Schedule

Sat 1: 2-9
Mon 3: 10-5
Tue 4: 2-9
Thur 6: 11-7
Fri 7: 9-4
Sat 8: 4-cl

Ganking Goodies From Waxy.Org (Again)

The Shining, Redux.

Things That I Shouldn't Be Doing, Etc.

I know I should be really tidying up around here. It's just so blessed easy to procrastinate when you casually call your credit card company and learn that your last payment went through and you have been restored to full credit again (blasted evil things -- they will undoubtedly be my ruin) so plans immediately changed to seeing Corpse Bride at the local movie house, lunch at PF Chang's, and a pop-in over at the record store to free up some of the last bits of my hold bin before inventory cleans me out. Two CDs and one DVD -- all used goodies, I'm pleased to say. One of which is Thelonious Monk's Monk Alone: The Complete Solo Studio Recordings of Thelonious Monk 1962-1968:


Two disks of rarely-heard solo piano from Da Monk recorded during the six years before I was born, which as much as I love Monk's style will give me more space to really appreciate his actual playing for a change.

Also used, Bert Jansch: The Best Of Bert Jansch:


I've only owned a few Bert Jansch songs over the years having become intrigued after first hearing "Needle Of Death", but this is the first full collection of this Scottish Delta blues-influenced folkie whose intricate guitar playing was an obvious big influence on Led Zeppelin's more acoustic works. Quite pleased to carry this'n home with me tonight.

And the one DVD... season five of The Simpsons, which by the way doesn't have a cover box this damn red.... more like a rusty metallic orange or sumthin'.


What's most distressing is that I might actually already own this. That is, if I could find it in all this clutter... which I should have been home clearing away instead of buying Simpsons TV series and bloody Bert Jansch and solo rekkids by The Loneliest Monk. Serves me, ah say, serves me freakin' right.

Jacques Brel Is Alive And Well...

The dreaded inventory day is fast approaching so it's clean-out-ye-olde-holde-bin for the Melpster as fast as I possibly can. One lonely piece at a time, it appears.


That's why I took home High On Fire's Blessed Black Wings which has been out forever but I've been hunkering down in wait for a used copy to drift past and ensnare it before the usual deluge of motorheaded metal zealots made their aggressive moves -- not that every true metal fan doesn't already have this in their collection by now, I figure. Formed with ex-Sleep singer Matt Pike, with his wails of gothic melancholy mixed with pro-Christian imagery wedged between rampaging Slayer-like guitar solos, this album has topped many respectable people's lists as best of the year so far. Disk also comes with a DVD which I suppose contains videos and whatnot. It's my day off, so I suppose I'll give it a spin whilst I clean house today. Bound to be an instant motivator

And now for something completely different... two videos from Scott Walker! Matilda and Rosary! Jump all over it, children.

Thank yew for the links, juliebeth baby!

I'll Have The Calamari Super-Sized, Please

I couldn't believe that Joe waited nearly an hour after I had gotten home from work to mention, "Oh, did you see that they have pictures of a live giant squid now?"

Avid amateur marine biologist that I am I had to leap into cyberspace to google up some 411, and lo... one of many photos taken (above) show the miracle that is.

It makes me shiver just looking at it. Holy Mother of God.

In case anyone didn't know, there has never been any real substantial evidence of a living giant squid. The only way that we even know of their existence were the highly rare samples of corpses washing up onto shores, dying ones caught in fishing nets, and those old fantasy novels of Jules Verne. We know nothing of their way of life or how it may differ from any other normal-sized squid in the world.

Second only to the megamouth shark, the giant squid holds the most intense fascination for me. Seeing something like this now, in my lifetime, it's just... whoosh.

Some days you just wake up and before you know it, something miraculous occurs.

Insert Robert Frost Passage of Your Choosing

So. I just made an appointment with a new doctor on Tuesday, November 15 at 2:15pm to discuss my breasts. Or rather, my back and chest aches attributed to my breasts, and how she can help me REMOVE offending breasts if she were willing to convince my insurance company that the need is warranted. November. Meh. It probably will be a whole year after all before I can see anything substantial done. But at least I'm keeping the ball rolling.

I'm thinking of taking a week off in October, just to chill and rest up before the big holiday deluge at work. I wish I could go somewhere. Washington D.C. Haven't been to NYC in a few years. Not like I can afford either right now.


