Fort Worth Weekly Classifieds // May 22-28, 2024

LIVING LOCAL

Playing Possum

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but decided to watch from Lush and was pleasantly surprised at what a great view they had. Being a NxtLvl Tige boat customer, I was invited to the annual tie-up with almost 100 boats in the Gate followed

by a concert in the upper pool area – wow what a weekend! The following weekend was one of the coolest events I have ever attended – Larry Joe Taylor’s Pickin’ at Possum 3-day music fest at Lush. 3-night concerts, 2 pool concerts, and 2 brunch concerts – highly recommend!

Sadly, Labor Day approached and we relished the last weekend of summer. But wait, Lush heats their Lakefront Pool until Halloween, summer is not over! I won THE best costume at the annual Halloween Party giving me a free VIP pass for next year. Lush continued offering some great weekends including Boat Parade, New Year’s Eve, and Lush Crush with the Randy Brown Show. Let me tell you,

joining the Lush VIP Club was worth it! I even decided to rent a Lakefront Suite for 3 months to enjoy the perks of being a Lush Resident!! I will have to tell you all about that next year!

Last year, I joined the Lush VIP Club, and let me tell you about all the fun I had all year! After I reveled at PK Mardi Gras Parade, I headed to Lush for their annual Party with Poo Live Crew where I sang along and danced the night away. I basked in the sun by their heated pool during spring break getting a head start on my tan. St Patty’s Day drink specials were so delicious. Easter Weekend, I booked a room for my sister and her kids saving 10% with my VIP discount. The kids’ Easter Baskets were overflowing after the Lush Easter Egg Hunt. And then, my sister and I enjoyed live music and a carafe of mimosas in the restaurant. A fellow VIP member hired a DJ for the 4/20 party where we decked out in rasta gear and partied like rock stars!

My mother felt so special during Mother’s Day Brunch sitting on the patio enjoying the live music, and yes, more mimosas! Before I realized it, Memorial Weekend was upon us, and all the summer fun began. Weekends at Lush were lively and fun, but I certainly enjoyed the quiet weekdays sitting by the pool before all the hotel guests arrived. My father had a great Father’s Day enjoying Chef Gabe’s poolside BBQ party. 4th of July weekend started with a bang while we enjoyed the amazing fireworks show put on by Juniper Ridge. Austin Allsup’s national anthem brought tears to my eyes.

Previously, I enjoyed watching the Hell’s Gate fireworks display in my boat

That’s What I Like About Canton

First Mondays are a blast in Canton, Texas.

BY JENNIFER BOVEE

When I called my mom in late April to wish her a happy birthday and an early Mother’s Day, I asked how she wanted to celebrate. She said she wanted to go to Canton for First Monday Trade Days, the vast monthly flea market in East Texas, “before it gets too hot.” The first weekend of May was already very warm. It got me wondering: How do antique/ junk hounds deal with flea markets in the summer?

Chill Out

For starters, chill out with some frozen treats. Nothing says “country” like hitting the Dairy Queen (17249 W I-20, Canton, 903-567-4153). We have them here — I know, I know — but that didn’t stop my best friend Leigh and me from ordering a Blizzard on the way to pick up Mom. (I’ve been four times since and am now officially addicted to the Choco Brownie Extreme, by the way.)

Josh Abbott’s face greeted me at the door, on a poster, and on a souvenir mug. He’s the chain’s current spokesman and the voice you hear in the latest version of the “That’s What I Like About Texas” jingle.

The historic Dairy Palace (2301 N Trade Days Blvd, Canton, 903-567-6551)

is the local, independent choice for ice cream. Along with 33 flavors of Blue Bell available for a hand-dipped cone, this place is also known for burgers, including exotic meat and vegan options. It gets crowded on trade-day weekends, but it’s well worth the wait.

On the trade days grounds, there are food and drink options aplenty, including homemade ice cream, lemonade, margaritas, and more. (Find the Bahama Mamas booth for snow cones.) You’ll also want to bring or buy water to stay hydrated. Cash is king, as most vendors don’t take cards.

