Sunday, August 14, 2005

Every Show The Stairs Ever Played In Reverse Order

08/11/2005 - O'Brien's [THE FINAL STAIRS SHOW!]
@ O'Brien's w/ Ketman The proceedings will be overseen by
Funeral Director Matt Parish (of Ho-Ag).

07/10/2005 - Sin-e
Last NYC show!

07/09/2005 - The Paradise Lounge
The Penultimate Boston Stairs Show! Saturday Night!
With the wonderful Drew O'Doherty

06/26/2005 Great Scott
Aaron Perrino (from Dear Leader), & Morex Optimo.

Mar 21, 2005 9:00 PM TT The Bear's Place Cambridge, MA
Mar 12, 2005 9:00 PM Grandstands Northampton, MA
Feb 28, 2005 9:00 PM ZuZu's Cambridge, MA
Feb 5, 2005 9:00 PM Great Scott w/ Rogue Wave & Two Gallants Allston, MA
Dec 22, 2004 9:00 PM Great Scott Allston, MA
Dec 1, 2004 10:00 PM Middle East Upstairs Cambridge , MA
Oct 28, 2004 8:00 PM PA's Lounge Somerville, MA
Sep 25, 2004 9:00 PM Middle East Upstairs w/ Pilot To Gunner Cambridge, MA
Aug 29, 2004 8:00 PM Sin-E New York, NY
Jul 30, 2004 9:00 PM Great Scott w/ Kamikaze Hearts & Lady Of Spain Allston, MA
Jun 26, 2004 9:00 PM The Middle East Upstairs - Cambridge, MA
Jun 21, 2004 9:00 PM The Beachland Ballroom Cleveland, OH
Jun 18, 2004 TBA Springwater Nashville, TN
Jun 16, 2004 9:00 PM The Nightlight Chapel Hill, NC
Jun 13, 2004 9:00 PM Third Rail Radio Show Washington D.C., BC
Jun 11, 2004 8:00 PM The Talking Head Baltimore, MD
Jun 10, 2004 9:00 PM Sully's Pub Hartford, CT
Jun 9, 2004 9:30 PM M.Shanghai Brooklyn, NY May 17,
2004 10:00 PM Middle East Up w/ Okkervil River Cambridge, MA
Apr 17, 2004 9:00 PM Great Scott w/ Choo Choo La Rouge Allston, MA
Mar 24, 2004 8:30 PM TT The Bear's w/ The Fiery Furnaces Cambridge, MA
Jan 28, 2004 9:00 PM TT The Bear's Place Cambridge, MA
Jan 16, 2004 11:00 PM The Middle East Downstairs w/ Ambulance LTD Cambridge, MA
Jan 1, 2004 11:00 PM The Sidewalk Cafe New York, NY
Dec 19, 2003 9:00 PM The Lizard Lounge Cambridge, MA
Nov 22, 2003 10:00 PM The Middle East Downstairs Cambridge, MA,
Oct 12, 2003 9:00 PM TT The Bear's Place Cambridge, MA
Sep 12, 2003 2:00 PM Umass Fest-of-Us Boston, MA
Sep 5, 2003 8:45 PM The Kendall Cafe Cambridge, MA
Sep 2, 2003 9:00 PM Pipeline! Radio MIT WMBR Cambridge, MA
Aug 13, 2003 9:00 PM TT The Bear's Cambridge, MA
Jul 29, 2003 12:00 PM TT The Bear's Cambridge, MA
Jul 19, 2003 11:00 PM The Sidewalk Cafe New York, NY
Jul 1, 2003 9:00 PM TT The Bear's Cambridge, MA
Jun 24, 2003 7:00 PM Zeitgeist Gallery Cambridge, MA
Jun 18, 2003 10:00 PM O'Brien's Allston, MA
Jun 1, 2003 11:00 PM All Asia Cafe Cambridge, MA
May 19, 2003 10:00 PM All Asia Cafe Cambridge, MA, MA
May 18, 2003 9:00 PM The Milky Way Jamaica Plain, MA
Apr 13, 2003 10:00 PM All Asia Cafe Cambridge, MA
Apr 6, 2003 9:00 PM Abbey Lounge Cambridge, MA
Mar 28, 2003 11:00 PM The Midway Cafe Jamaica Plain, MA
Feb 22, 2003 9:00 PM The West End New York, NY
Feb 20, 2003 9:00 PM The Chopping Block Boston, MA
Jan 25, 2003 7:00 PM Dedham High School - CD Release
Dedham, MA