The sentimentalist in me is entertaining the idea of making another trip to Philadelphia next summer. It was the summer of 1996 when I met Rob and Stephanie Windfelder, the owners of Zipperhead, and they drove me around town in their little car, listening to a Sammy Davis Jr. album, taking me to the top of the library where Rocky climbed those steps, and burgers at an all-nite eatery. We all connected as if we had known each other all our lives, and we still write to each other, send Christmas cards, CDs, photos, etc. Next year will be the 10th anniversary, so then's as good a time as any, I say! And maybe I'll be in a better position/financial bracket to fund the entire shebang, who knows. Anyway, something to shoot for.

Sir, This Ain't The Barnes & Noble

A page of fascinating music downloads from minimalist avant-garde artist Terry Riley from his later years (1970's through 80's). Many thanks to Chris G. for the link!

I must get my act together this week. Achieve some short term goals in order for them to maintain in the long run. Gotta get back to running in the mornings. Must fill more pages in my sketchpad. Clean the house! And get up with some old friends of whom I have been inexcusably neglectful. And stop eating candy... again. Damn my work and their 3 for 99 cent candy sale.

By the way, yesterday we caught a guy taking a leak in our store's water fountain. The funny thing is that once caught, he didn't even both to stop. I suppose it's not simple just cutting it off in mid-stream. Best to go ahead and finish, I suppose.

Control And Release

I suppose I know where my current state of anxiety is coming from these days, the reason for my recent overeating and undersleeping as of this week; I am on the path of a possible promotion. The one that I have been hoping for all these years. But, according to my boss, I must now prove myself worthy in more ways than I have in the past.

I had my evaluation last week and as usual it was great. As always I am an excellent employee -- hard working, task-oriented, knowledgeable, cooperative, punctual, etc. Because of all of these attributes my boss says that she feels I could make a great lead... BUT... she just doesn't see me as a "leader". As hard-working as I am, I am too quiet, too reserved, and although I am a self-motivator, she doesn't see me easily motivating the staff in there same manner.

The thing is I think she may be right. And that's what's stressing me.

I come to work every day the way I come to work in most places that I have ever worked -- arrive, do my job, and leave. I don't socialize much with the staff, with the exception of a few like Tracy and Tony. And the thing is that I like everybody I work with very much. I mean very much! In my entire working life I don't believe I have ever worked in an environment where I got along so well with every single person I work with. But in the 2 1/2 years that I have been working there I really haven't gotten to know a lot of these kids like I should have, and that really is all my fault. It's easier for me to open up with Tracy and Tony, perhaps because they are both music geeks like myself as well as being closer to my own age. But in reality I know if they often didn't approach me first then I could see myself avoiding them as well -- not because I don't like their company, but my natural solitude keeps me nervously away. It's a natural involuntary reflex that I struggle with constantly around people I don't know well. I always tell people that when I walk up to *you* first then you know I feel completely at ease with you. I don't often feel that ease with my co-workers, even though I like them all very much and on the occasions when we do hang out and talk enjoy their company very much.

And I suppose that will be the hurdle that I must learn to leap if I want this promotion. And you know... because of my nature, I really wish I wasn't being made a lead in order to get a full time position. Full time is what I want more than managerial responsibilities. I don't want anything that will take me closer to a desk job and further away from the music level of the business. I want to be right where Tracy is, a lead who wants nothing more than that -- to make good money but not climb any higher and further away from what she loves, which is being on the floor with the customers putting the music in their hands. That's the love and thrill for the job that I have as well. I want that... along with the full time pay and benefits. I need health insurance through my work. I want to get my 401K activated again. I want to start living at least slightly above the poverty level once again. And I want to start looking to buy that dream house once more.

But in order to achieve all of this, I need to start making some huge changes in... well, everything I am. A whole personality workover. Before January, when my next review comes up and the opportunity arises. Can I *do* that? Can I be a completely different person by January? Will the benefits I stand to reap be worth the effort?

Well, wish me a strong, sturdy backbone, comrades. I'm goin' in.