Get There Early

First Monday is open Thu-Sun before the first Monday of every month, rain or shine, from sun-up to sundown. The hottest part of the year in Texas generally falls from June to August, and according to WeatherSpark.com, the sky is overcast or mostly cloudy about 33% of the time in Canton this time of year, so you could get lucky.

You’ll also find the best junk by hitting the grounds early. Thursday isn’t as well attended, so it’s a great day to get started. For the sake of nabbing better parking alone, early mornings on FriSun are a good idea.

Many people bring what native Texans call a “Canton Cart” for easy shopping. They fold down easily in the car and are handy for holding your funky finds, drinks, purses, water (!), and the like. I brought mine to work when we once moved our cubes around at another paper. My publisher said I looked like a homeless person. He’d never seen a Canton Cart. He wasn’t from around here. #DamnYankee

Others (young and old) rent scooters. I saw a group of ladies who had theirs decked out with matching cup holders.

You never know what you’ll find at First Monday in Canton.

Have a sweet frozen treat on your way to Canton.

It wasn’t their first rodeo, and their rides probably weren’t rentals. For the rest of us, scooters are snatched up fast, so rent one early in the day. Your best bet is J&J Scooter & Wagon Rentals (367 N Trade Days Blvd, Canton, 972-979-1722), which sits right inside the front gate of the trade grounds.

Take Cover

You’ll want to play it safe and go at dawn for the outdoor shopping portion. Wear a hat and sunscreen, too. Or you can stay inside. Once it gets too warm, focus on the several indoor sheds and covered areas with fans. Also, make sure to take advantage of the indoor shopping available in other areas of Canton. The downtown has some nice antique and craft stores and an antique shopping mall on S Hwy 19.

If you make a weekend of it, having overnight accommodations will help you avoid the heat of the day. Along with an RV park for camping out, there are several area hotels to choose from. You

could stay somewhere basic, like the Best Western or Motel 6, with a pool for cooling off, but more adventurous options are available, too.

Check out VisitCantonTX.com/

Stay for novel places to rest your head, including ones with pools like the Azalea House Bed & Breakfast (17744 FM 1255, Canton, 972-978-3634). Another cute option is the Buffalo Girls Hotel (542 E Dallas St, Canton, 903-567-7829).

For more information about upcoming special events, trade days dates, and other resources, go to VisitCantonTX.com. l

Vendors have icy treats for you in Canton.

Courtesy Visit Canton Get yourself a “Canton Cart” — trust me! Courtesy First Monday Trade Days

There are novel accommodations around Canton, like the Buffalo Girls Hotel.

Courtesy Visit Canton

There are many covered spots to escape the sun throughout the trade grounds.

Courtesy Visit Canton

Take a Shelfie

We turn to our writers for inspiration for summer reading. Or ignoring.

BY WEEKLY STAFF

For the most part, summer is a great time to catch up on reading. There’s no Game of Thrones or other bingeable TV or even good sportsball to distract. So, fittingly, I asked all my writers what they’re reading now or are planning to soon, and while I neglected to include “free beer!” in the subject line, which usually draws them in like cops to a Black motorist, about a handful actually responded. Excuse me. Just had to catch my breath. For a version of this article that includes even more contributions, including one from an actual woman (I know, I know), visit FWWeekly.com.

Pulp Fictions

There’s always a comic or five in my reading queue. I’m revisiting a few from the Bronze Age, when I first started collecting, and a couple from the late 1990s/early aughts, when I returned to the medium after decades away, specifically X-Men and Detective Comics/ Batman. My favorites so far have been some Jack Kirby Captain Americas from the mid-to-late 1970s. They’re so wild and corny, I’ve been reading them to my wife, and we’re both giggling and sighing at the same time. One villain travels by motorized hang glider. I can just see a bunch of ’70s people back then, wearing their loud polyester suits, chain-smoking Camels, telling off-color jokes, thinking, “Hang gliders. This,

this is the wave of the future.” Ah *snnnfffff, cough*, the ’70s.

