I found this old Maxell XLII 90 minute cassette in the car the other day, it had gone to where all tapes go to die in cars - that is cars that still have tape decks - the nether region that used to house ashtrays.
We bought our Buick Regal off of a rental car fleet shortly before our second kid was born (he's turns 5 in May so do the math) and its probably one of the last production vehicles that had a tape deck and a CD player as a stock option.
Anyway, I vaguely remember getting all tanked up in those first few months rocking a high unlike no other after the birth of my first born son and making a few mix tapes that I would one day share with him.
I had dug out a handful of cassettes from a shoebox under the bed after we bought that car because it was one of the few places I could play one (except for my truck but by that point insertion was a dicey proposition and these were tapes deserving of archival classification and therefore required more care).
And that is where they have stayed for several years, gathering dust after the prerequisite bi-annual rotation, and being forgotten by things like mp3s and iPods.
This said tape would probably have stayed there for many more years yet it was rescue by the fact that we decided to put a boombox outside on the deck sorta permanently.
I dug the cassette out the other day and had this hankering to post some blog with YouTube clips of each song but as YouTube can be - I went off in some other direction and completely forgot my original plan.
Fortunately, I remembered. So here is a clip from the mix... but first you'll need to read the set list:
Side One
Three Mile Pilot - Pinhut
Shudder To Think - So Into You
Magnetic Fields - It's A Crime
Velvet Underground - I'll Be Your Mirror
The Chantells - Children Of Jah
X- Los Angeles
Thelonious Monster - My Boy
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - The Weeping Song
The Persuasions - You Are What You Is (Zappa cover)
Stubborn Allstars - I Can't Touch You
Otis Redding - That's What MY Heart Needs
Guided By Voices - Mincer Ray
Side Two
Butthole Surfers - X-ray Girl
Metal Flake Mother - Wingtip Lizard
Drunk Horse - Arroyo Grande
P.W. Long - The James
Nina Soul - Sleeping Trees
Funkadelic - You And Your Folks Me And My Folks
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Easily
Flaming Lips - Waitin' For Superman
Blackheart Procession - Blue Tears
Knoxville Girls - He Stopped Loving Her Today
Mountain Goats - Going To Catalina
Promise Ring - Happiness Is All The Rage
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Gray Water Up My Ass
My wife, she warms my heart sometimes for the things that she does, like putting a bucket in the shower to use for flushing the toilet in an effort to minimize water waste.
In times of calamity, you make the necessary changes, and here in the southeast we have been in the midst of a serious drought, serious enough that they've contemplated shutting down nuclear reactors, outlawed garbage disposals in sinks in Raleigh, and made it against the law to fill your pool or hot tub.
I think having a bucket in the shower is a practice we'll probably stick with, although I said the same thing about sleeping with sneakers on after "experiencing" the Northridge earthquake and that didn't last very long.
So now the top of the tank remains to the side and showers - which we also do with the boys in an effort to eliminate baths which are such a gratuitous waste of water -and the saving of the cast off, gray water are now the rule not the exception.
But that might have to change soon as well.
Because the other night I heard the sound of my cat lapping up water from that tank, the same tank that is filled with man musk, dingle berries, and stray pubes from my man plume. Toss in soap, God-knows-what-comes-off-the-kids and my wife's salon product - all which sounds like a lethal concoction for felines.
In times of calamity, you make the necessary changes, and here in the southeast we have been in the midst of a serious drought, serious enough that they've contemplated shutting down nuclear reactors, outlawed garbage disposals in sinks in Raleigh, and made it against the law to fill your pool or hot tub.
I think having a bucket in the shower is a practice we'll probably stick with, although I said the same thing about sleeping with sneakers on after "experiencing" the Northridge earthquake and that didn't last very long.
So now the top of the tank remains to the side and showers - which we also do with the boys in an effort to eliminate baths which are such a gratuitous waste of water -and the saving of the cast off, gray water are now the rule not the exception.
But that might have to change soon as well.
Because the other night I heard the sound of my cat lapping up water from that tank, the same tank that is filled with man musk, dingle berries, and stray pubes from my man plume. Toss in soap, God-knows-what-comes-off-the-kids and my wife's salon product - all which sounds like a lethal concoction for felines.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Dreaming Of Chicks
When my 4-year-old woke up today, we talked - as we often do - about the dreams we had the night before.
Today he told me he had a dream about two chicks.
"They were outside on the deck," he said.
"Both of them were together in one egg."
"And then I tried to helped them out but one of them bit me on the finger... and his beak came off!!!" he said.
"On my thumb."
"What did you do next?" I asked him.
"I told you I needed gloves for my hands," he said.
We talked about it more on the way to school mostly me applauding him for problem-solving the situation by asking for protection for his hands. When I dropped him off I told him that he should share his dream with his teacher.
"You had a dream last night?" she asked.
"Yeah, about two chicks!" he said.
She shot a glance at me and I cupped my hands into a ball to try to non-verbally signaled an egg.
He went on to explain the rest of the dream to her and she laughed, then paused, and as I was leaving his classroom she said, "A guy dreaming about two chicks, isn't that always the case."
I was kind of surprised because this is the kind of school where parent meetings go on for hours over topics like whether they should use soap, gel or wipes to clean the the childrens' hands.
I'm sure I could have taken offense if I was of the stinky, hippie variety, but instead, as I walked to my car I thought, "Man, wish I had a dream about two chicks last night."
Today he told me he had a dream about two chicks.
"They were outside on the deck," he said.
