Stumptown, GA

Book Prescription

So I’m at the School of Letters, surrounded by books and book lovers, readers and writers and critics. Everyday, I hang out in this old gothic library for a couple hours. I feel like that guy in the Twilight Zone who has all the time in the world to read and then breaks his glasses. My days are packed with references to books that I ought to read. I am keeping a running list:

Geography of the Imagination
by Guy Davenport
This collection of essays has come up in my Modern Poetry and Creative Nonfiction class. I remember lying about having read it in an interview when I was about 15. I have no idea what it’s about.

The ABC of Reading
by Ezra Pound
Because his essays are way more fun than his poetry. Because it was first printed in 1934 in these cute little pocket editions with the title typeset in Futura. It’s a classic “writer on writing” manifesto that is surprisingly funny and handy.

The Middle Passage
by Paul Metcalf
More “essays.” I actually read this in an afternoon, but I need to read more by Paul Metcalf and more that was published by The Jargon Society and the other Bauhaus émigrés hiding out in North Carolina. His nonfiction pieces are more like collages of news clippings, interviews, poetry and prose. He should’ve been a blogger.

The Habit of Rivers
by Ted Leeson
He writes about fly fishing, but not really about fly fishing. This guy did a short reading for our group yesterday and I was impressed with the way he weaves nerdy information into his personal observations in a way that’s compelling to someone who doesn’t care about fly fishing.

Young Men and Fire
by Norman Maclean
This is also the guy who wrote A River Runs Through It. I know, more fly fishing. This one is crafted around the oral histories of smokejumpers at the Mann Gulch forest fire. Maclean was 74 when he started writing it and died before it was “finished.”



Race and the Shaping of Twentieth-Century Atlanta
By Ronald H. Bayor
More historical research to beef up my paper on Moreland Avenue. Still trying to get my mind around modern nomads and short-sighted visions of community and southern identity. I am thinking of creating a map of the migratory movements of generations who have left Stumptown.

 

Like Something Flying Backwards
By C.D. Wright
Because I love it when people recommend living poets.

Bonnaroo breakdown 2008

 

Your Own Personal Bonnaroo.
We took off for Bonnaroo after I finished class last Thursday afternoon. My mom, husband, nephew, 2 girlfriends and I all packed in Mom’s SUV for the road trip. Helena (age 14) and Justin (18), on board for their first Bonnaroo, were probably mystified at how silly the grown ups were acting.

This was my second year at “the Roo” and I’m as surprised as anyone to be employing such a term. We used to watch the procession of summer caravans on their way to Manchester and think, I smell patchouli. But you just can’t argue with a lineup that includes legends of rock, country and blues alongside the same indie bands I’d normally catch at the EARL. I’ve learned that there’s a thousand different ways to experience Bonnaroo and the point is to make it your own.

Our strategy has been to stay at Mom’s in Sewanee (about 40 miles away), drive down after the hottest part of the day (2 or 3pm), watch 8-10 hours of phenomenal music and come home to a cozy bed and shower. I’m sure the whole camping experience is a blast, but I love having the chance to escape for the night, recharge and relive the whole thing the next day.

 

Best Way to Start Bonnaroo with a Bang.
After we sat in traffic on the shoulder of I-24 for at least an hour, then idled in the bottleneck of cars and campers at the gates, endured the long drive to day parking, long walk to Centeroo and a long wait at security, we finally arrived at THIS tent just in time to see MGMT at 8:30. I dragged Jason and Justin into the crowd up front. It was hot and I couldn’t see the band, but woooo it’s Bonnaroo! We stayed until they did that song about “this is our decision: to live fast and die young.” The crowd was ebullient, singing along, so so happy to be there. I guess when you pay at least $250 to attend an event, you’re committed to having fun, no matter what.

Next we wandered around like tourists, showing Justin all the sites. Made our way over to THAT tent so the guys could catch The Sword. I stayed long enough to get the general drift of things and then headed back to the “indie” tent of the night to find out what all the fuss is about Battles. This time I stood near the sound stage, where I discovered an clear view of the performers, plenty of room to dance and of course, the best sound. I ended watching almost all the other Bonnaroo acts from this spot.