We kicked off our Bronze Age Kirby excursion with a couple Cap s I had inherited from my older brother back in the day. I had only merely thumbed through them over the years because I hated “King” Kirby’s ultra-stylized, hyper-modern, patently unrealistic art. Real people didn’t have fleshy cinderblocks for hands. Real people didn’t have one, big, perfect row of a tooth instead of individual teeth. Real people didn’t have perfectly arched backs. It was only after I started drawing my own fantastical tableaux that I realized Kirby’s genius — see his covers to The Eternals for starters — and thought to give him a second chance. I’m glad I did. From a singular

artistic standpoint as much as a literary one, corniness and all.

Cap on his own, his cool-to-a-10year-old uniform notwithstanding, never interested me. He’s a fully grown Boy Scout with super-strength and -speed. Yawn. And I’ve always liked the promise of science fiction more than what I’ve regularly seen onscreen or between the covers — I’m less Star Wars, more 2001: A Space Odyssey. But put Captain America and sci-fi together like Kirby has, and magic happens. The main Kirby/Cap storyline I’ve been following these days involves (a’hem): a mad scientist concocting otherworldly creatures to somehow capture our hero and transplant Adolf Hitler’s brain (still alive, hanging out in formaldehyde) into Cap’s body while also reconstructing

his square-jawed face to resemble the Fuhrer’s. I haven’t been this addicted to an Awesome-capital-A plot since Season 6, Episode 5 of GoT (“The Door”).

When I’m not doomscrolling, I’m sneaking in reading when I can, mostly in the “office” (the bathroom) and in my car waiting to pick up my kid from school. And in ye olde 2008 Ford Escape is where I’ve been chipping away at a few book-books, least lacklustrously (should be a word) a 1966 novella. Still traditionally Pynchonian, The Crying of Lot 49 comes across a lot more cleareyed than the greatest living writer’s National Book Award-winning Gravity’s Rainbow and my favorite Pynchon novel if not my favorite literary text of all time, Against the Day, another

continued on page9

I like big books, and I cannot lie. Some “light” summer reading material.

Patrick Higgins

20-pounder and a correction of sorts to Gravity. (Against/Day has a bona fide ending, for one thing, and it’s powerful.) Lot 49 simply romps. Young Oedipa Maas wakes up to her going-nowhere marriage to a radio DJ (remember them?) before pinballing through the weird but surprisingly harmless underground of several fictional L.A. ’burbs circa the mid 1960s, drawn forward by a wild conspiracy about: a deceased real estate mogul’s estate, a secret postal service, the mob, a Jacobean revenge play, a psychic machine, a support group for broken hearts, and, finally and really not that importantly, the (fictional but deliciously named) teenage rock band The Paranoids. Pynchon’s narrative legerdemain and syntactical poetry take flight as brilliantly as usual. The chief distinctions: The Lot story unwinds linearly and maintains only one POV (Oedipa’s). You’ll rip-roar through it.

Now, for a word on pulp. We’re apparently not allowed to consume it anymore because doing so means we’re scared — of the end of capitalism, of the end of democracy, of the end of the planet — and we need to be braver and choke down some DFW or Franzen or Zadie Smith to broaden our meager horizons and face our assorted deaths head on. *talk-to-the-hand emoji* Just let me and my cocoon of fun, slightly creepy, totally mysterious, easily digestible stories with tidy, happy endings be. There’s nothing better than getting under the covers after a long day of doing whatever it is I do and swiping to some pure pulp on my trusty iPhone 10 (cellphones — also bad for you).

