MPR: Word of Mouth

August

August 1
Fringe Festival
Strange Places
Park Square Theatre: The Mystery of Irma Vep
Newton Hills State Park: Folk Festival
Center for Independent Artists: Salamat
Kellie Rae Theiss Gallery: Girls with Guns
Greysolon Plaza: Bridget Riversmith
Poetry by Mike Finley
Listen to the show (G2)

August 8
Fringe Festival
Voice Coach
Theatre in the Round: Mikado
3 Legged Race: Summer Blizzard
Theatre de la Juene Lune: Kubla Khan
Greysolon Plaza: Bridget Riversmith
Poetry by Mike Finley
Listen to the show (G2)

August 15
Nickel and Dimed
Songs from Tallgrass Prairie
Bassoon Quartet
Western Sculpture Park: Hmong Art Festival
Intermedia Arts: Hip Hop Celebration
Theatre de la Jeune Lune: Festival of Appropriation
Minnesota Center for Photography: Civil Rights in Minnesota
Poetry by Mike Finley
Listen to the show (G2)

August 22
The Saxophonist
Martin Dewitt
Le Cirque Rouge de Gus
Lee's Liquor Lounge: Mike Gunther
Loring Playhouse: Falsettos
Kiehle Gallery: Carol Emmons
Cedar Riverside People's Center: The House of Yes
Poetry by Mike Finley
Listen to the show (G2)

August 29
Digital Access
Jean Rochard
Fargo Theatre: Fargo Folk Festival
Brilliant Corners: Kelly Rossum Quintet
The Minneapolis Institue of Arts: Art That's Really Moving
Southern Theater: Body and Soul
Poetry by Mike Finley
Listen to the show (G2)

via news.minnesota.publicradio.org

August 1, MPR, look for Mike Finley on the list

FolkWorld Article: Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

When `Phaudrig Crohoore' appeared in the Dublin University Magazine, my brother, under his nom de plume, wrote a preface to it, in which he said that it had been composed by a poor Irish minstrel, Michael Finley, who could neither read nor write, but used to recite it, with others of his songs and ballads, at fairs and markets.

Many years afterwards, one evening, after I had recited it at Lord Spencer's, who was then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, the late primate, Beresford, said to Lady Spencer, who was sitting near me, `I can tell you a curious fact, Lady Spencer; that poem was composed by a poor Irish peasant, one Michael Finley, who could neither read nor write.' Then turning to me, `Were you aware of that, Mr. Le Fanu?' `I was, your Grace,' said I; `and you may be surprised to hear that I knew the Michael Finley who wrote the ballad intimately - he was, in fact, my brother. But in one particular your Grace is mistaken; he could read and write a little.' The primate took it very well, and was much amused [...]

via folkworld.de

What Light: This Week's Poem: Mike Finley

via mnartists.org

Is there NASCAR in heaven?

Porchlight: A Literary Magazine

via porchlightzine.com

Inside the Canine Head. by Mike Finley

Sleet Interview

Check out this website I found at sleetmagazine.com

An interview with Jim Moore

Jesus Fused with the Cross

I saw several friends post ecstatic praise to Jesus tonight. They are people I am very fond of, but they remind me that, at my most exalted, I was never very good at that. I was terrible at lifting ,my arms and shouting 'Hallelujiah.' I felt self-conscious. I felt wrong.

I think the reason is that the "personal relationship with Jesus" is different from person to person and with me it had a definite gruesome aspect.

I only "saw" Jesus once in my life.  I was hiking in a snowstorm down by the Minnesota River, alone, and I was distraught about my kids, and about money. Suddenly, there is this figure -- this hallucination lasts all of three seconds -- and I know in an instant it is Jesus. It's freezing, and Jesus is traipsing through the wetlands, his cross grown into him.

I mean, the wood and his body have fused, and he is totally enchained in his martyrdom. He thrashes in the cattails and burdock -- and then he's gone. He was the son of God, but he was imprisoned in the cross and other vegetation. And that three seconds is my personal relationship with Jesus -- a horror story, of a God trapped in myth, loving, sacrificing, but still trapped.

And it was foreboding because I knew that this monstergod was watching me every second of every day -- in a kind of mute agony. I had all the obligations of Christianity -- being good -- but none of the sweet stuff that my Christian friends all seemed to have. It never seemed fair to me. But, I have stopped looking for "fair."

I “encountered" Jesus many other times, reading and thinking. I know he's not a monster, really. But this was the only time I actually “saw” him.  

I also appreciate that he atoned with God the father for the sins of the world -- but that doesn't mean your life isn't still hell/ And he didn't save everybody -- just the people able to clap and sing. The snide people get set aside, 

  I wonder why it's so different for other people.

Julio Ojeda-Zapata — A father, a daughter, a book

via ojezap.com

Julio Ojeda-Zapata was a colleague of mine when I covered the future at the Pioneer Press. He was kind enough to write this blog entry about YUKON GOLD.