EGSA Ugly Sweater Party

Because I noticed there were either very few or no pictures taken--perhaps an unspoken agreement to protect everyone from unauthorized ridicule-- I thought I would take a moment to review what people wore to the EGSA Ugly Sweater Christmas Party.

Laura Marks wore a stunning cougar-worthy turquoise turtleneck-tank sweater with golden beads and leopard print adornments around the top and at the bottom. She was the winner of the Ugly Sweater Contest Female Division and well-deserving of the honor.

DeWitt Brinson placed first in the Men's Division for his ingenious, working clock-sweater which included flamingos, fake jewels and a lion. It was truly a great work.

Mel Coyle wore a classic, cheesy printed cardigan zip-up with mistletoe and other Christmas features on the top. Our party creator did well.

Jenn Nunes wore a shirt with a puffy-paint reindeer on it. When you were standing in front of her it was like being in 4th grade all over again, and extremely fun.

Susan Kirby-Smith wore a festive gold-leafed jacket. Many golden leaves. Excessive. She felt as though her name was Mildred.

Will Burke wore a well-fitting powder blue women's sweater with delicate white snowflakes stitched into it.

David Newman wore a highly patterned wintery snowflakey blue and white sweater that had pom-poms. His girlfriend Regan wore a very, very Christmasy sweater, which held several seasonal objects at the top. It was certainly of the caliber of sweaters worn by 2nd grade math teachers.

JT wore a sweater that combined Christmas colors in the most hideous way imaginable.

Cara Blue Adams wore a flowery short sleeved shirt that was sort of saying, "I'm not traditional Christmas, but I'm still Christmas. We spend Christmas in Hawaii when we can and when not, we have a luau with our neighbors."

Shelby Goddard wore an extremely patterned sweater that said, "I'm so hip, even on Christmas
when wearing a godawful sweater."

Helana Brigman went with the stripes. Maia and Aimee with the shiny things, I believe.

Tyler Smith wore a form-fitting off-white grandmother sweater with tiny flowers in neat columns.

Entertainment to Make Your Eyes Bleed!

Oh dwindling followers of BR Tentacles. Direct your attention hither to theavantguardian.org, and my new weekly column about film, possibly, and all things that pique and prod.

This week, an exploration of Arnold Schwarzenegger's famous unproduced project, "Crusade". Blood, guts, castration, donkey carcasses!

Here's a taste of the blood and guts spectacle:

Lumpy, in the Corner

The egg-plant roll-ups
were perfectly seasoned and you
and I conversed about art,
ignoring the fact that
our cat had caught a mouse and
was sitting with the dead thing
Over in the corner.

We talked for a while,
The eggplant grew cold, the cheese
Lumpy, our conversation, wilted
And then I saw that
down under our cat’s paw,
the mouse was alive
still struggling in the corner.

We tried to keep eating
and focused on tomatoes
while meatballs were looking
like little live mice.
Or the eggplant, lying there
suffering and squirming
While the cat was satisfied
Over in the corner.

The cat, he refused
to take the mouse outside
And it hobbled across
our red tile floor.

We tried to keep eating
But dinner was ruined
Everything lumpy
And over in the corner.

Book Covers

Oh beautiful beautiful designs that we will have no control over when we publish our books. Here's a website dedicated to 'em. Maybe take note of the specific designers and plead with them to throw you a bone when your manuscript is hot for a rollout.

Unmoveable Feast

Unmoveable Feast is collecting for a second issue, in hot pursuit of all things amusing or amazing but especially: book reviews, videos, essays, interviews, music, art, or film reviews. Hybrid creative works also sought.

Update by Newman

David Newman links to a more informative article about NO Public Library's amazing book printing machine. It's gathering dust. Unused. Unloved. Alone. One of a dozen such machines in the world and it's consistently out-of-order. A shame.

Apparently you can print a book for about $5. Right now my thesis would cost 5 bucks to print one-sided laser-style on 8.5x11 paper at the library. I'd take the amazing book printed version in a heartbeat.

If it's working when I'm ready for it.

Enthralling...

Music video by Marcel Dzama for the Department of Eagles.

You don't need a huge budget to make magic.

On-Demand Books

...now at the New Orleans Public Library?

That's what this article says.

Pudding Pie

Cool whip
chocolate pudding
graham cracker crust
sprinkles
almonds


Freeze.

It tastes different at varying temperatures.

Innovation Station

Nick Cave (of Bad Seeds fame) (Red Right Hand, etc.) has written a novel and released it as an iPhone app, that clever bugger. It combines traditional reading (text), plus the ability to switch to audio book and video performance without losing your place.

Hurray technology + writing + reading.

Video here.

At the Shrimp and Petroleum Festival

Five

...watch sunset.....

