Point of interest: I've been discussing this book I'm writing, Something Solid, as though everything about the book is available to be discussed. I've also suggested that there's a good deal of transparency inhering in the book itself. Fair. But I'd like to say, about Side-Armed, here's a story that, for all sorts of contingent and not-contingent reasons, can only be half-told, or not told at all. So I'll ask those watching who might be watching to reject closure, in the Hejinian mold, and understand that a lot of things about this piece involve realities you'll just have to imagine. This one does signify The Death of the Author, in Something Solid, and The Birth of the Reader. The Velvets, like Smashing Pumpkins, seem to have disappeared off a lot of maps over the last twenty years. Worth noting that when I played DJ for the ladies in Logan Square, the third Velvets album was a perennial fave. Sin and salvation would seem to be the subtext in most of the lyrics, even if the music is primitive stuff. It's also worth noting that, as Aughts Philadelphia emerges as culturally stalwart, for every worthwhile story that reaches the airwaves, a few equally worthwhile ones will be lost. The principle of waste, of things being wasted for no good reason, is a big impinging shadow on human existence. So, Side-Armed side-arms you a half-story, and we'll see if you think that's good enough.
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