My reader app groans with pulpy novels, pulpy short story collections (Poe, Dickens, Spooky New England), and one super-pulpy series. Written by a rotating stable of contemporary mystery authors, The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes features mostly new takes on old Holmesian yarns plus some scrumptious pop-culture-infused T-RA-S-H. Holmes and Dracula, Holmes and Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde, Holmes and the War of the Worlds, Holmes and the Ectoplasmic Man, Holmes and the Titanic, Holmes and Jack the Ripper

my wife and I have read them all. And have loved every trashy-ass word. After recently finishing the comparatively tame Cornwall Mermaid (starring Holmes’ daughter Lucy James), the wifey and I will soon move onto The Devil and the Four. That’s after we find out if Captain America becomes a reanimated Nazi leader. Insert: political joke circa 2024. — Anthony Mariani

Patrick’s Pile

I suppose the biggest takeaway from my daunting stack of tomes is that my taste in books (and in music, movies, TV shows, and clothing — as well as my general worldview and maturity level) was obviously arrested sometime around 2005. These selections prove that I’ve been kicking around the dusty bibliographies of the same handful of postmodern and post-postmodern writers since my late-night Denny’s coffee- and cigarette-fueled pseudo-intellectual “phase” in high school. A troubling social media addiction has probably robbed me of 15 years or so of time I would (should) have otherwise spent reading actual books instead of skimming through vaguely racist posts

from knuckle-draggers I went to high school with, but the silver lining is that those lost years have left me with plenty of material from my comfort-zone writers still left to plow through.

I’m currently through two of the three novellas included in a Gabriel García Márquez collection that I’ve chosen as a light treat of a read after an especially lengthy Jonathan Franzen novel. I find I follow this pattern in book selection. Like an inverse of my approach to dieting in which I’ll start the day with a nice, small, light meal for lunch, then around dinnertime consume enough food for three fully grown men, I’ll typically reach for a 150-pager after conquering a big, fat book approaching 1,000.

In honesty, the Márquez had been my planned palate cleanser after finishing The Power Broker, Robert Caro’s Pulitzer Prize-winning biography of New York development mogul Robert Moses which I thought I could hang with. I was moved to tackle that density by a group of local musicians who’ve started a book club around reading it together, but their investment is on a level I just can’t compete with. So, it sits with the receipt of its purchase as a bookmark just 100 pages in, taunting me for my lack of discipline.

As does Gravity’s Rainbow, which Weekly Editor Anthony Mariani suggests I drop in favor of a staunchly similar yet superior (in his opinion) Pynchon work, Against the Day. Yet Gravity is on all of these pride-challenging “How Many of These Great American Novels Have You Read?” lists, and I value a well-read, scholarly perception among my peers above all else, so I’m going to get to it. Someday.

Anthony also can’t comprehend my love for David Foster Wallace, whose infinite run-on sentences still influence me (as Anthony can certainly attest) and whose Brief Interviews with Hideous Men has somehow escaped me, therefore it’s probably next in the queue.

I look forward to DeLillo’s The Names because I’ll be going into it cold. I have no idea what it’s about and won’t before I begin it. He’s one of my most favorite writers. His prose is so lyrical yet unflamboyant that the narrative is often secondary to the words he uses to progress it.

Paul Auster was a love that was passed around our circle during that

pseudo-intellectual phase in the early aughts. I’d mostly forgotten about him until his death last month brought him from the recesses of my addled memory. His novel Moon Palace is one of my very favorite books of all time. Like the DeLillo, I’ll be going into 4321 cold, but if literally every other thing of Auster’s I’ve ever read is any indication, the main character will find himself homeless and living in a dumpster at some point, as Auster himself did in the 1970s in New York City. Though he uses it probably too often, his perspective on that life is always utterly fascinating. —

Patrick Higgins

Celluloid Pages

One of the great things about being a film critic is that it forces me to keep reading. I’m constantly raiding the local library for novels, short stories, plays, graphic novels, and even the occasional epic poem whose movie versions are due out. Right now, this means I’m working my way through A.M. Shine’s The Watchers, a horror novel about a woman who becomes lost in the forests of Ireland and finds that the only refuge from the beasts that live there is a sealed modern furnished room that is unaccountably in the middle of the woods. It feels like exactly the sort of thing that would appeal to the daughter of M. Night Shyamalan, who is directing the movie.

