Schedule

Mon 30: 11-6:30
Tue 31: 4-cl
Wed 1: 10-6
Fri 3: 9:30-6
Sat 4: 3:30-cl

She's Coming Back

I guess it has been awhile since I've written anything semi-substantial in this spot hasn't it? Work. Sick. Life. In general. But I have the first weekend off since I can't remember when so I'll try and give the obviously bored bored booooorrrrrred and patient ghosts that still haunt this place something new to read tomorrow after I've had a much needed stretch across my bed in my skivvies with the AC running at full blast. Maybe fall gently asleep with my face buried between the spine of Bone while the pages flap softly to the rhythm of my snores. It's been a long day. And a long week.

Seize you tomorry, kiddies!

Schedule

Sun 22: 12-8
Tue 24: 3-cl
Wed 25: 10-6:30
Thur 26: 4-cl
Fri 27: 10-6:30

Licorice Brunette

First 20 tracks on my iPod this morning as I sit here wondering...

1. "Cars" - Gary Numan

2. "Southern Nights" - Glen Campbell

3. "Fat Albert Rotunda" - Herbie Hancock

4. "Bright Young Things" - Pet Shop Boys

5. "Southbound Again" - Dire Straits

6. "The Battle" - Wookie

7. "Been There Done That" - Dr. Dre

8. "John McLaughlin" - Miles Davis

9. "White Horse" - Laid Back

10. "The Grass Is Green" - Nelly Furtado

11. "Superstylin'" - Groove Armada

12. "Something In The Water (Does Not Compute)" - Prince

13. "Tak Otba*ho" - Ractu u3 Spywero

14. "Until The Day I Die" - Steve Earle

15. "Pray For Life" - Velvet Acid Crush

16. "Legend Of A Wheelman" - The Fleshtones

17. "Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming" - Jermaine Jackson

18. "Red Rain" - Peter Gabriel

19. "Gotta Serve Somebody" - Bob Dylan

20. "Sitting In Limbo" - Jimmy Cliff

Schedule

Mon 16: 10-5
Tue 17: 3-cl
Wed 18: 10-6
Thur 19: 12-7
Sat 21: 2-10

A Signal

Where for art thou, Rescue Dawn?

Somewhere there's a Werner Herzog movie playing, and it's nowhere near me. The one movie I really want to see right now and it's not showing in my neck o' the bumpkinland. Why can't our city ever get anything remotely good? Now I have to probably go see Transformers, just so Brent will stop riding my ass about it at work. Even though, despite my toy obsession, I was never a big Transformers fan growing up, although my brother sure was. Plus, Michael Bay makes my arms break out into spots.

You wanna know what I miss most about you, Newland? Having intelligent, witty, thought-provoking discourse about film. And ragging the hell outta them.

Signed,

The Countess

Looksy! Titles Are Back!

Thank you thank you a thousand times gracias Miss Mary for finding me these video clips of the Jack Smith movie Flaming Creatures, which I have been pulling what's left of my hair out wanting to see for going on I don't know how many years now. I owe you that Slits album. And that Chameleons UK. And that X-Ray Spex. And damn near everything else I said I'd try to burn for you over the last few months. I suck, I know. But you're a duck. Thank you.

P.S.: W00t!

Can we discuss how much I'm hatin' that Blogger isn't letting me click onto the title bar space so that I can enter one of my typically witless song title headers? Or maybe AOL is to blame, being that they are easy to blame for much. Or maybe I'm to blame, because I suck. Anyway is anyone else having this problem right now? Can I expect things to change? Or is this one of those "no grasshopper if you want change you have to make change or at least carry exact change at all times" situations where I need to bug the webmaster or maybe just reboot the whole kit 'n caboodle, which I did anyway and it didn't work so OH WELL, BLAH-DY BLAH-DY YADA YADA ON WITH THE SHOW...

Seems I work tomorrow, so no Sunday brunch with the Sunday Brunch Bunch, which is a small collective of people I've either known or known through association within the old local music scene (and we're talking old here) so it's usually Joe and me, Al and Mike, and an assortment of folks that Al and Mike have known which often turn out to be people I haven't seen in over a decade. Like last weekend's brunch at the Village Inn, when Mike randomly invited someone I haven't seen nor heard from in ages, but have thought a lot about in just the past year...

