Schedule

Sat 1: 9-5
Sun 2: 11-7:30
Mon 3: 3-cl
Tue 4: 11-7:30
Fri 7: 3-cl
Sat 8: 12-7:30

Outside Again

First 20 tracks on my iTunes this morning finally feeling like I can start enjoying the summer for the first time this year.

1. "Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac

2. "Big Poppa" - Edwin Starr

3. "Capital G" - Nine Inch Nails

4. "Hour Of Need" - Faithless

5. "Electric Avenue" - Eddy Grant

6. "Get Your Snack On" - Amon Tobin

7. "Rock With You" - Michael Jackson

8. "Georgy Porgy" - Eric Benet

9. "Affrodiziact" - Paul Oakenfold

10. "Johnny Green" - Meat Rocket

11. "Springtime In The Rockies" - Brave Combo w/Tiny Tim

12. "Slice Of Life" - Bauhaus

13. "They'll Never Be" - Switch

14. "Southern Nights" - Glen Campbell

15. "I Saw Your Mommy" - Suicidal Tendencies

16. "Oliver Square" - Cadence Weapon

17. "Dirty Lives" - Love As Laughter

18. "Hospital" - The Faint

19. "Orange Theme" - Cygnus-X

20. "Zoo Be Zoo Be Zoo" - Sophia Loren

The Stain Becomes A Warning

If anybody can find me a copy of this movie and send it to me I'd... well, send you money or mix disks or naked boobie pictures or whatever the going currency for it on the underground market is these days. I'm saving all my money for my little brother's birthday present.

Starlings In Flight

Remembering a dream I had once about two years ago this time.

Thank you.

Couging Passed. Didn't Die. All Is Well. W00t.

Imagine you are on your deathbed. Recommend to those who remain in your life...



1) One book to read.

A Confederacy Of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. Because it's one of the funniest books I have ever read. And a splendid archive of everything both putrid and glorious about the New Orleans that once was.



2) One movie to watch.

Bachelor Party. Because if you want to know where all those stupid and bizarre phrases I constantly blurt out at random moments were quoted from. And because I don't wanna risk coming off as too pretentious on my dang deathbed.



3) One food to eat.

Peaches. Because it both satiates the hunger and satisfies the thirst all at the same time. Perfect summertime sustenance. Few foods make me feel quite so awake and alert and alive.



4) One place to go.

Habour Town, Hilton Head Island. Especially the Sea Pines Resort. I don't know what it looks like now after Hurricane Isabel several years ago, but it was my childhood vacation paradise. Bury a part of me at the old playground there.



5) One life lesson to leave behind.

Hit it, Maestro...

Schedule

Mon 27: 12-7:30
Tue 28: 4-cl
Wed 29: 3-cl
Fri 31: 11-7:30
Sat 1: 9-5

Chicks 'N Chickens

I know I should be saving money, but I had a sudden uncontrollable urge to place a bid on this original Abner Dean book that I've been wanting forever. And considering that it's in less than pristine condition the price is pretty damn reasonable. About the same amount I paid for last year when I bought It's a Long Way to Heaven, and about the same condition, too. I don't care. It's Abner Dean. And what exactly am I going to spend my money on anyway? Bills? Food? This roof over my head? God, I still live like a vagabond 20 year old, don't I.

Speaking of which, I miss S. so much right now. I keep remembering that night years ago, when Joe and Geena and I saw Godfellas in the theater down by the beach and afterwards, since we were so nearby, we were in the mood to prank S. so we bought a frozen Cornish hen from the grocery store and placed it on her front step, knocked and hid. Back then we all had a running gag about chickens and we often placed chickens in strange places for each other to find. Anyway, we heard the door open, and S.'s mother giggle and pick up the chicken and close the door. The three of us started driving immediately back from the beach to Portsmouth, where Joe and Geena lived, all of us laughing and high-fiving each other. We stopped a minute at 7-Eleven for Slurpees, then I dropped the guys off at their place and headed back home to Great Bridge. When I got back in the house around 1am Joe rang and told me that after I dropped them off he went to bed and as he curled up under the covers and put his hands under his pillow to pull it closer to his face he felt something cold and hard under there, and he pulled out the frozen chicken we left on S.'s front porch. I called S. immediately and she was just laughing her ass off. As soon as we left her place she called Just Dave and they grabbed the chicken and then HAULED ASS down the interstate to Portsmouth, probably passing us the moment we stopped at 7-Eleven, and got to Joe's and Geena's and talked their other roommate into letting them in at that odd hour, and she ran up to Joe's room and tucked the chicken under his pillow. She couldn't believe she managed to pass us since we were headed straight home and had a good head start on them. They must have tore across two cities and beat us probably by minutes. The girl is flippin' phenomenal. Well played, my friend. Oh yes, well played indeed.

Ah, good times.

Why I Can't Sleep

I'm truly beginning to worry about my next door neighbors. And, I suppose, myself as a result.

There's a very nice couple who live in the townhouse next door, adjoining mine. The first to welcome us into the neighborhood, they are quiet, devoutly religious, and dote on their many grandchildren. They've lived here for 13 years and love it. When the wife's father passed away last summer, I baked her cookies. We always stop and chat in the driveways whenever we catch each other out at the same time.