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Where You Can Go Buy It In Person / Request It On The Radio

Record Stores That Currently Carry "On Sleep Lab"

Q Is For Choir
2510 SE Clinton St
Portland, OR

CD Spins
Church Street
Cambridge, MA 02138

CD Spins
Newbury Street
Boston, MA

Commonwealth Ave
Boston, MA

In Your Ear
Commonwealth Ave
Boston, MA

Mojo Records
Massachusetts Ave
Cambridge, MA

CD Spins
Centre Street
Jamaica Plain, MA

Twisted Village
Eliot Street
Cambridge, MA

Music Millennium
2158 East Burnside
Portland OR 97214

Newbury Comics
Newbury Street & Harvard Square


WFNX Boston 781-595-WFNX
WERS Boston
CFUV Victoria BC 250 721-8702
CHRW London ON 519 661-3600
CHUO Ottawa ON 613 562-5967
CISM Montreal PQ 514 343-CISM
CJUM UMFM 204 269-8636
CKUT Montreal PQ 514.398.4616
WDET detroit MI 313-577-1019
KALX Berkeley CA 510 642-KALX
KBOO Portland OR 503.231.8187
KEXP Seattle WA 206-903-KEXP
KCPR San Luis Obispo CA 805-756-5277
KCRW Santa Monica CA 310-450-5183
KCSB Santa Barbara CA 805-893-2424
KCUR Kansas City MO 816-235-1551
KDHX St. Louis MO 314-664-3688
KDVS Davis CA 530.752.2777
KFAI Minneapolis MN 612-341-0980
KFSR Fresno CA 559-278-2598 office
KGLT Bozeman MT 406.994.3001 office
KJHK Lawrence KS 785 864-4747
KKFI Kansas City MO 816.931.KKFI
KLSU Baton Rouge LA 225.578.5578
KPFA Berkeley CA 510-848-4425
KTRU Houston TX 713-348-ktru
KTSW San Marcos TX 512.245.3473
KTXT Lubbock TX 806-742-5898
KUCi orange CA 949-824-5824
KUNI Cedar Falls IA
KUOI Moscow ID 208-885-6392
KUOM Minneapolis MN 612 626-4770
KUSF San Francisco CA 415/751.KUSF
KVCU Boulder CO 303-492-1190
KVRX Austin TX 512 495-KVRX
KWVA Eugene OR 541-346-0645
KXCI Tucson AZ 520 622-5924
KXLU Los Angeles CA 310-338-5958
KZSC Santa Cruz CA 831 459-4036
WBNY Buffalo NY 716-878-5104
WCSB Cleveland OH
WCWM Williamsburg VA
WERS Boston MA
WERU East Orland ME
WFMU Hoboken NJ
WHRV Norfolk VA
WHUS Storrs CT
WITR Rochester NY
WKDU Philadelphia PA
WMBR Cambridge MA
WMSE Milwaukee WI
WMUA Amherst MA
WNHU West Haven CT
WNYU New York NY
WORT Madison WI
WPRB Princeton NJ
WPRK Winter Park FL
WRAS Atlanta GA
WRSU New Brunswick NJ
WRUV Burlington VT
WRVU Nashville TN
WTCC Springfield MA
WTUL New Orleans LA 504-865-5885
WUMS University MS 662.915.5395
WUNH Durham NH 603-862-2222
WUOG Athens GA
WUSB Stonybrook NY (631)632-WUSB
WUSC Columbia SC (803) 576-WUSC
WUTK Knoxville TN (865) 974-2535 AIM : TheRock903FM
WVFS Tallahassee FL
WVUM Coral Gables FL
WVXU Cincinnati OH
WWVU Morgantown WV 304-293-3329
WXCI Danbury CT 203-837-WXCI
WXYC Chapel Hill NC 919-962-8989 AIM: wxycrequests
WZBC Chestnut Hill MA 617-552-4686 AIM: wzbcdj
WRUW Cleveland OH

