Report from 6th Dec

Ariel went to Peru. Georgina was stuck with the voice in her head, some kind of tribute to frat boys. John brought a message from Sting. Jena stands up in dark places. Angel talked about Pancho Villa and La Cucaracha. Moe riffed on jazz. Mandoline brought kindness as a verb. A mountain sliver leaned back into the ocean. Beth's silence lingers like...
Charlie, raging against reason, was waylaid in the finished flame. Austen from Bosten showed up, then it was time for Bruce's Convent Soup. "A priest walked into a bar..."
Alberto Rigettini brought his father's farts of wisdom.

The Great Brain Washer Machine
(Performances, Poems, Music, Live Paintings, Games)
Alberto Tony Rigettini, Bruce Sherfield, Denise Turu,
Florencia Giusti, Tamara Roman Barbero, The Sophia Lorenians and Special Guests.
Free admission.

The Great Brain Washer Machine
Friday, december 10, 2010. From 9pm to 2am
Café des Sports - 94 rue Menilmontant - 75020, Paris
Metro Menilmontant and then walk up.

Spoken word Novembre 29 2010

Photo: Spanish poet and longtime Paris resident, Angel.

On Saying Good-bye

“We shook hands in the summer

and decided to explore as much of the world

as one week of driving would allow,

but this interstate’s not long enough

to contain our enthusiasm for each other

so I’ll tattoo a highway

down my chest

curving around the places where your hands have left

subtle vibrations

running under the bone….”

Ariel Schmidtke

We opened like that. Wow.

Then, Angel singing an andalusian flamenco.

Mr.Perriello featuring maybe…. Shakespeare.



"A heart can burn, and burn, and burn, but never change a mind."

Leander Lyons.

Check the following links for his next gigs:

IntO the mOOn

Fleur Offwood & the Conifers

Humphrey, Nadia and:

“A confusion of order,

a fair share of fame,

no one is better than the other,

my jazz, my soul.”




Dylan. Georgina’s highlights:

“I’d like to apologize for getting it all wrong with the following people...

I’m sorry to Patrick- My first kiss. I should have snuck off with you to make out on the golf course. It would have been great! (Well, it would have been okay.)

To Dennis. I’m sorry I didn’t go with you to the eighth grade dance because, well, you were fat. I was fat too. I don’t know what I was thinking.

To Mr. Greg Greenberg. I’m sorry you were 22 and I was fifteen. But quite frankly, what were you thinking? I’m most sorry that our sexual experimentation never got farther than doing it to the Paris Hilton sex tape. I’m since discovered more inspiring love scenes.


To Jamie Keith... I’m sorry I got drunk and seduced you because you were the gayest-looking girl in the room. Short hair. Blazer. And I’m sorry for my quick exit the next morning. I put my thong in my pocket and I was outta there. It was less than elegant.

And then there’s Lola.... Lola. Lola. Lola. Lola and I understood each other. I’m sorry I was only in Milan for 3 days.

I’m sorry to Monsieur Hervé: that I thought it was funny to seduce a student; to screw a student. I’m sorry I pretended to fall asleep afterwards rather than listen to you struggle with the present progressive. You never got it quite right.

I’m sorry for that too.”

Emily. Lisa. Zoophiliacs. Cow Chris and Casanova Benjamin.

Joshua. Jacinthe.

Bruce promoting the “The Great Brain Washer Machine”

Save the date: Friday night, December 10, 2010. Cafè des Sports. Paris.

Last time we closed with the Panic Attack of an Artist

this time with the death of a poet,

meaning W.B. Yates,

meaning C.H. Newens

reading W.H. Auden:

“In the deserts of the heart

Let the healing fountain start,

In the prison of his days

Teach the free man how to praise.”

See you next monday, drama queens.