Participate and let your tweets be heard! Be a part of NYPL’s first National Poetry Contest. Tweet three 140 character poems to @nypl. One of the three poems must be about libraries, books, reading, or New York City.
Register today and let your creativity fly! Submission period is March 1 -10
This is super cool. Working on my bookstore haikus now.
I do believe in inspiration. Inspiration and meaning-making. Often they are bed partners. Human beings are meaning-making creatures. We cannot help it. We cannot stop doing it. So that meaning was made for me from seeing this person wearing a particular shirt is no great gift from the gods but it is still wildly moving to me and an important part of inspiration.
i need this!
this is actually so powerful wtf Shel Silverstein
i love shel so much
Black History Month Story time:
Merry Clayton - “Gimme Shelter”
Before 1969, Merry Clayton was just a Brooklyn-based singer trying to scrounge up any back-up gig she could find. When The Rolling Stones were recording “Let It Bleed,” they started looking for backup singers for their new song “Gimme Shelter,” and their manager suggested Clayton.
Six months pregnant, Merry came to the studio to record her now-infamous backup track. The Stones themselves were very obviously impressed with her talent. Around 3 minutes into the Stones version, you can even her Jagger let out a “Whoo!” when Merry cracks open the note over the word “Murder.”
Though the recording session put to tape one of the most memorable backup performances in the history of Rock N’ Roll, the memory would not be a good one for Merry Clayton. Just after the session, she suffered a miscarriage in her home. Many blame the intensity of her performance.
When the Stones heard this, they were heartbroken. They approached her and offered partial ownership of the track. They also wanted her to record her own version.
This is it. Be careful, it will melt steel.
Merry said, of the whole ordeal, “That was a dark, dark period for me, but God gave me the strength to overcome it.”
i can’t believe i’ve never heard this before. this is INCREDIBLE.
Kids are stupid.”
“You’re going to make a great guidance counselor someday.
: reverting to or suggesting the characteristics of a remote ancestor or primitive type.
I shall be as good as new.
I rarely went into Teddy’s room. There were a few times: when we were buying weed from the people only Teddy knew, when his exgirlfriend who pretended to be a psychic read my tarot cards, a few others. The few times I was allowed in his room I always felt alien, like I had entered a place I could never understand, regardless of trying. I almost feel more comfortable in it now that he’s gone. It’s like his death brought us closer than we ever were in life.
I spent so much time with Teddy and I never asked him why he was so sad. Maybe it’s because I already knew the answer, and maybe its because I didn’t want to hear it. Maybe if I had been a psychiatrist instead of his kid sister’s best friend, everyone would have listened to me when I diagnosed him with bipolar disorder three full years before they diagnosed him professionally. Would it have mattered? Teddy spent 27 years wondering what was wrong with him and why he couldn’t just be like anyone else.
But now I can’t decide he didn’t just spend the majority of those 27 years waiting to be 27 and a half, so that he could leave us here, equipped with all of the lessons and teachings he gave us. I can’t decide if he went into the last week of his life knowing how short the hours were, I can’t decide he chose to come out to dinner with me last weekend just so that he could say goodbye in his own way, I can’t decide if he went to bed last Tuesday night without knowing he might wake up and change his mind about the life he was living.
I’m not angry at him until I look at Amanda’s face and then I want to kill him all over again. I’m not angry at him for wanting to get rid of the pain he carried with him everywhere, I’m angry at him for hurting the people who loved him the most so very directly. I’m angry at him for letting her find him.
Most of all I’m angry at myself for not listening to his words last week. If I was smarter, if I was more analytical if I had given him more consideration in those short moments at that one meal, could I have saved him? I know that the answer is ‘no,’ but I also know that it’s really ‘yes.’
The lights are still on in Teddy’s room, running the electric bill and scaring us every time we see a shadow. His mother cried herself to sleep on his couch in the spot where he ate his last meal. He’s got piles of books on the corner of the table that are meant for someone, but God knows who. I’m scared to go in there, but I do anyway because I know Amanda is so much more frightened. He’ll show himself to me when he knows I’m ready and the two of us will bridge the gaps we couldn’t when he was living and he’ll tell me all about the cosmos where he’s living now.