In pursuit of that rough and ready insight, I’ve been listening to the right of wrong and to the wrong of right in Brooklyn music for a couple of years. Here follows a smidgeon of the music in Brooklyn and a little of the Brooklyn in music, overheard.
“Night Call was such an important and personal project for me. Reading new poems to strangers in their most intimate space, whether that’s their bedroom or their living room or their kitchen.”
The very first night as we sip our muse-inducing elderflower wine, Alexander Weinstein, founder of the Institute, opens the door of the conference room to symbolically cast out our inner critics — those editorial voices in our heads who tell us we’re not good enough, who bring us down, who impose self-doubt.
Polio, Ebola, and fresh new diseases in desiccated Eden,
the neighborhood a locus of explosions, our nation
now the nation of murderous event, unlicensed carrying
on on on.
“It was kind of the perfect confluence of viability and personal interest — I’ve wanted to write queer stories for a long time, and suddenly I found that there was a market for it.”