Someone reading.
Damien Seaman reading
If there's a common thread among acts at this year's Movement 2009 Detroit electronic music festival, it's that they want Detroiters to forget about economic uncertainties.
"We don't want no wall flowers," said Afrika Bambaataa during an interview. "We want people to get down and enjoy themselves. There's too much chaos in the world today. When you get to the festival just let it all go and party."
DJ Z-Trip agreed, saying Detroit has been hit so hard that residents could use a festival like this.
• Where: Hart Plaza, Detroit
• When: Saturday-Monday
• Tickets: $30 for an individual day pass, $60 for a weekend pass, $150 for a VIP pass at the gate. Discounted passes can be purchased online at www.wantickets.com. Movement Weekend Passes can also be purchased (cash only) at various locations including: 323 East in Royal Oak; Spectacles in Detroit; and Record Time in Roseville. VIP tickets can also be purchased at 323 East in Royal Oak and Spectacles in Detroit.
• Details: For more information, visit www.livenation.com.
"They definitely could use some relief," said Z-Trip, born Zach Sciacca. "That town has such musical roots. I think that's their escape, to have their sanity and be able to release some of that tension. That's one of the big reasons why I decided to play the festival. Musically, I've always loved what Detroit represents and where it comes from -- from Motown to techno to even some rock stuff, all the Ted Nugents and the Bob Segers. It all represents such big musical talent. To go there and be able to play some stuff and encompass all of those things, it's kind of what I'm about when I play."
Movement has become the ultimate stage for the city that founded techno music to showcase its electronic music muscle. Last year's attendance nearly reached 80,000 over three days on Detroit's Hart Plaza during Memorial Day Weekend, with fans enjoying 36 hours of their favorite electronic music artists and DJs performing on five stages, according to publicist Betty Kang. It was named "Festival of the Year" by the readers of URB Magazine.
The Prodigy will play the official opening party for Movement 2009 at The Fillmore in Detroit on Friday. Chuck Flask, Paxahau resident DJ, and Evan Evolution will be performing in the State Bar. The doors open at 7 p.m.
"We really try to put together a lineup that electronic and dance music fans will enjoy," said Jason Huvaere, festival director. "We have a real mix of local, national and international artists performing this year. There is a lot of great talent from the Detroit area. About half of the artists are from Detroit."
Techno godfather and Detroiter Kevin Saunderson said it has become tradition to perform at the Movement festival. He is celebrating his 20th year in music with "History Elevate."
"This general community expects it, you expect it as an artist," Saunderson wrote in an e-mail interview. "It's special how it started and how it evolved. It's gone through many controversial times, but it has survived because of the efforts of our great Detroit artists to keep this thing afloat. It's a chance to play in front of my family, educate people who've never been to the festival or experienced Detroit techno."
Huvaere explained tens of thousands of people will be able to experience Detroit techno this year because the price of weekend passes was set at $30 for an individual day pass, $60 for a weekend pass, $150 for a VIP pass at the gate.
"We are very proud of the fact that even in this tough economy, we were able to keep the weekend passes to Movement moderately priced," Huvaere said. "It's the largest electronic music event in the country and the experience we are able to give music fans is far greater than the price of the ticket. There is no place else where someone can go to see 36 hours of music on four stages being performed by world-renowned musicians at this ticket price.
"The reason we are able to keep the ticket reasonably priced is because all the acts and the vendors work with (organizers) Paxahau to create a great event for Detroit without charging too music, allowing the prices to be lower, so a larger audience is attracted," added Huvaere, who did not want to speculate on attendance figures.
Z-Trip added that it's important to keep the ticket prices reasonable.
"Especially with the economy and, there of all places, you have to come with that kind of prices," he said. "If not, you're not going to get anybody. That place was one of the places that got hit the hardest."
This is probably the music I like least but I'm glad to see fans here. When asked to describe it, one of the organizers said it was about the future. But what that means, I don't know.
Visit Travis for more My Town Monday posts.
We went to hear Elmore and Peter at our local bookstore. These two, and especially Elmore, know how to put on a good show. For one hour, Elmore, coaxed by his son, relayed how he began writing, anecdotes about the movies made from his work, his ten rules for writing, etc.
