The Long March by bart plantenga

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The Long March

by bart plantenga


The meditation of the trail: Walk along looking at the trail at your feet and don’t look about and just fall into a trance as the ground zips by. 

• Jack Kerouac

Don’t fall asleep on the Metro-North Train out of Grand Central late at night or you’ll end up somewhere you never in a million years thought you’d end up with the midnight hour approaching. If you’d been on that train, you could have heard me repeating the late-night mantra STAY AWAKE DON’T FALL ASLEEP … over and over and despite – or precisely BECAUSE of! – this mantra, and despite me imploring myself to stand up, go through your wallet, retie your shoe, make a list … I indeed conked out, clueless to the world and was only startled awake when a valise thudded against my seat, just as the signs flashed Ardsley-on-Hudson. I managed to gather whatever wits I had left and leapt out just as the doors began to squeeze shut in … uh… Tarrytown! Overshooting my destination, Dobbs Ferry, by about 5 or 6 miles to the south.

I’d gone to Manhattan to see the prog-grass band Girls on Grass, 2 Brooklyn women – and bassist friend Dave. Only something special can drag me out these days to the past-sell-by-date East Village to engage in that most consumerist of sidewalk dances: the shuffle-app-selfie-click-ice-cream-lick-dance. So only when: 1. my critical capacities tip below zero; or 2. when a friend is playing in a girl band at HiFi, which inhabits the ghostly space of the formerly renowned Brownie’s …

Girl on Grass in HiFi

And as I am about to tell you the rest of this tale, I again hear my partner’s voice of reason whispering sternly into my ear: Do not advertise your stupidity or drunkenness – not charming and not a career maker. Not her actual voice but the one my mind has filed on a mental mp3 under Disapproval/Admonish/Raised Eyebrows.

But I’m hardwired to tell stories like this because humility forges a crooked and poorly marked trail to nirvana, or some place like that. When I encounter an error of judgement nourished by alcohol [not too much, just the right measure I thought], it usually incites impetuous, flakey reactions on my part. Rather than wait for the next train down the track, I decided to walk home. By walking back I mean like walking 2 hours to atone. It’s like winding a tangle of yarn into a ball, a metaphor, you rightly notice, for my unraveled foibles. Yes, walk: It was 85∘with humidity at 120% – if that’s even possible. Whatever the numbers, it’s like walking the doggy paddle and the air is a swimming pool.

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Michael Alan Alien Invasion — State Of Grace: 13 Years of Happenings

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Michael Alan Alien Invasion

State Of Grace:

13 Years of Happenings

(feat. Tim Love Lee & Brave Souls)

at the

Tanja Grunert Gallery

33A Orchard St, New York, New York 10002

on August 8th, 2015

6pm to 1AM EST


On Saturday, August 8th from 6pm to 1am (EST) Michael Alan Alien Invasion presents “State Of Grace: 13 Years of Happenings” — a celebration of thirteen years of “living, live, love, community, fun, positivity, oddness” with a huge line up of models, cast, and team with music and wild SAFE times at the Tanja Grunert Gallery, 33a Orchard Street, NY NY. Read more

Urban Graffiti Mix #17

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Urban Graffiti Mix #17 by Mark Mccawley on Mixcloud

Between song and story and poem and monologue is the music of voice, the rhythm of voice, the melody of voice, the dissonance of voice — the urban voice, voice of the city, voice of its streets and alleyways, its gutters and cafes; the voice of the underclass and the bourgeoisie, academia and Bohemia; outlaws and establishment. Transgressive voices. Inventive voices. Voices seeping out tenement windows. Cracks in car windows. Voices in doorways. Rising from subways. Out of bookstores. Art galleries. Taverns. Even music, itself, is a voice, telling a story, setting a mood, telling a tale with its syntax of notes. Live music. Recorded music. Field recordings. Distinctions of genre dissolving as poets, writers, musicians find intriguingly new and ingenious voices. Read more

Michael Alan and Michael Kronenberg present: The Living Situation

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Michael Alan

and Michael Kronenberg


The Living Situation

(living installation, draw-a-thon)

on Saturday

May 30th, 2015

Brooklyn, New York

at 6:00pm

The Living Situation
In an abandoned apartment in the middle of Clinton hill, Brooklyn (Hell’s kitchen) lives seven naked New Yorkers. Living. Eating. Sleeping. Showering. Cooking. Fucking. Destroying. Come watch, draw, listen, zone out for a 7 hour live happening like no other demented Michael Alan show. Enter into the rear window and watch as they act out the most surreal acts you have ever seen. Ticket only event. Saturday, May 30th, 2015, 6pm on. Click on michaelalanart.com to order tickets. Address will be sent to ticket holders via email. Read more

Bad Karma: a short film by Jim Spring — based on Ron Kolm’s story by Mark McCawley

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Bad Karma:

a short film by Jim Spring


based on Ron Kolm’s story


by Mark McCawley


Bad Karma, directed by Jim Spring, dates from the mid-90s. It is taken from a short story written by Ron Kolm, first published in Michael Carter’s Redtape magazine. Jim Spring and Elana Fisher produced it, and the film was edited by Andrea Newhouse. The director of photography was David Morabito and the art director was Soraya Rashid. Patricia Dunnock played Jill, and Max Mankind played Duke. The two main characters sell magazines, etcetera, on the streets of the East Village. Kim Gordon’s band, Free Kitten, plays in the early part of the film, and Thurston Moore, of Sonic Youth, pushing a stroller in the crowd watches them. The film — much like Kolm’s Duke and Jill stories — captures a time and place in New York City that has all but disappeared. Read more