I’ve also started on Rachel Yoder’s Nightbitch, about an overworked and frustrated mother who mysteriously starts transforming into a wild animal. It’s maybe the angriest piece of female fiction I’ve ever read, and I can’t get enough. That movie is slated for Christmas.

I do occasionally read for pleasure or when I have trouble sleeping at night. The book serving that purpose right now is Cait Murphy’s Crazy ’08, a chronicle of the wacky 1908 baseball season that not only tells of the Chicago Cubs’ World Series triumph that year but also delves into related subjects such as the number of deaf major league players at the time, the City Beautiful architectural movement and its effect on stadium construction, and the pitcher nicknamed “Slothful Bill” Lattimore, whose big-league career lasted all of four games for the Cleveland Naps (now Guardians). Athletes today don’t have nicknames that colorful or insulting.

Kristian Lin l

The pulp is fast and furious with this one.

Anthony Mariani

Putting It on Wax Summer is hot, but new records are cool.

BY PATRICK HIGGINS, STEVE STEWARD, JUAN R. GOVEA, AND ANTHONY MARIANI

We haven’t even made it to Memorial Day, and the most hated organization in the entire state, the Energy Reliability Council of Texas, has already issued warnings about our archaic “freedom”-fueled electrical grid standing up to high demand from “unusually” hot days. In addition, a super-soaker of a spring has meant the only thing we hate more than ERCOT — mosquitoes — are about to enjoy their own Hot Girl Summer and descend upon us in numbers rivaling nepo babies at Coachella. And as the general election campaign season gets ready to kick off in earnest, it looks like we could be in for a particularly hellish summer.

However, bloodthirsty mosquitoes and campaign robo-texts aren’t the only things amassing in giant numbers. Musicians both near and far are about to unleash a swarm of new music that an industrial-sized bug zapper or an army of intimidating “poll watchers” couldn’t keep at bay. So, slather on the SPF, bathe yourself in OFF!, pop in those AirPods, and let these upcoming summer releases cool you off. This listicle is in no way comprehensive, just a mix of newsworthiness, our interests, and nice artists who’ve reached out to us.

If your tastes lean to ’90s underground indie-rock like Pavement and Modest Mouse, you should be looking forward to the debut full-length from Spring Palace. The Fort Worth three-piece is currently tracking its upcoming Rodeo Fortune with Jordan Richardson (Son of Stan, Oil Boom) at his Electric Barryland studio.

Equally ’90s-esque, the indie-rocking Hotel Satellite are releasing the single “Nothing Much Happens (World’s Greatest Mess)” — recorded in Dallas at Modern Electric Sound Recorders with Joel Raif (Leon Bridges, Cameron Smith) — in late July.

Mandy Hand hinted at new songs from her dream-pop outfit Big Heaven coinciding with a couple upcoming gigs: Saturday at Growl Records (509 E Abram St, Arlington, 682-252-7639) and Fri, May 31, at The Cicada (1002 S Main St, Fort Worth, TheCicadaFW.com).

Fort Worth indie-rockers Spring Palace are set to release their full-length debut later this season.

International troubadour Keegan McInroe will release Dusty Passports and Empty Beds at the end of this month. The release party for his seventh studio album is 8pm Fri, May 31, at Southside Preservation Hall (1519 Lipscomb St, Fort Worth, 817-926-2800).

Lisa Hardaway and her pop-rock group Darstar are working on two singles for summer, “Chubby Thighs” and “Ghost of Bleach,” plus a handful of new tracks that need to be committed to wax which she and her mates will release by “bread crumbing” them on streaming platforms.

