Review
        As you read on the cover, this issue's review is the new cd from Scratching Post "This Time its personal".  Cetainly the band stays true to its roots as a southwest Ontario heavy metal band that just happens to be fronted by the very cute lead singer and guitarist Nicole Hughes.  However, never underestimate her or the band.  While attention has been on that other band "Kittie" they are not in the same catagory.  SP is hot and under control with this cd.  While continuing in heavy metal, they do some experimentation with this, a little bit of alternative a little of some weird sampling and a special track at the end.  You just have to keep listening to find it.
    Another aspect of the cd that I found interesting was to hear the development of some of the tracks.  A number have been offered in the mp3 format over the last year or so and to hear them and then the finished work gives you some idea as to how music is developed.
    My suggestion, check out the band, their homepage is: http://www.scratchingpost.com

Poetry
   The mailbox continues to be filled with some incredible works of poetry and prose.  I'm please to say that a number of new artists have sent their works to fill this issue. Thanks.

sur la plage

sparkling waters you said to me as on an obol
inscribed let alone my taffy salt water
taffy mangeons mangeons mangeons let us
dine où dort le manège des tiroirs oh

**************************************************

some golden fears

the painful course you have led my meaning here
whithersoever the balance listed
overall wistfully wandered the fay
and sparking jealousies above the maid

**************************************************

in the gay players’ almanac today

I behold the frumps there
in the supermarket
where Allen Ginsberg saw Walt Whitman
eyeing boys

so be it
here is trouble and if you want it
lots of trouble (hee hee hee hee hee)

let’s look on it this way
the mechanism you fancy
in the doldrums groveling
a total dupe

here is the analogies
anal lys Sis
nothing doing no matter what they say (!)

oho here no is this so nay no
regard me this
figure this
all around the block

the bassman plays a serene fiddle
for (tee hee hee hee) union scale

in a state of suspended animation
where else some other state maybe

like Tom Peters who turned out to be Steve Forbes
Jesus CEO what would he do
the clucks among girls’ butts and butts
what a fake the mind of men conceived this

o hopeless toady with a finger on the pulse
of the nation’s anus
(and it is a political appointment mark that
it is a sinecure) the points are well taken
and for all that let me say this to you
ah forget it let’s get drunk

pray for the President and the Congress
they need it a dubious semblance
not much difference but maybe it is

*********************************************

three gulls circle
     while
a bald man burns
in the fierce island sun
     while
I trace gargoyles
in the sand
with my toe
     while
you pretend to study
the book in your hand
     while
three gulls circle
in the fierce island sun

finding religion at 3 am

hanging my head over a dirty toilet
I wouldn't even piss in
on a better day,
gagging,
the smell of my own breath
and the taste in my mouth
setting off
another round of dry heaves

god
please don't make me sober
now

days when

wore
my cowboy hat today
to keep the rain off my head
and my boots, too,
for the puddles

reminded me of the old days

 days when, as they say,

when me
and my colored friend toby
would shoot pool and drink pearl beer
in little west texas
highway honky-tonks
that didn't often see a black face
come in the front door
except by mistake

got some hard looks,
toby did, and me too
cause we were together

but
I was a big sumbitch
and toby
was mean as a snake
when riled and looked it
even when he wasn't,
so we mostly got along,
drank some beer, played some pool,
made a dollar or two
to get us started at the next stop down
the road

honky-tonk cowboys
is what we were

never punched a cow,
but we kicked some ass
in our better days
 

I Can't Help It If I'm Lucky

This all started right around Easter with a song I couldn't get out of my head--``Casanova'' by LeVert. I was sitting on a green park bench singing it when he sat down next to me and struck up a conversation so familiar you would have thought we knew each other from kindergarden. It couldn't have been even five minutes before he turned and said, ``Hey, Sweet, knock me a kiss.'' After that we just kept on going. I can't help it if I'm lucky.

Try A Little Tenderness

At Tiny's Fruit Stand, a disintegrating tin-and-plank juke joint, it is after hours, which means only that we stop drinking B&B or Blue Ribbon--what we call "legal''--and start on the homemade white shine-"corn'' or "jar.'' This is Tiny's idea of protocol; she won't serve the lightning during business hours. She is huge, beautiful, and counting cash at the bar with her stoic boyfriend Dimples; "cute'' is the word women use about him. A couple of half-drunks with bleached bouffant hairdos start singing pretty harmony on "Try A Little Tenderness,'' Tiny makes that delicate little movement with her mouth, and pulls Dimples in close.

Guy Shot at Him, Got Me Right There

"It was on a Sunday afternoon at the Pressure Drop. Band was playing 'Messin' With the Kid,' fight break out. Everybody was running, I ran, too. Guy shot at him, got me right there.''

"Jesus Christ!''

"Bust that big leg bone. Laid me up for about six months, then on crutches. I ain't doing too bad now. Leg give out now and then.''
 

Corrugated and Buzzing Hot

The air was corrugated and buzzing hot. We were out under the grape
arbors, eating cold fried chicken and throwing the bones on the
ground. Even the old people had on bikini shorts and undershirts,
and wet white hankies tied around their heads. The baby twins, the
most domineering little nippers since Rosemary's Baby, had quit
playing in the Water Wienie and were just sitting bare-assed in
the mud drinking warm orange pop. Nothing moved. Then the radio
played ``I Heard It Through The Grapevine,'' my sister flopped on
her back to do the Alligator, and the little kids careened around
her in those crazy tight circles, screaming the way they do.
 