Schedule

Sat 24: 11-7
Mon 26: 5-cl
Tue 27: 3-cl
Wed 28: 10-5
Fri 30: 10-5
Sat 1: 2-9

TiVo Alert (For You Lucky Sods Who Do)

I just received an email from Jeannine Stehlin, the wife of my favorite actor Jack Stehlin, telling me that Jack will be making a guest appearance on the show Without A Trace on Thursday, October 13th. Check local listings for showtimes because, um, I have no idea myself. Never seen the show before in my life. But it's o/' Jaaa-ack! o/' {{insert undignified squee here}} Another new telly appearance might just hold me own until the next L.A. trip (like a peanut might hold down a starving woman from the magnificent buffet at Captain George's The Sands in Las Vegas -- wait, The Sands buffet wasn't all that great either -- SKIP THAT! Someplaaaace... er, uh... kick ass! Yes, that is the ticket. Ass-kickin' good food. That's what it's like to watch Jack. Mmmm-mmm good.)

She also sent a link to the Nowcasting website (an industry/casting site) with Jack's video resume page, featuring clips from Jack's appearances on JAG, Crossing Jordan, and Judging Amy -- all three of which I have burned to DVD-R from television. Website also includes new headshot (above-- hubba hubba) which also now appears on his IMDb page as well. A thousand thank you's to Jeannine for the heads up!

Well I have successfully blown my diet this week. Done nothing but chow down from sun up to down. But I've felt kind of sickly for the past few days, and yesterday they sent me home from work early because it was obvious that I wasn't feeling well. When I'm sick my hunger pains make me nauseous so it is far harder to abstain than normal. I only have 15 more pounds to go, dag nabbit. I can't puss out now. I'm a burly, badasssss old bird and my resolve is like iron! Just give me until... umm, Saturday and I'll be back on the ball again... I think. {{gulp}}

Also sorry for the lack of interesting content here lately (not like it's ever been). Just been too busy/tired/yucky-feelin' to be online for more than a few minutes at a time these days, hardly more than to answer email, check a few of my online music communities, and log off. And sorry again for the lack of music content as well, seeing as how I haven't had the bread to buy much these days. But I do have a few goodies stashed away at work that I plan to carry home soon, and hopefully some more music files for downloading again, once I can find the Lucy Brown and Papa's Culture CDs in my Sanford & Son's replica apartment (cue the Quincy Jones theme song as soon as you step through my front door).

A Man And His Mare's Leg

My father's birthday is this Friday and I picked this up for him as a gift. My brother emailed me saying that he dropped a big hint that he wanted it, and I'm hardly surprised, big Western freak that he is. I've never seen this series. Can anybody recommend it?

Bit o' trivia for those who may not know. My Great Uncle was Hollywood western movie star Randolph Scott.

RANDOLPH SCOTT??!!

0/' Raaaaandolph Scotttt! o/'


Yes. Yes, I get that a lot.

Dirty Bass Chthonian Noise

Something tells me I should have played the lottery the other day.

I suppose some of you fine folks may remember how much I wanted the live 17:06 minute Isaac Hayes version of "Ain't No Sunshine" from the Wattstax soundtrack for quite some time.

Well, yesterday we had a lady selling back some CDs. Tracy calls me over and discreetly hands me this CD, one of which the lady was selling back to us:


Now this CD is just the total Isaac Hayes performance from Wattstax, since on the DVD feature you only get to hear him do two, maybe three songs, tops. None of which were "Ain't No Sunshine". But this has "Ain't No Sunshine". The 17:06 minute version that I have had on a mix tape since 1987. And we were offering $3 for it. So I gave the lady $3 out of my pocket and kept the CD for myself.

Tracy and I were whooping it up as soon as the lady left the store. She was just as excited as I was to finally get this CD since I have been crabbing about it for so long to her, and Tracy, God bless her, is always looking out for me. She asked for a burn of it this weekend, and I told her absol-freakin'-lutely.

Then less than an hour later another woman walks in to sell back CDs. And... yes... SHE has a copy of Isaac Hayes at Wattstax to sell, too! And Tracy gave her $3 for it, and now SHE has her own copy! I mean.. okay, what are the odds, right? The album that I have been searching for comes in at a price that I can afford -- TWICE in the same hour? Alright, so it was only a big deal to us. But still. Isaac Hayes, babeh. Stoked, I am.

