Just picked up a record of Katie Webster from Sonic Boom in Toronto, filed under “Misc. Blues” for 5 bucks. Hadn’t heard of her before, but the wikipedia claims she played session for the likes of Lightnin Slim, Lonesome Sundown, and Otis Redding before briefly striking out on her own in the 80s with a few solo records. The one I got’s self titled, and pressed by Flyway. I can’t find anything about it online, but its got a real nice lo-fi sound with great covers of Sea Of Love and Your Cheatin Heart, among others. Above is another album from Webster. Not quite the quality of what I nabbed, but great still.
1919 Loggers [ HCNYN ]
In 1973, Marlon Brando refused his Oscar for The Godfather, having the native american Sacheen Littlefeather go in his place to speak about the rights and ongoing struggle of her people, made worse by the depictions of “savage” Indians in Hollywood cinema. Below is the full text, which was later published in The New York Times:
For 200 years we have said to the Indian people who are fighting for their land, their life, their families and their right to be free: ”Lay down your arms, my friends, and then we will remain together. Only if you lay down your arms, my friends, can we then talk of peace and come to an agreement which will be good for you.”
A German messenger dog leaps over a trench, possibly near Sedan/May 1917
"PLENUR" tinta y acrílico sobre madera teñida en blanco
100cm x 100cm
“PLENUR” ink and acrylic on wood stained in white
100cm x 100cm
original art from david perez busto
little kale is was Jables is putting in the soup. The road has a groove of the worn in, the road has a feeling that has a devilish guide that if you let all realms of worry dash by, and well it was vacation, but it was also a crack in the normal of “hey spirit, look at this organism and look at this spike, and look at this rot, and feel the lights go out.” Possible that when i think of how it my come about, i just keep on.
I couldn’t find a good picture of the sign for Esta Noche, so I redrew it on some old yellow paper instead.
Shortly after I turned 21, I drove by myself one weekend to San Francisco to visit a guy named Dino I loved in high school who had moved north years before. I didn’t have a printer, so I had drawn a map of the entire route. He didn’t have a cell phone, but he gave me the address of the Esta Noche bar and I found him there after 6 hours on the road. I was running late, so he had already gotten pretty wasted but we had a few drinks in that dimly lit gay palace with music blaring. My Spanish was better then, and I remember the lyrics to one of the songs being about old lovers separated by an ocean.
We stayed till closing, shuffling down market street and up some rusty iron work to Dino’s place where we made out with cheap tequila breath till morning. I never went back to Esta Noche or saw Dino after that, but it was a memory of one evening that defined that place as something special - something old and worn down, and lovely. Apparently the bar will soon be replaced by a “New York Style Lounge” with overpriced designer drinks. I’m happy, at least, to have the memory of what was.
Mary Lyon | Daguerreotype | 1845
"If anyone thinks he has no responsibilities, it is because he has not sought them out."
A few shots from Bucks County, Massachusetts.
On our way to grab some milk from a local farm, we came across the grave of Mary Lyon down an ice track and up a steep trail buried in snow. Back on the road we picked up the milk and walked over to the barn to pet the Armoricans who produced this precious stuff. The barn was quiet and in the corner between two farmers tending to it, a calf had just been born five minutes before.