From left to right: Potter, Expat, JOB, Lickona, Webb. Not present: Finnegan.
The Kollektiv
January 12, 2012 by at 11:11 pm
A nod to Kierkegaard and Walker Percy: existentialist tomfoolery, political satire, literary homage, word mongering, a year-round summer reading club, Dylanesque music bits, apocalyptic marianism, poetry, fiction, meta-porn, a prisoner work-release program.
JOB
Conflicted in early life between his desire to be a weatherman for local community access cable stations and a man who wears pants in July, JOB took the middle road and now writes poems between every waking moment. [Read More …]
Southern Expat
All you need to know is that I'm a lady, understand?
Behave yourselves accordingly. [Read More …]
Very nice. I’ve been listening to Sting and lute accompanimen–for my own reasons.
The kids are (mostly) down and the wife is upstairs. I love the website – the prose and the poetry warm my heart, usually. When they don’t they have their own reasons (the words and lyrics, not my heart).
I was a big fan of Godsbody in the olden days, and I like Korrectiv even better. Kudos to Matthew et al.
Chin up an all that sot of thing.
My four year old son just came down herer and asked if he could wacth me while I work, so I am busted.
God bless,
Long time lurker and all that
Bob
I realize that “sot” is funny to you people. The rest of the spelling errors are mine own.
God bless.
Bob! Thanks for reading, and for your kind words. Godsbody was a grand time.
Bob! Thanks for de-lurking. You’ll know you’ve been certified when Churchill accuses you of being just another made-up reader.
Finnegan let the rest of you borrow his guitar.
What are these “records” he speaks of?
That’s what cool kids call digital recordings of music that you download onto your mobile device. She’s coming by with her mobile device to collect the records off of his computer.
This is terrific. I want to be in a band so bad I could almost practice.
Also, Finnegan’s there, he’s just disguised as a houseplant.
Alternately: Finnegan is at his desk, off-camera, glowering at the rest of us for playing the same song over and over for the webcam while he’s trying to finish his book.
When I saw ExPat this morning she was not an edgy, blonde indie musician. This is definitely a change.
…for the worse. You left off that part.
FILED UNDER: AWKWARD.
To be fair, the line between “Edgy, blonde, indie blogger” and “Edgy, blonde, indie musician” is pretty fine, don’t you think, Texan?
Good point.
In the man’s defense, he really dislikes tattoos.
Perhaps the transformation is a joint effect of her Hendrick’s and his Blanton’s.
Back to the topic – the original video for the song is pretty cool, too, I think. If I were a certain chastity speaker, I would incorporate the symbolism of this video into my high-powered talks.
I do not, however, feel it would be appropriate to assign Kollektiv personalities to the two individuals in said video.
That was before Lickona cut his hair.
But after The Wife dyed hers.
I think perhaps it’s Lickona and the Mrs. in the original video, and then the rest of us did a cover – so that’s Jobe next to Webb.
If nothing else, it earns points for contrariety, originality, spareness, and strangeness.
SO, I think this is all very interesting, because even BEFORE this blog post, I was thinking about two things:
1. Writing a blues song about how difficult it is to come up with a clever pseudonym, first line “all the clever ones are taken.” Was going to maybe crowdsource this effort.
2. The meme of “you don’t know me” that goes along with breakup songs, and how you don’t hear a lot of songs along the lines of “you knew me really well and accepted me despite my manifold flaws, but I got sick of myself and had to get rid of you, too, as part of my self-reinvention.” See: midlife crisis. My favorite of these songs, admittedly with a weird video and some bad words in the lyrics, is Ben Folds and Regina Spektor’s “You Don’t Know Me.”
And, of course, if we consider “know” in the biblical sense, these songs are usually written for folks who did, in fact, know one another.
Got a wife and kids in Baltimore, Jack
I went out for a ride and I never went back…
See also, the vast repertoire of “Rambling Man” songs. “I love you honey, and it’s been great, but now, I’ve just got to ramble on.”
The Wife says: “It’s almost as good as the last night in New Orleans. “You take a KO – like a knock-out…”
Does this mean that you all plan to simultaneously write a novel with the same typewriter?
They let me hit the parentheses.
And I’ll man the return key to execute felicitous enjambments and the pregnant-white-space-precipitating stanza breaks(assuming, of course, it is a novel in verse, which is all the rage these days, I hear…).
JOB