Just Got Word

Just got off the horn with my friend. Stan looks to be awake, his fever down, and on the mend. He is still in ICU because they had to drain the infection, which apparently started in his ear and worked into his brain that caused the meningitis, although doctors still seem to be baffled as to what kind of meningitis he had all along. Either way, Stan will have go undergo some physical therapy to see what if there is any neurological damage done during the infection.

Our mutual friend Bill, the drummer from Past Out is planning to hold a benefit concert either this week or next to help raise money to pay for Stan's hospital bills, since he is completely without insurance. For any locals that read here I'll try and post further info as soon as I get it from either Bill or the rest of the gang.

I feel elated today. Stan is doing better. My friend and I are doing better every day. I know this sounds hokey as fuck, but I am feeling a tremendous amount of love for everybody right now. I feel strong and proud and brave and exhilarated. I wish I could just kiss everybody in my life right now. Fold them all up in my arms. Sing to them. Nooo, on second thought...

Schedule

Sat 17: 10-5
Sun 18: 2-cl
Mon 19: 4-cl
Tue 20: 2-9
Thur 22: 2-8
Sat 24: 11-7

Ashtray Heart

Experienced the incredibly strange Reflections Of Evil last night on DVD. Why? Cuz Henry Rollins was all over the box cover going on and on about how raaad this movie was. Is that a lame enough excuse for everyone? Well gosh darnnit, he's pretty much spot on. I don't think I have seen anything quite so original or bizarre or completely unexpected in a very long hippopotamus age. It wasn't so much the use of experimental camera work and overdubbing that made it original, as I have seen dozens of indie films by the likes of Kenneth Anger, Andy Warhol, et al that have gone that same route before. But it was just how original it all felt to me, how for the first time in forever I was watching a movie and I had absolutely, positively no idea what was going to happen next. Original enough for you out there who are tired of the same predictability in film?

I suppose if there is a plot to follow at all, it follows the story of an obese, bellicose man trying to sell watches on the seedy streets of Los Angeles. You would figure the man to be homeless at first, wandering aimlessly in his layers of ill-fitting clothing, arms laden with bags, stopping at times to scream obscenities at random like a Tourettes victim, getting into fights with dogs and other homeless people in his travels around town. Yet he appears to live in the hollowed out living room floor of his grandmother's house, lining the walls of his nest with boxes of sugary children's cereal. Meanwhile overhead government-enlisted jets leave streams of exhaust clouds called "chemtrails" that poison the people in the city, making them more compliant and easy to suggestion, as well as hyper-violent and physically ill. The movie is gore-splattered with scenes of people vomiting in the streets and blood pouring out of their mouths and foreheads. Spliced in between these scenes are flashbacks to this man's childhood, of his older teenage sister who died of a PCP overdose in the 1970's. Amid images of him and her running in slow-motion through Universal Studios theme park, the two seem to be searching desperately for one another.

Nearly everything in the film is told through the man's eyes, his brain half-devoured by the chemicals in the chemtrails overhead. The world is a blurry, sun-baked, vaseline-lens filter of hostility and misery, as a constant barrage of raging people and angry dogs are perpetually locked in his line of vision. The movie keylights Los Angeles in all of its washed-out, colorless decay -- its twisted exhibitions of humanity, its ugly suburbs, its tacky faux fantasy Hollywood world. It's part horror movie, part comedy, and heavy on the social commentary. Its images tend to stick with you long after the movie is over, as you try and make some sense out of it all.

I think this just came out on DVD this week so keep an eye out for it. Definitely something that doesn't leave a person with a lack of anything to say about what they will be seeing.

And food for thought concerning those jet streams every time we look up to the skies at those passing planes.

Orange Tiger Jacket Anger

My best friend called tonight. Our mutual friend Stan is in the hospital, unresponsive since this morning. Raging fever that came on overnight. I forgot the name of the ailment, but another guy we knew died from it in the very same way over 10 years ago.

This guy had flu-like symptoms when he came home late one night from work and told his roommate that he was taking a cold bath to reduce his fever. His roommate went to bed but could hear the water running in the bathroom. The next day the roommate went into the bathroom and was shocked to find the guy dead in the tub. It was said that he probably lost consciousness about an hour and a half before he died.

Now over 10 years later that same guy's friend Stan is going through the same thing.

