Archive for the 'books' Category

Underground divisions in Flagstaff are lame and make no sense.

Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009

I love Flagstaff’s underground music scene, but there are striking divisions that aren’t very logical. Nobody really talks about this, but I think it is time we start.

I go to all kinds of shows in basements, living rooms, kitchens, and many other hole-in-the-wall places that, in my opinion, successfully combat the fact that in this town, there are little options for all-age venues. I know Tacos Locos is also shaping up to be a great alternative. Though, admittingly, I haven’t been to a show in a few months, I love going to them. I see people there from 14-years-old to 35 and older. You don’t grow out of punk, as they say, you just move to the back. Punk at these shows is always varied slightly – from conventional punk like Killer Dreamer to psychedelic punk like Triclops, folk punk like Andrew Jackson Jihad, and even the hip hop stylings of Hawnay Troof. I always have a good time at these shows. At these shows the PBR flows like rain mixed with sweat.

Periodically, I went to shows at the 321 house or that other house up the hill and the crowds were always strikingly different (I say “went” because I haven’t been in a while and I don’t even know if they still have shows). This is the house whose label preaches “music for social change.” This is a passionate bunch who write songs about racism/sexism/homophobia/ and any other social ill you can think of. Despite their celebration of individuality, however, there are a lot of conventions that, after a while got a little annoying to me. Black. Always where black. Fliers, patches, and t-shirts are always black with white writing, usually the writing is illegible. Black metal, thrash, crust music and little else. Aside from that stuff, I have to say that when I went to those shows, people were always very nice to me. I found it much easier to talk and relate to the people that go to these shows because they are usually very socially conscious and those conversations are simply more interesting than talking about why Tacate tastes better than PBR. One time I went to a Body Parts show there and someone in the crowd was being disrespectful to a woman. The whole crowd immediately kicked him out of the house. I thought that was really cool. Then I got to thinking, if their goal is social change, maybe that wasn’t the best tactic. Anyway…another big difference is that most of these shows do not allow alcohol (this is mostly a precaution so when the cops come, nobody runs and/or gets arrested).

On Friday night, I went to a fundraiser for Táala Hooghan Infoshop. It was an all-ages show with a few bands from out-of-town, and of course Blackfire. There were tables set up, Food Not Bombs, free zines, other stuff, and short films from Outta Your Backpack Media. Present were people of all races, ages….families, hipsters, hippies, moms, dads, kids, punks….I even bought a book that is amazing so far. It’s called Columbus and Other Cannibals.

From all the shows I go to, I was surprised that I recognized only TWO people at this fundraiser. Granted, everyone and their mom have seen Blackfire by now, but there were two other bands, one from Tuba and another all the way from NYC. And this was a fundraiser for the Infoshop for christ’s sake. My girlfriend looked at me and asked, “Where are all your punk friends? I thought punks care about important stuff?” Well, some…

I tried to explain that the music scene is divided. Some people get together because they want to rock out and drink beer. Some get together for a purpose, social change. Even if their approach can be misguided at times, they’re looking for more than a new 7-inch and a hangover. Granted, I love drinking and rocking as much as the next guy, but divisions like this are detrimental to a city as small as ours. I understand much of the divisions stem from some scattered incidences and confrontations. I remember a while back there was a lot of controversy about cocaine in the punk scene. And if you care about social change, coke is obviously very problematic. Plus, it reeks of class privileges and it’s just gross.

There are a few people, and I mean a small group of people that can float freely between the two underground scenes, but many people are trapped on either side. Many of these divisions were forged by people who don’t even live here anymore. It’s time people got over themselves and came together. Stop with the knee jerk reactions to people that might be new to complicated ideas. Everybody grows at their own pace, but everybody grows. This town is too small for that kind of drama.

And if you care about anything remotely important, and we all do, support the infoshop. If they can’t pay their rent, they’ll be gone and the community will lose a very valuable resource.

Terry Tempest Williams tonight (still!)

Monday, February 9th, 2009

Holy creeping crapola is it snowing out there. NAU closed at three, the library is closing at 5, BUT Terry Tempest Williams is still speaking tonight!

7:30PM @ the High Country Conference Center on Butler (I think this is one of the new buildings next to the Drury Inn. And it’s free.

Terry Tempest Williams is one of my favorite writers. So elegant and poetic, she can surely make the most deep-seated city dweller fall in love with the beautiful southwest. I hope I can give her a big hug tonight.

Terry Tempest Williams, a naturalist whose writing explores the connections between environmental issues and social justice, will present a reading of her new book “Finding Beauty in a Broken World” in an event co-sponsored by Grand Canyon Trust and Museum of Northern Arizona. Terry is the recipient of the Grand Canyon Trust’s “Trees Fellowship,” established to advance the Trust’s mission by fostering broader public appreciation of canyon country conservation challenges and by publicly exploring the steps society must take to sustain the health of this magnificent part of the world.

