|
 |
Posted by Marie on 30 Apr 2008 | Tagged as: Punk
Kris was one of the scenesters at La Mere, which was the first Chicago punk club. She used to go by the name of TigerLady.
Q.) How did you get into punk rock? What were you into before?
A.) I was never big into music, but I went from listening to Carol King and Joni Mitchell to buying a Patti Smith album because of a review in Rolling Stone. The first listen, I didn’t get it, but by the third I was hooked!
Posted by Marie on 06 Mar 2008 | Tagged as: Art, Poetry, Photos
The Sun Rises
I’ll never fully recover
I’ll never really completely get her
out of my system
We spent years together
raging against the reality
of the world.
We created our own world,
a false and sometimes
magnificent world
that was all our
own.
But it all came crashing down
when we came to the realization
that our peace
was really just an imitation
of the real
thing.
Our love
was just an imitation
of the real
thing.
Comments Off
Posted by Marie on 07 Jan 2008 | Tagged as: Interviews, Punk
Interview by Marie Kanger-Born
This is part one of an interview series that addresses women involved in the Chicago punk scene of both the past and the present.
This first interview features Mary Alice Ramel, who played an influential role in the first generation Chi punk scene. Mary Alice published the first Chicago fanzine, which sometimes featured a soap opera story that mirrored her own adventures in the scene, of course, using psuedo-names. Mary Alice was also the inspiration for the character of Riff Randall in the movie, “Rock n Roll High School” and featured a clip of Riff reading the GGG.
I would like to note that Mary Alice is my own personal hero because I have so much regard and admiration for the many creative ideas that she came up with in the early scene. Mary Alice currently is kept very busy with work and an active family life, but remembers her time in the scene with great fondness.
Posted by Marie on 14 Dec 2007 | Tagged as: Art, Poetry, Photos, Fiction/Non-Fiction/Creative Writing
Written by Rik Villanueva
I write to keep my sanity. . .what do you do?
“Remote”
We are the illiterate
A populace sans Illuminati
The feeling blind
Forgoing emotion for the bumps and ridges
that line the streets as we wander together alone
Blocked
That second monkey hiding his eyes
from the horrors between the spots
In a muted state that exists in this world
the cries of the downtrodden echo
Comments Off
Posted by Marie on 05 Dec 2007 | Tagged as: Interviews
Interview by Marie Kanger-Born
It’s no secret that Articles of Faith was my favorite band back in the 1980′s. I have more photos of them than any of the other old bands. In particular Vic was my favorite photographic subject because no other vocalist I knew could match his passion and intensity. Over the years Vic has been involved in other bands such as Jones Very, Alloy and his most recent effort– Report Suspicious Activity.
I started thinking about AoF again recently because a discussion about them came up on the CPP messageboard. A few issues were articulated that I became curious about so I decided to write to Vic and seek clarification, which he graciously agreed to do via an email interview:
Posted by Marie on 15 Sep 2007 | Tagged as: Art, Poetry, Photos
A poem by Matt Coppens
I can look out, into nothing
with my eyes squinted, hazy, dusty, smoky.
Hold my eyes closed and see.
I can see my mother walking beside my father’s
blue 1967 Chevy convertible, refusing to get in
as we coast slowly along, she at the roadside.
I can feel the cold white leather seats
on my young thighs and behind as my two older sisters
sit in silence beside me.
Comments Off
Posted by Marie on 15 Sep 2007 | Tagged as: Fiction/Non-Fiction/Creative Writing
A short story by Matt Coppens
My father lay there on the hospital bed with a bandage covering the right side of his throat from the esophagus cancer surgery he’d just had. He lay there limp, weak, helpless. My pop, the man who served 5 years in the U.S. military between 1962 and 1967, the toughest son of a bitch I’d ever known lay there not even able to lift his arms to feed himself the ice chips the nurse’s had left for him to keep his mouth from drying out too badly.
The rest of the family, my girlfriend, and brother in-law were all there, too frightened to feed him the ice chips so I did it. Leaning over him with a plastic spoon in my hand I gently dropped a few ice chips into his mouth, a thin-lipped Belgian mouth that he inherited from his father, the same thin-lipped mouth I inherited from him.
Posted by Marie on 19 Jul 2007 | Tagged as: Fiction/Non-Fiction/Creative Writing
A short story written by Rik Villanueva
29 and wasting time at work. . . Work was a retail retirement home of some 85 years. Immediately following the holidays comes the mediocre task of markdowns. You know, dropping prices to clearance. Pink on blue. Pink price stickers over the old blue ones. Drone work. Standing in front of a clothes rack or rounder changing stickers. A monotonous existence for a few hours a day. Stressful, but not high energy stressful. Stressful like a helium balloon slowly drifting far enough to be out of view, then gone. Tack on to that my suspicious demeanor. Pink on blue. A rage building on an otherwise cool personality. You wouldn’t want to approach me on a sales floor. Before you had the chance to finish asking if I worked there, I’d say ‘No’. Neglect like holding up your hand trying to get a teacher’s attention only to be called on and give a wrong answer. Letdown. Pink on blue.
Comments Off
Posted by Marie on 02 Jul 2007 | Tagged as: Fiction/Non-Fiction/Creative Writing
Written by Rik Villanueva
I’m not scared of dying. . . anymore. I am the reason for so many things, so many changes, that I will live forever. I am already immortal. What happens after this doesn’t really matter anymore. Who I am, you already know. Television had my face flashing all over world. Children in third world countries know my smile. They will grow up to tell their own children that if they’re not good, it’ll be me that comes to get them at night. My name won’t have to be translated for people to know who it is you’re talking about. My given name, my Christian name, will be forgotten. I will be the last face that people see in the darkness as they shiver under a down blanket in the summer. My laugh will keep people from entering a room without reaching in to turn on the light first. I made the church sit up and listen.
AVAILABLE NOW  Get it at: LuLu Books Amazon |
