Spring 2009 in Greensboro, NC has been marked by torrents of rain. Mosquitos are now happily frolicking in flocks awaiting a warm vein. Watering tomato plants can ...
[LESS INFO] 0 VIEWS | ADDED 17:35:05 06/10/09
Spring 2009 in Greensboro, NC has been marked by torrents of rain. Mosquitos are now happily frolicking in flocks awaiting a warm vein. Watering tomato plants can be hazardous and a few residents found their cars underwater in parking lots after a quiet thirty minute lunch. Frontier Ruckus, now signed to the Concord, NC Ramseur Records arrived on the same day as Samantha Crain. The clouds broke for a few hours. Here they are peforming The Latter Days. Figuratively speaking, Frontier Ruckus was founded in Michigan's thumb, a ways into the flatland sun, leaving the affluence of the painted Boulevard towns. There the grid is sparing and scarce, with sunlit water towers and cabin fields full of sugar beets. We sleep in overheated dew-tents under the roar of sunbeams in bearded billboard fields earshot of the lake bluffs in summer. Frontier Ruckus resides in the north town mansions where carpets have long-sponged ethnic food smells and have been matted and branded by aging creaking pianos. Frontier Ruckus is currently the color of the smiling, smirking, ghostly hole in a barnyard soul out north of both shoulders of the city at the time of day when a dream is showing its first aching signs of fruition. You can smell it in the air and see it in the gas station lights driving home from the blind-night-frontier-church-yard-home of your old love who taught you the North in the first place?and then, hear it in the harmony-horn and you feel like abstraction is salvation. You think of the city rooms and paper walls and how everything is merely a degree?of distance, time, light. All a degree of ONE THING! Is it? All these places and dreams connect and shade and fade as if relative degrees of hope and confidence and embarrassment and pity. Do they? Pity is beauty and pity is everything. Frontier Ruckus is the slow barge to Ogdensburg on the heartland Highway Seaway. Every word we say on deck is like a fifty year old bridge spanning from dusty iceboxes in Canada back to rusty iceboxes on taffy tourist porches in our Americas. A bridge that your north swamp cousin Bill hung off when he painted it red. A bridge that has a wood shack tollbooth where a man who used to sell shoes with your great uncle stares off inland?his back to the river?off and out to the Amish duskfields and the mountains rolling invisibly miles and towns away. You are everything too.
Figuring Out Flock
0 Views 12:00:54 03/28/08
In this screencast I show around the Flock browser. You can download Flock at http://www.flock.com