"Both of them were together in one egg."
"And then I tried to helped them out but one of them bit me on the finger... and his beak came off!!!" he said.
"On my thumb."
"What did you do next?" I asked him.
"I told you I needed gloves for my hands," he said.
We talked about it more on the way to school mostly me applauding him for problem-solving the situation by asking for protection for his hands. When I dropped him off I told him that he should share his dream with his teacher.
"You had a dream last night?" she asked.
"Yeah, about two chicks!" he said.
She shot a glance at me and I cupped my hands into a ball to try to non-verbally signaled an egg.
He went on to explain the rest of the dream to her and she laughed, then paused, and as I was leaving his classroom she said, "A guy dreaming about two chicks, isn't that always the case."
I was kind of surprised because this is the kind of school where parent meetings go on for hours over topics like whether they should use soap, gel or wipes to clean the the childrens' hands.
I'm sure I could have taken offense if I was of the stinky, hippie variety, but instead, as I walked to my car I thought, "Man, wish I had a dream about two chicks last night."
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Daylight Savings Hangover?
Anybody else got one?
I don't quite remember Daylight Savings fucking up my regularly scheduled program as much as it has this time around.
The kids are all off-kilter, my sleep pattern has been totally knocked off course and the sight of the sun up after 7pm seems truly unreal.
But this happens every year?
So why this year is it making me feel more whacked out then I can ever remember?
Mother Nature is a strange beast...
I don't quite remember Daylight Savings fucking up my regularly scheduled program as much as it has this time around.
The kids are all off-kilter, my sleep pattern has been totally knocked off course and the sight of the sun up after 7pm seems truly unreal.
But this happens every year?
So why this year is it making me feel more whacked out then I can ever remember?
Mother Nature is a strange beast...
Monday, March 10, 2008
My Kids Are Weird
Yeah, I know the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and all but seriously, sometimes they are weird even by my standards.
Take for example my oldest, I recently discovered that when he goes poo he takes off all his clothes. Now I'm totally can see how one wouldn't want to shit in a public place like school but when I had to get some more toilet paper for him the other day I came into the bathroom to find him naked on the shitter.
"What are you doing? I said.
"Going poo... what does it look like?" he said.
"Well why are you naked?" I asked.
"I always take my clothes off when I poo," he explained.
"That's why I can't do it at school."
"But why do you take all of your clothes off?" I asked.
And, like a typical 7-year-old he replied, "I don't knooooooooow."
Whatever works for you cowboy.
Not to be undone, is my 4-year-old who likes to sleep on the floor of his room. He spent the better part of his early years sleeping with me and mom (thank god for king size mattresses!) so when it came time to finally upgrade him from the crib (which he almost never slept it) to a bed we just gave him our own futon that we had used up until we happened upon the previously mentioned (and greatly discounted) king size mattress.
The futon sits about 8 inches or so off the ground, high enough to stuff crap under but low enough that a roll out of bed for a toddler would be harmless. I guess somewhere along the way he figured he just skip the whole futon nonsense and just sleep on the floor where he eventually ends up.
While he does like to be tucked in, generally by the time you've made it halfway down the hallway you'll hear the thunk of him rolling onto the floor. I don't know how long he was been doing this but a few months back he confessed that he liked sleeping on the floor better then his bed.
And usually on the pile of pajamas - which he feels the need to take every last one out before he can pick which to wear, then leaves them discarded on the floor only to snuggle up on top of them after he's wrapped himself in his blanket and rolled off the bed.
Now I sorta know where this comes from because my last two semesters in college I had taken to the idea that it was pointless to fold my laundry and put my clean clothes back into drawers after washing them. Rather I would just dumped my freshly-laundered clothes in the corner of my bed that butted up against the wall. This way I could just reach over and pick out my clothes and essentially be dressed as I rolled out of bed.
As for naked pooing? Well I did play rugby and have been known to get naked at a party or two but I confess I've never pooed naked (unless it was before a shower or during some bout with the flu where bodily fluids were being released from both ends simultaneously).
Take for example my oldest, I recently discovered that when he goes poo he takes off all his clothes. Now I'm totally can see how one wouldn't want to shit in a public place like school but when I had to get some more toilet paper for him the other day I came into the bathroom to find him naked on the shitter.
"What are you doing? I said.
"Going poo... what does it look like?" he said.
"Well why are you naked?" I asked.
"I always take my clothes off when I poo," he explained.
"That's why I can't do it at school."
"But why do you take all of your clothes off?" I asked.
And, like a typical 7-year-old he replied, "I don't knooooooooow."
Whatever works for you cowboy.
Not to be undone, is my 4-year-old who likes to sleep on the floor of his room. He spent the better part of his early years sleeping with me and mom (thank god for king size mattresses!) so when it came time to finally upgrade him from the crib (which he almost never slept it) to a bed we just gave him our own futon that we had used up until we happened upon the previously mentioned (and greatly discounted) king size mattress.
The futon sits about 8 inches or so off the ground, high enough to stuff crap under but low enough that a roll out of bed for a toddler would be harmless. I guess somewhere along the way he figured he just skip the whole futon nonsense and just sleep on the floor where he eventually ends up.
While he does like to be tucked in, generally by the time you've made it halfway down the hallway you'll hear the thunk of him rolling onto the floor. I don't know how long he was been doing this but a few months back he confessed that he liked sleeping on the floor better then his bed.
And usually on the pile of pajamas - which he feels the need to take every last one out before he can pick which to wear, then leaves them discarded on the floor only to snuggle up on top of them after he's wrapped himself in his blanket and rolled off the bed.
