Otis Brown's Podcast

Trailer for 11/11 Podcast. Thanks. Please like follow subscribe tell a friend and all that. 

I'll be back next week with a full episode of Otis Brown Podcast. I couldn't imagine the world I would be speaking to tomorrow, so I sent a simple message from the past. If you are feeling nostalgic for old Otis Brown, check out a past episode you missed.
Thank you so very much, as usual!

In this last episode before the election, I reflect on, and take comfort in, what I know about American elections in the 19th century. I offer some thoughts on why Edgar Allan Poe was calling out for Jeremiah Reynolds on his deathbed, I discuss writers and artists like Herman Melville, George Caleb Bingham, Rebecca Harding Davis, Sojourner Truth and I even sing a little bit of a Bobby Bare song. 

Enjoy and be well!

Booze Fueled Bar Fights

Some of the cultural references made in this episode:

Edgar Allan Poe. The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket.

Rebecca Harding Davis. Life in the Iron Mills. 

George Caleb Bingham. “The County Election”

Sojourner Truth. “Ain’t I a Woman?”

Jeremiah N. Reynolds. Mocha Dick: or the White Whale of the Pacific

Herman Melville. Moby-Dick; or, the Whale

John Cleve Symmes Jr. 

Richard Henry Dana. Two Years Before the Mast

Bobby Bare/Gram Parsons. “Streets of Baltimore” 

“Drunk History” Baltimore 

John Winthrop

Andrew Jackson 

Trailer for this Pre-Election Podcast. 

Here's a bit of a song for people who ask why I don't play guitar on the podcast. 

In this episode of Otis Brown Podcast, I recall a street preacher of some renowned and my evening commute with him on the train. I also think about Thomas Hart Benton, Jackson Pollock and the general impulse of American Art. 
I hope you enjoy it.  

The title for this week's podcast is an allusion to the Adam Carroll's song, "Black Flag Blues." Carroll is, in my opinion, a criminally under-appreciated songwriter--check him out!

Rattlesnake Preachers and Doomsday Signs

Some of the cultural references made in this episode:

Adam Carroll. “Black Flag Blues”

Thomas Hart Benton. A Social History of Indiana. Arts of Life in America

NAACP. “An Art Commentary on Lynching”

Grant Wood. American Gothic 

Jackson Pollock. Blue Poles

Mark Rothko 

William Faulkner

Eudora Welty 

“Ralph the Wolf and Sam the Sheepdog”

Otis Brown Podcast has a Youtube channel. https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCq3QmEfVtP2qkLCO21zT0hw
If the added visual element to the podcast interests you, please like, follow and subscribe and I will continue to use Youtube--because a day without Youtube is like a day without air! Thanks.
Added bonus: I play a little guitar on the intro, plus pretty pictures of the guide-boat. 

Are we more inclined to believe a lie we have made about someone than a truth we hear from that someone, even when the stakes are incredibly low? As a companion to last week's episode, I think about the cultural narratives we default to when we don't have or don't want a story about the people we see around us in our world--people we used to call neighbors, which literally means "near dwellers."  

The Elderberry Man

Some of the cultural references made in this episode:

Tom Waits. “What’s He Building” “9th and Hennepin” 

Harry Partch 

New Podcast coming soon! (like Wed at 2:00 Pacific)

In this week's episode, I reflect on Maxine Hong Kingston's The Woman Warrior and discuss seeing an old friend whom I'm never met--and think, literally, about what it might mean to walk a mile in his shoes. What do we call relationships with people we see all the time but do not know? How do we describe or define feelings of affection for strangers? How and where do we read the signs of our existence in particular places? I don't know if I actually unravel any of these mysteries, but I give it a shot in this podcast.
Thanks for listening!

My Twin

Some of the cultural references made in this episode:

Maxine Hong Kingston. The Woman Warrior

Sandra Cisneros. The House on Mango Street

James Joyce. Ulysses 

Edgar Allan Poe. “William Wilson” 

Lao Tzu. Tao Te Ching 

Roger Miller. “My Uncle Used to Love Me But She Died”