THREE WEEKS AGO…
He hoped she would show up. Things had gotten worse than he ever expected, but there was not a damned thing to do but play his part like a true Enforcer and hope this link to the outside world would keep him sane.
It was lucky she lived in Detroit, because that made it easier on Lafitte. He’d swore never to come back here again, but when the leader of the biker club who just saved your ass from starving said “Hey, we’ve got to make a Detroit run this weekend”, you mounted up and said, “How fast, sir?”
While the marathon dogfights raged, along with hogdogging--although Billy was disgusted enough by the latter, this weekend they were using basic farm pigs, not even boars, not even giving the pork a fighting chance--he slipped around the fringes waiting for Patti. They were supposed to have cleared out by two AM, the deal having been made and Steel God not up for the carnage, but he was tired. More tired than usual. He decided to let things go til morning.
She’d been a voice of reason before, telling him to ease up on the temper or take a chill pill before cracking skulls. Like the little voice that should be in his head instead of the bastard he was stuck with.
Then, as if in a dream, she stepped out of the fog, hands deep in her jacket pockets. He cringed at her expression, which told him he must look either bad or very different than last time. He turned off the motor but stay on the chopper, not sure how this would go.
She said, “What’s with all this cloak and dagger stuff?”
He shrugged. “Just felt like it. Kind of retro, don’t you think?”
“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes. “Like with my daughter, everything’s ‘1940’s this’ and ‘Mid Twentieth Century that’, as if anything past the Beatles is so unhip. Newsflash, kids. Obama won. The government isn’t listening to your cell phone calls anymore.”
“That’s pretty naïve.”
“Maybe, but it’s cozier.” Patti let out a big yawn. “Now get to it. Why am I out here at the break of day?”
Lafitte turned away from her, listened to the clanging and growling of the crowd. Then, “I’m not so sure I made the right choice this time.”
“You mean with your Halloween costume here? Is that even a real motorcycle? Jesus, Billy. Like you worried about your choices back in Minnesota.”
“I know, I know. That was then, that was Yellow Medicine County. Two people I cared about were killed over me. So you’d think I would’ve learned something.”
Patti tsk tsk-ed and shook her head. “Wow, you’re selfish even when talking about redemption, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Do you know how worried we all were about you? Leaving us hanging like that at the end of all that mess? I couldn’t believe it when you called. I thought you were dead.”
He let it drift in the air a moment before saying, “No you didn’t.”
She huffed, then grinned, embarrassed, maybe. “You didn’t seem the suicidal type, I have to say.”
Another roar from the crowd.
“How can you stand it around those people? They’re just killing poor dogs and pigs for fun over there.”
Lafitte said, “And money. That’s what it’s really about. Money. And pride. Guys take pride in their dogs.”
“By treating them like shit?”
“Sometimes…you know…I see it in their faces. It’s stupid, and it’s heartbreaking, I know, but, it’s hard to explain.”
“Must be.”
He wagged a finger at her. “I didn’t say I approved. I’m just saying it’s complicated. When a dog dies, I hate it. Fucking hate it. But the owner hates it more. But then you have to ask, yeah, why train it to fight if it just breaks your heart? Right? But when I ask, they give you some bullshit like, ‘Well, if war comes, you’d hate for your kid to go off and fight, but you’d be proud’ or some shit. Nothing’s as easy as we want it to be.”
“You’re full of it. That’s garbage.”
He didn’t take the bait. “Could be worse. Could be in Federal prison. How’s that supposed to make me a better man?”
Patti crossed her arms, pouted her lips like she was thinking about it for a minute. Then she said, “I can’t tell you what you want to know.”
“And what’s that?”
“If there really is a chance you can fix what you’ve broken.”
He nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
She reached over, laid her hand on his shoulder. “But as for these people…I would tell you to steer clear, but I know you won’t. So just roll with it. See what happens. And if you have the chance, make the best choice for yourself. Don’t leave us hanging again.”
“Well,” his lips went all sheepish. “Not so sure I can deliver on that.”
“At least stay safe.”
He didn’t respond. Neither of them looked at the other. The crowd had quieted, began to disperse, and engines of all sizes from hogs, crotch rockets, and muscle cars roared to life, a better wake-up than coffee.
Patti said, “What’s next for you?”
“Steel God said something about putting on a motorcycle rally. That sounds fun.”
