Passing a Poem Along

I just stumbled upon this fine music-inspired poem by Hayden Carruth. Check it out over at poets.org:

Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey

Learning to Write ... and Duck

My parents, teachers, editors and colleagues have all made contributions to my development as a writer. I’m grateful for the guidance I’ve received, and I hold no one but myself responsible for any bad writing habits that may have rubbed off in addition to skills and wisdom. In deed, there will be a long list of people to thank when I accept the awards for this dazzling essay, written in a moment of inspiration after twelve hours at school and an hourlong commute on slick roads – from Mrs. Wilson, who praised my second-grade poem about an avocado plant, to Professor Barlow, who found nice things to say last semester about a ten-page, dead-end meditation on the (almost entirely imagined) connections between the American Primitive guitar music of John Fahey and the dive bars of Oneonta.

One jerk who won’t make the list is Jim H. He was my first boss, the supervising editor at a small Upstate New York paper that hired me as a reporter fresh out of college. With Jim screaming for copy and literally breathing down my neck on deadline, I learned some critical lessons about writing in the world of daily newspaper journalism, many of which apply to writing in other contexts:

1. When you’re trying to convey information to your readers, substance is always more important than style, and simplicity will often serve the message better than complexity.

2. You have to know the rules of grammar and usage in order to break those rules in effective (i.e., forgivable) ways.

3. Nothing you write can be absolutely perfect or complete, whether your deadline is ten minutes or ten hours away. But that’s okay, because there’s always a chance to follow up in the next edition.

These tidbits have stayed with me over the years, but not because Jim was a positive role model or sagacious mentor. He hurled advice at reporters across a busy newsroom, sometimes accompanied by insults and the occasional paperweight.

Another thing that I learned from Jim was that a person should never attempt to simultaneously kick three serious addictions (booze, caffeine and cigarettes) while going through a nasty divorce, and a supervisor should never verbally abuse an employee at close range when that supervisor has recently fallen off one or more of his proverbial wagons, even with the precaution of a curiously strong breath mint.

He taught me a little about writing and a lot about how not to manage a newsroom. I brought the experience with me a few years later, when I took over the job that he had lost because of his foul temper and conduct.

So thanks for the advice, Jim, but you can kiss my ass. I’ve still got a paperweight with your name on it.

I just stumbled across this site, of interest to fans of pre-WWII acoustic blues ...

Honey, Where You Been So Long?

Getting Jiggy

Last Friday, I took part in a traditional jam session at "The Green House" on the campus of my alma mater, Union College. Here's an .mp3 of the group playing a set of two Irish jigs:

Swallowtail Jig/Tobin's Favorite

I was one of three or four guitar players strumming and picking away under the strains of fiddles, mandolins, piano and pipes. I played rhythm behind the first tune and tried to pick out the melody of "Tobin's," but I couldn't hear over the din to tell if I was even in the same key, let alone playing the right notes. But that's one of the joys of large sessions -- plenty of room for experimentation and clams.

Onward and Upward? Or Just Elsewhere?

Sunday was my last shift as an editor on the copy desk at The Daily Gazette. I'm officially unemployed -- for a week. On Monday, I'll start courses and my tutoring job at UAlbany. I've signed up for three courses (Faulkner, "The Literary Reputation," and a workshop in short fiction), which should provide enough intellectual labor to keep my brain smoking and popping for the length of the semester. 

I will have the summer off from school, though I will be teaching a section of Intro to Journalism. In the fall, I'll write my thesis, which I'm hoping will be a creative one -- in the form of a collection of short stories or a novella -- rather than a traditional academic research-and-analysis paper. People have been asking what it's going to be about, and I try to put it in a nutshell for them, but it simply won't fit. So sometime this semester, I'll write up a prospectus for the thesis, and I will of course paste a copy on this blog for my loyal readers to ponder.

Yesterday, Jen and I took the boys to the state museum in Albany. They had a great time on the carousel, though sitting in the spinning tea cup made me want to hurl. Here are a couple of shots:

 

Saratoga Stampede: The Herd Multiplies

Well, the Saratoga Stampede Rugby Football Club had its first gathering for prospective members/players last night. We were hoping to have a turnout of about 20 people, and we got 34, so it was a big success. If you missed the meeting but are interested in participating (either athletically or socially or both), check out the website and get on the e-mail list. Check it out: www.saratogarugby.com

Correspondence from Abroad

Yesterday I received the following dispatch from my friend Duncan, who's an Air Force radar/computer warlock stationed in Germany. He agreed to keep my blog readers posted on his travels:  

 