I don't think I've seen my old pal Rachel since I moved from Norfolk to Virginia Beach back in 1997, so I guess it technically has been about 10 years by now. In fact I think the last time I ate with her at the Village Inn was back around the early 90's when we were all there around 2am with the Reverend Billy C. Wirtz after one of his gigs. Rachel and the good Rev used to date many years ago, and I've been a fan of his for about as many years, so we all had a nice get-together eating blintzes and debating the particulars about the 60's cult movie Spider Baby. Ho boy, and I remember that night Rach and I went to see The The at the Boathouse, when The Cranberries opened for them and nobody had ever heard of that band before (it was months before "Linger" was released) but we went backstage where the lead singer Dolores O'Riordan was very drunk and totally FLIPPED OUT when a little moth landed on her shoulder (then again knowing me and my bug phobia my behavior wouldn't have been any more dignified). And I remember I lost my keys that night to my car and my house so after we picked through nearly every scrap of trash on the Boathouse floor looking for them Rachel drove me back to my place where nobody was home so I hoisted her up through my living room window (I think she crash landed onto Goofy Steve's bed since he slept in the living room back then) and let me into my house. And then later that night as I was undressing for bed I took off my bra and... clink! My keys fell out from between my boobs. I had forgotten that I since my outfit that night didn't have any pockets and I never carry a purse I stuffed my keys down my bra, which I often to in such cases, but I guess due to the sheer size of these bazooms I didn't feel them down there and damn plum fergot about 'em. To this day I still try not to make that mistake again, although I do still find strange objects jammed down between my cleavage that I never remember putting there. I'm sure that's probably why I can't find the remote to the TV right this moment.

Anyway, Rachel is a wonderful photographer and by the looks of things has only gotten better since I remember her first pictures back in the early years of the Kings Head Inn. I remember sitting next to her when she took this picture of Henry Rollins at his spoken word show at ODU, and I practically hung her by her ankles over the balcony at the Nsect Club to capture this awesome close-up of Marilyn Manson. Anyway, when you get a chance check out her Flickr file. Lots of great stuff, and she was there taking pictures at the last weekend of CBGB's, so take a gander.

So what else is now? Got some more used music. Yeah, yeah, literally, so what else is new? Well, it's more of the Blue Note stuff I've been sitting for awhile, including:

One of my favorite tenor saxists Dexter Gordon's Gettin' Around which features Barry Harris on piano, Bobby Hutcherson on vibes, Bob Cranshaw on bass and Billy Higgins on drums. Recorded in 1965, and the CD features a few non-LP tracks, "Flick Of The Trick" and "Very Saxily Yours".

And organist Larry Young's Unity, a classic that features Woody Shaw on trumpet, Joe Henderson on tenor sax, and the marvelous Elvin Jones on drums. Recorded in 1965.

And I've been looking for this DVD for ages, but had forgotten about it until I saw it on the shelf at Border's last week:

In The Realms Of The Unreal: The Mystery Of Henry Darger, an intriguing look at one of America's most famous folk artists. I've been a fan of Dargers for many years and had seen his exhibit at the Museum of American Folk Art on NYC several years ago, which also included several manuscripts and many of the magazines and children's books where he traced and copied his work into his make-shift canvases. The term art brut, or "art in the raw", is more commonly known here in the states as "outsider art", typically labeled onto people who who have had no formal artistic training or hadn't any artistic career aspirations, which many often believe makes art more "pure", more "raw" and honest and lacking in pretensions. Darger was a surly, reclusive Chicago hospital janitor who had no friends, no family, and spent most of his life tucked away in a tiny apartment talking continuously to himself. It was only after he passed away in 1973 when his landlord, letting herself in to clean his rooms, discovered his secret world. Countless weird, intricate paintings of little girls, and a clearly obsessive-compulsive 15,000 page epic novel titled The Story of the Vivian Girls, in What is known as the Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnian War Storm, Caused by the Child Slave Rebellion. The documentary also features several people who were associated with him, who talked to him occasionally, who heard the strange noises coming from his apartments at night, but like everyone else, never really got to know him or learn about the secret reality he built for himself in his self-imposed seclusion. The film is directed by Jessica Yu, narrated by Dakota Fanning, and the voice of Henry Darger played by Larry Pine. I've read dozens of books on the man over the years so it wasn't anything I didn't already know, but it was beautifully done, with lovely animated parts to illuminate his work and bring his world to life. Very worthwhile, and happy to have finally seen it.

