I went with a friend to the Kat Edmonson concert in downtown Ann Arbor last night. The concert was nice, if a bit low key - overall, good. But there was one thing that grated on me. She told a story about listening to Eric Clapton and wanting to write
a blues.
A blues. Not
the blues. Not
a blues song. She went on to tell about a dream she had in which
a blues came to her and she woke up and wrote it down. There is no
a blues only
the blues. Kat Edmonson is pretty and so could get by with songs that made me want to nap (yes, I'm swayable by beauty - I'm not proud of it) but there is no indefinite form of blues.
Other updates -
- Four of my translations from the Faroese of Jóanes Nielsen are appearing in the spring issue of Modern Poetry in Translation.
- My Lenten Psalm Translation Contest has 17 days left. Some great pieces have come through - submit!
- I'm considering a Faroe/Europe trip this summer - pending funding.
- Pondering the best way to make green punch for Saint Patrick's Day - send recipes.
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