Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
Slain by capital interests
So, I visited a graveyard in Butte, MT, this weekend, ’cause that’s what I do. I went looking for the graveyard of a Frank Little. Frank organized mine workers in the Northwest, including in Spokane. But when he came to Butte in 1917 – the town itself is still a vast relic to the bygone [...]
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Tags: Butte
So, I visited a graveyard in Butte, MT, this weekend, ’cause that’s what I do. I went looking for the graveyard of a Frank Little. Frank
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Archeology
Standing in ruins, bits of stone gazing around from within, tapping wreckage, with an absent-minded boot rubble that lies upon rubble that lies upon breakage histories that rhymed, civilizations gone cold, nothing here but wisps of histories memories buried beneath memories buried beneath lies and promises and polaroids why excavate? [why not?] you study to [...]
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Absence
I hurt my shoulder boxing and kept on working out and kept thinking – what’s the Alcoholics Anonymous definition about outcomes and insanity? – that my body would magically heal itself and I could continue with nights of punches and push-ups, as if I owned a duel existence where nothing inconvenient ever happened. But instead [...]
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Tags: Spokane boxing club
Good morning, decadence
If you traveled up S. Washington in Spokane this morning you might have seen a bearded man crouched on a corner, eating hipster confectionary in the shadow of a 25-degree day. It’s all good, that was just me. Don’t misunderstand: this was a necessary breakfast for strict medical reasons. A nurse friend told me to quadruple my diet of ibuprofen to combat some nasty muscle spasms that [...]
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Tags: Spokane
I now make hats
They’re pretty sweet.
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Tags: photos, Spokane
Spokane Falls
My new Saturday writing spot. I didn’t realize the library had such a kosher view.
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A New Revolution?
It’s just a day after online protests have brought down the SOPA internet piracy bill and I’m watching several hundred concert goers raise their fists to Jamaican revolution songs. It’s a baklava layered with syrupy irony. Here we stand inside the Knitting Factory on a snow-dampened night in a poverty-ridden city, a block from where [...]
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Tags: essays, reggae, revolution, Spokane, The Wailers
Waiting for Wailers
I’ve been slow on catching the Jamaican legends in concert. Haven’t caught the Skatalites. Flaked out on Jimmy Cliff. Got lazy in Marcia Griffiths. Avoided Toots and the Maytals. It’s fitting then, that the legends are slow in getting to me. I’m sitting in Ruby downtown right now, waiting for The Wailers to load in [...]
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