Posted in My Poetry with tags life, poetry on March 29, 2010 by sethdellinger
Yes, to the fresh
blueberry cobbler
even though I’m not
hungry and it will
double my bill,
because I’m on the verge
of something and can’t finish
my bacon omelet,
because this waitress
who never smiles,
whose eyes are hard
from seeing,
has somehow noticed
that I am on the verge
of something
and when she offers the cobbler
there is that other thing in it—
she and I, part of that small
black teepee of crows
I saw on the road this morning,
all business, sharing
this beautiful, violent day.
Just a few more notes on the 7mary3 show last night, for the few of my readers who do care.
I just CANNOT piece the setlist together, and no one over on the message board is posting about the show. So. I can tell you how it began:
1. Last Kiss
2. Settle Up
3. RockCrown
4. Was a Ghost
5. Roderigo
6. Headstrong
That’s as far as I can get in sequence. The rest of the songs played were:
Sleepwalking, Dislocated, Over Your Shoulder, My My, Out For Blood, Cumbersome, Honey of Generation, Blue Letter, Water’s Edge, Wait, Laughing Out Loud, Big Bird. There may be a few others I can’t quite remember.
“Out For Blood” is the new song. It’s good. It’s rock-alt-country-blues. Think thi bonus song on Orange Ave. It’s like that.
“Big Bird” is a cover they’ve been doing for quite some time. It’s by a guy named Eddie Floyd. It rules. It was their show closer. Here is a video of Seven Mary Three playing the song (though not at the Allentown show):
Turnout for this show was much, much better than the Reading show I went to a few months ago. It was still fairly sad. There were perhaps 50 people watching 7m3, but after the (literally) fifteen people at the Reading show, it felt like freakin’ Madison Square Garden. And there were GOOD fans. They weren’t “Cumberfucks”, as they are called on the 7m3 message boards. These fans knew all the albums. And they cheered and sang along. Made me feel good!
Immediately after the applause had died down after the opening song, a really drunk guy yelled “Jason Ross! You are STILL the shit!” I winced, unsure how the famously moody Ross would react. He loved it! Exchanging grins with guitarist Thomas Juliano, Ross said “Thank you. Every day I wake up and I say to myself…’Am I still the shit?’ And some days, somebody tells me.” *Long pause* “And some days, they don’t.” GOOD STUFF.
This band was in a terrific mood all night. You could see Jason Ross’s smile clear as day through his ridiculous beard. Juliano was jumping around the stage like a 19 year old. Even Casey Daniel was moving around, grinning ear-to-ear.
Thomas Juliano
Sometime during the first few songs, somebody yelled out “Roderigo”, a song from their first album that is a major concert rarity. Next song, they played it! (it wasn’t on the setlist, I could see the setlist from where I was standing. Songs removed from the setlist: “Upside Down” and “Dreaming Against Me”.). Anyway, this must have made the crowd basically think the band was going to continue taking requests. The rest of the night, in between songs, seemingly everyone was shouting out song names (even I, once, shouted for “Where Are You Calling From?”…more of a longshot than ‘Roderigo’!). You might think this woul dpiss off some bands, but they just kept laughing. At one point Ross turned to Juliano and in a very funny voice said “They’re all screaming at me!”. Later, he made a ‘calm down’ motion with his hands and whispered “I’ve got a list.” You had to be there, but trust me, very funny stuff.
After seeing them twice touring on their new album, I can say with certainty that at this point in my life, “Was a Ghost” is my favorite part of a 7m3 show. It’s not a huge rocker, but it’s just really freakin good, and it gets a whole lot better in the live setting. These guys really know how to play this song!
After the show, Burke and I were leaving the pit in front of the stage when I saw that Jason Ross was hanging out down in the actual club, talking to fans, signing things, etc. So I gave Burke my camera and waited my turn. Now, I’ve spoken to Ross once before (and you can read that blog entry here), but Ross was NOT in a good mood that day, so I just shook his hand and said thank you. THIS time, though, I emoted a bit, telling him the music had “meant alot to me” and had “gotten me through some tough times”. He probably hears stuff like that alot, but it felt good to say it anyway, even if it is cheesy and cliche. Because it’s also true. Oh, and the picture:
What a show! I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the setlist up (I have a really good feeling no one else is going to post it for me to copy it and I have very little faith I can do it from memory). but highlights:
–“Roderigo”. Period. I had never seen it live and I don’t expect to ever again.
