, this weekend was amaze-balls.  Music rules. I hope however you spent yours it was just as inspiring and fulfilling as mine.

Happy Monday, folks.

In propinquity,

Nic

The Stanfields' view of the crowd.  Halifax rules.