Monday, May 16, 2005

Everything I Ever Let Go Of Has Claw Marks On It

May, 2005

Dear Friends,

We are closing the curtain on the community arts project turned rock and roll band that has filled up our days for the last 5 years. The Stairs have purchased their coffin and it is being lined with the finest Finnish silk as we speak. 2/5ths of the band (Evan Sicuranza, Leeore Schnairsohn) are moving out of state to pursue graduate school and the rest of the band couldn’t be more supportive of their decisions. "On Sleep Lab", it seems, will be our last album.

There are unlikely peculiarities that could prevent the immediate dissolution of the band such as an eccentric billionaire with a magical tour bus following strict orders to take us on a year long jaunt around the states. Or if one of us suddenly sprouted wings. Also, if California floated off into the Pacific Ocean there’s a chance we would keep going too. So, you can put that in your hope chest if you’d like.

The fact that this is a completely amicable split leaves the door open for the possibility of subsequent Stairs albums. There will be little reason to use the word ‘reunion’ if it happens just as we have refrained from using the word ‘hiatus’ here. If we all end up back in the same state a few years down the line we’re certain that we’ll pick up where we left off. This has been nothing but fun for us (except for June 22, 2004 in Hartford, CT) and we’ve been repeatedly amazed by the reaction we’ve received from you wonderful people over the years. Thank you.

Sean Spada (keyboards) will be moving to New York City in September and playing out frequently on his own. Lastly, in the fall Ryan Walsh and Eric Meyer will be starting a band called Hallelujah The Hills in Boston, MA. Until that gets going all news will be posted on the Stairs site.

Don’t be sad! Wipe those tears! I assure you, this whole ordeal will be more birthday party than funeral. More velocity than exhaust. More anthem than dirge. See you soon.

Your Pals,
The Stairs

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

You Must Rise Up And Say No! (Just Don't Rise Up Too High For You Shall Float Right Off The Surface And Into Space)

With the help of the band's psychic we have learned of something very troubling on the horizon of America's future. The good news is that by 2010 the United States will have colonized the moon. The bad news is that due to a declining sense of ethical standards and the lack of laws extending their powers to the lunar landscape child labor crater camps will be many and thriving by the beginning of the next decade. This problem is imminent and real. The Stairs feel strongly that it is our duty to do something, anything, to pre-emptively combat these lunar strongholds of youth exploitation.

But what can we do? Afterall, we're only a band (but as you know, we're a very very very good band ["possibly the best" I think I heard one of you mutter and thank you for that indeed]). With further help from the band's psychic we have divined the chords, melodies, and lyrics for several protest songs of the future railing against these lunar child labor camps and their tyranical overlords.

We are in the process or rehearsing these songs and they will begin to make their way into our live show over the coming months. Perhaps, we will even record an EP of these songs. Our hope is that we can pre-emptively prevent this tragedy from occuring while refraining from changing the future so much that we end up not colonizing the moon (there are gonna be some killer movies made up there and some new confectionary treats come through on the deal too so, you know, we want to get in on that side of the coin).

In the future they will look back at the past and thank the lord that, we in the present, had the presence of mind to see the writing on the wall and put our moon boot down and say no to future lunar child labor crater camps.

Thank you for your support. Love, The Stairs.

Monday, February 21, 2005

Living In The Kingdom Of Fear Without The World's Greatest Bullshit Detector

I once heard Hunter in an interview say that he used to type out the texts of great works he admired, on his own typewriter, so he could get a sense of the author's rhythms. Here's excerpts I've transcribed this morning from Hunter's essay on Ketchum, Idaho and why Hemingway chose it as the place to end his life. The essay appeared in the collection The Great Shark Hunt.

What Lured Hemmingway To Ketchum?

