Buy this, now! (Please?)

Go buy this book, will you, please? She is such a nice lady, so smart and oh-so talented. I think you should buy it and read it from cover to cover. NOW.

Hey there

We just had a show at the 5 Spot with Tillman, and the folks over at the Nashville Scene were kind enough to write about us. You can check out the links here:

Critics' Pick

Thursday Night Round-Up

Big News

Well, I've been holding out from talking about it, but I've had my first appointment and can't hold it in any longer.

I am pregnant.

I am so thrilled, I can't even express it - and after hearing the heartbeat today - well, it just solidifies what is really going on inside my body.

Judge and I are making a lot of changes, some that are necessary, some that are bittersweet, but it all feels right so I cannot complain. We've decided to move from our beloved home in Nashville to my hometown of Birmingham to be closer to family. Both Tay and I have family members there and it seems like the smartest thing to do with the impending babe.

We are keeping our wonderful band in Nashville, the Joiners, and will visit often. (We have a show on the 22nd of July at the 5 Spot with our friend Max's band, Tillman) These two towns are only 3 hours apart. It really is just a quick ride up the interstate, so we won't be strangers to Music City. We hate to leave all the beautiful people we've met over the years, but times are a' changing and we've decided it is best to relocate.

This is the big news I've been sitting on, and both Taylor and I are so excited. I just had to share!

Rock and Roll Wedding

Check out my beautiful friend Erinn and her exquisite wedding photos. She's such a sweetheart!

Poesy: Another One of Mine, But the Last One, I Promise! Edition

This poem is for Mike. I feel intimately still connected to the man, though he is lost to us. Sometimes I sit around the house and talk aloud to him, because I feel he needs to be updated on the happenings in my town. I wrote this the week before the flood, and I typed it up the other night and was surprised by the last couple sentences of it. Strange I would reference both, "it has been a mild spring," and then wishing a sea into the side of the potter's shed. I was going to rewrite it to include the flood details, but then just left it - it was written B.F. = Before the Flood - and didn't want to change that. I figure I've more than enough material for future poems on that subject anyway.

It's not perfect, but it's for Mike Fort, whom I sincerely miss and wish were here. I would finally finish that Hugo Black biography just so we could sit around and talk about it.

Mike,

I know you would like springtime here. The yew is growing, bluebells and daffodils
Flowering in the soft dawn. Peonies are just beginning to bud. I’m sorry for the dog,
he is genuinely still a puppy though two years old, and I’ve a feeling you would eventually like him and his ice blue eyes though he finds pleasure in digging and burying like comic strip Marmaduke in your backyard. Sometimes I take him to walk in Shelby Park, where you fished and biked and golfed.
It has been a mild dry spring with only one tornado, no one hurt.
The most pleasant addition has been the piano. Taylor plays the fluid, clean notes all over our afternoons while the wind outside stirs the old oak tree and the mud room door stands open. Your old chest of drawers are still in the back potter’s shed, which we use for just the lawnmower, though it’s been stolen once. (Don’t worry, the neighbor’s grandkid’s been caught just like when you cussed him that time.)
I think that sometimes, nothing’s changed here, but it has. We’ve gotten older, and it’s true, one slows down. We see sunrise and forget midnight, and we hold fast to the anxiety of that which only you know, literally more inevitable than before. (Besides, the Radio Cafe has been closed for some time now.)
As you know, there is no ocean here, nor Alabama, so I sit on that back porch, yours, and wish a sea into the side of the potter’s shed. In that sea I climb aboard my boat and visit my family on a silent island, film sound-tracked with birds too enamored in the sunlight to do anything but sing.
We miss you.

Love,

The Joiners

This Lady is Amazing

Kendra Krantz is a beautiful photographer. (ahem, see above.) I am moved by her snapped images, and hope you will check her out. She has some compelling shots of the Nashville Flood, both of Downtown and Shelby Bottoms, a park at the bottom of my street. Many of them were captured while it was still pouring, and they make me want to cry when I see them. She's being featured on the new flood benefit cd put together by Lightning 100. Please contact her about doing your wedding, band, or "I'm a sexy person and just want my photos taken" photos. Mmm kay?