I Asked So He Told Me

I asked, so he told me: ``You're never gonna guard your heart. You'd
better make other plans.'' When I finished welding we sat and stared
at the truck. There was a crummy little record player in the garage
and he put on an old jazz album of Ben Webster playing sad, beautiful
saxophone ballads. About a minute into it I started sniffing and
bawling. He knew what was up because he just dug around in the cooler
for another couple of beers, and when the record finished he turned
it right over and started the other side

Pills
Poems by Lewis LaCook
8/15/00--9/2/00
 
 

GIRLS WHO STOMACH SKYMILK

Listen to how you have to go to
Work sometime soon; listen at that

Passion sitting still thinking a crown on, like
Keats under doe-hands rear-ended by crossing the

Street at certain runnels: look at her,
Complicating the
Sky as a romance to penetrate the ether

In her; spinning these wheelie-stars faster than
It takes to pan out: hear that scatter?

8/20/00
 
 

LAYING PAVEMENT
for Eileen Marie

Once there was a rock that thought

It was a flower. All day long, it practiced
Glimmering on that dirt road, blooming and
Shrivelling what it thought were luscious

Petals. In vain it sat still to attract
The plunder of bees. When Spring came,

Under the influence of shadowed drives,

It heated itself with bitter sunshine, hoping
That by this the glib powder would flutter
Into a caressable breeze, and that

This would alert the other stones to their
Beautiful condition.
This is how the road to town got paved.

8/28/00
 
 

JUAN GRIS

Pats of creamer in the coffee this morning
Bob a brown lake startle ducks from
Its skin, which he had previously decorated
With pinhole cigarette burns, smart cherry eyes.

They explode over its surface, rip of wings
Bitter until the sugar wholly dissolves. I
Swallow and i swallow and i swallow 'til
My throat's drenched; then, light again.

If you keep looking at me like that, you'll
Surely wear me down. You act like you've never
Seen ANYTHING before, least of all me.
In the morning when birds tongue a lingo of

Pure steam the city alarm sounds, warning us how
Easy it is to die in these forged corners, bearing
The signatures of ones you once could have loved.

8/16/00
 
 

PROZAC AND BOTANY
for Dana

You talk but i don't have to listen to you.

Your therapist says that breaking (up with) me
Was a good idea, but i wonder how many
Angles on THAT story he got, or if what he got
Even resembled the truth in its outward shape.

I guess it doesn't matter now; you're with
Someone new, you're safe, i can't

Hurt you; and me, i'm just

Caught here in this
Thirsty earth you
Transplanted from, feeling
My flowers swiftly
Withering, and
Dreaming about
Elementary rain.

Enough to wash the stains from the pavement,
Green blood that sighs like the milk of my body
Crying out from the ground at you, too confused

To be a cry for help. No, something more
Gutteral and honest rises there:

The history of aliens jade-eyed wondering
Among you, ones who can't be touched

(Makes them heal too quickly when)
All you want to do is look at their pretty wounds.

8/17/00

61

I want to hear you say my name like
it's ribbed for your pleasure as it
passes your lips. Pop's aligned lime-

light freezes me in January's blip;
map the cold weather, baby, as it

spins Kent a sugar jacket. I like
you. You taste like where I'm stiff
in the throat. I could build shrines

to Bettie Page's bangs; she likes
you too, and she takes seriously its
contour, much as I eat what I find
in my belly oh so slowly, not to skip

the word 'devour' in a meaty grove.

I want to say your name in color to Love.
 

=====
Idiolect
Works
 
 

Ariana's music has been described as unusual and yet familiar pop with a distinctive edge.  Soaring melodies, lush arrangements and signature smooth vocals make Ariana's songs sound like something you've always known but never heard.  The emphasis is on tightly-structured melodic songs, 3 to 4 minute pop gems that leave the listener humming the melody and wanting to hear more.

Ariana was a classically trained singer and viola player long before she discovered guitar and songwriting. Writing songs was a natural outgrowth of her early musical training and childhood obsession with books and reading.  Hailed as an “obscure pop-goddess” by Time Digital*, Ariana has been enchanting audiences of the fortunate few since her debut on the NYC scene 3 years ago.

In those few years, Ariana has rapidly established herself as a favorite in premier NYC venues such as: the SidewalkCafe; the Living Room; CBGB’s Gallery; the Luna Lounge as well as many other venues in and around the NY/NJ metro area.  She has opened for several national acts including Suzanne Vega and Ellis Paul, and performed on Oprah Winfrey’s Oxygen Network nationwide tank-tour.

Fans from around the world have downloaded her songs by the thousands, most recently voting her in 5th out of 10,000 entries to win a recording contract at garageband.com.    But it is in the intimacy of Ariana’s live performances where her talent truly shines.   The craft of her songwriting, the haunting vocal quality and the rich round tones of her electric guitar all weave a masterful spell, translating experience into entertainment in a uniquely powerful way**.

Currently in the studio working towards her debut full-length release, Ariana’s music has appeared on numerous compilations including: The “Indiegrrl Compilation volume 1”; “Lord Knows volume 1” and Soundclick.com’s “Fast Tracker 1999” (Best of Soundclick.com).  Songs from her EP “4-Play” have been aired on radio stations across the country, from WKAOS in Olympia WA to WPKN in New Haven Connecticut.
 
 

*Charles Herold, Time Digital’s Digital Daily, July 21, 2000
**Patrick Walsch, Rhythm and News magazine, August 1998, Vol. 5, No. 8

Closing Words

    To all of you who have taken the time to read and have sent material, thank you.  Your work makes this all possible.  If you would like to contribute, email me at avantgarde@angelfire.com.  To visit past works, come to the Home Page at https://www.angelfire.com/on2/AGT.