Raw posts and updates from our writers with info too timely or uncategorizable for print. What, we said something stupid? Chime in, buddy.
Call of Cambria
Tuesday, Sep 20: Coheed and Cambria, Saves the Day and Polyphia
By August March [ Mon Sep 19 2016 10:00 AM ]
The Color Before the Sun VIP Packages available.
Courtesy of the artist
Just Have Fun
Saturday, Sep 17: Cyndi Lauper
By August March [ Fri Sep 16 2016 12:00 PM ]
Cyndi Lauper is an American singer-songwriter who rose to fame in the 1980s with a string of pop hits such as "Girls Just Want to Have Fun."
The Daily Word in Anaya, Diversity, Microwave Weapons and Hotdogs
By August March [ Thu Sep 15 2016 12:45 PM ]
New Mexico author Rudolfo Anaya will be honored with a National Humanities Medal at a Sept. 22 White House ceremony.
UNM has the highest number, per capita, of Hispanic and Native American faculty in the USA. But academia still lags with regard to instructor diversity, say experts.
Wise Pies may have to temporarily halt operations due to a beef the company has with state tax officials.
A state Republican lawmaker has filed an ethics complaint against a child advocacy group that ran satirical ads on the teevee.
Among this coming weekend's TedxABQ Talks: a discussion of combat-based nonlethal microwave weapons being developed at the local Air Force Research Lab.
The New Mexico Restaurant Association says Tatsu Miyazaki is our state's Chef of the Year; Pizza 9 also won a good neighbor award for being a positive force in our community, writes Las Cruces' newspaper of record.
The Texas Hornshell mussel is an endangered species struggling to spread its DNA in Southeastern New Mexican rivers.
Nearby Cibola County has seen a 50 percent decrease in precipitation over the past year.
Burque resident Anthony C. Osmond used a hotdog to catch and release a 28 inch tiger muskie.
The Daily Word in Sosa, Luhan, Johnson, Balderas, the state fair and trout
By August March [ Thu Sep 8 2016 12:30 PM ]
Influential New Mexican civil rights leader, former NM Supreme Court Justice, World War II fighter pilot and all around chingón Dan Sosa Jr. died at age 92. He passed through the gate while residing in the same home he was born at, an adobe home in Las Cruces built by his abuelo in the mid 19th century.
Over at the local daily, Winthrop Quigley writes lovingly about New Mexico icon Mabel Dodge Luhan and her inimitable influence on American intellectual and cultural thinking.
Former New Mexico Governor and Libertarian presidential candidate Gary Johnson took a serious, foreign-policy related stumble while visiting with the folks at MSNBC.
The New Mexico State Fair comes but once a year; now it's here, now it's here.
Our state's Attorney General, Hector Balderas, wrote to the US Department of Education yesterday, asking them to protect students following the sudden closure of for-profit college ITT Tech, which had a campus in Burque.
Netflix new Western, "Godless," began filming in the land of enchantment this week.
Meanwhile, Thomas Lee at the San Francisco Chronicle says a "demonstration city" to be built in New Mexico faces "long odds."
The economy of Milan, New Mexico may suffer because of the Department of Justice decision to phase out private prisons across the United States.
"Roylee Luna of Albuquerque caught and released a 22-inch lake trout while fishing the river below Heron Dam on Sunday. He was using a black woolly bugger."
Courtesy of the artist
Run to this Show!
Saturday, Sep 10: Don't Run Away
By August March [ Thu Sep 8 2016 11:00 AM ]
See this AZ band perform live.
Courtesy of the author
"He Had a Far Out Decorator"
By August March [ Wed Sep 7 2016 9:17 PM ]
As 1991 began, I lived north the university. That year, it happened the weather did not get really cold until the end of January. There were patches of ice on the sidewalks near my house, also near the apartment of my friend, Kenneth W. Seward.
Seward was a lighting designer whom I worked with at the University of New Mexico. I had recently graduated from art school. I worked at Keller Hall, in the department of Music. Seward studied in the Theatre department and held a part-time job at the concert hall.