When news of his death made headlines in 1961 there must have been other people besides myself who wewre not as surprised by the suicide as by the fact that the story date-lined Ketchum, Idaho. What was he doing living there? When had he left Cuba, where most people assumed he was working, against what he knew was his last deadline, on the long-promised Big Novel?

The newspapers never answered those questions-not for me, at any rate-so it was with a feeling of long-restless curiosity that I came, last week, up the long bleak road to Ketchum.

He had been coming here off and on since 1938, until finally, in 1960, he bought a home just outside of town.

The answers might be instructive- not only as a key to Hemingway, but to a question he often pondered, even in print. "We do not have great writers," he explains to the Austrian in Green Hills of Africa. "Something happens to our good writers at a certain age...You see we make out writers into something very strange...We destroy them in many ways." But Hemingway himself never seemed to discover in what way he was being "destroyed," and so he never understood how to avoid it.

Even so, he knew something had gone wrong with both himself and his writing, and after a few days in Ketchum you get a feeling that he came here for exactly that reason. Because it was here, in the years just before and after World War II, that he came to hunt and ski and raise hell in the local pubs with Gary Cooper and Robert Taylore and all the other celebrities who came to Sun Valley when it still loomed large on cafe society's map of diversions.

Those were "the good years," and Hemingway never got over the fact that they couldn't last. He was here with his third wife in 1947, but then he settled in Cuba and 12 years went by before he came again- a different man this time, with yet another wife, Mary, and a different view of the world he had once been able "to see clear and as a whole."

Kethchum was perhaps the only place in his world that had not changed radically since the good years.

Hemingway didn't have many friends in Ketchum. Chuck Atkinson was one of them, and when I saw him one morning in his house on a peak overlooking the town, he had just received a copy of A Moveable Feast. "Mary sent it from New York," he explained. "I read part of it after breakfast; it's good, it sounds more like him than some of the other stuff."

Another friend was Taylor "Beartracks" Williams, a veteran guided who died last year and was buried near the man who gave him the original manuscript of For Whom The Bell Tolls. It was "Beartracks" who took Hemingway into the mountains after elk, bear, antelope, and sheep in the days when "Papa" was still a meat-hunter.

Charley Mason, a wandering pianist, is one of the few people who spent much time with him, mainly listening, because "When Ernie had a few drinks he could carry on for hours with all kinds of stories. It was better than reading his books."

I met Mason in the Sawtooth Club on Main Street, when he came in to order coffee over the bar. He is off the booze these days and people who know him say he looks 10 years younger. As he talked, I had an odd feeling that he was somehow a creation of Hemingway's, that he had escaped from one of the earlier short stories.

"He was a hell of a drinker," Mason said with a chuckle. "I remember one time over at the Tram [a local pub] just a few years ago; he ws with two Cubans- one was a great big Negro, a gun-runner he knew from the Spanish Civil War, and the other was a delicate little guy, a neurosurgeon from Havana with fine hands like a musician. That was a three-day session. They were blasted on wine the whole time and jabbering in Spanish live revolutionaries. One afternoon when I was there, Hemingway jerked the checkered cloth off the table and he and the other big guy took turns making the little doctor play the bull. They'd whirl and jerk the cloth around- it was a hell of a sight."

On another evening, out at Sun Valley, Mason took a break on the stand and sat down for a while at Hemingway's table. In the course of the conversation Mason asked him it took "to break in on the literary life, or anything else creative, for that matter."

"Well," said Hemingway, "there's only one thing I live by- that's having the power of your conviction and knowing what to leave out." He said the same thing before, but whether he still believed it in the winter of his years is another matter. There is good evidence that he was not always sure what to leave out, and very little evidence to show that his power of conviction survived the war.

That power of conviction is a hard thing for any writer to sustain, and especially so once he becomes conscious of it.

It is not just a writer's crisis, but they are the most obvious victims because the function of art is a supposedly to bring order out of chaos, a tall order even when the chaos is static, and a superhuman task in a time when chaos is multiplying.

