My first reaction, when I saw the news about the school shooting in Connecticut last Friday, was to blame myself. Friday was my sixth consecutive day of illness. A nasty bout with norovirus earlier in the week had left me vulnerable to an opportunistic throat infection and, as I sucked down another cherry lozenge on the train back from the doctor’s office that morning, the weight of accumulated misery and exhaustion finally depleted whatever tiny reserve of decency I had left. I’d had it. (more…)
Bluesman Tim Gearan has been doing it right here in Cambridge for years. There’s something undeniably fun about his music, tunes that keep you dancing even as the gravel in his voice speaks of years of hardship. One time, back when he used to play regular Monday night gigs at Toad in Porter Square, the whole band – horns and all – stood up in the middle of a song, marched in single-file across the street to the Dunkin’ Donuts, bought coffees and walked right back into the venue, with the crowd following behind. They kept playing the entire time.
But the joy of Tim’s performances, to me, isn’t in stunts like that. It’s the way his songs feel instantly familiar, like buried memories suddenly unearthed by a chance sight or scent. And like old memories, his songs often contain a strange mixture of comfort and darkness. (more…)
The crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise is dead.
Sulu is the first to die, hurled from his seat at the helm when the Klingon torpedo hits. Uhura slumps over her console, which has just exploded in a shower of sparks. Dr. McCoy is killed by another blast as he hurries to attend to Sulu. Spock has just had time to announce, “No power to the weapons, Captain,” before shrapnel spears him in the back and he collapses to the deck. (more…)