I was in the UK for seven days.  This was a work trip so there were two jets and crews out there.  I almost didn't go since I came down with a head cold the day before we left.  I probably shouldn't have gone since I got almost no flying done on that trip.  We flew out on Friday, without turning on the systems on the jet, had the next three days off.  Tuesday we canceled for weather, and the next two days my cold came back with a vengeance.  So feeling like crap I got on the jet again the following Friday to fly back and get a bit of training done.  Lincoln is a college town, so there were no shortage of clubs and pubs.  The only issue was that the hotel, cathedral, and castle were on top of the hill and the clubs were at the bottom.  This may not sound that bad, but the walk was about a klick and all of it was up or down a 70 degree slope.  "Steep Hill Rd"  The coolness factor of wearing my black leather chucks and seeing the trenchcoat blowing behind me, was destroyed by panting for breath in the cold air.  After the first bar, where I was hit on by women in their 40s (who were all married to officers in the Royal Air Force) we ended up at a dance club.  This just wasn't my scene so I just ended up drinking lots of Guiness and blending into the walls.  I probably should have tried to find another place since everyone seemed to love my American accent.  I think the cold walk and smoke filled clubs was what brought my cold back.  The Lincoln Cathedral <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln_Cathedral> was originally built in 1072, but was much smaller than the current incarnation.  Fires and earthquake had pretty much destroyed it.  The Lincoln castle, not really much of a castle anymore, started out as a Roman fort.  <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lincoln_Castle>  William the Conqueror had a castle built inside of it.  In victorian times it was home to a jail and courthouse.  The courthouse is still used today.  Also on display there was one of the original copies of the Magna Carta.  I didn't realize that over 40 copies were created, one for each baron.  Only four survive today.  This one was amazingly well preserved, only King John's seal was lost.  Also this historical turn of power was only in effect for nine weeks before the king had the pope annul it.  It was brought back with a few changes after King John's death.  I just got back on friday and have spent the weekend trying to get over this damn cold. 

View photos from Duncan's trip here: DUNCAN'S TRIP

Sights and sounds from First Night

My dad took a couple of photos at the Drumm House on New Year's Eve. The lighting was dim, which is great for rootsy atmosphere but not great for photography. It looks like his flash compensated nicely, however. I'm pretty certain that the bottom picture was taken while I played "France Blues." (Hence the contorted expression and bad posture.)

Here's one more song in .mp3 format from that performance. The lyrics are original, and the melody is that of the old-timey classic "East Virginia Blues." I recently submitted the lyrics to Sing Out! magazine for use in Faith Petric's "The Folk Process" column. I'll surely toot my own horn here on the blog if they print it. Enjoy.

Percolation Blues

(Lyrics Ackerbauer Copyright 2004)

Feeling confidant? Probably not

Here's something I needed to clarify for myself at work last night. I wasn't confident about how to spell the word confidant, and I was sure that I'd seen it spelled confidante a few times. Which spelling is which?

I looked them up in Webster's. Here are the distinctions: Confident is an adjective meaning sure or certain. A confidant is a person held in confidence (e.g., a trusted friend). A confidante is a female confidant.

That last spelling reminds me that people often stumble over the words fiance and fiancée, the former being the man and the latter the woman in a state of betrothal.

So keep in mind that you can't have a fiance as a confidante, even in a state that allows gay marriage!

Toward a More Useful Blog

I haven't been the most prolific blogger of late, mostly because on break from school I've been enjoying a slightly slower pace of life and resting.

It occurred to me yesterday that more people might be drawn to my blog if it offered something besides gig updates, personal stories and tidbits about how cute my kids are. Indeed, the most popular blogs in cyberspace are generally focused on single subjects about which the author has some expertise. Maybe I should use this forum to inform and enlighten as well as entertain. So from now on I will try to add occasional items on two subjects in which I have some knowledge: writing and music. They're certainly themes I've touched on previously, but I want to make the blog more useful by posting entries that contain functional nuggets of information.

Keep in mind that this is not a change of format per se, merely a decision to provide more useful content. My next post will be one of these sorts of entries. I will still use the blog as a journal and depository for goofy tales, amusing links and bar-stool philosophy. I'll be adding some short fiction in the months to come, and posting links to .mp3s of my recordings, etc. For example, here are some more tunes from my First Night gig:

Down South Blues

The Crayfish

And I'll keep posting non-sequitirs and miscellaneous nonsense like the image below, a sketch that I found tucked between the pages of a book. I'm not sure why I wanted to sketch a fiddling robot, but I'm sure the subconsious motivation would be revealed with the appropriate amount of psychoanalysis.

New Year's Decompression

Happy 2006, one and all. I'm ringing in the new year with some visual changes to the blog and to my Web site, Smokin' Bill's Digital Depot.

My end-of-the-year gigs went well, and I am grateful to all those stalwarts who turned out to show support and hear my wailings and frailings.

On Thursday, I had fun playing to a small audience at the Moon & River Cafe in Schenectady. I'll probably try to get back there sometime this summer, after I've wrapped up my Spring term academic work.

The First Night performance at The Drumm House was a blast. Noel Levee of the Johnstown Historical Society (my gracious hosts) told me after the gig that they had 188 visitors over the course of my three sets, which was more than twice the turnout last year. Noel and the gang took pains to set the place up for the show, and I can't thank them enough. My only complaint was that a tempermental furnace kept me off balance with constant background noise and sudden changes in temperature that made the instruments difficult to keep in tune. But I've performed in worse conditions ...

Stay tuned to this blog for some photos from First Night. My father took some sweet snapshots that I'll post shortly (thanks, Dad). I also managed to record the gig, so I'll be posting some .mp3s. I may have finally accumulated enough solid live material to put together a CD. More on that idea later. Here are three songs you can put on that new iPod that Santa left in your stocking this Chistmas:

Greenland Whale (a traditional Irish sea song)

France Blues (a country blues stomp, on mandolin and harmonica)

The Mayor Got Arrested (an original, relating a bit of local history and personal commentary) Lyrics Ackerbauer copyright 2003

More to come!