Ketchum was Hemingway's Big Two Hearted River, and he wrote his own epitaph in the story of the same name, just as Scott Fitzgerald had written his epitaph in a book called The Greay Gatsby. Neither man understood the vibrations of a world that had shaken them off their thrones, but of the two, Fitzgerald showed resilience. His half-finished Last Tycoon was a sincere effort to catch up and come to grips with reality, no matter how distasteful it might have seemed to him.

Hemingway never made such an effort. The strength of his youth became rigidity as he grew older, and his last book was about Paris in the Twenties.

Standing on the corner in the middle of Ketchum it is easy to see the connection Hemingway must have made between this place and those had had known in the good years. Aside from the brute beauty of the mountains, he must have recognized an atavistic distinctiness in the people that piqued his sense of dramatic possibilities. It is a raw and peaceful little village, especially in the off season with neither winter skiers nor summer fisherman to dilute the image. Only the main street is pavedl most of the others are no more than dirt and gravel tracks that seem at times to run right through front yards.

From such a vantage point a man tends to feel it is not so difficult, after all, to see the world clear and as a whole. Like many another writer, Hemingway did his best work when he felt he was standing on something solid- like an Idaho mountainside, or a sense of conviction.

Perhaps he found what he came here for, but the odds are huge that he didn't. He was an old, sick, and very troubled man, and the illusion of peace and contentment was not enough for him- not even when his friends came up from Cuba and played bullfight with him in the Tram. So finally, and for what he must have thought the best of reasons, he ended it with a shotgun.

National Observer, May 25th 1964

"and he wrote his own epitaph"

Maybe Hunter did too.

From the Author's Note of the same book:

Well...yes, and here we go again.

But for just a moment I'd like to say, for the permanent record, that it is a very strange feeling to be a 40-year-old American writer in this century and sitting alone in this huge building on Fifth Avenue in New York at one o'clock in the morning on the night before Christmas Even, 2000 miles from home, and compiling a table of contents for a book of my own collected works in an office with a tall glass door that leads out to a big terrace looking down on the The Plaza Fountain.

Very Strange.

I feel like I might as well be sitting up here carving the words for my own tombstone...and when I finish, the only fitting exit will be right straight off this fucking terrace and into the Fountain, 28 stories below and at least 200 yards out in the air and across Fifth Avenue.

Nobody could follow that act.

Not even me....and in fact the only way I can deal with this eerie situation at all is to make a conscious decision that I have already lived and finished the life I planned to live- (13 years longer, in fact)- and everything from now on will be A New Life, a different thing, a gig that ends tonight and starts tomorrow morning.

So if I decided to leap for The Fountain when I finish this memo, I want to make one thing perfectly clear- I would genuinely love ot make that leap, and if I don't I will always consider it a mistake and a failed opportunity, one of the very few serious mistakes of my First Life that is now ending.

But what the hell? I probably won't do it (for all the wrong reasons), and I'll probably finish this table of contents and go home for Christmas and then have to live for 100 more years with all this goddamn gibberish I'm lashing together.

But Jesus, it would be a wonderful way to go out...and if I do you bastards are going to owe me a king-hell 44-gun salutr (the word is "salute," goddamnit- And I guess I can't work this elegant typewriter as well as I thought I could)...

But you know I could, if I had a little more time.



HST #1, R.I.P.

That took a long time to transcribe but it felt good to do.

I learned about Hunter Thompson dying last night around 1:30 AM. I was lost on some highway in Vermont. I had been travelling in the wrong direction for close to an hour. A moment after I heard the news I realized my directional mistake. I was exhausted, low on gas, and a big snowstorm was starting up. I didn't get back home until 4:30 AM. As the snowfall got heavier and my head got sleepier the trip back home took on a strange meaning for me. For the last two hours I had the music on full blast and I was screaming nonsense and periodically hitting myself in the head in order to stay awake. I made it home ok and passed my dad leaving for work as I got home to go to bed.

So since I don't own a gun (let alone 44 of them) this will have to serve as my own modest "salutr" for HST. The things he wrote meant something to me and his presence was a gigantic landmark on the road that lead me to the motto that goes something like this: "tell the truth and the rest will fall into place."