The High on Life Award.
So Battles was satanic. Unbelievably fast, technical guitar rock that keeps upping the ante. It was hard to dance to, but even harder not to move around. It was an impressive performance, but don’t know if I could enjoy it at home. I felt lucky to get to see them live… that was the first of many moments where I felt like I was getting away with something… I kept looking around at the crowd, thinking, did that really just happen? And we saw it?

 

Most Fun Show.
After that, I reunited with the group. The day’s excitement was all catching up with us and we looked pretty sleepy. Vampire Weekend took the stage in no time and provided the needed recharge. I’ve been reading a lot about this band on blogs, but found the clips online to be kind of weak. They certainly brought the energy to their live show, magenta spot lights and all. In my opinion, Vampire Weekend wins as the Most Fun show of Bonnaroo. The band seemed excited to be opening the festival and the singer struck that perfect pitch between friendly and confident. At one point, he recommended we pogo or twist to the next song. And did we ever.

 

Nicest Surprise.
Friday’s schedule was impossibly stacked with great acts and I wish I would have admitted defeat early on. We commuted back from HQ in time for Minus the Bear at THAT tent. They were loud and jittery and just too much for me to take that early in the “morning” (it was 3pm).

Jason and I were sitting on a hay bale, sweating and trying to get motivated when we had the most pleasant discovery of the weekend– Edgar Meyer was about to take the stage with Bela Fleck. People who are into Bluegrass already know about these guys, but I came to Bonnaroo to see MIA and !!!, so it was kind of a shock to find myself in The Other Tent, covered with goosebumps, giddy with the display of acoustic talent onstage. My Dad has always listened to Bela Fleck, so I knew he was the guy who played unexpected stuff on the banjo. And Jason got into Edgar Meyer when he transposed a bunch of classical cello stuff to the stand up bass. It seemed like everybody in that tent, musicians and music lovers alike, was just completely ecstatic. Like it was a historic jam that everyone was happy to be present. I guess this is why hippies follow Widespread Panic around.

 

Disco Matinee
!!! followed by M.I.A. just about destroyed THAT tent on Friday afternoon. The singer for !!! had us all screaming and laughing trying to match his manic stripper dance moves. Then M.I.A. finally took the stage and invited everyone to come up and dance with her. Glee, bouncing, sweating ensued.

 

New Heartthrobs
I fell in love with Jack White on the jumbotron. I watched a ton of guys with guitars last weekend, but Jack White is the real deal. He seems to totally dwell in this stylized blues/rock persona– some timeless, black-clad, dictator like a cross between Anton Chigurrh and Ziggy Stardust. The Raconteurs are being hyped as a “real” band, and not just a Jack White vehicle, but I’m not convinced. I could watch him nonstop. The man is dangerous.

Meanwhile, Justin and I both had such a crush on Memphis’ Amy LaVere, we snuck backstage to give her a lemonade. I think we first heard Ms. LaVere’s songbird blues on an Oxford American compilation. They compared her stylings to Dolly Parton meets Ella Fitzgerald. The Troo Music Lounge– a tent really– didn’t do her velvety voice justice, but she could rock the stand up bass. She was so tiny and flattered when we delivered the lemonade. It was definitely a highlight of the whole festival for my nephew.

Saddest Defeat
I could list all the bands I’m sorry I missed. My Morning Jacket would be at the top of that list. We all had to make some painful decisions between favorites, or between standing and sleeping. Sleep won on Friday night.

 

Well, now I can say I’ve seen them.
Half the fun of seeing a show is bragging rights. Cat Power and BB King were kind of forgettable, but at least I can say I’ve seen them. The same goes for Chris Rock and Metallica. Entertaining, possibly historic performances that are already a blur. Pearl Jam did not disappoint. They brought back a lot of memories from high school. They seemed genuinely awed by the audience and the opportunity to perform for at Bonnaroo (this makes a difference, I think).

 

Still Can’t Believe it
I am still googling “Kanye West + Bonnaroo” to find some kind of suitable explanation for what went down on Saturday night. How could this happen? Don’t concert organizers and their legal teams have ridiculously thorough contracts that prevent these kind of performer fiascos? Kanye West might as well have cancelled. Considering the 80,000 tickets sold with his name on them, I am baffled that there is no lawsuit pending against him. We waited til 4 am, telling ourselves we would be rewarded with a life-changing show, then finally bailed. It was daybreak when we got home. The birdsong kept me awake for a little while.

