Raw posts and updates from our writers with info too timely or uncategorizable for print. What, we said something stupid? Chime in, buddy.
Indian Pueblo Cultural Center
Sunday, Nov 15: Rock Your Mocs
By Cerridwen Stucky [ Fri Nov 13 2015 1:00 PM ]
Celebrate Native American Heritage Month.
Can Courtney Be On a Podcast?
Yes. Yes she can.
By Ty Bannerman [ Fri Nov 13 2015 12:19 PM ]
If you've been following the adventures of our resident "person who does things" (we've got to think of a better title), Courtney Foster, you'll know that she's always up for trying something new. This past weekend, that "something new" was appearing on the Potential Problems Podcast, a banter-fest hosted by local comedians John Cuellar and Allen Clark.
It's an expletive filled hour or so that isn't afraid to explore some (hilariously) risque content, so maybe wait until the drive home from work before checking this out. But definitely DO check it out! Because these guys are funny and Courtney is too.
And hey! We're bringing our own podcast back from the grave, so watch this space for a brand new episode!
Crowning of the Classical Kings
Sunday, Nov 15: Mozart's Coronation Mass
By August March [ Fri Nov 13 2015 7:00 AM ]
The New Mexico Philharmonic, under the baton of Matthew Greer, begins its Neighborhood Concert Series with Mozart's Coronation Mass.
courtesy of the artist
Hear the Electric Howl
Saturday, Nov 14: Wolf Tones Electric Music Festival • Martian Funk • Paul Marquardt • Mesa Ritual • Dwight Loop
By August March [ Thu Nov 12 2015 12:00 PM ]
The music will be... electrifying.
Welcome Back the Cranes
Saturday, Nov 14: 2015 Return of the Sandhill Crane Celebration
By Maggie Grimason [ Thu Nov 12 2015 11:00 AM ]
Welcome the cranes back to their winter habitat with art, films, origami, viewing scopes, tai chi, craneology 101, animal tales, music and more.
John Phelan / Wikimedia Commons
The House on Silver Avenue
By August March [ Wed Nov 11 2015 9:31 PM ]
I am going to need another tug off that bottle of Thunderbird if I am going to go down there and rescue one of those kittens said Charlie to the spare but shabby living room of the house on Silver Avenue.
Chauncy was in the room under the stairs which contained a sink, a shower and crapper. He did not hear Charlie talking nonsense about the cats because he was getting ready for his evening shift at the steakhouse. Chauncy was frantically trying to coax chicken fat stains out of his black trousers with a toothbrush and a bottle of Florida Water.
The others were in the first-floor bedroom, across from all of that. They couldn't hear Charlie either. Michael was smoking dirt weed out of a pipe he had carved from an apple, reclining like royalty on the bed while his stunned girlfriend Sherri sat in the corner picking glitter out of her hair and counting Jeffersons. They moved in last week and Charlie knew them about as well as any of the other punk rockers from across the street.
Charlie looked around and realized he was speaking to empty space, chatting with the void. He got up and dragged himself to the kitchen. Tim Lodgeson was in there cooking a chicken in the microwave. He had the whole thing in the oven for ten minutes while the two of them sat around jawing about school. Charlie couldn't make heads or tails of what Lodgeson told him. It was something about forests and capitalism.
When the meat came out it was gray. It had the appearance of plastic. Tim took the bird and skewered it with a big silver serving fork he had taken from the cafeteria last semester, around Thanksgiving. He started gnawing on the chicken as if he had not eaten for a week, like he had conquered a small but vicious dinosaur with teeth and technology.
Charlie excused himself politely, gagged and walked out onto the back porch. He could hear the kittens in the basement mewling for their mother. The hell with the Thunderbird, he thought, I sure would like a new pet cat. Further reasoning that such an outcome would be a pleasant surprise for his girlfriend, he sauntered down the stairs and into the darkness.
He felt his way around for a bit until he could reach out and pull on the chain that turned on the light bulb in the middle of basement. Sure enough, there was a litter of cats in the basement. Their mother was nowhere to be seen. Charlie crept over to snatch up a tiny calico.
An eruption of teeth and fur and hair and blood coincided with that action as the hidden mother pounced. The living fury would not come off him, though he clawed and clawed at it. He retreated and was filled up with a queasy combination of shame and horror. The damn thing finally let up when he got to the door, lunging for the knob and hitting his head on the concrete as he fell toward the yard.
Back inside of the house on Silver Avenue, Michael and Sherri had crept out their room and were watching Hee Haw in the big front room. Chauncy was in the kitchen critiquing Tim's culinary procedures as he attempted to saw a leg off of what was left of the poultry experiment. Chauncy was dressed for work now. He looked like a million bucks and was being awfully careful not to get any schmaltz on his waiter's uniform as he danced around Tim's meaty methodologies.