“Have you ever been to a biker rally?”
“No, but that’s what’s so fun about it. It’s better when you don’t know what’ll happen next.”
With that, he kick-started the chopper, gave it a good loud rush, then rolled off into the fog, leaving Patti shivering, wondering if she’d ever see him again.
*
Award Winning author Patricia Abbott is a short story machine, publishing over fifty now online and in print, everything from literary fiction to some pretty grim noir. And the connecting factor behind each one, to me, is the atmosphere she creates. She makes me feel that I already know her characters. And I feel bad for them when they fuck up.
At Plots with Guns, we have one of her pieces, “Like a Hawk Rising”, that roped me in from the beginning. Something about this couple’s bickering made me want to keep reading:
“I can think of a shitload of things you could be doin’ instead of that.” Marsha’s voice was a buzzing in Bernie’s ear and unconsciously he fanned her away without taking the binoculars from his eyes.
“Like what?”
“You could fix the bathroom faucet. Or,” she paused, softening her voice, “you could come up with a plan to get us some cash. The balance in our check book is looking piss-poor.” He looked up in time to see her yank her hair back into a virtual ponytail and then release it, lowering her raised shoulders in a shrug.
He put down the binoculars. “Or maybe you could help us out.” His voice was even quieter than hers. Marsha didn’t flinch; the issue of her working had been laid to rest years ago.
“You oughta at least take up some kind of hobby till your knee heals—that’s all I’m saying.” They both looked down at his cast, one of those bumpy plaster ones from the middle of the last century. The doctor who’d fixed him up was from that time too.
Reminded me a bit of Ray Carver for some reason. But then the story twisted and wound its way around, full of surprises, making me smile over and over.
But then you read some of her other work, the smile disappears and you’re left with foreboding, like in the most classic noir. For example, in “The Instrument of Their Desire”, reading how Jim “rented out” his mentally-challenged older sister in 1931 in order to save the family home sets up the atmosphere for the rest of the story. How much worse can it get? How can these characters live with themselves?
And with my soft spot for creepy Southern religious stuff, Patti’s “Tongues” really got to me:
At Karin’s church, parishioners speak in tongues, give testimony and lay on hands. Karin likes to tell her personal salvation story. It happened in a Thunderbird on a country road as she was weighing the sin in letting her boyfriend unhook her bra.
Does everyone who speaks in tongues use the same language? Can they talk to each other? Were they born knowing “tongues” or did it come to them like a taste for artichokes came to my father months after he returned from Korea? I never find the right words to ask Karin this.
It’s spooky listening to her, knowing she’s pacing her cell-like room and talking gibberish for hours. The syllables seem to rush out of her mouth and bang up against the wallboard. If I put my palms on the wall, I can feel the vibrations.
So thanks, Patti, for all of this great work. I don’t know what to expect each time I read something by you, but I know that almost every time I’m going to feel the story close in around me like the fog I wrote about, and not let up until the story is over.
And where’s the one about the woman who took photos of the dead? I know I rejected it, but I still can’t stop thinking about it.
So, will Lafitte take Patti’s advice? You’ll have to pick up Hogdoggin’ to find out. June 1st, HOGDOGGIN’ MONDAY. Let’s make some big noise in bookstores (virtual and brick both, but especially all the indie stores I’m visiting in the next two weeks) so that no one has a “case of the Mondays”. Yuck.
*
Tomorrow…is that a Raven? A killer ape? A Black Cat? No, but it is Edward “Philly Poe Guy” Petit bringing the 19th Century to our modern day Rally.
On someone’s I-pod: Boomtown Rats, “Up All Night”
Stephanie Padilla is Editor-New Mystery Reader
www.newmysteryreader.com
Resolution by Denise Mina
Maureen O’Donnell returns in Mina’s third outing featuring this most
appealing of characters. Maureen has hit hard times having spent most of an
inheritance, and now finds herself selling smuggled cigarettes to pay
back-taxes. When one of her fellow stallholders dies a suspicious death,
Maureen can’t help but become involved. All the while she must also deal
with her father’s return, and the birth of a new baby girl into her family.
Fearing her father will repeat his sexually abusive behavior, Maureen
teeters on decisions that could forever changer her life.
