a poem from may above. maybe it is worth pointing out that i write these on the typewriter in one shot, i don’t edit them. they are more sketches than poems. i’ve never had the discipline (courage?) to attempt to make one considered and whole. someday i’ll die and someone i love will find a huge box full of half-assed poems and have no idea what to do with them. my suggestion: compost them. compost me, too, while you’re at it [tone: sincere, not sad].
Kyle’s Question Corner: do you want me to write you a poem? please write me your idea for a poem for me to write you and i will [try and] write it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ INTERLUDE
my mom texted me about a stevie nicks song so naturally i am revisiting this bit of magic. actual, fragile magic, the kind you shouldn’t look directly at, if you look directly at it it will get spooked and flee and leave you longing for it forever, wondering what another few moments in its presence would have meant to you, but here it is, documented in full, and you can look at it as much as you want, trust me, i’ve looked at it a hundred times and it’s still here.
there’s plenty of magic in music, of course. but there are some moments that are just captured like that, lightning in a bottle—by all rights they shouldn’t exist. with steve albini’s passing, plenty has been said of it recently, but “farewell transmission” is another one of those miracles. consider the following:
Jason Molina: We put, I think, about 12 people in a room and recorded that song live, completely live, and unrehearsed. I showed ‘em the chord progression, they had no idea when it would end, and we just cut it. Steve [Albini] did a beautiful job. I noticed that at one point when it was a little too loud or a little too soft he came and opened a door to make it work, because it was just an ambient recording. When you hear that song kick off everybody knows it, and what’s so disturbing to me is the way that I ended it is I was dictating to the band and Steve—I go “Listen. Listen. Listen.” And then at one point they all stop. It’s great.
JT: I can’t even believe that was done live and improvised. That is absolutely stunning.
JM: I got all my favorite friends from Chicago, and my favorite, good musicians and we just did this record, and it has lasted. It’s got weight, I’m talking 500 pound weight; something you ain’t going to be able to lift too easy. You have to understand we’re working on a string, and Steve is throwing us a bone, giving us the studio and everything, and we are terrified about how expensive it is and he just went the extra mile. That’s the way it works and that’s where I come from. You get the job fucking done.
a shaggy working-class miracle, made by hand in seven and one half minutes, shaped by trade in god’s own midwest. the blurred line between electricians and magicians. imagine if this was what going to work was for you.
INTERLUDE OVER ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
some film from may below (my first roll, mixed results, documented for reference).
Ok am LOVING this. Must request a poem soon