"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

R.I.P. HST #2

Tuesday, February 15, 2005


(this article is no longer available online so we
decided to throw it up here on the blog - originally
published Winter 2002 in Boston's The Weekly Dig)

The Stairs
(On how they had to climb over Horse Tricks and a
Community Directory Of Serial Killers to record an

by Astrid Harders

Once upon a time, actually two years ago, there were
these three guys, Ryan Walsh, Eric Meyer and Evan
Sicuranza who began the journey to a dream come true.
What started as bedroom jam session, with drunken
friends singing along, ended in an entire community’s
effort titled Miraculous Happens. This is the
Cinderella story of three kids from Dedham who are now
handing Rolling Stone magazine their new album.

In the year 2000, Ryan, Eric and Evan got a hint.
Didn’t the fact that at parties, people request one of
their most melodic songs, “Community Directory Of
Serial Killers,” stand for something? After several
homemade albums and a couple of name changes the hint
started finding a connection to reality. Ryan finished
a film called Horse Tricks, which was funded by the
Dedham Visionary Access Corporation (DVAC) – an
organization that funds artistic projects that
stimulate the Dedham arts community. Once Horse Tricks
filled the Dedham Community Theater, Ryan guessed that
the DVAC might help him out with the recording of an
album. And so it was that The Stairs got a $10,000
grant for the album under three conditions:

1) The album could only contain the three boys’
compositions but had to incorporate Dedham guest
musicians who would be interested in contributing.
2) All three of the boys had to hold a “Draw The
Album Cover” contest in the Dedham elementary schools.
3) The entire making of the album had to be
recorded in a documentary that would be aired in the
Dedham Local Cable station before the album’s release.

With the grant and several new additions to the band –
the current line up is Ryan Walsh (rhythm guitar,
vocals), Eric Meyer (drums), Evan Sicuranza (lead
guitar, vocals), John Ling (bass), Rob Johansen
(keyboards ) and Emma Westling (vocals) – it still
took The Stairs from October 2000 to October 2002 to
wrap up Miraculous Happens. The reasons for the
snail-paced process are various. “We were learning how
to do it as we did it,” says Walsh. “All of us were
going to school or had full-time jobs and it’s hard to
get six people to coordinate.” In fact, the delay was
so notorious that according to Walsh, for many of the
friends that had once requested “Community Directory
Of Serial Killers” the entire process turned into
somewhat of a joke. “I think people thought there was
no album,” says Walsh.

There were days when The Stairs thought it was going
to turn out awful. Of course, with the entire
community’s support the project wasn’t pressure-free.
But hey, in Walsh’ words, eventually they got “some
kind of two-year rhythm going.” As for the guest
musicians and all other conditions that enabled the
grant, “It was the most exciting thing,” says Emma
Westling. “At first we were like, we made these
parameters so we can get the grant and that’s kind of
a pain in the butt,” says Walsh. “But somewhere we
realized that that was the greatest part of recording
it; it wasn’t lip service anymore it actually became a
community project.”

Consequently Miraculous Happens is a happy ending in
the form of a 16-song “compli-pop” (a Walsh term)
album that tried to fit as much as possible into the
songs without ruining them. True, the six Stairs are
accompanied by approximately 50 guest musicians,
including the Dedham St. Mary’s Church children’s
choir, the Dedham High School marching band and one of
the Stair’s favorites, Tom Hummel, a main trumpet
player who gave songs like “Forty Two” an exclusive

Now that Dedham made their rock ‘n’ roll dream come
true, The Stairs are exposing their music. They have
upcoming shows in Boston and New York and they are
patiently awaiting reactions from a DIY
cd-distribution trip that Walsh made (which is where
David Fricke from Rolling Stone comes in). “At this
point we’ve all decided we need to make a commitment
to the band; it’s not just for fun,” says Westling;
then she thinks twice and bursts into, “We wanna be
rock superstars!” Walsh laughs, pauses and says, “If
we could ever make a living doing music and touring
that would be a dream come true.“ “Yeah, I’m a
janitor, I wanna do music for a living instead!’
demands Westling. “I rip tickets. If we actually get
paid for it [making music] no one’s gonna turn it