–A re-tooled “Dislocated” with an AMAZING jam session in the middle.
–“Sleepwalking”!!!!!!! my first time ever seeing it!!! LOVELOVELOVE!!!
–“Cumbersome” in the middle of the set! Craziness!
–They debuted a new song called “Out For Blood”…great song!
I think I’ll probably have a full-length blog on the experience tomorrow. Oh, also, I got to talk to Jason after the show and get my pic with him:
While perusing the local used bookstore recently, after spending more than an hour ambling around, I walked out the front door with only a tiny, aged copy of Three Plays by Maxwell Anderson, an almost-forgotten playwright from the turn of the century. It is a tiny book, small enough to fit in a front or back pocket, despite containing three full-length dramatic plays. For the privilege of owning this book, I paid two U.S. dollars, in cash.
I got home with the book, sat it on my coffee table, and thought not much of it for a few days. Then, in a moment of distraction, I picked it up and leafed through it. It’s pages were thin, worn, and browned with age. It had that terrific musty smell of time. It was, quite simply, an old book. You are all familiar with those.
I happened upon the copyright page and noted, with little interest, the book was printed in 1962. This seemed appropriate and not too notable. As I stood up from my couch to go pee, I for some reason did the math in my head. 48 years. The book was 48 years old.
Now, 48 years is not an incredibly long time. My parents are older than 48. The company I work for is older than 48. The building I live in is much older. And on and on. But, I thought, 48 years was a long time for a book to be around and then be bought by me for 2 dollars for, basically, no good reason other than I wanted to buy something.
48 years. Half a century. The introduction—by editor George Freedley–still reads like the book is hot off the presses. Here we can read Freedley bemoaning the fact that the great playwright Maxwell Anderson died before his time. Meanwhile, in 2010, poor Freedley himself has been dead for decades. Here we can read as Freedley asserts that Anderson will have a resurgence in popularity after the book’s publication. He never did. Anderson’s contemporary, Eugene O’Neil, now holds the place in American literature that Anderson may have held, had things gone just a tad differently.
But more interestingly, I have trouble wrapping my head around the potential histories of this copy of the book. 48 years. Had this been someone’s treasured copy of a favorite author? And why did they part with it? Did they die? Or was it owned by someone who didn’t care about it at all, tucked away in a box in an attic, or absent-mindedly shelved in the guest room? Was I perhaps not the first person to buy it second-hand? How many yard sales had it seen, how many used bookstores? If it was only 20 years old, or even 30, I might not have so many questions, but no object makes it 48 years in this world without a worthy history.
I can’t help but think, sometimes, that nothing is just an object.
I know a poem is not
a business proposition but,
last night, in the small village
I visited in my dream
bells were tolling from four
of the town’s six churches.
What the hell!
A friendly citizen smiled
at my wonder. The priests
and pastors rent the bells
anytime but Sunday or,
of course, during funerals
or marriages. They did, however,
ring for birthdays, new babies,
graduations, anniversaries,
even some divorces. And,
the citizen whispered to me,
when the town clerk
married the mayor’s ex-wife
the mayor paid for twelve hours
worth of ringing.
Three hours is seventy-nine dollars.
The day the team
won the championship
almost everyone chipped in
to ring all bells all night.
A few complained but
the priests and ministers
only smiled benevolently.
Mary and I saw these chocolate “gangsta” bunnies for sale at Wal-Mart and couldn’t help but wonder if there was a racist element to them, though we really weren’t sure. Notice the ‘bling’ and the gang sign that the male bunny is sporting. (I thought I got one male and one female in the pic of the actual chocolate, but it’s just two males. The female is fairly unadorned, but sports a candy necklace).
How many minutes of fame does all this stuff add up to?
(before you call me an arrogant idiot…this is meant quite ironically. Though it is all true.)
1. My mother was photographed riding a bicycle with a very young me in a basket on the front of the bike, and my sister behind her on the bike. This photograph appeared in a parenting magazine in the early 80s.
2. Around age 14, I was on the local news, cheering at a game of Harrisburg’s minor league soccer team. It was a close-up.
3. I had a letter printed in an issue of the short-lived Marvel comic book DOOM 2099.
4. I appeared on the cover of my company’s newsletter, The Smile, beside the company president. We were both wearing sombreros.