Now I sorta know where this comes from because my last two semesters in college I had taken to the idea that it was pointless to fold my laundry and put my clean clothes back into drawers after washing them. Rather I would just dumped my freshly-laundered clothes in the corner of my bed that butted up against the wall. This way I could just reach over and pick out my clothes and essentially be dressed as I rolled out of bed.
As for naked pooing? Well I did play rugby and have been known to get naked at a party or two but I confess I've never pooed naked (unless it was before a shower or during some bout with the flu where bodily fluids were being released from both ends simultaneously).
Monday, March 03, 2008
Books
The schedule has been crazy around here... last week was the beginning of soccer season so now I have to fit one more thing into my already hectic life.
The days go something like this: drop kids off at school, go to radio internship, pick one kid up from school and entertain him until his brother comes home from elementary school, have a half-dozen neighborhood kids play in my yard, make dinner, tell other kids to go home, eat... and - depending on what night it is - there's either class, band practice, or catering.
Phew.
One thing I did manage to squeeze in this weekend - a thing that has become a sort of family tradition - was going to the Chapel Hill public library book sale. But because Saturday involved dual soccer games at the same time at different fields and a catering shift, I had to opt for Sunday to go to the sale. Sunday is known as "bag day" at the public libraries and it's where all the freaks come out of the woodwork to purchase as many books as they can squeeze into a brown paper grocery bag for $3.
It's a deal no doubt but sometimes it can look like looters from the L.A. riots where bodies scramble to stuff shit (shit they most likely hope will be resell able via the internet) into a bag in the fastest manner possible. I usually try to avoid bag day precisely because of this: it allows no room for browsing. But I needed the diversion and the kids were up for it so we went.
And despite the mob scene, I did manage to walk away with some decent books:
- The Underground Man by Ross Macdonald. LA gumshoe/dick lit from the '40s. I had doubts that I might already have read or owned this book but I picked it up because you need a start at things like this or you'll just turn around and leave. Oh, yeah, I do already own this in hardcover. If you haven't read Macdonald, I'll send this to the first reply - he's that good.
- The Wishbones by Tom Perrotta. Perrotta hit pay dirt with his stay-at-home dad-centric tome Little Children which became a hit movie. This is his debut novel and it is centered around a wedding band. No shit.
- Pinktoes by Chester Himes. Like Macdonald, he's been name-dropped in the same sentence as Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett only unlike Macdonald he's not white or Canadian; he's black and from Ohio.
- The Joy Of Wokking by Martin Yan. A totally informative yet hilarious (think late '70s sensibilities here folks) cookbook about making food with a wok. He's got Canadian ties like Macdonald and has appeared on Cartoon Network's Space Ghost: Coast to Coast. "Food and sex are human nature." Indeed.
- Cloudsplitter by Russell Banks. While I don't know if I've ever read Banks, I did see the movie The Sweet Hereafter several times and it made enough of a mark that I felt compelled to pick up this book.
Not bad for $3 and a thirty minute trip to the local library book sale huh?
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction
I'll found this on the AP wire the other day.
Fucking priceless...
Twin Porn Actors Charged
Feb 28th, 2008 | PHILADELPHIA -- Twin brothers who have appeared in hardcore gay-porn online videos are charged with the rooftop burglary of a South Philadelphia business and are suspected in dozens of similar crimes in at least three states, authorities said.
Keyontyli and Taleon Goffney, 25, of suburban Pennsauken, N.J., were arrested Feb. 19after authorities from a multistate task force said they watched the twins break into a South Philadelphia beauty shop through the roof.
The brothers are suspects in dozens of burglaries committed over the past 18 months throughout New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware, where intruders gained entry by hacking through the rooftops of businesses, the Philadelphia Daily News reported.
Keyontyli, arrested at the scene of the Philadelphia burglary, was released after posting bail. Taleon, arrested a short time later, was being held in a Philadelphia jail.
The brothers face charges of burglary, trespassing, theft and related counts. A preliminary hearing is expected next month, authorities said.
Taleon has a lengthy criminal history, including charges for rooftop burglaries in Alabama and Florida, and previous arrests in Philadelphia as well as Camden and Salem counties in New Jersey, The Philadelphia Inquirer reported.
There are no records of any felony convictions for Keyontyli in Philadelphia or his native New Jersey.
Taleon faces sentencing in March after having pleaded guilty to burglary and other charges in two cases in New Jersey, his lawyer, Jeffrey Zucker, told the Inquirer.
Zucker told The Associated Press on Thursday that attorney Michael Gushue represents Taleon in the Philadelphia case, and he did not know if Keyontyli has a lawyer. Gushue did not immediately return a call seeking comment.
Court documents in Philadelphia did not list any lawyers for either brother.
The brothers have appeared in online gay porn videos under the names Teyon and Keyon, said Erik Schut of Philadelphia-based video retailer TLA Entertainment Group, which sells gay porn DVDs online.
He said they could have had a good career if they hadn't gotten in trouble.
"They are incredibly good-looking, and being identical twins, it's a novelty," Schut said.
Keyontyli has appeared in gay porn since at least 2002 and worked as a fashion model, while Taleon got involved in porn more recently.
Taleon, who police believe is a trained gymnast and karate expert, has used his athleticism to make several daring escapes from police.
He was handcuffed in the back of a moving police cruiser after a 2006 drug arrest in Clementon, N.J., when he broke out the glass with his head and jumped into a lake while still handcuffed, police Chief Dave Kunkel said.
