Sloppy blues means a good time...

Ok - Remember how the entire [our] open door team met up, (even though it was a tad unexpected), at the Jason Mraz concert early this year? Well...we just may do it again...

Bringin' their "laid-back, sloppy blues" to the Spokane Knitting Factory, G. Love & Special Sauce will be arriving February 26. (And...if you couldn't tell by how much we gushed about them headlining performance for Mraz, WE LOVE THEM!) They've got a style and sound like nothing else...nothing I've seen or heard before.

Members Jeffrey Clemens, Jimmy Prescott, and G. Love, (actually born Garrett Dutton, shhh! Don't tell anyone!) have had quite a career. Based in Philly, the trio released their first album in 1994 and nearly achieved 'Gold-status' in sales. Here's where the trouble started; according to MSN's biography of the band, members started "bickering over finances", resulting in a temporary split.

Knitting Factory Concert Information:
Compliments to Facebook, we got this info...
- Friday, February 26.
- 8:00 - 11:00 pm!
- Playing with Redeye Empire...(more information on him/them is going to have to be a follow up blog post.)

Some yummy tidbits G. Love & Special Sauce:

They formed in 1992.

Their album Electric Mile, (released 2001), was described as a G. Love's "most schizophrenic yet." He used a blend of "hip-hop, funk, psychedelia, blues, and soul..."

G-Love is a longtime friend of part surfer - part acoustic artist Jack Johnson.

RIP JD Salinger.

"I hope to hell that when I do die somebody has the sense to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetary. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.”

I'm forced to wonder if Salinger really thought that, because it's easy to imagine that phonies around the globe are ready to place flowers on the grave of one of the most popular writers of the last century. Salinger died today at the ripe old age of 91 and now readers wait anxiously to see whether or not previously unreleased Salinger works will be published posthumously.

Other bloggers and writers have made enough commentary on Salinger's death to make this post trite already, less than 24 hours after his death, so I'll try to keep this short and sweet. It may be cliche to say it, but The Catcher in the Rye as well as Salinger's other short stories had an effect on my life, however small or large. Holden was lonely boy, trying to reach out and find empathy from others, but when he got into that phone booth, he couldn't think of a single person to buzz. I learned that, sometimes, we can be too self-centered to notice that others are just as lonely as we are. If you haven't read any of Salinger's works, this is as good a time as any to pick up a copy of Catcher or Franny and Zooey and start reading.

The funny thing is that he probably would've hated all of this attention.

RIP, Salinger. The rest of us phonies will miss you.

So writing...

I like to write....obviously. But I was looking through some old stuff (I love technology...I don't know how many rhymes and lyrics I've lost because I wrote them on napkins I ended up using!) and I found these poems and I thought I would share...Cool? cool. They're in the style of description poem where you basically pick an object and, well, think of descriptions for it. So here goes.
Snowflake
Silencer of spring
A Who’s home
Downy feathers of a celestial pillow fight
Icing on a lake
Winter’s sand
The lacy dress of an eyelash
Piercer of exposed cheeks and thin mittens
Nature’s dust
Building material for a fortress of ice
Satisfier of an expectant tongue
Children’s dreams
Glitter shaken from a star
Ornament to adorn a spider’s web
Cloud’s offspring
Ammunition in a friendly feud
Slippery sister of sleet
Bleach’s muse
Silencer of spring


Voices
The voices shouting for a cause are loud and strong,
Like the crowing of a rooster.
The voices telling of happiness are jubilant and bright,
Like the sun’s rays spilling onto green grass.
The voices in love are rushed and excited,
Like the beating of a healthy heart.
The voices teaching are calm and patient,
Like a painter’s brush making the first stroke on a blank canvas.
The voices whispering are secretive and spiteful,
Like spies in a forbidden fortress.
The voices begging for rest are strained and exhausted,
Like rope used in a game of Tug o’ war.
The voices crying for help are faint and pleading,
Like words slowly wiped off a chalkboard.
The voices too weak to shout are silent and desperate,
Like a hand reaching for the light.
Then there are the voices that have finished speaking, serene and complete,
Like a puzzle after the last piece has been found and fitted into the rest.



Silence
The whisper of friends gone too soon
The brushing of leaves on a windowpane
The swish of a tree falling through still dawn air
The last second before the sun sets
The chirping of birds when no one else is awake
The words on a page about to be read


Well there you go. Katie writing, in the pixels (like in the flesh...but for the internet). I hope it was enjoyable. Let me know what you think in the comments, or try your own desription poem.