5. Although miniscule, my picture has appeared in Entertainment Weekly.
6. An issue of the Shippensburg University literary magazine was dedicated to me.
7. After a “multi-cultural” day at my high school, my photo appeared in the Carlisle Sentinel. I was once again wearing a sombrero. I was eating tacos. It was a close-up.
8. I once sold a dozen cookies to Earl David Reed, host of 105.7 the X’s “morning zoo” show here in Harrisburg.
9. In college, I was on a terrible, terrible radio show called “The Worst Show in Radio”. Really, that’s what we called it. It was on one day a week at 3am.
10. My dad was the announcer and then coach of the Newville Cardinals for a few years. That aint nothing to sneeze at.
What do you think? I’m saying I’ve got maybe 4 minutes in.
1. A few hours ago, I was at a place called Chloe Pizza here in Carlisle. I was there because, even though it seems to be your typical “strip mall” pizza shop (it’s the place by Giant supermarket) I have found it to have the best pizza in town. So I was eating a coupla slices, watching CNN on the TV they have in there. During a commercial break, some commerical comes on (I have no idea what it was for) and it started out with this line: “What if taking a chance didn’t exist?” I found this line so ridiculous and phony that I shouted “Oh my God!”. Note: I was far from the only person in the joint, but I was dining alone. Can you say embarrassing?
2. There’s certainly going to be a long blog about this in the near future, but I just want to put it out there that Pearl Jam is most likely not my favorite band anymore. I know to some of you, this seems like no big deal, while others of you may find this news mortifying. PJ was such a big part of how I defined myself for so many years. What’s keeping me from making an official announcement is that I have no idea what replaces PJ as my favorite band; I may no longer have just one favorite band. Things just don’t seem that cut-and-dried to me anymore. I still do and always will love Pearl Jam—big problem is, I don’t really listen to them much anymore. I’ll update on this once I’ve got it all worked out.
3. It’s official: something’s wrong with my back.
4. I just watched this. You should too:
5. As I was getting out of my car after I ate at Chloe Pizza, the NPR program I had been listening to (“Talk of the Nation”)—which I hadn’t really been paying attention to—must have been discussing something terribly interesting. I heard this just before I turned this ignition off:
“—and the world’s largest armada of advanced underwater robots is on it’s way—”
I daren’t turn the ignition back on to hear the rest.
1. Being stuck in traffic on a bridge in a windstorm which is undergoing structural contsruction? Not so much.
2. I could not have had a better day for a 3+ hour solo drive. Beautiful.
3. Having not smoked for almost 6 months has really improved my ability to sing very loud and obnoxiously while I drive. This may be the best side-effect yet.
4. Why is it always 10 degrees colder in the west of the state than in the east of the state? I mean, like, always.
5. I can now officially drive from Carlisle to the Eat ‘n Park corporate office in Pittsburgh without any directional help, either printed, written, or GPS. This may sound like a not-big deal to you, but navigating to a specific point across an entire state without aid is not a trait usually attributable to me.
6. This hotel’s computer is slower than my computer at home.
7. The Monongahela rules because it’s so obviously shitty.
8. Seriously…why are they still letting Dianne Rehm be on the radio? I am not exaggerating to say she can barely speak.
9. I am definitely swimming in this hotel’s pool within the hour. I just walked past it and there was NOBODY there.
Dear spring-like weather: I am luxuriating in you. You exfoliate me. You are my erogenous zone. I am dancing to Hey Rosetta! songs in only my underwear, I am dancing while shaving my face, I am eating the crisp apples without a paper towel and it is dripping, dripping, I have the windows down, I am laughing at jokes I say out loud to myself. I know you’re not here to stay quite yet, but I just wanted to say I love you.
Posted in My Poetry with tags poetry on March 3, 2010 by sethdellinger
The moonflowers spiral open gradually.
Over an hour passes before the creases smooth out,
the round white flowers shimmer in the porch light.
She tells people nothing surprises her anymore.
But these flowers, wider than the palm
of her hand, keep her on the porch watching
moths and small night insects bump
through the large, heart-shaped leaves.
Over the yard, bats swoop and squeak.
They turn and fly up into the dark sky
anytime she tries to look at them.
She keeps her expectations simple.
This way she’s not disappointed
or surprised (she hopes) by what
whirls around or away from her life, glittering
for just a moment or two
before puckering up in the sunlight
or just plain vanishing in the dark.
Notes From the Fire 