Four!
...stuff pepper...

THREE!
...take nap....

TWO!
...install groundcover...

ONE!

feed anteater

submit

http://www.freshyarn.com/index.htm

Three

50pgs

Two

bakeapie

One

drinksparklingcocktail

Bring on the Lists!

It's that time of year, again, when I finally figure out summer and now gotta get psyched about the end of it. Aw, yeah.
Come on BR Tentacles, let's rejuvenate with some lists.....Ok, I'll start.

Five Things You Wanna Do Before Summer Ends

Go!

Face Jugs

Jukin' and Eatin' and Capitol Viewin'

Entertaining out of town visitors took us to two places that were new to us and two that are growing familiar.

At Teddy's Juke Joint we saw a musician called Eden Brent, a red-dressed, "whiskey-voiced," as many reviewers have written that other reviewers have written, singer from Mississippi.

Here's a shot of Teddy's dj booth

A happy occasion.

We also went to Boutin's for the first time.

Fun; they have a small bayou in the back; very pretty. The Zydeco band was pretty good and so was the food. I wondered if it was "too white" and realized that understanding cultural-racial issues in a state not one's own, particularly one with at least two more ethnic groups than most other states, seems pretty complex and I feel unauthorized to even continue thinking in this area. The shrimp was good.



We retrieved pastries from Ambrosia Bakery on Siegen; extremely good almond croissants among other treats. And we ate a nice lunch at Bistro Byronz.

And then here are reasons to love Baton Rouge from the 27th floor of the state capitol building.








That last one is the original LSU, the Pentagon Barracks.

And then here's a picture of Doc Watson who performed wonderfully at Jazzfest in New Orleans last Friday.

On Lost Books, or, deliberations while writing a final paper on Montaigne

"Where is my book?" the esteemed LSU English professor asked me one warming afternoon in Allen Hall. "I would greatly appreciate the return of my book." Now, I thought to myself, is this the appropriate time to put aside the conclusions I have in the past made concerning this individual's sanity and pertinence when it comes to knowledge and love of art?

Or should I answer him from this place of confusion and mockery?

I do not have your book, I wanted to say. Or, What book are you talking about? was another utterance. But that would be working from the place in me that treats everyone the same: 1) Tell the truth, 2) seek information to perform request asked of you.

I recently got a new bookshelf. Months before, I interviewed aforementioned professor about the injuries suffered by Baton Rouge during the Civil War and driving tours I might make in the area (not, mind you, the siege of vicksburg and the lovely ladies who dwelled in caves during the Union's occupation of the city---but I am not an appointed custodian of southern Lincolnalia, and thus, did not control the course of the interview)

I left the office with not one but two brochures, and not two but four pages of notes, and not, mind you, before I was accused (for the third time) of making an anonymous complaint to the Department chair regarding the professor's violation of written, graded essay assignments for undergraduate students.

Where is my book? The question haunted me. Not where is my time machine or where is my tango partner---both questions that have before come from his mouth, but this one a very reasonable one that all of us might ask each other several times a year as we dig in our heels to living the life of the mind, no matter how much our relatives beg us to find pensions, purpose, use.
"I may be moving and it is very important to me that I get that book back."I knew better than to respond based on Pyrrhic unknowingness. No. Not for this particular specimen of the ivory tower. I reminded myself that internal decisions of deception are translated onto the face and can alter others' reactions. (See Of Physiognomy)

I dissembled. I controlled my audience's reations. To be continued.

"Self portrait as a pious young woman"

by Katie Claiborne

Snip snippets from MicroStorm Watcher

Just another frigging day here in Baton Rouge, where police officers dangle precariously from lopsided street lights and everyone is all about blocking the box on College at 12:25 PM.

"A man and his daughter drowned in that puddle, you're lucky," says the Albertson's check out man, after I describe to him how N. Acadian's micro-valley was 4 feet under earlier Thursday morning."You'd think they'd find a way to make that, I don't know--less of a valley there," he mused aloud.

On a side road off Morning Glory, a couple stood patiently under a fallen oak, almost like they were waiting for the wedding photographer. It will be just as pretty, if not more so, with all the green down around their shoulders.

Thistles

Against the rubber tongues of cows and the hoeing hands of

men

Thistles spike the summer air
And crackle open under a blue-black pressure.















Every one a revengeful burst
Of resurrection, a grasped fistful
Of splintered weapons and Icelandic frost thrust up















From the underground stain of a decayed Viking.
They are like pale hair and the gutturals of dialects.
Every one manages a plume of blood.


















Then they grow grey like men.
Mown down, it is a feud. Their sons appear
Stiff with weapons, fighting back over the same ground.

- Ted Hughes

Dandelion Gigantus