My twins will be celebrating their 15th birthday at the show. They're hoping to hear "Karma Police" . . .
(Tristan & Klara, born April 1, 2002) . . . Getting stoked . . .
My twins will be celebrating their 15th birthday at the show. They're hoping to hear "Karma Police" . . .
(Tristan & Klara, born April 1, 2002) . . . Getting stoked . . .
-
Concert review: All hail Radiohead | SouthFlorida.com
http://www.southflorida.com/events/go-guide-blog/sf-radiohead-miami-tour-concert-review-20170330-story.html
-
Live Review: Radiohead Returns to North America and Kicks Off Tour in Miami (3/30) | Consequence of Sound
http://consequenceofsound.net/2017/03/live-review-radiohead-returns-to-north-america-and-kicks-off-tour-in-miami-330/
-
Radiohead 2017-03-30 American Airlines Arena, Miami Fl FLAC | Radiohead Not For Profit
http://www.radiohead-notforprofit.com/2017/03/31/radiohead-2017-03-30-american-airlines-arena-miami-fl-flac/
-
complete [YouTube Playlist] 30 March 2017 / AmericanAirlines Arena / Miami, USA
-
Find more photos like this on w.a.s.t.e. central
-
01. Daydreaming
02. Desert Island Disk
03. Ful Stop
04. Airbag
05. Morning Bell
06. Climbing Up The Walls
07. All I Need
08. Videotape
09. Let Down
10. I Might Be Wrong
11. Lotus Flower
12. Identikit
13. Idioteque
14. Nude
15. Weird Fishes / Arpeggi
16. The Numbers
17. How To Disappear Completely
encore
18. No Surprises
19. Burn the Witch
20. Reckoner
21. Fake Plastic Trees
22. The Tourist
encore 2
23. You And Whose Army?
24. Bodysnatchers
thanks Anthony Gregg for streaming
https://www.periscope.tv/ag7201/1lDGLRgVBMYxm
https://www.periscope.tv/ag7201/1lPKqZVZegWGb
https://www.periscope.tv/ag7201/1vOxwYoYMVmGB
-
la_cat_e's photo https://instagram.com/p/BSS1UBXBb7i/
-
Dudu Tassa & The Kuwaitis
danibarceloneta's video https://instagram.com/p/BSR-h29Dei9/
-
AmericanAirlines Arena on Twitter (30 March 2017)
https://twitter.com/AAarena/status/847633512576434176
-
AmericanAirlines Arena on Twitter (30 March 2017)
Just thought I'd give heads up that I posted a single ticket for Portland Moda Center April 9 on www.tickpick.com. It's in section 214, row L ,seat 8. (pdf downloadable). I'm only asking cost, and Tickpick takes less commission than most resellers, and doesn't add fees at checkout.
I have a floor seat to the Atlanta show. Was only able to get one so going to see them in Seattle instead. This show is a credit card entry show so you need my credit card to enter. Im not looking to profit. Just want my money back.
Nothing was left of me,
the mouse scurried out of
his hole only to shrug off
April’s fair, white nest of
fever’s few grey days
while this monk paddles
with half of his wand,
drifting up the creeks and
runnels of his mind’s
last thought of a mouse
being led out by the pink
of his pear-shaped nose
just as the spring trap shuts.
MARCH 19, 2017
God damn your soul and want for
proof’s fair examination.
(For the record, we’ve got our
sheriff’s wand for that.)
The pope shook his wedding cake
out of the box and showed it off
to everyone. That while I took a deep-
er breath and plunged into a little speech
about the monster truck rally where Elvis
had his latest abduction, taking some
toaster burn out of his toast to be quite sure
no one would pay no heed; however,
every hedon was breathless and touched
and breathless. That’s when the clown rapped
down from the rafters like a phantom from
an opera gripping tight, with his white church-
bell gloves, my holster and bowtie, whispering:
Your leathered performance was so beautiful,
Doris!–I saw your energy and pitiful courage
reflected in the deadbolts of our neighbors’ eyes,
and how they brought back memories for some.
Tooth pain for others. That’s when the song broke
off in the middle of the long and winding road and
the clown got out of my van’s back seat, letting go
of his balloons in some Nevadean moonrich spot
where the spotlight’s always shining up and raining
down. Meanwhile, I was glad to have my mother
holding my hand while I scream cried–one last
small step before this man rolled off for summer camp
on a school bus that lately matches my canvas shoes.
It felt like rehab all over again; can I say that:
the ping-pong, the equine, the bonbons of fire?
JUST DO IT LOUD AND GRADUATE LIKE A
NIKE SWOOSH! and that’s when my blinders
were drawn tight, shut, on: honest to Allah, boss!–
all I ever confessed to the clergyman about heaven
and being the only journeyman to China never to have
read the New Testament; what I meant to say, Pa,
there’s no need to get all cozy and loud; all we talked
about quietly revolved on a spinning plate around the
recurring dream of a carousel, which we’ve both had,
sleeping past life’s alarm while failing first grade’s
algebra test. I woke up in a wheelbarrow beside some
rain water.* All this incessant inversion keeps catching
up with me. Just this past Wednesday morning,
I strolled out for evening worship, wearing one sock
and my best sear-surfing suit. Perhaps, I slipped the otter
off like an offering as the deacon placed his plate of gold
on my lap and the grace of my father’s sermon drifted
out of the sinagogue while I swayed off towards
those darker moments where, with a left hand, I’ve had
to dribble a gold wet basketball through this storm.
wool
rabbit fir
silk
wood
pearls
stones
tea
spices
vodka
braids
knots
symbols
art
numbers
fire
water
earth
air
plants
essence
amber
music
math
writing
Wisdom is silent.
Understanding is patient.
Love is kind.
The plaid experience of a cat’s ninth life,
concluding nothing: the purple crayon box
was either a blue or red facsimile of my
uncle’s barn past the dyke, the pond,
the field of dumb flowers, maples
and crows pecking at the floodgates
above a yellow ditch of limestone
that keeps itself nearly parallel
to the two-headed fence of cattle wire,
which stretches out for this parable;
meanwhile, facing the plaid stain
of myself among Hieronymus’s
foolish yolk of vox-mouthed louts
and yodelers; feeling as bogus,
knotted brown and heavy as a stilt-legged dug-
out or dumbbell beneath the matador’s hood.
Oh how is that not sensitive?
Oh that crooked yellow stump
again (?) I wonder who tripped over the gumball first,
blazing through the helium warmth–among the catch
weeds and goosegrass. Like a little mustard
seed or red engine red that couldn’t stop
toking past the pink mouth of the mound that Watt
stepped off towards his own glassy skull of Gol-
gotha. It happens all the time, whistling for
an attic’s length of rope; the trigger’s acquittal
of a banjo snaking through its revolving door
of strychnine: then the kind glass of milk, ending
a cat’s ninth life; that while, towards the crowded sunset,
you’re still thumbing your nose, on one of god’s donkeys.
eh_thursday, March 16. y'17
Hello to everybody. Is here somebody from Latvia, Riga, who going to drive to Gdynia's Open'er Festival at 28.06.2017.?