How I Found Etta James In San Francisco

Published on by @DwPolkLeave a comment

late night, july, reading poem of the day, “megan married herself” by caroline bird, english poet, younger than me, fifth line- she strode down the aisle to “at last” by etta james, what do i know about etta james? (1938-2012), looking for connection, internet, internet, doo-wop, her love, my love, when? me, family basement, arlington, virgina, listening to smooth vocals with my father, 1981, etta, between ages 12-16 in the fillmore district of san francisco, 1950-1954, her group the creolettes-connected to creole- a mixture of european, african, and sometimes native american heritage, me, lived at 1550 fillmore in 1996, not creole, but i mix, time, place, words, people, takeaway? we walked the same pavement, liked the same music, never knew etta james, knew her a little bit.

Tanning While Listening To Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam

Published on by @DwPolkLeave a comment

incongruous, fancy word, me, tanning, me, listening to “lost in emotion”-from 1987, incongruous, but isn’t that all of us? how well do we really know anyone? 24 hours in a day and what do we do with them? hopefully a ton, and some of that isn’t what you think, isn’t what i think, maybe you collect stamps? puffy stickers? or you read salinger, who knows? i guess that is the point, we don’t know much, instagram likes to tell stories, but who are we really? or maybe this is just me, a little bit of mystery, 80’s music out of puerto rican hell’s kitchen while getting ready for the almafi coast, who knew?