One of Fort Worth’s most prolific artists, hip-hop producer Phil Ford, a.k.a. BLKrKRT (pronounced “Blacker Karat”), is piecemeal releasing an 11part series of instrumentals infused with piano-based jazz, R&B, and soul. Ever an intellectualist and a student of historical civilizations of color, Book of Hermes is inspired by ancient Egyptian/Kemetic mythology and invokes The Emerald Tablets, a set of texts about history, geometry, and spirituality. Ford has been putting out one volume at a time every Thursday since Apr 4, with the next installment, Part 8, due this week.

For a dose of heavier sounds, hardcore punks Antirad have a self-titled EP set for the end of May. Frontman Brad Barker said they’re not trying to “reinvent the wheel” but instead lean into their West Coast roots, promising eight raw and raucous blitzkrieg tracks.

Old-school riot grrrls Ex-Regrets have been releasing singles every month since March with a full album slated for fall or later. Their next single, “Keeping Up with the Joneses,” comes out Friday, and they’ll be tearing shit up at Growl Records with another kickass fempowered band, Hen & The Cocks, plus Bullet Machine and Blanket of M on Fri, Jun 14

For country-tinged singer-songwriters, we’ve been teasing the debut album from the electrifying Jessi England for a bit now and are hoping summer sees it through. Until then, there’s more than enough rustic tuneage to tide us over, including Hannah Owens, who has a new single en route, her first in four years. Summer Lane looks to make a return with an upcoming album as well, and next month, Colton Sanders sets off “Wildfire,” a new single.

continued on page 11

Juan R. Govea

The Troumatics plan to release a couple singles over the summer and then put out an album in the fall. “I Am a River,” produced by Todd Pipes (Deep Blue Something), is a tune about fake news and “how we are metaphorical rivers that have to stay true to ourselves,” said frontman Stephen Troum, “and keep on flowing.” The indie-rockers are working with producers Joe Tacke (Mean Motor Scooter, Cory Cross) and Peter Wierenga (Spring Palace, Sur Duda, Siberian Traps) on the other tracks.

Arlington indie-poppers Cherry Mantis are applying their jazzy, math-rockish style to existing songs. An album of covers, Cherry Covered hits the streets later this summer.

The hard-charging Caterpillars are about to pump out their fifth studio album. After the Flood is set for a tentative Aug 16 release.

And while we here at the humble Weekly naturally tend to be hyper-locally focused, we are still aware that there’s also great music elsewhere. Chiefly, we’re looking forward to the 75th (!!) studio album by — with apologies to Dr. Opal Lee — perhaps the greatest Texan to ever live. At the end of this month, 90-year-old Willie Nelson offers The Border. The title track is a cover of a Rodney Crowell tune, a haunting tale of a desert dweller existing amid the greed of cross-border corruption and violence. It has all the chilling, tragic beauty of a Cormac McCarthy novel sung in the depths of Willie’s register.

One of the biggest, best albums of the summer came out only a few days ago. Billie Eilish’s Hit Me Hard and Soft is sort of a snapshot of the dynamic, rangy singer now and a good look at how far she’s come since arriving fully formed on the international scene only a few years ago. The sonic mood is still shadowy and minimalist, though there are moments when the charismatic goth really stretches out, even dipping a little into the blues and jazz.

Fresh off their mind-bending psychedelic performance at Las Vegas’ Sphere, the world’s lynchpin jam band (and perennial music-snob punchline) Phish looks at a Jul 12 release for their next studio album. Evolve will likely be a much more enjoyable listen than the Imagine Dragons album coming out Jun 28. After a few decades of performing toddler-friendly lyrics over scribble-y, jazz-noodling solos for sunburnt wooks and the various other creatures that frequent the jam-band festival circuit, what form does Phish evolve to? Our money is on “Amfibian.”

Summer closes with Wild God, the first album in five years from Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. Cave says the Aug 30 release is “complicated” but “deeply and joyously infectious.” Which, of course, could also describe the entirety of the Bad Seeds catalogue. l

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