Burger King cologne?

Thursday, December 18th, 2008

A friend sent me this. I thought it was a joke.

The home of the Whopper has launched a new men’s body spray called “Flame.” The company describes the spray as “the scent of seduction with a hint of flame-broiled meat.”

I wonder what Carol J. Adams has to say about this….

I heart Terry Tempest Williams

Friday, May 30th, 2008

If you haven’t read her amazingly beautiful book, Red, you should check it out. But if you’re thinking about leaving the Southwest, I would suggest not reading it.

Here is a great excerpt. I wish I wrote this.

“I write to make peace with the things I cannot control. I write to create red in a world that often appears black and white. I write to discover. I write to uncover. I write to meet my ghosts. I write to begin a dialogue. I write to imagine things differently and in imagining things differently perhaps the world will change. I write to honor beauty. I write to correspond with my friends. I write as a daily act of improvisation. I write because it creates my composure. I write against power and for democracy. I write myself out of my nightmares and into my dreams. I write in solitude born out of community. I write to the questions that shatter my sleep. I write to the answers that keep me complacent. I write to remember. I write to forget. I write to the music that opens my heart. I write to quell the pain. I write to migrating birds with the hubris of language. I write as a form of translation. I write with the patience of melancholy in winter. I write because it allows me to confront that which I do not know. I write as an act of faith. I write as an act of slowness. I write to record what I love in the face of loss. I write because it makes me less fearful of death. I write as an exercise in pure joy. I write as one who walks on the surface of a frozen river beginning to melt. I write out of my anger and into my passion. I write from the stillness of night anticipating—always anticipating. I write to listen. I write out of silence. I write to soothe the voices shouting inside me, outside me, all around. I write I write because of the humor of our condition as humans. I write because I believe in words. I write because I do not believe in words. I write because it is a dance with paradox. I write because you can play on the page like a child left alone in the sand. I write because it belongs to the force of the moon: high tide, low tide. I write because it is the way I talk long walks. I write as a bow to wilderness. I write because I believe it can create a path in darkness. I write because as a child I spoke a different language. I write with a knife carving each word through the generosity of trees. I write as ritual. I write because I am not employable. I write out of my inconsistencies. I write because then I do not have to speak. I write with the colors of memory. I write as a witness to what I have seen. I write as a witness to what I imagine. I write by grace and grit. I write out of indigestion. I write when I am starving. I write when I am full. I write to the dead. I write out of the body. I write to put food on the table. I write on the other side of procrastination. I write for the children we never had. I write for the love of ideas. I write for the surprise of a beautiful sentence. I write with the belief of alchemists. I write knowing I will always fail. I write knowing words always fall short. I write knowing I can be killed by my own words, stabbed by syntax, crucified by both understanding and misunderstanding. I write out of ignorance. I write by accident. I write past the embarrassment of exposure. I keep writing and suddenly, I am overcome by the sheer indulgence, the madness, the meaninglessness, the ridiculousness of this list. I trust nothing, especially myself, and slide headfirst into the familiar abyss of doubt and humiliation and threaten to push the delete button on my way down, or madly erase each line, pick up the paper and rip it to shreds—and then realize, it doesn’t matter, words are always a gamble, words are splinters of cut glass. I write because it is dangerous, a bloody risk, like love, to form the words, to say the words, to touch the source, to be touched, to reveal how vulnerable we are, how transient we are. I write as though I am whispering in the ear of the one I love.”

Aradia closing, needs volunteers

Wednesday, April 16th, 2008

Flagstaff: As you probably know, our local independent bookstore, Aradia Books, is closing.

Aradia, Flagstaff’s oldest bookstore, has served the local
community for 28 years. As Flagstaff’s last full-service
independent bookstore, we carry books by local authors and are
committed to representing Flagstaff’s racial, ethnic, sexual, and
political minorities. We promote cooperation rather than
competition.

Well, corporate competition has moved in and, again, has helped to destroy the local flavor. I’m so tired of this.

Did you know that just thirty years ago, the busy Milton area (fast food, target, chase, barnes and nobles, starbucks….etc.) used to be horse corals? Every year, as corporate chains move in and local businesses move out, our unique little town looks more and more like any other city in the country. Does anyone know what ever happened to the “Unchain Flagstaff” hoopla of a few years ago?

Last year, we lost our only independent record store and the only independently run movie theater. Now, Rambo 4 runs on multiple screens at Harkins and the Darfur documentary isn’t even coming here. Anyway….

For the next couple weeks, Aradia is in need of volunteers to pack up books and help with general cleaning/clearing out. If you can help, just show up Monday-Saturday 10:30am-5:00pm through the end of April.