The last drop
All I could manage on Sunday was Aimee Mann and Broken Social Scene and that was more than enough. Aimee was a cool and confident performer. She sounds even better live than on repeat on my iPod. BSS blasted us out with something like 7 guitarists on stage at once. Both made me realize they have a LOT more music than I'm familiar with and left me wanting more.

Mystery architecture off I-675

We spotted it again last weekend– this cool-looking building up on a hill overlooking I-675 just south 285. It has been under construction for years now and is starting to look like a temple or a chalet or some eccentric mansion. Well, most anything looks exotic along this stretch of freight liners and landfills. All I can tell is there's a steep red roof. I think that's it in the upper left corner of the photo. Does anyone know what it is?

I Love Wayfield Foods

I’m always griping about “Wayward” Foods, but only when I'm feeling deprived. The truth is, I love the Wayfield. I go there at least once a week because it's at the end of my street and on most days it's easy to find parking. They're compact and clean and unpretentious. So what if they don’t have neat stuff like gorgonzola, fennel, soy creamer or practically anything organic? For sandwich bread, half-and-half, an emergency roll of cookie dough or a forgotten lemon, it's swell having a Wayfield Foods within walking distance.

I finally confessed my love for the Wayfield last night. Lacking the mental stamina for a trip to the Whole Foods singles scene or a suburban Publix, we dropped by after dinner to pick up some milk and cereal. I was singing Wayfield's praises right into the produce section where I spotted some "Georgia White Dirt" for sale. I’ve heard of old timers eating this stuff to settle an upset stomach. And I’ve seen it for sale at roadside boiled p-nut stands and such. It says right on the package “not for human consumption,” but it’s shelved right between the cane sugar, plantains, corn husks and yellow root. (I had to look it up. I think its another herbal remedy.) I bet you can't get that at Trader Joes.

All the young couples moving to the Southside bemoan the lack of good grocery stores. Its a neighborhood subject we always bring up, like the weather or the traffic. And its true. It seems like there are liquor stores and fried chicken chains and hot wing joints everywhere but very little access to fresh, nutritious foods. The people in the checkout line with me at the Kroger Citi-Center or Sav-a-Lot are buying boxed, canned and processed foods, so the fresh produce selection is always pretty weak. (By the way, Sav-a-Lot makes Wayfield look like freakin Dean & Deluca. Slashed cardboard boxes in the aisles serve as display racks, generic Oreos spilled out on the shelves, flies in the freezer.) And its not just the locals. I have some suburban relatives who don’t buy veggies unless they're processed and packaged and marketed to them with a name like “Simply Potatoes.”

I guess I also love Wayfield because it bears a resemblance to the A&P and Winn Dixie of my youth in Stumptown. Cheese came in yellow and orange, rectangle or square. Even 15 years agao, you couldn't find rice cakes or pita bread and hummus. Your selection was limited to the name brand and the no-name brand and not much in between. But you could ride your bike there and back.

Persuasive writing

File this under future assignments for my future writing students: Write a profanity-laced flyer persuading me that your dog is magnificent.

Someone brilliant or someone overwhelmed with heartfelt emotion wrote this. I can't tell which. Maybe both. Either way, behold Xerxes! This is another internet parody that makes me laugh in wonder. I just wish I could've experienced this flyer on a telephone pole instead of a blog.

Flagrant Violation

Failure to Obey a Traffic Control Device
Originally uploaded by hundredsofbillions

Jetsom

One of my New Year's resolutions was to clean out the garage and transform it into a working printshop. That means letting go of a bunch of old junk projects that have been piling up. Emboldened by our recent success with Craigslist, (we sold an old sink at 200% profit) yesterday I posted a new round of offerings. The photos and half-hearted copywriting really capture a funny moment in my life... its a catalog of my dumpster-diving over the last couple years. I had high hopes for some of this stuff... now I just want the cash and the space. Within an hour, I had several takers. People are especially curious about the safe!

