April 28, 2014
Didn't It Rain Children
Can't get this big mama diva's voice out of my head. Woman could rip on that guitar! I would take Sister Rosetta Tharpe over Beyonce any day. It rained and rained today and I must have played this song 30 times for Jackson. No wonder he wailed buckets. He prefers Solange. Rain and tears and swimming lessons for babies. My social calendar is really cracking' these days. Oye vey what is my life coming to? April showers bring May flowers. It must really be spring, nothing less. Irises fight for their right to flower power on Victor Street.
In other news, a recent interview conducted by ye 'ol kind eyes Chad Hagen surfaced today. Chad, an age old acquaintance of mine has been busy interviewing various Winnipeg characters in his cosy East Broadway home for his new podcast called Take a Seat with Chad Hagen. The three previous episodes released each Monday throughout the course of April ranged from delightful to hysterical to heavy and hopeful. Initially, I was downright frightened at the thought of a stiff exchange but OOOH OOH CHILD was I ever delighted by the instant ease and flow of conversation. Over the course of an hour and a half of conversational meandering, we touch upon the merit of wood wandering childhoods, the making of slow art, the importance of theory of photography and the joys of making and eating slop. Sound riveting? It was my first foray into the podcast world, forgive me. Rookie Hour. I do recall laughing throughout the entire exchange. Always a good sign when one begins the process crippled with fear and hesitation and ends on a triumphantly satisfied note. In a tiny room at a worn wood table surrounded by plants, we slipped on headphones, adjusted our mics and cheersed to quality bourbon, to taking risks and to Take[ing] a Seat!
Enjoy. Click here to have a listen.
The kimono fell to the floor and she stood exposed once more.
I feel very wacky tobacky today. Where are you LA LUNA? I can't seem to place you from my corner thanks to all that grey. It goes.
Posted by Margot Pollo