Walking back from the central library, from where I picked up treasures of Cecil Taylor and ELO, standing on NW Park, waiting to cross Burnside, I noticed one person, a blanket shrouded shaggy man, across the street, up the block, walking towards me. Burnside traffic was thick and aggressive, so I was going nowhere, so [...]

Not to diminish a totally rehearsed and polished output, I just want to go on record here and posit a question: Why is it that at this point in creative history that visual arts rendered with a loose hand or abstract style are accepted and revered, yet the moment one moves the medium to sound, [...]

At the edge of a park sit four retired men, two Russian, two Mexican – all in America. All wearing black. They are crowded at the far left of the low mossy concrete bench, close to the street and bus shelter. On the passing bus every human is contributing their own verbal overlay. Chatty, like [...]