As the two went on and on about the wonders of microwave cooking and with the mellow sounds of George Jones drifting through the whole place, Charlie entered from the porch. He asked for a wet towel and wondered aloud where his bottle of wine might have gotten to. Saturday night had just begun.
Are You Epic-Curious?
Thursday, Nov 12: Epic and Friends Part 5 • dance, electronic
By Megan Reneau [ Wed Nov 11 2015 4:30 PM ]
Dance your ass off to some seriously epic beats.
Letters From Downtown:
Things I See On My Way To Work
By Cerridwen Stucky [ Wed Nov 11 2015 1:47 PM ]
Things I see on my way to work:
(3) APD Cars, two going to the same destination, and quickly.
(1) Santa Fe Police Car, attracting disdainful looks.
(1) Back bumper of a Ford Mazda. Bumper sticker reads ‘If you can see this you’re too close’.
(1) Shattered brake light, presumably from the same car.
(1) Shattered headlight, presumably from the tailgating asshole.
(2) People dressed nicely, a man and a woman separately. Life has treated them well, they tell themselves as they scream into their cell phones.
(5) People dressed casually, half wait for the bus, the others walk. The ones with company don’t seem to mind as much the time of day and the bitter cold.
(3) People dressed in many layers of tattered clothing. One sleeps in a slouched position, one waits for the bus, and one walks seemingly aimlessly.
(3) Very large murals painted on the walls of city buildings. People from different cities would wonder how vandalists are able to create such intricate pieces without anyone stopping them.
(2) City buses, struggling to turn the tight corners of small downtown streets.
(4) Pieces of actual graffiti. Two are small tags with gang names and the others are aborted works of art not commissioned by the government.
(1) Puddle of indeterminable nature. It hasn’t rained in a week, and the puddle smells like a pit to hell.
The Daily Word in Republicans, bad sex, and space death
By Cerridwen Stucky [ Wed Nov 11 2015 11:52 AM ]
Last night's GOP debate is calm and mature... Relatively.
The people at BuzzFeed share with us their lousy sex experience.
Albuquerque honors its veterans- with free stuff!
Yet another “Beauty Through the Decades” video, but this one takes the romantic filter off of the past to show what women were really doing.
A planet far far away causes scientists to rethink the way they see planetary orbit.
Space is terrifying. Death is around every corner, and these astronauts have faced it head on.
Here's a page thats full of people gushing about Fallout 4. If that interests you.
Courtesy of the artist
I don't understand Chairlift's new single "Ch-Ching" and I love it
Chairlift's new album "Moth" comes out in January
By Robin Babb [ Tue Nov 10 2015 2:12 PM ]
Occasionally I will get so hooked on a new song that I can’t listen to anything else for a while: I just play it on repeat until I’m absolutely sick of it. I haven’t quite gotten sick of Chairlift’s new single, “Ch-Ching” yet, but it’s for sure that everyone around me is sick of me talking about how damn good it is.
If Chairlift hasn’t been on your indie band radar for a while already, it’s time you change that. Last year I saw them perform at Alcatraz. Yeah, like, the old prison. It was an uncomfortably swanky private show where most of the patrons were several decades older than the band and had no idea who they were. I table-surfed a couple glasses of wine, was side-eyed by the staff, and was one of three people who actually applauded after each song.
Chairlift makes smart synthpop gems that get stuck in your head frighteningly easily, like their hit from 2012 “Bruises” that got more airplay than anything else they’ve done. Since that 2012 album Something, Chairlift hasn’t released any new music as a group — although singer Caroline Polachek released a solo album as Ramona Lisa last year, and bassist/
“Ch-Ching” is catchy as all hell, with a more lush sound than their previously stripped-down and simple recordings. There’s more samples and more synth textures going on, and Polachek’s voice is more vocoded than I’ve ever heard it (which is still not much, but noticeable after the almost total lack of vocal effects in their past work). But there are some definite similarities with their past work when it comes to the lyrics: as with many of their tracks, it’s really hard to tell what “Ch-Ching” is about. And I love that. The chorus alone is equal parts sexy and totally mysterious: “Getting what you want can be dangerous/But that’s the only way I want it to be/I double dare you to keep a secret/And pass it back under the table to me/I put the stash in the bookshelf/Open your mouth and I’ll slip you the key/Now crack that combination/
Chairlift’s new album Moth comes out in January of next year.
Mansgiving at Altitude Sports Grill
Eat turkey legs, ham, baby back ribs and more while watching football on 11 massive TVs.
Thanksgiving Celebration at Indian Pueblo Cultural Center
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