Diebold Steel Safe - $10



Just what you've been looking for...a massive, oldschool steel safe. If you can open it, you can have what's inside! This big heavy thing came with our house and its kind of a mystery. We just want to get rid of it.
25"x42"x25" deep.
   
Vintage Retro Highchair - $15



Scruffy little chrome high chair that made us nostalgic so we picked it up off the side of the road. The little animals look very '70s. Clean it up with steel wool and add it to your retro baby room.

Vintage Retro Table - $40



Here's another cute diner-style table from the '60s.
Chrome and formica with a red teapot pattern.

Vintage Retro Maytag Washing Machine - $60



Rusty old Maytag washer from the '40s with a wringer on top.
Looks like a cartoon.
Maybe you'll plant a palm tree in it?

Vintage Retro Diner Table - $40



Classic chrome & formica diner table from the '60s with a 12" leaf. Its been used as a work table, but with a little steel wool on those legs, it'll shine again.
With the leaf its 59"x35" and 29" tall.

Vintage Retro Pedestal Sink



Elegant old cast iron pedestal sink. A classy addition to your renovated bathroom. Considering its age, the finish is in great shape... just needs a good scrub.
The top measures 23"x20" and its 30" tall.
Asking $60 or best offer.

HON Steel File Cabinet - $30

Here it is. The file cabinet of your dreams. You know you don't want to go pay retail for something to hold your boringest paperwork.
in classic drab taupe
3 drawers & a door.
29"x38" and 16" deep.
$30 or just make an offer

Vintage Retro Wood Side Table - $25



Neat little solid wood side table. I picked it up because I love those atomic era looking legs. Needs to be refinished, but with a light sanding and paint job, this thing will look rad.
The top is 24" x 24" and its 25" tall
Asking $25, but whatever.

Reading

I've been looking for this book for a long time. I need all of y'all to read it so we can freak out together. Meanwhile, I feel a little anxious carrying around a book with a cover like this and posting it here. Will onlookers take me for a redneck or a liberal?

In reading it so far, I have been inspired to:
-Visit Mozeley Park and Peyton Forest
-Find the old Nathan Bedford Forest Klavern No. 1 on Whitehall Street
-Hunt down the original layout for "An Appeal for Human Rights" and reproduce it on T-shirts
-Call the author
-Grill my parents about school desegretation
-Take up my project on Moreland Avenue Baptist again
-Ask a real estate agent about the term "blockbusting"
-Pray for healing

Why its hard to get into Poetry around here.

I’m taking baby steps into the magical world of Poetry, right? Trying to convince myself that its relevant and substantial and not just for angsty teens or the overeducated NPR crowd (I qualify for both categories). I don’t have these issues with music and visual art, I guess because I know what I like. But poetry is such a struggle. I just haven’t found a literary scene around here that appeals to me on all aesthetic levels.

So I’m trying to fit more poetry into my days. And that means reading more poet’s blogs. Attending readings. Supporting local writers. Not immediately cussing and changing the channel when some poet starts over-annunciating on the radio.

To this lofty end, I was excited to stumble upon Poetry Atlanta and the Atlanta Review today. And then mystified by the utter disregard for design. The above "pond" is what greets you on the homepage. Despite this design philosophy, this is no amateur organization. They have grants from city, county, state and national arts foundations. These people are published, highly educated and acclaimed poets. And they’ve compiled loads of valuable information here.

But I couldn’t get past those spirograph-looking things. I couldn’t even bring myself to read the guidelines. And the red sperm? Is this a joke? I feel that I risk invoking some seriously bad Poetry karma for airing my grievances this way. But this is why the thought of sitting through an open mic night at Java Monkey just fills me with dread.

There is no excuse for bad design. Any design student would do this job for FREE just to have a major arts publication in their portfolio. Do poets think that design is irrelevant or unsubstantial? Something for the corporate world or visually obsessed? Sometimes good design makes words and writing unnecessary, but never, ever vice versa.

I like him already

To be with God is really to be involved with some enormous, overwhelming desire, and joy, and power which you cannot control, which controls you. God is a means of liberation and not a means to control others.

- James Baldwin
Nobody Knows My Name