With more than enough surprises and twists, this literary achievement will
delight the most hardened mystery fan. But the true value comes from
Maureen herself. She is perhaps one of the most finely rendered and
sympathetic characters in mystery fiction. And although you might not
always agree with her methods, you will certainly appreciate her
motivations. Having never been to Glasgow, I feel I know it well as seen
through Mina’s eyes. Her Glasgow is a dark city, along with its
inhabitants, yet both exposing brilliant flashes of beauty that touches
deeply. And though some readers who have not read the first two in this
trilogy may find themselves a little lost at times, don’t let this stop you.
Quite the opposite, let it motivate you to go out and get the first two and
read them as quickly as you can, you won’t be sorry.
George Kelley
Bill Crider
James Reasoner
Martin Edwards
Cullen Gallagher
Scott Parker
Kerrie Smith
Jenn Jilks
Michael Walters
J. Kingston Pierce
Randy Johnson
Eric Peterson
Paul Bishop
Michael Carlson
Todd Mason
Ray Foster
Sissy Spacek reading.
Last Thursday I went to a Wayne State University Press spring gala for their fiction and poetry books. I was especially interested in hearing Michael Zadoorian read from his volume of short stories (The Lost Tiki Palaces of Detroit), and in saying a few words and getting a book signed by poet, Keith Taylor (If the World Becomes So Bright).
Megan took a few classes with Keith Taylor at the University of Michigan and she's always claimed he taught her whatever she knows about writing. He got a kick out of Megan's mother tracking him down. First time, he'd met a student's parent, I think.
However the point I am coming to today is I've been reading TIKI PALACES, a much darker book than Zadoorian's recent novel, THE LEISURE SEEKER, which I loved and featured on here a few months back.
Two things jumped out at me. You can be darker in stories than novels. It is not so hard to read a 10 page story about a depressed, psychotic or solitary person. Try keeping that 
up for 300 pages.
The other suprise was a flash piece (I don't know if he'd called it that, but it's just two pages "East Side") about a man standing in front of a wig shop and imposing his image under various wigs in the window and the crowd that gathers and begins to do the same. No surprise ending here. No twist. We don't know anything else about the man. We don't know if wigs have any special meaning for him. We don't need to. The temptation for many writers would be to take himhome where his sick mother is in bed, making it a cancer story.
But that doesn't happen. It's a snapshot of a moment in time and it has all the tension a story needs. I don't think I can pull this off for the Cake idea but I'm going to try it this summer. Do you ever read flash fiction that is not crime-oriented? For all the raps a flash fiction piece takes, it can slam you right into a wall before you know it. And sometimes it is just the writing or insight that does it.
Don't remember who this is reading. Help me out.
Hello Kitty reading. 
e ViewPoint. His fiction has appeared online at 6S, Powder Burn Flash, A Twist of Noir, Flashshot and Dogzplot (soon). He blogs here: http://notfromhereareyou.blogspot.com/
Ethical Responsibility in the Blogosphere
David Wallace’s One Nation Under Blog challenges political bloggers toAndy Henion can see Canada from his backyard, making him an expert in foreign relations. He recently stopped chewing his nails after his four-year-old daughter picked up the habit. He thoroughly enjoys muffins and R.E.M. and dogs that jump and slobber on him (fuck all that behavior training). His work has appeared in Hobar
embrace a higher standard in cyberspace.
The cacophony of political ads that assaulted network and cable television
viewers in the waning days of the 2008 election was mind-numbing even for
the most interested undecided voter. One after another, the candidates and
their surrogates pummeled viewers with their message, often offering
contradictory claims and viewpoints.
Consumers of political perspective who turn to the internet, more
specifically the blogosphere, for their sustenance have no assurance that
anything they read is factually accurate, verifiable or even from an
identifiable or credible source.
One Nation Under Blog (Brown Books Publishing Group), written by U.S.
Department of Homeland Security Advisory Council member and 3 term former
mayor of Sugar Land, Texas, David Wallace, takes dead aim at irresponsible
blogging. While not an advocate of regulating online freedom of speech,
Wallace builds a solid argument for injecting a code of conduct and ethical
responsibility into this exploding forum of information exchange and
influence.