We were friends, collaborating on multi-media projects, discussing literature and music, generally encouraging the other’s reading and art-making. We were both Eagle Scouts; we both played the piano. But while I struggled with the instrument, he killed it–gracefully and courageously hammering out Beethoven while I kept getting lost after a dozen bars.
Listen: In those halcyon days, Ken was dying of a brain tumor. At the end of the previous summer, he had come into my office and complained of numbness in his hands, a dark circumstance for a manipulator of lights and electricity. Concerned, I suggested he go to the student health center.
One thing then led to another. By mid-autumn 1990, he had been diagnosed with glioblastoma multiforme, a deadly type of brain cancer.
By January he had lost the ability to walk and manipulate tools and therefore, to work. His parents were in California. He had become estranged from them for he was gay and they could not accept that fact.
But he had loads of friends in Burque. We pitched in to help him. We all took turns keeping him company, taking him to the UNM Cancer Center, feeding and bathing him while Bartok and Gilbert and Sullivan played in the background.
When his parents finally arrived to make their peace in February, I resignedly noted that his father looked more like Ken than Ken did.
Kenneth W. Seward died on March 6, 1991 while I was eating lunch at the New Chinatown with some deadhead buddies of mine. That day, beautiful puffy clouds filled the sky over dirt city and it rained and rained that night. The next week, the College of Fine Arts held a glorious memorial service for him in Rodey Theater.
I kept a picture of him on the crew bulletin board at Keller Hall. In the picture he looked young and brave and full of life, holding a crescent wrench in his hand, smiling up towards the bright lights that beckoned him.
Soon after Ken died, I broke up with my long-time girlfriend. She was a classical musician. I'd like to believe we drifted apart during Seward’s illness, but the truth was much simpler and profoundly more tragic. I was a hipster; she was L-7.
After all of that, spring came, anyway. It was warm again; the grass was greenly lush at the duck pond. I kept busy by painting large abstract, loathsomely bright pictures and managing the concert hall.
Sometime in late March, some news went around the Fine Arts Center. The Dalai Lama was going to be visiting the university and would be speaking at Popejoy Hall.
I knew little about the man. The organization Friends of Tibet had occasionally visited the college, had brought around a group of touring monks to entertain and perplex the patrons of art and music who haunted the foyer. These followers of the lama performed traditional dances and chants and were magically entrancing to those who had the privilege of attending.
Coincidentally, my roommate, a graduate student in art history, was a devout Buddhist. He filled me in on concepts and events related to Tibetan Buddhism and the preeminence of the fourteenth Dalai Lama.
Anyway, it came to pass the Dalai Lama and his entourage needed a place to camp out before his speaking engagement. These were in the days before UNM renovated the Fine Arts Center. Much of it was an unkempt old joint–that included the Popejoy Hall green room, which was mostly a place the technical crew hung out to smoke and nap.
Owing to the fact that Keller hall was a genteel venue where chamber music and avant-garde compositions were performed, its green room was chosen as a headquarters for the visitors. The Keller Hall Green Room was tastefully decorated, well furnished and looked out onto a small verdant garden.
When the day arrived, the Dalai Lama was driven to the loading dock in back of the UNM art museum. Advisers, a meteorologist with magical abilities, members of Friends of Tibet and a small press corps accompanied him. Though he had recently won the Nobel Prize, he was not nearly as famous as he is now; the issues surrounding Tibet had just begun to creep into the public’s consciousness.
His Holiness Tenzin Gyatso was immediately whisked to the Keller Hall green room, where different dignitaries, including the President of the University, came and went, presenting him with fresh fruit and prayer shawls.
Late in the afternoon, I noticed there was an empty space on the couch next to the lama, so I went over and sat down next to him.
He looked over and remarked, “You are brave!” He put his arm around me, said something in Tibetan to the monk sitting next to him and continued, “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “everything will be fine.” He laughed. It was a deep and happy laugh.