"He swam across like Flipper, taunting the officers, saying, 'You'll never catch me," Kunkel told the Daily News.
Taleon turned himself in a week later.
In January 2007, Taleon jumped 30 feet from the roof of a Camden, N.J., liquor store and swam across the frigid Cooper River before he was caught, police said.
"I told him he should have signed up for the Olympics," Zucker said. "The prosecutor and I even referred to him as Spider-Man."
Fucking priceless...
Twin Porn Actors Charged
Feb 28th, 2008 | PHILADELPHIA -- Twin brothers who have appeared in hardcore gay-porn online videos are charged with the rooftop burglary of a South Philadelphia business and are suspected in dozens of similar crimes in at least three states, authorities said.
Keyontyli and Taleon Goffney, 25, of suburban Pennsauken, N.J., were arrested Feb. 19after authorities from a multistate task force said they watched the twins break into a South Philadelphia beauty shop through the roof.
The brothers are suspects in dozens of burglaries committed over the past 18 months throughout New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware, where intruders gained entry by hacking through the rooftops of businesses, the Philadelphia Daily News reported.
Keyontyli, arrested at the scene of the Philadelphia burglary, was released after posting bail. Taleon, arrested a short time later, was being held in a Philadelphia jail.
The brothers face charges of burglary, trespassing, theft and related counts. A preliminary hearing is expected next month, authorities said.
Taleon has a lengthy criminal history, including charges for rooftop burglaries in Alabama and Florida, and previous arrests in Philadelphia as well as Camden and Salem counties in New Jersey, The Philadelphia Inquirer reported.
There are no records of any felony convictions for Keyontyli in Philadelphia or his native New Jersey.
Taleon faces sentencing in March after having pleaded guilty to burglary and other charges in two cases in New Jersey, his lawyer, Jeffrey Zucker, told the Inquirer.
Zucker told The Associated Press on Thursday that attorney Michael Gushue represents Taleon in the Philadelphia case, and he did not know if Keyontyli has a lawyer. Gushue did not immediately return a call seeking comment.
Court documents in Philadelphia did not list any lawyers for either brother.
The brothers have appeared in online gay porn videos under the names Teyon and Keyon, said Erik Schut of Philadelphia-based video retailer TLA Entertainment Group, which sells gay porn DVDs online.
He said they could have had a good career if they hadn't gotten in trouble.
"They are incredibly good-looking, and being identical twins, it's a novelty," Schut said.
Keyontyli has appeared in gay porn since at least 2002 and worked as a fashion model, while Taleon got involved in porn more recently.
Taleon, who police believe is a trained gymnast and karate expert, has used his athleticism to make several daring escapes from police.
He was handcuffed in the back of a moving police cruiser after a 2006 drug arrest in Clementon, N.J., when he broke out the glass with his head and jumped into a lake while still handcuffed, police Chief Dave Kunkel said.
"He swam across like Flipper, taunting the officers, saying, 'You'll never catch me," Kunkel told the Daily News.
Taleon turned himself in a week later.
In January 2007, Taleon jumped 30 feet from the roof of a Camden, N.J., liquor store and swam across the frigid Cooper River before he was caught, police said.
"I told him he should have signed up for the Olympics," Zucker said. "The prosecutor and I even referred to him as Spider-Man."
Monday, February 25, 2008
No Shortage Of Drama Here
This weekend proved to be chock full of drama here at the ol' household involving a myriad of variables.
First up was the fish.
I've written about the highs & lows before
And this weekend it bit me in the ass again.
It was somewhere around Saturday afternoon when I realized that one of our fish, a black molly named Black (after Big Black of the show Rob & Big) wasn't doing too well and that one of the other fish was pecking away at his listing body.
Before this progressed any further, I called the boys in and had them take a gander at the tank and see if they could come up with a solution. My oldest Spencer suggested that we remove Black until he could get back on his feet. So I got the net and scooped out Black and put him in a bowl.
Shortly after, my wife came home and we calmly explained the situation. She told the boys it looked like Black was going to die and that we should take him to the pet store with a sample of our water.
Black was my son Cole's fish. He didn't seemed too upset about the prospect of Black dying as long as he could get a replacement fish. Spencer was deeply concerned and went with my wife to the pet store.
They came back empty handed but with the promise that tomorrow they would get to go to the pet store again. But one thing that did come up was that Spencer's fish was an aggressive fish and the cause of Black's untimely demise. The only solution - it was determined - was that Shark as he was so aptly named - must be removed from the tank.
And then came the tears.
Lots of tears.
Spencer was upset at the thought of it all.
The next day when they went off to the pet store, with Shark in hand to trade in, and Spencer could barely composed himself. At some point Cole put his arm around him and told him that it would be okay and that he can stop crying now. Cole, after all, explained that Black had died and he didn't cry.
Spencer's response?
That this situation was harder because it was like taking away a member of the family (all told through lots of tears & sobs). We've always known him to be the sensitive type but when he found out about Black he didn't shed a tear. Although he did confess to me later that he was surprised that Cole didn't get more upset.
It's days like this you just want to say, "They are fucking FISH people!" but you can't and must keep the facade of the calm, cool parent.
After the fish fiasco, came the tooth. Or teeth issue. Spencer had this top tooth dangling forever but suddenly one of his bottom teeth fell out at the beginning of the weekend. When he asked how much he would get my wife told him that she would wait until the other tooth fell out.
