June 27, 2021 - Tuning into signals and signs and background / images . . . by Jordan Myers
Tuning into signals and signs and background
images from beyond heard from a whispering
city at rest one week after the solstice at dusk.
June 25, 2021 - Of course you know that scene during the resistance march / when the guy with the toothpick and the fifth of vodka mixed with sprite / crosses the street. by Jordan Myers
Of course you know that scene during the resistance march when the guy with the toothpick and the fifth of vodka mixed with sprite crosses the street. Only a few people notice him at first but then he starts saying all types of crazy things; things that no one can quite understand, so everyone slows down a little bit and starts to watch him. It’s not clear at first whether he’s talking to himself, or whether he’s talking to the people marching, or whether he’s talking to god, or whether he’s talking to America, or whether he’s talking to someone who just passed by on the street in the distance, or whether he’s talking to society, or whether he’s talking to a loved one long gone ––– a ghost, but it’s clear that he has something to say. Everything he’s saying he’s saying loudly –––– and with conviction ––– with power. We’ve all seen him. Some days I stop and watch. Other days I look him right in the eye and nod, then keep walking.
June 23, 2021 - Mott & Canal. by Jordan Myers
Sounds in abeyance. The silence of flight.
Chinatown at night. Dusk falling quickly.
Heavy weights lifted. A lightness of being.
All summer feelings. City lights for stars.
Distant sirens aloud. All energies merging.
All timelines merging. All mergers merging.
Spring & Bowery close. Houston even closer.
The East River still. Three bridges bright.
June 21, 2021 - Seven miles / the sun by Jordan Myers
Seven miles the sun
quickly for a while joy
breathing
some June night
away.
June 20, 2021 - Solstice. by Jordan Myers
This time last year dining cabanas were appearing in parking spaces between bike lanes and traffic. Outdoor dining became the new indoor dining. Outdoor dining became dining.
June 18, 2021 - Walking up the stairs of the subway / of the N train stop at Lexington / & 59th. by Jordan Myers
Walking up the stairs of the subway
of the N train stop at Lexington
& 59th: Street level, glancing west.
Standing beneath the marquee sign
outside Cinema 1 2 3 by Angelika
on a Friday night, just past sunset.
June 16, 2021 - In between seances & dreams / by Jordan Myers
In between seances & dreams
telepathic soundscapes / + roving,
windswept, & 100% west, gazes.
June 14, 2021 - From our archives: Issue No. 8 - 05/20/20. by Jordan Myers
I walked through a sleeping city; I walked by a silent Carnegie Hall. I stood at West Fifty-seventh and Seventh Avenue and for a few moments, I could hear the sound of the American flag clapping in the wind. On West Fifty-eighth, I looked over my shoulder at the setting sun. I could barely see its rays, held between the buildings at dusk. Then the night fell, but the streets made no sound, and I kept walking.
June 13, 2021 - All silence and sirens. / by Jordan Myers
All silence and sirens.
All sirens and silence.
All rain and umbrella.
All umbrella and rain.
All west side and east.
All east side and west.
All pauses then flight.
All flight then pauses.
Every avenue at once.
Every once all avenues.
June 11, 2021 - Cab Calloway’s “Everybody eats when they come to my house.”
Omg! I’ve just heard the most amusing and timely song: Cab Calloway’s "Everybody eats when they come to my House,” which was recorded sometime between 1939 and 1947 and released as part of a compilation of Calloway’s work: Are You Hep to the Jive? (1947). Amusing because the list of foods that he pairs with names oh so steadily and sweetly grows from the predictable and mundane, “Have a banana, Hannah / Try the salami, Tommy,” to pairings so surprising and bizarre that it’s difficult not to smile and feel welcomed, as though he were singing directly to you: “Pasta fazoula, Tallulah / oh, do have a bagel, Fagel.” Timely because the joys of getting together in person with family and friends is making a comeback, and in a major way.
I don’t know of any other jazz song ––– nor song of any other genre –––– that so unabashedly and enthusiastically engages in word play in a way that’s this reminiscent of a children’s book. The only song that comes to mind that’s in the same realm would be Blackalicious’ “A to G” from 1999, wherein, following a sample from what sounds like a 1950’s instructional video, in which a female voice speaks, “We’re going to learn to hear words with vowel ‘A’ sounds, listen with care.” Blackalicious lists word after word that does in fact begin with the letter A –––– “I be the analog arsonist, aimin at your arteries / All-seeing abstract, analyze everything / Adding on, absolutely abolishing / Average amateur’s arsenal just astonishing” –––– and then does the same for B, C, D, E, F, and of course, G.
But what separates “A to G” from the appeal and enjoyment of “Everybody eats when they come to my House” is this: “A to G” is an exercise in verbal dexterity; whereas“Everybody Eats” is a celebration! Calloway, who was a regular performer at Harlem’s historic Cotton Club through much of the 1920s and ‘30s, and was the first African-American to have a nationally syndicated TV show, sings with a warmth and charisma that would make it nearly impossible to decline his invitation. Plus, he makes it clear that even if you’re only a little hungry, he’s got all sorts of options and tidbits to choose from:“Well, you get the cherry, Jerry.” So why not stay, at least for a little while.
June 9, 2021 - June’s sunlight has a cadence. by Jordan Myers
Break the croissant into two, choose
butter or strawberry jam. Spread said
butter or strawberry jam across said
croissant. Eat said croissant. English
breakfast tea. Choose milk, or no milk.
No sugar at all. Morning light. Wash
the croissant down with English breakfast
tea. Wash the English breakfast tea down
with water. Rinse. Repeat. June’s sunlight
has a cadence, steady.