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Key Note Speech Delivered At The Opening Ceremony Of The Unreliable Narrator's Convention

Las Vegas - November 2004

Good evening friends. Well, what can I tell you? The
film star decided she would test the doctor's
hypothesis. She would move to Holland and over the
course of one year undergo a plastic surgery procedure
which would render her unrecognizable to even her
closest family and friends. Then, after perfecting
the manipulation of her voice and mannerisms, she
would move back to Hollywood and try to become
successful again. Was it just her looks which
propelled her to fame? She had to know.

She intended to keep her plans secret but a few
people in the 'biz' had found out. There were rumors
at cocktail parties. True rumors. During casting
calls producers would give each other the crooked
eyebrow while some female nobody blew through her
lines, wondering, "Is this her? Is this the new her?"
Soon the secret spread like an amusingly altered
picture of a celebrity on the internet and unknown
actresses were claiming to be the made-over starlet
left and right. Many a teary-eyed audition would end
with a pathetic cry of, "You have to give me the part!
I'm ____ ____!" At least three off-Broadway plays in
New York, all running at the same time, purported to
have the metamorphosed starlet playing the lead that
fall. There were lawsuits, contests, and special
edition magazines all unveiled in honor of the
mystery. And yet no one could prove they were her;
either she didn't want to reveal herself or had lost
the means to.

Who was this famous star of the silver screen? Who
was she then and who was she now? Well, maybe I can
explain it if you would all stop yelling at me. Look
here gentlemen, her father was a man who thumped his
bible all the way up the corporate ladder and stared
out at a large city each morning with a splash of Clorox
in a coffee mug mumbling to himself, "Do it Jones. Go on
and break even." Her mother broke in new dogs down at the
tri-county race track with her unique blend of barking
and humming at frequencies only the dogs could hear.
She wore oven mitts instead of winter gloves out in
the cold and it made the neighbors talk. Talk in
tongues that is. Their other children, two younger
sons, spelled most words wrong and had overbites that
made orthodonists flinch.

Did I tell you that the press tracked down the plastic
surgeon from Holland but he and his office had been
wiped off the map after a mysterious bomb went off in
September? You would think I'd want to mention that
as soon as possible, but no. The question
still remains, "who was she and who is she now?" A
close friend calls into a late night conspiracy radio
show in October and talks in whispers about a woman
she spotted at Zales with ____'s eyes. "She wouldn't even
be cast as the ugly lady in a movie," the close friend
confided, "she was uglier than Hollywood ugly. I was
so grossed out I went right to bed afterwards." A
nation shudders and leans in closer.

A randomly chosen line from the last blockbuster film
from the pre-surgery starlet: "I dreamt I kissed you and my
tongue grew long like a snake and travelled through
your inards until it came out your ass." The
starlet's favorite childhood book: "The Wish, The
Dream, & The Carpenter's Team." I wouldn't be lying
if I told you she waits tables at a diner now. I
could tell you that a regular customer of hers just
yesterday exclaimed, "Hey Ruth if what happened last
night between us was a date then, baby, everybody down
at the dump owes me ten dollars!" I could tell you
that but I'm not sure I should. You have to go there
to see it. You have to hear it to believe it. She
never made it back and she never bothered to sew up
the mystery. She left all her family and friends just
about to sneeze, you could say, but never quite being
able to. Perpetually about to sneeze symbolizing never
learning the fate of a loved one. Pretty awesome
metaphor, am I right fellas? Please stop yelling.
There's a movie about it due out in the fall. About
the starlet, and the surgery, and the mystery. All the
best movies come out in the fall.
Everyone knows that.

And if you're looking for confirmation on all these facts
look no further. I've taken rides with her, I've helped
her out of jams. There's no doubt about it. I know the
starlet and the mystery and the reasons we gather and
listen to stories like we do. We're cursed up and down
the continent and there's nothing we can do about it.

Thank you for coming.