Language is the most unflinching weaponry, the simplest salvation, the hardest spit. I write. Then I search for a stage.
Lyrics
Putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard; keeping your voice on the open air.
Anyone who understands the addiction.
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All Motown all the time: Smokey, the Temps, Miracles, early Jacksons. Also Black Ivory, EW&F, Phyllis Hyman, Atlantic soul, Buddy Guy, James Lee Hooker, Koko Taylor, Elmore James. And James Taylor, cause it's all about the lyric. Also, I'm privy to a staggering database of throwaway oldies--for example, Neil Diamond's "Shilo" and, uh, "Wichita Lineman." That's right, Glen Campbell.You better ask somebody.
I have a 12-year-old. No longer am I subjected to talking donkeies, hoofin' penguins or loquacious animated bovines. Now it's angst-ridden pimply preteens who would think about sex all the time if they only knew what it was.
It's turning us into monosyllabic zombies. Please stop. Pull the plug and write something.
Right now, all I have time for is...remember how I'm gunnin' for that MFA? My reading list is humongous and forever. The next time I'll be able to read strictly for pleasure? Right now, it's lookin' like 2008.
Toi and Cornelius. What they did is a miracle. Lucille. Gwen. Oh, and people who have actually finished their MFAs...