Sean Taylor's Blog

On account of never updating this blog.
I apologize.
Here is news:
I will be reading a new piece titled ‘Fireworks’ at the Laundry in San Francisco (3359 26th street) on July 1st sometime between 7-9 but probably at 8ish because I’m the first piece in the second set.

I just finished reading the debut novel of Lydia Kiesling titled ‘The Golden State’.
Once I finished it I looked her up on the old facebook and realized we had four friends in common. Such is the Bay Area. (It’s a really awesome deb...

I have to wonder how many people are neurotic enough to truly attempt to gauge if their levels of hope and doubt are off the charts unhealthy. To be honest, I am much more fond of the authorial standard of hope and doubt versus the clinical definitions of psychological bipolarities. Hope and doubt are much more romantic terms and ideas than say manic and depressive. Of course, of course, I am not confusing the two sets. What I want to explore is not the reach of a pendulum that swings betwee...

    It didn’t make sense, that you could run that far and that fast towards a fire after the car died. We lost power on Ocean Beach, listening to the radio, but you said it so easily, you said just give me a second, and I’ll be back. And you ran out to the bonfire twenty yards ahead of us, you said, I’ll be right back.
    I knew sand lived with snow as the hardest ground to run on. I knew the bottle of wine we shared as the sun set might slow you down. I watched you press yourself upon the sa...

“The horse that finished behind the pig on the first carousel wasn’t named Satellite.”
 I think that was the line that didn’t let me give up on this piece.

I wrote “The man that invented the carousel” twice in Paris and then twice in San Francisco.
I think I garnered either one line or one idea from each draft before destroying them.
I haven’t written much all year and the last Quiet Lightning submission deadline was midnight Friday October 19th. 
At 10pm on Friday October 19th I wrote the last dr...

I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell the orphaned child readers of this blog that though I barely write anymore I am still kept up at night with notes. I still toy with language, I am constantly on the verge of writing a short story or narrative poem very possibly titled “The man who didn’t invent the carousel”

I was laid off from one of my bars, the one called Churchkey, within a week I was hired to work Saturday nights at a New Orleans themed bar called Old Devil Moon. I have also...

Do you want to talk about the two different versions of this song?

We can talk about the defining factors or the driving forces.

There’s also this albatross buried in the plea of Phoebe, and the bull that is derived in the demands of the Manchester version.

Do you want to talk about rhetorical sentences, and how their sentiments waver, and how when they recover they land like figure skaters falling?

I want to believe that both versions, regardless of the volume, or the weight, or the pa...

Statement from Colin Meloy:
We were searching for a video idea for “Once In My Life” that would somehow capture the spirit of the song. In my mind, the song is a meditation, a plea to the cosmos that I imagine everyone, at some point or another, has made. We asked our old friend and collaborator Autumn de Wilde to pitch an idea and she came to us with a simple but powerful story: a depiction of her brother Jacob, a man who has lived with physical and intellectual differences his entire l...

Cadence

“The day is over, the night has come, at least, hopefully, that means the most dangerous beasts, outside my mind, will get some sleep.”

He worked at a bowling alley and took theater classes on the weekend. His girlfriend had given up on measuring which funk was worse, bowling-alley-dead-end-shoe-smell, or, amateur-actor-desperation-nervous-sweat-stink.

It wasn’t the most difficult line of his performance for his mind to figure out. And though there were lines in the play in which his ton...

Doomsday

         “I probably shouldn’t say this,” I announced, and within an instant of hearing those lines, before I began to speak again I saw her face waver-ever so slightly-and placate her eyes. She did well to hide any shock before the shock. She could ballet through an earthquake, she could sign divorce papers on the bottom floor of a crumbling building as it came down.
            I asked her fifteen minutes earlier, while she was on stage, which tattoo hurt the worst, and she pointed t...

Once, for maybe less than a night, our conversations felt like a selfish pleasure.
We tiptoed gallantly with these ardent fife that colored our tongues something true.
If your eyes were elevators I want you to let them go,
carnival rides play the hearts of children,
just let them go, and spin, let them go.
I apologize if you spill something, something harsh, it’s probably true.
You can trust me. I’ll smile and kiss your cheek; I’m sure it’s a bank vault, it must be.
I just hope that when you t...