Readers of my old blog might remember Stan as this buddy from the local punk scene who is a tattoo artist here at the beach. He designed web pages for me in the early years of my getting a computer and was involved with the local punk zine at the same time I was doing album reviews and comic strips. The last time we hung out was back in April or so, when we went out for drinks at the local pub with his wife and several friends. He keeps asking me when I am going to let him tattoo me (and I naturally keep saying, like, never yo). The last time I saw him recently was when I drove by his tattoo parlor and he was hanging outside with some of his fellow tatters. He didn't see me, however.

I am waiting to hear back from my friend for more word on his condition. I told her to call me no matter what hour of the night as soon as she learns anything.

All my thoughts and prayers are with Stanley the Manley tonight.

Giving "til It Hurts

I know it sounds ridiculous and I doubt it will do a whole heap o' what have ya in the long run, but I have decided to make all my employee focus groups from Louisiana and Mississippi so that when I talk them up to customers I can also push our American Red Cross donation drive at the same time. Yesterday I took down De La Soul and put up The Essential Mahalia Jackson and wrote this on the tag behind it:

New Orleans native Mahalia Jackson still has the greatest voice in gospel music.

Favorite track: "In The Upper Room".

PLEASE GIVE TO THE AMERICAN RED CROSS AT THE REGISTER TODAY!

I've been giving a little everywhere I go as well. Probably half the town's grocery, pharmacy, and participating retail stores will have my name plastered all over their walls with those little cards that say "I Gave!" Cheesy, I know, but there have been less lofty goals to strive for out there (and I've striven(?) for some pretty low ones in my days).

I'm not... feeling right today. This morning I was up chopping up veggies to make a salad for lunch this afternoon, and I think I almost fainted. Twice. I say I think because I have actually never fainted before, but both times I got queasy and dizzy and had to run out of the kitchen and sit in the living room chair for a few minutes. I was wondering if it was the smell of the red onions in the salad getting to me, but I have never reacted that way to onions before. I am sitting here right now drinking tons of water and trying to calm down. Man, that's some scary shit, almost tipping over like that. Weird to have the whole world sort of fall out of focus for a few seconds. Almost reminds me of the time years ago when I was lying on the floor at Outer Limits (an old night club here in town back in 1991) and my friend threw one of those bean bag chairs over my face and sat on it, and I couldn't yell or scream because there was no air in my lungs and I couldn't even wave my hands in distress (although I did try and spell out "I C-A-N-T B-R-E-A-T-H-E" in sign language for somebody to see). The weirdest part was at that moment I remember that I had resigned myself to the fact that I was probably going to die, and I felt... a little frightened, but oddly accepting, although mightily pissed that I was going out in a most ignominious manner. When I vaguely remember the bag lifted from my face I can sort of recall several of my friends' faces hovering over mine, shaking me and screaming, so I don't think I was fully passed out if I could have heard and see all that. Still, the spell I had today brought back memories of that incident but I still can't figure out what might have caused it. Onions? Lack of sleep these days? That damn cricket chirping all night in my living room? Underpants elves?

We are supposed to be getting the edges of Hurricane Ophelia today and tomorrow. Although I doubt we will experience the full brunt of it by any means, if I'm not online for the next few days you might assume that I have lost power. After what happened during Hurricane Isabel (and the cautionary tale of Katrina) I don't think anybody's taking any more chances with these things.

O Elegant Indolence

This having a weekend off is pretty freakin' sweet. Luxurious, even. Is this what all you Weekend Warriors crow about so lustily? Add the fact that Joe has a completely fluke weekend off as well and I'm beginning to think I must start consulting star charts. We're too broke to really go anywhere or do anything, but we did have a great lunch together at P.F. Chang's and spent the rest of the day just talking it easy. I think that's what I crave the most right now -- just total and utter relaxation. Today was a little bit more of the same, although I did manage to get some much needed errands run. Thought about stopping by my friend's grocery store but I kinda chickened out at the last minute. Even though she and I seem to be doing a lot better these days I still feel a little intrusive whenever I try to contact her. I really want to do our weekly late-night coffee and donut runs again. I miss those obnoxiously caffeinated gigglefests. I miss her company.

I keep checking the Circus Theatricals website obsessively every day for news on Jack's latest production. Not that I can afford to go back to L.A. this year. Heck, I can barely afford gas money to get me to work and back as it is. I bet the cost of plane tickets are astronomical due to fuel prices and shortages.