It was only a month ago that he called my wife out on being the Tooth Fairy
When I came home from working a pre-game party for the UNC vs. Wake Forest game, Spencer ran to the front door to show me his new toothless smile. Shortly before bedtime, when querying about how much money he was going to bring in from two teeth, he spat out this gem: "Since I know you are the Tooth Fairy, the only thing left I wonder about is are my parents Santa Claus..."
We are doomed.
On top of all that, my brother-in-law has been in the hospital with lung issues. He's a life-long smoker, so while the verdict so far isn't dire, it is painfully obvious the dude has to quit smoking for his quality of life to improve. This news coming just weeks after my father-in-law's recent hospitalization for his heart so the year seems to be off to quite a start.
This would be the perfect time for a Mountain Goats song...
First up was the fish.
And this weekend it bit me in the ass again.
It was somewhere around Saturday afternoon when I realized that one of our fish, a black molly named Black (after Big Black of the show Rob & Big) wasn't doing too well and that one of the other fish was pecking away at his listing body.
Before this progressed any further, I called the boys in and had them take a gander at the tank and see if they could come up with a solution. My oldest Spencer suggested that we remove Black until he could get back on his feet. So I got the net and scooped out Black and put him in a bowl.
Shortly after, my wife came home and we calmly explained the situation. She told the boys it looked like Black was going to die and that we should take him to the pet store with a sample of our water.
Black was my son Cole's fish. He didn't seemed too upset about the prospect of Black dying as long as he could get a replacement fish. Spencer was deeply concerned and went with my wife to the pet store.
They came back empty handed but with the promise that tomorrow they would get to go to the pet store again. But one thing that did come up was that Spencer's fish was an aggressive fish and the cause of Black's untimely demise. The only solution - it was determined - was that Shark as he was so aptly named - must be removed from the tank.
And then came the tears.
Lots of tears.
Spencer was upset at the thought of it all.
The next day when they went off to the pet store, with Shark in hand to trade in, and Spencer could barely composed himself. At some point Cole put his arm around him and told him that it would be okay and that he can stop crying now. Cole, after all, explained that Black had died and he didn't cry.
Spencer's response?
That this situation was harder because it was like taking away a member of the family (all told through lots of tears & sobs). We've always known him to be the sensitive type but when he found out about Black he didn't shed a tear. Although he did confess to me later that he was surprised that Cole didn't get more upset.
It's days like this you just want to say, "They are fucking FISH people!" but you can't and must keep the facade of the calm, cool parent.
After the fish fiasco, came the tooth. Or teeth issue. Spencer had this top tooth dangling forever but suddenly one of his bottom teeth fell out at the beginning of the weekend. When he asked how much he would get my wife told him that she would wait until the other tooth fell out.
When I came home from working a pre-game party for the UNC vs. Wake Forest game, Spencer ran to the front door to show me his new toothless smile. Shortly before bedtime, when querying about how much money he was going to bring in from two teeth, he spat out this gem: "Since I know you are the Tooth Fairy, the only thing left I wonder about is are my parents Santa Claus..."
We are doomed.
On top of all that, my brother-in-law has been in the hospital with lung issues. He's a life-long smoker, so while the verdict so far isn't dire, it is painfully obvious the dude has to quit smoking for his quality of life to improve. This news coming just weeks after my father-in-law's recent hospitalization for his heart so the year seems to be off to quite a start.
This would be the perfect time for a Mountain Goats song...
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Can Of Worms
When Chag over at Cynical Dad asked me to step in to guest VJ over at his site this week, I had no idea that it was going to open of a can of worms: I've been late night surfing YouTube for lost gems from my youth everyday since the invite.
After I can home from band practice last night, I sat outside with an adult beverage and took in the natural wonder that is a lunar eclipse.
I came inside and resumed my surfing from the night before but with the full moon on my mind. You see, I often get what my wife refers to as male PMS and I often get these bouts around full or new moons. Being an Aquarius, I do find that the moon and the water have strange affects on me. I have written on the site before about how sometimes I feel unhinged and on the verge of bugging out during these times.
At the beginning of the week I told my wife I just wasn't feeling right, that I felt anxious and edgy but that I couldn't put my finger on the place from whence it came.
That was until I saw the newscast about the lunar eclipse.
It led me to browsing the internet on the subject of lycanthropy and skin-walkers and "going full moom mad." And maybe I put some validity to such matters because I grew up on a steady diet of Bela Lugosi and Lon Cheney (and Abbott & Costello!), Stephen King, the Misfits and Fang that leads me to believe that somebody, somewhere turned into a wolf under a full moon once.
Don't know Fang?
Well, here they are in all their vintage VHS tape glory. I don't know too many people who cite themselves as hardcore Fang fans, as most people thought they sucked. But, and this is probably still true to this day, I've always been draw to the outcasts of the outcasts, the non-conforming non-conformists and all those who skirt the edge of the edges of society and for me Fang were one of those bands.
I've said enough...
After I can home from band practice last night, I sat outside with an adult beverage and took in the natural wonder that is a lunar eclipse.
I came inside and resumed my surfing from the night before but with the full moon on my mind. You see, I often get what my wife refers to as male PMS and I often get these bouts around full or new moons. Being an Aquarius, I do find that the moon and the water have strange affects on me. I have written on the site before about how sometimes I feel unhinged and on the verge of bugging out during these times.
At the beginning of the week I told my wife I just wasn't feeling right, that I felt anxious and edgy but that I couldn't put my finger on the place from whence it came.