Take a Break -

Chris Crofton rescues the prostitutes.

We are Nashville

I can't speak about this flood without getting sentimental. Since it is all I can think about, I wanted to put some videos and links here for anyone interested.





Buy your Nashville flood shirt.

Buy your We are Nashville shirt.

Volunteer or donate to Hands on Nashville.

Kenny Chesney on the flood.

A little laugh from Colbert.

Jon Stewart talks Nashville.

Jacyn throws rocks at country singers.

Olbermann gives us a shout out.

Newsweek gives us reasons why we were ignored.

And here's the blog he references.

And that same sweet lady mentioned me on her blog. Whenever she does, it makes me feel like a rock star. She also quotes a line from a Joiners song in another post.

I think that's all for now.

........

My heart hurts.

My beloved city is struggling under the weight of dirty water; our museums, tourist attractions and homes are flooded, and many humans and animals are displaced due to the massive amount of rainfall that occurred in just two days.

I see it and cry. I see damages in friends' homes that they can't afford to fix, as many of us are unemployed or barely employed and don't have the cash or flood insurance to deal with this catastrophe.

One of the reasons I love Nashville - the people - they are shining right now. Everyone is joining together, helping with flooded basements and conserving water because we're running low on reserves right now. It fills me with pride and faith in humanity to hear all the efforts going on to aid those in need. I am humbled by my neighbors and their willingness to give.

Nashville, dear sweet reluctant uncle who took me in, I have adored you from the first visit I ever paid you. You take us all in, we're all immigrants to your Cumberland banks. We are tourists forever in our hearts, unbelieving that such a place exists with such beautiful people who have flocked to you for your artistry, your commerce, your mythical history. Thank you for letting us be a part of your story, as you have changed mine. I weep to see you in such a state and want to embrace the historic and struggling downtown streets, the Country Music Hall of Fame, the Grand Ole Opry, Shelby Bottoms, and the underwater neighborhood of Bellvue, and squeeze you so hard the water recedes as if it never occurred. I am so sorry to see you this way. And the farms? The small local farmers who have record numbers this year due to the influx of organically-minded Nashvillians, I am stunned by the loss of their property and vegetables. Their torn and lost fences, the chickens drowned and horses stranded, how can they bounce back from this tragedy?

I suppose I feel terrible for being so lucky while others have lost so much. Our basement flooded slightly, but our sump pump did a heck of a job. I live just two streets away from the river - yet I survived unscathed - and I see the Cumberland and its swollen banks standing high from my backyard, and I can't believe it.

Anyone who lives outside of this beautiful city, if you have any money to spare, please give to the organizations who are helping our residents affected by this catastrophe. No one saw this coming, and how could they? Many lost their lives in the flash floods that happened during the monsoon; it was sudden and strong and although waters are beginning to recede, this cleanup will go on for months. Check Nashvillest for further information on how to contribute.

Nashville, I love you. I always have, I always will. You are inspiring and and willful, and I know you will emerge stronger than ever after this tragedy. I am just so sorry to see you so damaged.

Want to Help?

If you want to know how to help Tennesseans after the massive flood, go to the Nashvillest site. These ladies are amazing. They kept the news coming when no one else cared to report it.

New Music! Yipee!

Check out selections from Brett Rosenberg's new album - which features a few with the Joiners. It's really great; he writes Loudon Wainright-esque lyrics, rocks the guitar with sublime New England angsty-abandon, and hey - he looks like Bob Dylan! Check it out. YOU WILL LOVE IT. IT WILL MAKE YOU DANCE.

Spring Madness!

Gonzo stops to smell the flowers.




















I love these yellow bells. What is their real name? Forsythia? They look afire with spring.



















A look out over the Cumberland.

Verdict!