Wallace shares first-hand experience of what unscrupulous bloggers can do to
reputations and how difficult it can be for those, even with means and
resources, to combat the negative and often vitriolic imagery created by
political enemies and those with axes to grind. He stays emotionally above
the fray as he recounts his 2006 attempt to get his name placed on the
ballot for the 22nd Congressional District, replacing retiring Congressman,
Tom Delay.
Though Wallace provides a detailed accounting of this experience and the
theatre that is Texas politics, complete with rebuttal response to several
charges issues against him, the treatment receives a mere dozen or so pages
and is not at all the focus of his work. Important context is provided
however, and the reader can better understand both Wallace’s motivation and
an underlying message of his book: Everyone has an agenda. One Nation Under
Blog deftly builds the case for a bloggers code of conduct by using
arguments that are grounded in fairness, a moral high ground, and plain and
simple journalistic standards.
Wallace lays his foundation by providing a basic primer on the history of
political blogging. Crediting the infamous Drudge Report, one of the
earliest political blogs, with the exposure of the Clinton-Lewinsky affair,
Wallace cites example after example of the growing influence this medium
plays in the never-ending 24 hour news cycle. Of particular note is the
recounting of the significant impact bloggers played in the downfall of
former House Speaker, Trent Lott, after the Washington Post downplayed his
seemingly racist comments at a gathering of well wishers for Strom Thurmond.
Far from mere outlets for unreported scandals, political blogs have played a
tremendous role in grass roots uses and garnering wide-spread candidate
support, particularly with fund raising efforts. Wallace’s treatment of
Howard Dean’s 2004 success through campaigns blogs make it easy to see why
President Obama so fully exploited this avenue in the 2008 presidential
race.
Wallace employs a persuasive literary device in outlining his case for
civility, fairness in reporting, and do-no-harm approach to blogging. A
significant portion of his book is devoted to super-imposing the blogosphere
upon the Founding Fathers and other historically significant politicians in
U.S. History (including FDR, JFK and LBJ) and supposing how they may have
faired under the intense 24/7 glare of cyberspace.
He uses actual quotes and statements made by and about our earliest public
servants and modifies them into the forum of a contemporary blog on the
Internet. Each anecdote underscores one or more pillars in Wallace’s
proposed bloggers code of conduct.
Recognizing that unfettered conversational speech provides the very element
that makes blogging unique and a dynamic forum for political dialogue,
Wallace acknowledges that this can be the underlying Achilles heel of the
political blog if not held to more universal standard. Personal
responsibility, fact verification, blog monitoring for unacceptable content,
refusing to allow for harassing, stalking or threatening of others,
copyright infringement, and privacy violation all make it into Wallace’s
common sense code.
The irony of political railing against special interest groups is that each
and every one of us has our own special interests and perspective on a
myriad of issues that impact the citizenry. Perusing for outlets that share
our world view is nothing new and technology has made it both facile and
anonymous. Respect and civility however should not be casualties of our
insatiable need for our perspectives to be heard. One Nation Under Blog
eloquently makes this case.
t and Spork and Plots with Guns and, most of all, The JargonGOD IS A BULLET, Boston Teran
About a decade ago I took a chance on a crime novel called God is a Bullet, the first offering from a guy named Boston Teran. The premise seemed interesting if over the top: A strai
ght-laced
Not even close. In fact, to this day Bullet remains one of the top five or six crime books I’ve read.
It’s not perfect. Teran gets carried away with description. The story occasionally drifts towar
d the melodramatic. At times, it's forced.
But Teran is so gifted it’s easy to overlook these flaws. He has a style all his own (and how many writers can you really say that about?). He’s a master at mood and atmosphere. His description of violence is so authentic and spot-on, you’ll grimace. His prose is driving, savage, yet still, almost, poetic.
I’ve read two of his subsequent offerings—Never Count Out the Dead and The Prince of Deadly Weapons—and found them lacking the debut’s raw intensity. But I’ll stick with Teran, hoping he returns to his former glory. Despite its flaws, Bullet is that good.
Because it likely appeared as a "magazine novel, complete-in-this-issue," I'm taking certain liberties here with the definition of "novel" but so be it. Corkscrew is a novelette (in pulp terms) or a short novel (in literary terms). It was written at the time when hardboiled detective fiction was sometimes cast as western fiction. Black Mask thrived on this fusion early on. One of Hammett's best stories, "The Killing of Dan Odams," is in fact a western.
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