And is it wrong for me to want to attend next year's AVN Expo? I've never... uh, done anything like that before in my life, and I would relish the new experience. Although I admit I wouldn't even bother going if Papa isn't going to be there. But what would I say to the guy if I met him face to face? Errr... great job, Mr. Holmes? Nice...uh, equipment? Funny how easily I can communicate with him via email but will likely dissolve into the Insta-Stammer-O-Matic once I'm in his presence, much like I was with Jack. Plus it's too close to Christmas and I'm always financially wiped throughout the month of January as a result.

I miss Sci-Con.

Schedule

Mon 12: 3-cl
Tue 13: 1-8
Wed 14: 10-6
Thur 15: 3-cl
Sat 17: 10-5

Shopping Bags (She Got from You)

Well, poop. Nobody bought my employee pick of Faithless' Greatest Hits this week. Although I did come a wee bit close once, hyping it up so much to this one guy that I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if he had bought it just to get me to shut the hell up. Ha! Takes more than that get me to stop running my mouth, especially when it's something that I am passionate about. Like music and... and... um, somebody help me out here. Uhhh... cheese? Yeah, cheese!! Cheese rocks! Particularly those cheesy bread things you get at Pizza Hut. Or is that Papa Johns? Well, one of those two that will actually deliver to my scary-ass neighborhood after 5pm. They sure are yummy. If I worked at Pizza Hut/Papa Johns I would have cheesy bread sitting on my employee pick wall every day. Cheesy bread for everyone, everyday!!

So I sadly took down the Faithless CD and put The Grind Date by De La Soul up on the wall. Hip-hop albums that are already several months old are especially difficult to pitch, but when they are as amazingly good as this one sometimes if I can just convince the customer to listen to it the disk more often than not just sells itself without my help. Often all you gotta do is just physically put it into their hands and that's all it takes. Funny how that appears to apply with most things in life, doesn't it?

Cue Up The Holy Modal Rounders, Boys...

Welp, after one long summer of fruitless suit-searching, my new bathing suit came in the mail this weekend. And HO-ly Lord.... Okay, pretty much what I feared. The bottom half of the suit looks great, fits perfect, etc. But the so-called "spacious" top section is anything but. Or at least it would be for anybody else who wasn't so cartoonishly top-heavy as I am. I was in the bathroom trying it on and just doubled over with laugher, holding my tummy like a little girl and tears rolling out of my eyes at the vision of my entire upper half spilling out from every side, like Pamela Anderson trying to squeeze into an oven mitt. There is just NO WAY I can leave the house wearing something like this to the gym, let alone the beach or Seabreeze Park without getting hauled away by the indecency brigade (and believe me, where I live, they are out there). But dag nabbit I've waiting all summer to go swimming again and it's already September. Plus what are the chances of me ever finding anything to tether down these puppies at this time of the year? If I could only remember where online I ordered my wicked killer Olympic-style zip-up suit from last year that's now too big for me, because that was just sooo ideal for my situation. Crap. This sucks.

Okay, I seriously considering just throwing a shirt over the top of me when I wear it out. Noooo, no no no NO. Too much potential for disaster. I hate to have to send it back. This was already my last resort. Nuts. Why can't I just take them off and leave them at home when I want?

Anyway, in non-boobie related news (oh, who am I kidding!), this is the first time in several months when I have absolutely no idea what Papa's new movie is going to be or when it's coming out. In our last few conversations he dropped me hints as to new titles and what to expect in some of them, but this is the first time in forever when I am in total and complete suspense. And you know, I kinda like it. I sure do know what I'd like to see, though! (heh heh)

Le sigh.

From The Department Of Doozer Control

Yesterday was my little brother's 35th birthday so I gave him something that only a "little" brother would appreciate. The First Fuckin' Season of Fuckin' Fraggle Rock!