That was until I saw the newscast about the lunar eclipse.
It led me to browsing the internet on the subject of lycanthropy and skin-walkers and "going full moom mad." And maybe I put some validity to such matters because I grew up on a steady diet of Bela Lugosi and Lon Cheney (and Abbott & Costello!), Stephen King, the Misfits and Fang that leads me to believe that somebody, somewhere turned into a wolf under a full moon once.
Don't know Fang?
Well, here they are in all their vintage VHS tape glory. I don't know too many people who cite themselves as hardcore Fang fans, as most people thought they sucked. But, and this is probably still true to this day, I've always been draw to the outcasts of the outcasts, the non-conforming non-conformists and all those who skirt the edge of the edges of society and for me Fang were one of those bands.
I've said enough...
Monday, February 18, 2008
Hey DJ!
My fellow dad Chag over at Cynical Dad dot com asked me to step in and deejay for him this week. Click on the header for a link to his fine site.
Chag has been ending his posts for-EVER with some sort of YouTube clip and this weekend I had the pleasure of the musical invite.
It was kinda hard - I must confess - to narrow it down to five because my head was a-twitter with the possiblities of being able to warp his readers minds with crazy shit. Suffice it to say there's no Buttholes Surfers, Clockcleaner or even the Chest Pains.
I kept it relatively tame and did some sort of biographical look back on bands that passed through my radar while growing up. Still this was tough, because there's been many and - honestly - even I'm a bit confused by some of my choices.
One pick was The Obsessed, a metal band from back in the days when I was dabbling in hesherism and skateboard punk as a wee lad in Aspen Hill. They were the guys who wore ammo belts and had cut-off jean jackets with patches and smelled like cheap weed.
The Obsessed crossed-over as it were playing for both punk and metal bands. I once saw them play with Iron Cross and Government Issue at a rec center in Wheaton, Maryland.
Wheaton, Maryland, folks!!
And I had my dad drop me off too because I was in like 9th grade and couldn't get my driver's license until I passed chemistry. A feat I still don't know how I accomplished!
Anyway, thinking about The Obsessed dredged up some fine memories... and also some downright scary ones.
Case in point:
During the end of my tenure living in Los Angeles, I had stumbled upon a weekly paper listing that The Obsessed were going to play. The band had broken up and reformed a couple of times and now it appeared they had signed to a major label. The time being what it was back then (punk had already "broke" as they say), the band was scheduled to appear to play in some seedy joint called Dragonfly that ultimately would give them some sort of hipster stamp of approval. I had previously seen Shudder To Think and Everclear there.
So I set out to go check out the band - solo - as I had done so many times before because I was a music geek who would go to the far reaches of the earth to see a band most had never heard of nor wanted to hear of in their lifetime.
Thing was, the flyer I had gave me the wrong information. Instead of the 6500 block of Santa Monica Blvd., it had the 6100 block of Santa Monica Blvd., which for the uninitiated (at least at the time) was boys town - the hot block for male prostitution. So I found the address - according to the flyer - and parked on some side street in a not-very-well-lit place. I felt something was amiss because I didn't see any long hairs milling about but then I convinced myself that I was just one hip motherfucker who knew about a band nobody else knew about. Ha-hah!
Crossing the street to get to said bar I was harassed by some Latino gang members who were loitering outside a liquor store.
Okay, that was uncomfortable but I was on a mission.
Again, I had this slight feeling that I was in the wrong place but couldn't rightly feel confident enought that I was, so I soldiered on. But then I got to the address on the flyer and there was indeed a bar and the door was open but it surely didn't look like the Dragonfly I had been inside before, so I made a mental note and decided that my hunch that the flyer's address was wrong was indeed true. I figured I'd just go back to my car and drive a few more blocks down the boulevard and find the right place.
I was standing on the corner waiting for traffic to pass when a tricked-out Lincoln Continental pulled up to the curb, curb-feelers scraping cement so much so that I had to step back. The electronic window on the passenger side slide down and as I bent down to look in a German(?) voice came from within.
"You vant a ride?" said the faceless figure.
Puzzled, I looked down again into the window.
"Comez zit in my car," said the voice and I saw a pale white hand pat the passenger seat.
And then it hit me that this dude thought I was some trick, some Private Idaho runaway junkie looking to score.
Flustered and confused I shot back, "I'm just trying to cross the street," I said.
"Vhat about vhen you cross?" said the voice.
"Fuck off," I said.
Then I ran into the darkness, got into my car and drove home as quickly as I could. I stopped closer to my Los Feliz crib and bought a 40 ouncer.
Once home, I locked our front door and sat on the couch drinking that bottle as fast as I could.
"We got to get out of this town," I said to my future wife.
Chag has been ending his posts for-EVER with some sort of YouTube clip and this weekend I had the pleasure of the musical invite.
It was kinda hard - I must confess - to narrow it down to five because my head was a-twitter with the possiblities of being able to warp his readers minds with crazy shit. Suffice it to say there's no Buttholes Surfers, Clockcleaner or even the Chest Pains.
I kept it relatively tame and did some sort of biographical look back on bands that passed through my radar while growing up. Still this was tough, because there's been many and - honestly - even I'm a bit confused by some of my choices.
One pick was The Obsessed, a metal band from back in the days when I was dabbling in hesherism and skateboard punk as a wee lad in Aspen Hill. They were the guys who wore ammo belts and had cut-off jean jackets with patches and smelled like cheap weed.
