My first attempt at starting an unauthorized Kickball League for The Homeless in Manchester was a tad fruitless (to say the very least), but not without a high degree of verbal gems to lick and consider in the days ahead. READ MORE
Every morning I open the doors in the barn that leads out to the pool and kiss my Saint Christopher medallion around my neck and pray for clear water. And every morning I curse back at Chris, holding him in contempt for the oath he broke, leaving me, yet again, with a cloudy blue pool. Don’t make me move over to Saint Anthony, Christoper. He’s been after me for years. READ MORE
Lounging on my couch, as I have for the last umpteenth number of nights, spun out in a rank stupor, now I have ghosts exhaling in my ear after dark, just when the wounds start to freshen. Stay with me… READ MORE
GSM and The Bookery on Elm Street, a treasure to the Queen City, no doubt one of its finest births, are teaming up to record live shows once a month right inside the doors of the bookstore. I’ve listened to writers read their works at The Bookery, musicians play as well, and between the coffee and wine and shelves of books and the cool aesthetics of the entire store, it’s a perfect place to have people sit in the audience, nurse a drink and watch it all play out before your eyes. And it’s FREE. READ MORE
Having moved from Manchester to Pembroke over the last six months, I must admit that the transition has not been easy. I miss everything about Manchester. I miss my daily drive down Elm Street. I miss Paul, Lucy and Nick. I miss eating lunch at Steve’s Restaurant. I miss walking home after midnight from downtown. I miss the grit, the snags, the seemingly endless array of characters in the Queen City. READ MORE
The last time I saw Chelsea Paolini was in the parking lot at WKXL in Concord two summers back. She had just done a performance on Granite State of Mind and was ripping on a bowl of smoke before her ride back to Dover. The video attached to this story is of that performance. And as you can see, Chelsea is on her game, looking strong, tanned and present, belting out an original, as she always did. READ MORE
This story starts in Atlanta, amid the sprawling stench of urine-soaked streets near the Peachtree/Alabama block of the city, where myself and two other travelers were staying at a hotel that even the valet attendant warned us, “This is a bad neighborhood, man. The $40 is worth it. Trust me.” READ MORE
They have a brand new CD out called “Friends and Lovers and Radios,” and GSM decided to touch base with the gents and see what they have planned for the coming summer. READ MORE
Losing my sense of smell has been delightful. Yes, it has. I don’t need to smell. I’ve come to grips with it. And there was little internal wrestling involved. I bowed immediately, pledging my devotion to the consequences – if one chooses to call it that. In fact, I’d be okay if I never smell anything or anyone ever again. READ MORE
Trump is no gangster. Let’s get that straight. If he wasn’t President and insulated and you were able to get up into his face, he would 100 percent crawl into his fat neck and hide from a real fight. That’s the man Don Trump is. He’s no tough guy, and I doubt he has either ever thrown a punch or taken one to the face in his life. READ MORE
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