Is that keen or what? Old skool readers of my former blog may remember how much whinged relentlessly over when this sucker was going to start coming out on DVD, and as I was pulling my hair over not being able to find a copy of The Muppet Show first season in stock at my store and then suddenly literally tripping over a stack of Fraggle Rock boxes sitting on the floor ready to be shelved. I had no earthy idea that it was out yet (and apparently neither did Cullen, who knows All Things Muppet). To be honest I want this just as bad as Cullen does. He and I watched this show religiously every morning before school and as far as I'm concerned it's probably the best series that Jim Henson ever created. Obviously geared towards kids, but I thoroughly enjoyed it on every level as a teenager when it was first aired and even my father was moved to actual tears when he watched the series finale with us the night it aired. Doesn't appear to be heavy with extras, but that's just peachy with me. It's the series itself that's the real meat of the matter, with it's superb scriptwriting, songwriting, and of course puppetry.

Watch yer back, bubbie. I might be gankin' this for myself when yer not paying attention. Sleep with one eye open, pal.

While we were out to dinner I talked with my folks about the hurricane relief situation (my mother insisted we get away from the TV and computer for the evening because all of it was obviously upsetting me) and I think that I am going to do what they have done, and donate funds to the ASPCA to help with animal care and boarding for refugees who need their pets kept safe while they recover their lives. Feeling like whatever I give to the Red Cross and others likewise I'm not yet certain that the food and/or water I help purchase can get to everyone, if what I read is true about FEMA and how the Red Cross had difficulties delivering supplies. Sounds like most people are out of he Superdome and other places in the city as of now. But still, I think I feel better right now giving my money to the ASPCA. I'll at least feel as if I could do something.

Sleep To Dream (Of Electric Sheep?)

My Instincts Tell Me To Keep Breathing

Just realized that I was a day early in posting my birthday greeting to Vance yesterday. Can't believe I forgot the day that was once forever etched into my little pea brain. Shows where my head's been at these days.

Been too depressed to post about anything music-y. After flipping from CNN to CNN Headline News, to MSNBC to Fox News, to network prime time to local crapnews, I have to turn the TV set off for good. I cannot bear another sad image from New Orleans and areas down south. I don't even think I want to turn on my computer for a few days right now because every new image on my AOL homepage is one of death and destruction, of shooting and sobbing and desperation. Every online community where I hang out there is nothing but new reports rolling in. I don't blame anybody for wanting to discuss it. I mean, it's all that's been on my mind all week myself. It's all I speak about with my friends, my co-workers, and the cashier lady at my regular grocery store. And I still haven't heard back from David yet.

I just can't stomach any more images right now. I'm certain in a few more hours I'll have the telly back on and checking back in for updates. But right now I need a break from all the misery. Yeah, I'm sure those poor, homeless folks down there would like a moment's break from all this misery, too. That's what makes me feel even more guilty. Because I still have that luxury. For now.

Well, as a diversion, here's something of musical interest. Finally -- and now officially -- Kate Bush breaks her 12 year album drought with a new double disk called Aerial on November 8th.

Schedule

Sun 4: 4-cl
Tue 6: 12-8
Wed 7: 11-7
Thur 8: 12-8
Fri 9: 10-6

Little Birds Have Fast Hearts

HAPPY 51ST BIRTHDAY
Vance Elliot DeGeneres

Still miss seeing your face on the telly every night. Still miss hearing that... that *~voice~* except when I'm playing your music. Still trying to mentally compose a review for your album like you asked. Still trying to keep up with your busy life. Still the sexiest man in the world no matter what age. Still numero uno en mi libro.

And words can't convey how sorry I am about your home town. Here's hoping that your aunt and cousins are discovered safely.

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Wow, speaking of which, I need to email my friend David and see if I can get a response from him. I wonder how his house faired. I hope he and his family are okay.

What Else Is There To Say?

I saw the footage of Pass Christian on the news last night. Or rather, what was left of Pass Christian. I heard the man tell the reporter how he pulled his life-long friend's body out of the rubble. My stomach hasn't really stopped hurting since then.

I saw a street in New Orleans that I remembered walking down when I was there back in 2001, weaving in and out of record shops and book stores. No living thing can walk down that street the way it looks right now. I remember standing on the Riverwalk and looking down into the Mississippi River lapping up against the levee, and then looking way, waaay down to the city streets on the opposite side. I remember at that moment trying to imagine what this city would look like if its bowl-like structure were to fill with water all the way up to that levee's edge.

Seeing so much loss makes me feel guilty for just having so much of what I have. Even the roof over my own head. Makes me feel helpless for not being able to give or do more, and when I feel this helpless all I feel like doing is just... crying.

Sorry, you guys. Just really, really sorry.