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.
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.
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.
posted by Melissa at 10:03 AM
4 Comments:
I forgot I had that in my Netflix queue. I will have to move it up to the top. Also, Lou told me there is a new bra store somewhere in VB called "The Full Cup" and they carry up to a size K. Have you heard of it?
You need firefox BAD. Stop using that AOL browser:
http://www.mozilla.com/en-US/firefox/
I've never heard of it, but I just googled it and it looks like it's down by Va Beach and Great Neck. maybe over where Ocean Mystique is. Thank you! I must check that out!
And I think I must check out Mozilla finally.
I know the day after I got my MacBook I stopped using Safari (Apple's browser of choice) and put Firefox on my computer and never looked back.
The tabbed browsing is nice too.
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