Then motioned to one of his advisers and the two got up from their seats. The lama needed some time alone, to eat and meditate, the adviser told everyone in the room.
The Dalai Lama waved at me, then retired to the downstairs lounge in Keller Hall. Later I was asked by one of his aides to join his procession over to Popejoy Hall. I didn’t have another opportunity to speak to him, though. He and his followers left soon after the event was over.
The rest of that spring and then the summer seemed to zip right on by. I finished a decent painting, figured out a tune by Bartok and then welded together a sculpture that held a bit of Ken’s ashes inside of it. When someone stole it from in front of the Art Building at the end of May, I felt the same pleasure Duchamp must have felt when workmen dropped and shattered Le Grand Verre.
In June, I got the only tattoo I would ever sport–from the legendary J.B. Jones, who decided to paint a picture of the Holy Spirit on my left shoulder. In August, my roommate and I decided to rent out a room in the old, rambling house we shared.
The ad we placed in the Daily Lobo was answered by a group of exchange students from Britain. They were young and brave and full of life. Two of them would end up living in the house and loudly introducing us to a thing called EDM.
The third was a long-haired wandering anthropologist from Wales. In the year that followed, she took me abroad. We traveled through Amazonia, basked on the beaches of lower Antilles, squatted in a shack in Middlesex and finally took a journey to the place where Nepal borders Tibet. In September 1996, we trekked up a river that followed a long, steep valley–into the kingdom of Mustang.
This was the place where lamas dwelt, walking amidst fields of buckwheat and dusty trails. They were in search of light, I remember thinking to myself as the straps from Ken’s old backpack dug into my shoulders and the mountains beckoned us.
MusikAnimal via Wikimedia
“My Name is Lucifer; Please Take My Hand”
Friday, Sep 9: Black Sabbath Live
By August March [ Wed Sep 7 2016 1:00 PM ]
See the internationally-known band perform live.
The Daily Word In justified gun discharge, no big 12 and the return of Lyft
By August March [ Thu Sep 1 2016 12:25 PM ]
An APD officer who suffered a broken femur and wrist in an encounter with a convicted felon and habitual offender was cleared of wrong doing in the incident.
UNM sports teams are out of the running to be part of the Big 12 Conference.
An affordable housing project called CUATRO opened on Fourth Street recently.
Albuquerque Public Schools is delaying some important remodeling and renovation projects because of a lawsuit calling into issue the district's funding process.
First the Isotopes eked one out; then the Bees bounced back.
The return of Lyft bodes well for the Duke City.
There are some really big Rainbow Trout in New Mexico lakes and someone from Burque caught one in the Pecos River "while fly-fishing with a bead-head, pheasant tail nymph."
Friday, Aug 26: Votives • instrumental, ambient, post rock • Cryogenic Styles • Five Mile Float • indie • Spice Boys • punk rock • Cee Mo
By August March [ Thu Aug 25 2016 2:00 PM ]
See the second of a series of events hosted by Weekly Alibi featuring the best local bands.
The Daily Word in Groceries, Triple-A Beisbol, Kirko Bangz and Gigantic Bluegill
By August March [ Thu Aug 25 2016 12:32 PM ]
As of 6am this fine August morning, there is a grocery store in downtown Albuquerque and it is open.
The Albuquerque Isotopes went 12 innings against the El Paso Chihuahuas, but lost 4-2 after Chihuahuas' third baseman Carlos Asuage and shortstop Jóse Rondón came alive late in the game.
Members of the Kirtland Air Force Base 512th Rescue Squadron recently saved a couple of hikers who were lost in the mountains of Colorado. But they had to leave the llamas behind.
The Daily Lobo reports on violence at the Metropolitan Detention Center and the protests that have consequently ensued.
H-Town rapper Kirko Bangz caused some trouble in Hobbs.
New Mexico's Human Services Department will now be under the guidance of a special master.
At Shady Lakes, Northwest of town, "There are some gigantic bluegill hanging out at the trout gutting station."
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