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Showing posts from March, 2009

Obama Ball!

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ART: JAKE VAUGHAN If the Southside of Chicago were to suffer a catastrophe like Katrina, news organizations would deploy and the wider nation would soon learn more about its art and spirit, its sense of decor, and the Southside’s many frames of reference. But without such catastrophe, the nation is now finding the ways of the Southside. And this includes the ways of pickup basketball. It is game different than the professional game, For one, the pickup game has no referees – it finds its morals and regulations in a heated scrum that becomes consensus. Barak Obama found his true home on the Southside of Chicago, and now as he comes to Washington, the U.S. is discovering more about this essential part of the Second City, and how it comes to view the world. Climbing up the political ladder in Chicago, Obama developed a certain degree of street savvy. There as well he came to understand the ways of basketball. As it is in parts of New York City, basketball is one of the essential elements ...

Missing Wes

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Remembering last March, a year ago ... Cecelia’s mother Westein Boston Estrada died March 14 in Pasadena. Of course, my great debt to Wes is that she brought Cecelia into the world. She also let me into her world, which was a hard working positive place. Thought we'd post to last year's site eulogy for Wes's marvellous spirit. You can Read the story .

Estrada Vaughan Family Pictures held with with clotespins on a string and Gould playing Bach

We put a bunch of family fotos up in the Hall. I filmed them. So we had a motion picture as well as snapshots.

Box of glass eyes

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“Some truththing has burst fake and cold upon me” - Gregory Corso, Mutation of the Spirit A box of glass eyes At the Harvard museum Glass eyes look at me with all the tenderness of The glass Sea anemone Or the violent topor of the glass squid Or the hissing imperative Of the nitrous spew scorpion The dusty whimsy Of the visible golden rod As well I see the eyes Thinking about me Like the pacing Dingos caged or The butterflies cased before Jerry Lewis comes dustingWaiting. When the bones in the Valey jump up and start Dancing. When Sammy Davis Jr waddles agin. The glassine eyballs too will fly To their souls’ brilliant pyramids For now there is The pleasant rest of chocolates In a box residing Eyes Made by Von Meyer The pipette wizard Visage manifestor Alchemist maker of the glass flowers people will visit Mélange, transparent, fragile Until the great day of rumbling. Of great spirit dancing Day of glass eyes leaving their box Their case and t...