The Obsessed crossed-over as it were playing for both punk and metal bands. I once saw them play with Iron Cross and Government Issue at a rec center in Wheaton, Maryland.
Wheaton, Maryland, folks!!
And I had my dad drop me off too because I was in like 9th grade and couldn't get my driver's license until I passed chemistry. A feat I still don't know how I accomplished!
Anyway, thinking about The Obsessed dredged up some fine memories... and also some downright scary ones.
Case in point:
During the end of my tenure living in Los Angeles, I had stumbled upon a weekly paper listing that The Obsessed were going to play. The band had broken up and reformed a couple of times and now it appeared they had signed to a major label. The time being what it was back then (punk had already "broke" as they say), the band was scheduled to appear to play in some seedy joint called Dragonfly that ultimately would give them some sort of hipster stamp of approval. I had previously seen Shudder To Think and Everclear there.
So I set out to go check out the band - solo - as I had done so many times before because I was a music geek who would go to the far reaches of the earth to see a band most had never heard of nor wanted to hear of in their lifetime.
Thing was, the flyer I had gave me the wrong information. Instead of the 6500 block of Santa Monica Blvd., it had the 6100 block of Santa Monica Blvd., which for the uninitiated (at least at the time) was boys town - the hot block for male prostitution. So I found the address - according to the flyer - and parked on some side street in a not-very-well-lit place. I felt something was amiss because I didn't see any long hairs milling about but then I convinced myself that I was just one hip motherfucker who knew about a band nobody else knew about. Ha-hah!
Crossing the street to get to said bar I was harassed by some Latino gang members who were loitering outside a liquor store.
Okay, that was uncomfortable but I was on a mission.
Again, I had this slight feeling that I was in the wrong place but couldn't rightly feel confident enought that I was, so I soldiered on. But then I got to the address on the flyer and there was indeed a bar and the door was open but it surely didn't look like the Dragonfly I had been inside before, so I made a mental note and decided that my hunch that the flyer's address was wrong was indeed true. I figured I'd just go back to my car and drive a few more blocks down the boulevard and find the right place.
I was standing on the corner waiting for traffic to pass when a tricked-out Lincoln Continental pulled up to the curb, curb-feelers scraping cement so much so that I had to step back. The electronic window on the passenger side slide down and as I bent down to look in a German(?) voice came from within.
"You vant a ride?" said the faceless figure.
Puzzled, I looked down again into the window.
"Comez zit in my car," said the voice and I saw a pale white hand pat the passenger seat.
And then it hit me that this dude thought I was some trick, some Private Idaho runaway junkie looking to score.
Flustered and confused I shot back, "I'm just trying to cross the street," I said.
"Vhat about vhen you cross?" said the voice.
"Fuck off," I said.
Then I ran into the darkness, got into my car and drove home as quickly as I could. I stopped closer to my Los Feliz crib and bought a 40 ouncer.
Once home, I locked our front door and sat on the couch drinking that bottle as fast as I could.
"We got to get out of this town," I said to my future wife.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
It's Valentine's Day
Three years ago...
I was saved by DEVO
Two years ago 'round this time...
It was about holding steady and gentrification
and last year...
I revisted the pet issue
Two years ago 'round this time...
and last year...
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Making Smores
We seized a rare moment last night to make smores over a campfire in our backyard.
The weather was just cold enough, the sky was clear, the moon was out and it just seemed like the right thing to do.
We also did the right thing and called the fire department to see if the open fire ban was lifted. It was... until this morning that is, so sorry for the jinx my friends. At least we got ours in.
The Trail
So my wife acquired a split rail fence.
When she told me she got a split rail fence I assumed we were going to try and remake said fence somewhere on or around our property.
Nope.
My wife wanted to use it for firewood.
Of course just about everybody we know told her you can't burn that shit in a chimney so she had to find another use for it.
There was a lengthy argument about her desire to use some of it to make a privacy fence and as usual I got badgered into completing the task.
But we were in unison on using the rest of it to make a trail to the far reachest of our backyard known as the Back Forty.
That's where the fire pit lives... and now a sort of hiking/biking trail.
The Backyard Beautification Process is now currently in progress...
The Bridge...
...to the Back Forty.
We had a bridge in place over this little creek before but it got washed away during a raging storm. You see, our neighbors haven't maintained their drainage ditch, er creek, probably ever as it's all overgrown and clogged up with God knows what so when the heavy rains come, it can cause minor flooding in our backyard.
Maybe this one will be able to weather the storms.
Of course, we're still in a drought and it rarely ever rains any more here.
And becausee it has only rained sparsely in the last six months the backyard has turned to dust.
Which means it turns to mud when it rains.
And we don't have a mud room.
Do the math.
The Back Forty
We've called the overgrown part of our backyard the Back Forty since as long as we've lived here. The plot we have is half an acre but the old lady who was the previous - and original - owner had a little dog so she fenced in half of the backyard.
Over the years, we've toyed with doing something back there like building a gazebo or something. Then we had kids and now the kids are older and I often talk about building a bmx track back there.
I wanted a track, I got a trail.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
The Long Lost Art Of The Medley
Despite how one might feel about The Hives, as a musician and a music critic, this clip thoroughly blew me away during a recent late-night YouTube session.
Enjoy.
Enjoy.
Celebreality
I was channeling surfing when I came upon the Dr. Drew-hosted trainwreck that is Celebrity Rehab and - like a car crash - I felt the need to crane my neck at take a peak.
And much to my surprise, the gaggle of washed-up stars were in group therapy moderated by Dr. Drew and...