Sat 7: 3-cl
Sun 8: 11-7
Tue 10: 3-cl
Wed 11: 12-7:30
Fri 13: 2-8
Sat 14: 3-cl

Nice Shoes, Asshole!

This guy really, really doesn't like horses.

But it's still the funniest thing I've read all week.

Thank you for the link, Bornyo my sweet.

At Least There Was Ice Cream

I had a dream last night that Satan took over the world (after doing battle with Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg, to which they fled to hopefully regroup and return to Save The World another day) and he opened up his own night club. I remember you had to buy tickets to get in from an ice cream shop outside the venue, like at a carnival where you also had to buy tickets for rides and games and whatever the night club had to offer. And I remember wandering around the club on opening night with a bunch of people I knew, mostly folks I work with (I especially remember Brent being there, running around in the crowds excitedly with an ice cream cone) and all I can recall how how pretentiously gothic it all looked, like something some 15-year-old My Chemical Romance fan who shopped at Hot Topic would do up his bedroom. And Satan himself looked like Anton LeVay, which was also pretty predictable in and of itself. Lots of long candles and bats and red wallpaper and black-light pictures from the back room at Spencer's Gifts. All I can remember thinking was, "Man, Satan's night club is... actually kinda lame."

No more going to bed on Tussinex after tonight.

I Been Gone For A Minute Now I'm Back At The Jump Off

I just finished watching the DVD to Heavy Metal Parking Lot, which reminded me too much of what my high school looked like in 1986, so it was kind of funny and yet kind of tragic at the same time. Then again I used to listen to Journey so I guess I have no room to talk.



I don't want to get my hopes up, but I'm beginning to feel the lightness in my chest again. A twinkle of the former pressure is still there, but considerably less than it has been. I have one more day of azithromycin to take, and I'm on the last day of my Tussinex. Tomorrow will be the tell-tale day when I know, finally, the worst will be over. Until next year, that is. Unless... eghad... unless...


This means what I think it means. The only time this cough hasn't been this constantly persistent was when I was weighing less, which means that I have to get back on the ball seriously about dropping pounds again and working out. Despite the swimming I've done in the last few days (well not really swimming so much as throwing the Nerf football back and forth with Joe while standing in the pool) and the walking I constantly do at work, I haven't had the breath to exercise to the maximum like I used to do, and... dear God... I cannot bear to be inside this body I have now for another minute. I can feel its decline in health. I hate being inside of me, like I want to claw myself out of a heavy leathery bag that keeps me trapped. And I hate it because I know what I am capable of and this is not what I know I am and more importantly, what I can be. The last few days have been terribly depressing, compounded with the coughing and the constantly drugged-up state and the weight gain. I feel catatonic. I feel blob-like and just taking up valuable space in he universe. And I know I'm better than that. Or at least I have the hubris to think I am.



If my breathing regulates tomorrow, I need to start anew. I can't wallow in futility. It's overwhelming me, but I can't let it. I know what I am capable of. I can be that person again. And I will be.



I've been dancing to this song a lot this evening in my computer room. Something about it makes me feel confident. Maybe I need an anthem for the time being.



The Jump Off - Lil' Kim (m4a file)

Available for 7 days

Everyone Squeaks Gently

Looks as if the "Popcorn & Porn" party that I was invited to attend this evening has been cancelled. Seems the girl who is throwing it had her parents drop into town to visit her unexpectedly. Aww! Her parents can watch my copy of Russ Meyer's Supervixens with us, too! And, and POPCORN! Ah, well.

Probably a good idea I'm not going anyway. I finally got the doctor to give me the Azithromycin that (I think) I need for my cough, as well as begged asked for another prescription for Tussinex to get me through the week, and I think I overdid it on the Tussinex just today alone. The last two days of coughing have been abysmal, with no sleep and headaches and back aches and every kind of ache. Plus the whole not sleepin' thing. My tummy feels blah. Think I'm gonna doze off some more.

And I suppose I should update this blog anyway, since I've felt nothing more than a description of my tedious ills can be more easily followed by previous posts throughout the years. But I'll write some more tomorrow. I have the day off that day too. Wow, two whole days off in a row. Feels like I should be freaking out about something. Eh. Probably the meds toying with me again.

Schedule

Mon 2: 3-cl
Thur 5: 12-6:30
Fri 6: 11-6:30
Sat 7: 3-cl