Read my review of Crazy Cock, a Henry Miller novel, over at the Nashville For Free website. Enjoy!

First Day of Spring

IT'S THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING! Well, I'll celebrate with these blue flowers! Look at the little patches of them! I also like the tree shadow! EXCLAMATION POINT!



















I have to throw myself down on the grass just to believe it - yes - it's warm! A look up proves there isn't a cloud in the sky.



















Gonzo doesn't want to stop here and relax. He wants to continue on so he can keep smelling stuff. That is what he lives for. Seriously. To smell things he hasn't smelled before. Maybe it's he has a huge Jimmy Durante nose.



















A look across the Cumberland. The lovely industrial view of INGRAM enterprises! They get to look at our pretty Shelby Park and we get their barges and CAT equipment.



















One more look at the brilliant sky before we leave: Yea, Spring!

Spring! Sun! Park-Dog-Walking! Yeehaw!

Judge and Gonzie - walking in Shelby Park. Love them both and the majestic rays of sunshine.



















Shelby Park little creek. Beautiful sunny day.



















Another view of the little creek, and the flaking hand rail.



















And one more of the Judge and Gonzie, crossing the little bridge. My husband's good looking, even from behind, y'all! Look at him strutting through the sunbeams!

Two Things

You have to visit these sites. Seriously.

1. This sweet lady is precious. I adore her blog and her photography. Go see it and add it to your regular viewing materials.

2. Judge is starting to post his new fiction material from a piece called, Maniac. It's good, and there's lots more to come. Here's the first chapter.

Poesy: Another One of Mine Edition

No Rest

Blurred in black-and-white,
two girls hang suspended
over yuppie converse.
The coffee shop is loud, bustling
with fellows at 9:30AM
who do not use an office for work
but meet here beneath the gaze
of the two photographed children
in a field without color.
The coffee grinds and combines
with warm milk, frothy, expanded milk
whipped up for patrons
who bark plans over cell phones
or to their cross-table company.
The young girls stare
over the heads of the new leisure class
and they will stare
until the artist’s exhibit ends,
perhaps a month,
and those two barefoot, serene children
will breathe in relief,
bored from the conversation assault,
thankful for the sudden quiet
the coffee shop never supplied.

~RPJ

Poesy: One of Mine Edition

Since today is a beautiful sunny day, I want to post an ode to our ridiclious winter. I haven't been able to shake the bone-cold that we've had this season, and I wrote this the other night in frustration. And to imagine, in high school, I was determined to get out of the south and move to Maine. MAINE?!? What was I thinking? Glad I opted for Tuscaloosa, AL instead.

The Unseasonable Winter

Empty, hollow winter -
starlings crowding the street near the curb
and sudden trash - it feels like Sunday.
Whispering white roofs
holding the snow till it falls into the Cumberland -
swelling the brown river
that serpentines and slugs.
In February, the earth quiets, but begins to grow unnoticed.
Nashville stumbles toward spring
with a frostbitten foot and aching joints,
remembering the wavering heat of Fan Fair
as a pleasant but not present memory.
There is the hope of the immigrants
who long and fall and pray; their hope
gets up in the morning icy streets
to head for work.
Metro, MTA Mondays -
hold the masses in your hands- comfort them
in droll days when they wake and try and drink.
Davidson County sleeps and starts,
sighs and shouts aloud.
Davidson County lies silent in winter.

That's Gotta Hurt!

To celebrate our new album, I thought I'd pay homage to our rag tag music collective of misfits by putting Hands Down Eugene and Good Americans' Matt Moody on here. Matt is so devoted to Trey Deuce that he got it stitched on his forearm. Go team! But really, Matt is a stellar musician and all-around good guy. To hear more of his music, go to the Hands Down Eugene site, and for a sampling of the Good Americans, you can find them here. Take a listen.

Greatest Show Promo Video Ever

Here's Brett, letting you know about our show on Thursday night. It's good for an old-time laugh: