Friday, February 15, 2019

The Bookshop

This is a delicate gem that takes its time, perhaps in the same manner one embraces the essence of being surrounded by books and having the chance to take a stroll among many dusty pages.

Emily Mortimer is the heart of this story, and she's stunning, nuanced, and steely when needed. Bill Nighy, however, is also on his game, as is the ever-present Patricia Clarkson, playing one of those domineering types that speaks in honeyed tones as she's pouring poison in your beverage.

Google it. Find reviews from national critics you trust.

Or, take my word.

And perhaps you'll discover as I did that this quiet, unassuming film is a keen surprise of an experience.

Sunday, February 10, 2019

Americana Finds Its Winter Venue








We (my wife Ruth and i) flew to Fort Lauderdale on January 28, 2019. Then drove down to Key West the following morning in a silver Mustang convertible, listening to many of the bands we'd see perform at Mile 0 Fest in Key West .... sunset cruise that early evening, then dinner at Blue Heaven, a Keys icon created by a chef who began his career, allegedly, at the Carolina Inn in Chapel Hill.

Makes a good story, and that's one of the themes in Key West in my view ....a story is a good story not so much that it is true, but that its telling keeps one's interest.

When you mix Hemingway with Buffett, vast throngs of cruise ship types with crusty locals, as well as  codger travelers who have come south and west for music, food and yee hah ... it's a fine line between Saturday night and Sunday morning.

This was the second Mile O Fest. Program states 60 bands were on the island, performing on 13 stages scattered about, with the prime focus on the new Truman Waterfront Park Amphitheater.

Was told 3,500 tickets were sold to Mile O Fest, but I doubt that many ever congregated at the same time at Truman Park.

Music began each afternoon at 3 p.m. at Truman Park, while the other 12 stages had earlier start times and much, much later end times. One can listen to music almost non-stop, if one chooses.

We took a cab from our hotel at 1:45, to get in line as the gates opened at 2 p.m.

We'd purchased folding chairs at a Dick's in Miami, and they served us well.

This was the second Mile O Fest.

Less than 2,200 attended last year. This year 3.500. Festival organizer now considering two weeks of Mile 0 Fest 3.
For folks like me who love the music of the late 60s/70s, this genre is it right now.

The better bands I saw read the energy of the crowd perfectly with well-timed fast songs, morphing into a pithy number to let us all catch our breath.

I happened to stumble on information for this festival by accident in late September as I was trying to find a release date for Flatland Cavalry's second record, and I noticed the date on their tour link. 

If you are a fan of Americana/Red Dirt music, bands such as Reckless Kelly, Wade Bowen, Flatland Cavalry, Ray Wylie Hubbard, The Band of Heathens, American Aquarium, Mickey and the Motorcars, Jason Eady, Cody Canada, Trampled By Turtles, Tyler Childers, Jamie Lin Wilson, Bri Bagwell, Mike and The Moonpies and many, many more ...

If you enjoy warm weather in winter ...

If you have been to Key West and had a terrific time, or if you have never been to Key West, and sense that it might be appealing..

If you enjoy walking in essentially an outdoor mall down Duval Street, tracing the past, the future and the now at the same time ...

If you like meeting people from all over the world, some of them who dont give a shit about all of the entries above, but give a damn about at least one ...

Then, Mile O Fest is for you.

Eager to return next year. In a big way.


Thursday, February 7, 2019

Flip That Switch


Might be
A power forward
Who loafs on defense.

Might be
A thriller
That uses the dark
To build suspense.

Might be 
A centrist voter
Who slides off the fence.

Might be
A Cuevro driver
Who gets everyone tense.

Just a matter of time
Before that ping
Finds its pong.

Before the young king
Finds his kong.

Before a caged bird
Finds its happy song.

Where ya gonna be
When the lights come on?

Tuesday, February 5, 2019

The Flow






Each afternoon round about five
When the front gate is locked,
The house spirits emerge,
Watching Day-Glo cruisers
Trudge back to the docks.

Then, some ease into the garden.
Others find familiar chairs:
Front porch, side porch.
Some linger near the stairs.

One corner remains open
Until a stocky sort
With a crafted, grayish beard,
And intense, laser eyes
Heads toward his nightly perch.
He’s got a trusty pen and legal pad
In one hand, a half fifth
Of Caldwoods Rum in the other —
A can opener in his back pocket.

Soon, he is surrounded
By a vast throng of mostly
Calico, ginger, and tabby friends
Who dart, meander, scratch and wash
With one shared purpose:
To be close to Papa.

Groucho, the eldest,
Like most veterans,
Knows all he needs to know:
He waits for Ernest to settle,
Then, in one, simple blur of motion
Hops into the lap of laps.

Two of Groucho’s associates,
Perhaps brothers,
Maybe sons,
Tussle near Ernest’s right foot,
While a sister,
Maybe a daughter,
Tugs on the loose shoe-string
Of the opposite foot.

This is them.
Who they are.
What they do.
Forever and key lime
In an evolving paradise.

Yet another conch train
Rumbles past the property on Whitehead,
Heading toward Truman
To take a left on Duval
With speakers blaring.
It's packed with sunburned visitors,
Listening to HE WENT TO PARIS,
The one song Ernest learned by heart
Because it is so true
And so close to his own path.
Each hearing prompts a wry smile:
Ernest knows Jimmy is getting the current laugh.

From time to time,
A nouveau specter
To the Keys
Approaches Ernest on his porch.

“Sir, would you sign this copy.
It would be such an honor.”

Ernest scrawls his name
On the first page of a volume
That only ghosts can see.
Another factor, perhaps,
Why no one reads much any more.

The newbie
Drifts off, 
Clutching his prize,
Gazing back at Ernest
One final time.

“We had our time,”
Ernest says,
Rubbing Groucho’s back,
Whose purr soon rumbles to an island beat.

Groucho shifts 
His focus to the can
Of albacore tuna
In Ernest’s vest pocket.
A casual paw stretches,
Then rests on the shape of the pending treat:
Groucho’s way of reminding Papa,
That, for some,
It’s time for dinner in the Keys.

In the distance,
An Americana band
Has cranked into gear
On the new Truman Park stage
For Mile O Fest,
A freshly minted, Old Town attraction:
What better way to mutter
So long to January and hello to an early spring.

They’re freezing up in Buffalo
While down in the islands.
It’s all about shorts, sun screen
And laissez-faire.

Bands from Texas
And Oklahoma
Remind the crowd 
Of music’s prime purpose:
To connect,
To embrace,
To encourage spirits to soar.
And they do, too.

Back at Hemmingway House,
There’s dancing on the roof,
In the gardens,
On the porch.

Even Ernest
Is tapping his foot,
While Groucho
Eases both paws on his pending can.

Soon, he’ll get that treat
While the sun slowly sinks into the sea.

It’s another night in the Keys,
And if you look close enough,
You, too, can see:
It’s such a fine line
Between what is
And fantasy.