Bob fucking Forrest!
Bob was in a seminal late-'80s LA band called Thelonious Monster. The Monster featured ex-Weirdo Dix Denney on guitar. Over the course of the band's existence, they would get by with a little help from friends like John Doe (X) and Flea and John Frusciante (Red Hot Chili Peppers). The band was once championed as possibly being the next best thing out of Los Angeles but Bob's sporadic, drug-addled behavior eventually railroaded the band.
They were an odd duck for my musical tastes at the time which consisted of a strict diet of hardcore and metal but being a avid skateboarder at the time, I was well exposed to plenty of alternative music (Chili Peppers, Jane's Addiction etc.) that I would soemtimes listen to as a break from all the bar chord noise going on in my head. Something about Thelonious Monster spoke to me whether it was Bob's lyrics or their drunk punk attitude (close cousins to the Replacements) and somehow they managed to secure a lifelong spot in my collection.
Several years ago, Bob Forrest came through Chapel Hill on some triple-bill of songwriters and played an acoustic show at the sandwhich shop/used book store called Skylight Exchange. Not having heard from him since the demise of Thelonious Monster (nobody ever informed me about the post-Monster outfit Bicycle Thief) I felt pulled to go see him.
As I browsed the books during one of the opening acts playing (that I can't remember) I bumped into Bob - dressed in customary suit and hat despite it being the middle of the summer in the southeast - and struck up a conversation with him. It was far from the fanboy type as I had learned over the course of my music journalism days that that kind of conversation gets you nowhere, and more on a level of book geekdom.
He left to buy some books and then put them in his car. As he was walking down the alley back to the club he noticed me walking out with a book in hand.
"Whaddya get?" he asked.
"Howl" I said. I was in the midst of a City Lights Pocket Poetry chapbook collecting spree and it was a pleasant surprise to stumble upon this Ginsberg classic in this ramshackled location.
"Nice!" he said.
"I was thinking to myself that if it was still there after my set I was going to buy it!"
Bob played barefoot.
It was good, not great.
He appeared sober.
And that was the last I'd heard of Bob until spotting him on the show.
So this one's for Bob Forrest...well and my sister (who's not born-again by the way).
And much to my surprise, the gaggle of washed-up stars were in group therapy moderated by Dr. Drew and...
Bob fucking Forrest!
Bob was in a seminal late-'80s LA band called Thelonious Monster. The Monster featured ex-Weirdo Dix Denney on guitar. Over the course of the band's existence, they would get by with a little help from friends like John Doe (X) and Flea and John Frusciante (Red Hot Chili Peppers). The band was once championed as possibly being the next best thing out of Los Angeles but Bob's sporadic, drug-addled behavior eventually railroaded the band.
They were an odd duck for my musical tastes at the time which consisted of a strict diet of hardcore and metal but being a avid skateboarder at the time, I was well exposed to plenty of alternative music (Chili Peppers, Jane's Addiction etc.) that I would soemtimes listen to as a break from all the bar chord noise going on in my head. Something about Thelonious Monster spoke to me whether it was Bob's lyrics or their drunk punk attitude (close cousins to the Replacements) and somehow they managed to secure a lifelong spot in my collection.
Several years ago, Bob Forrest came through Chapel Hill on some triple-bill of songwriters and played an acoustic show at the sandwhich shop/used book store called Skylight Exchange. Not having heard from him since the demise of Thelonious Monster (nobody ever informed me about the post-Monster outfit Bicycle Thief) I felt pulled to go see him.
As I browsed the books during one of the opening acts playing (that I can't remember) I bumped into Bob - dressed in customary suit and hat despite it being the middle of the summer in the southeast - and struck up a conversation with him. It was far from the fanboy type as I had learned over the course of my music journalism days that that kind of conversation gets you nowhere, and more on a level of book geekdom.
He left to buy some books and then put them in his car. As he was walking down the alley back to the club he noticed me walking out with a book in hand.
"Whaddya get?" he asked.
"Howl" I said. I was in the midst of a City Lights Pocket Poetry chapbook collecting spree and it was a pleasant surprise to stumble upon this Ginsberg classic in this ramshackled location.
"Nice!" he said.
"I was thinking to myself that if it was still there after my set I was going to buy it!"
Bob played barefoot.
It was good, not great.
He appeared sober.
And that was the last I'd heard of Bob until spotting him on the show.
So this one's for Bob Forrest...well and my sister (who's not born-again by the way).
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Superstitions
I don't believe I've got many superstitions especially when it comes to sports like rally caps and such yet I've know many people who can only wear certain things when watching their favorite sports teams.
But I do think UNC basketball's All-American center Tyler Hansbrough might have a few as I've seen him several times eating breakfast at the Whole Foods near my house and he always seems to be sitting in the exact same seat.
So if you fancy yourself a Tar Heel fan, click on the headline for direct linkage to Psycho T's autograph... on a grease-stained Whole Foods napkin no less.
Why? Because tonight is the UNC vs. Duke game which is one of the biggest rivalries in all of sports. And the Heels could use some good luck.
But I do think UNC basketball's All-American center Tyler Hansbrough might have a few as I've seen him several times eating breakfast at the Whole Foods near my house and he always seems to be sitting in the exact same seat.
So if you fancy yourself a Tar Heel fan, click on the headline for direct linkage to Psycho T's autograph... on a grease-stained Whole Foods napkin no less.
Why? Because tonight is the UNC vs. Duke game which is one of the biggest rivalries in all of sports. And the Heels could use some good luck.
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