But in recent weeks it appears that they have been targeted for mysteriously strange and unlawful behavior. A few months ago their van was very obviously smashed into, and their other car was keyed along one side that same night. That same week they came home to discover their front door open, although nothing was taken or rifled through.

Tonight Joe just got home from his meeting and told me there is a Chanellos' Pizza delivery car in front of our house with a police car. The driver said somebody ordered a pizza and gave him the address to the couple next door, and when he arrived a guy jumped out of nowhere and robbed him at gunpoint. In front of our driveway, right while I was sitting here chatting online with a friend.

Joe talked to the Chanello's guy for awhile before he came into the house (the police car was blocking our driveway so he couldn't pull in and park) and he was asking Joe if our neighbors seemed like the kind that would set him up for a robbery. Joe explained that they were about as nice a couple as you could possibly meet, if maybe a little overzealously religious. He even told him about the day we first moved in, how the husband was washing his car in the driveway and Joe walked over to introduce himself, and the guy asked Joe "So have you received your gift yet?" And Joe was thinking, uh, gift? We get a free gift for moving into the neighborhood? Awesome! And Joe said "No, what's that?" an the guy beamed happily and said "Jesus Christ." Joe neglected to tell the guy that he is Jewish., not to mention agnostic, but that's pretty much the kind of folks I'm dealing with next door to me -- kindly religious types who suddenly seem to be targets for a lot of unwarranted crime-filled drama. Joe thinks it's only because their townhouse is on one end of the building, so being a "corner" house makes it easier for thugs to make a getaway around the building at that spot. Probably used their house number to call for the order and hid in their bushes and ran around the side of their place to escape.

Be that as it may, I'm still, uh, right next door to all the shenanigans. After chatting with my friend tonight I went downstairs to get a drink in the kitchen and I kept looking out the back door into the darkness of the night and getting a sudden fear like I was being watched. I had a wild instinct to grab the pair of scissors that was sitting on the kitchen counter and hide there angry, poised, and ready to strike until Joe came home. And this was all before I knew what was going on outside at that same exact moment, with Joe and the cop and the driver talking in my driveway about a man with a gun running behind my building. My instincts have usually been right about these things. So much so that it frightens me. Years of previously living in a bad neighborhood keep you on your toes. And this is a good neighborhood, too. Not great-great, but I feel safe here. Not like Pipers Crescent where I had drug dealers across the hall from me. Not like Ghent where we Joe and Lou and Goofy Steve and I used to take bets on whose car was broken into this morning. This is generally a nice place, and aside from a few cop car visits in the middle of the night, I feel remarkably safe here. Never had a problem so far, and after a year by now I would have had several in previous places of residence. Heck, Pipers Crescent was featured on an episode of COPS once!

And yet I worry about my neighbors. And I hate hate hate these premonitions.

And poor Chanello's guy.

Young Gifted And Black

My new pal Lloyd from the other side of the pond is in a band called Monolux. Yep, that's him, the handsome fella on lead vocals. They have a few songs on iTunes as well. Check 'em out. Maybe we can get them over state-side to play one of these days.

Speaking of which, Joe is at a meeting right now that could be potentially... well, a good thing, I hope. If at least a slight return to former glories (slight). Can't say yet, but we'll see.

Cinema Scopin'

Sharp shot of Mike in my living room holding up a copy of the DVD to The Stud.

Blurry shot of Joseph in my living room holding up a copy of the DVD to The Stud.

I have both The Bitch AND The Stud but I'm not certain which came first. I actually have yet to see The Stud, and I have only seen the opening sequence to The Bitch because I simply can't get past that hilarious disco theme song that plays while Joan Collins is getting boinked in the shower (:::whakachoowhakachooo::: BITCH! Uh-HUH!). But hey they were cheap at my store and held the promise of being unspeakably bad. Sometimes unspeakably bad can potentially wind up as being unutterably good. Not so much, perhaps, when it comes to the following film, although I quite adored it myself:

I first heard about Tommy Wiseau's The Room from my pal Wemblee, who has seen it in Los Angeles where Wiseau himself was there to take some Q&A and appeared every bit as, uh, strange as his character appears in his film. I had also been hearing from friends at one of my message boards that this movie gets shown regularly at that same L.A. theater and has become a cult classic of the Rocky Horror vein, with people doing callbacks and throwing articles at the screen (namely plastic spoons). I ordered it from Amazon but when I told Joe about it he insisted that we watch it with a room full of people to fully appreciate the film as it was meant to be, but with the exception of Mike and sometimes Alvin coming over on Monday nights for video games we rarely do much "entertaining" as we are reclusive hermit-types that hate all humanity and what they stand for. But about two weekends ago after one of our Sunday breakfast bunch collectives Mike and new friend Cindy came over and that gave us at least two members of a captive audience to view this picture in its proper setting.

And, wow... what can be said about this man's "vision"? Bad acting. Bad script. Bad dialogue. Bad editing. Bad bad bad UNBELIEVABLY bad MUSIC, but if you watch it with the closed captioning like we did the lyrics spell out right under the screen during the appalling lovemaking scenes so you can sing along if you dare. Basically written, produced, directed and starring Wiseau as (Wemblee pointed out) what may be the most blatant "Mary Sue" in movie history, he's the kindest, sweetest, bestest boyfriend, best friend, mentor, provider, AND father figure to all and everyone -- and yet his ungrateful scheming fiance sleeps with his best friend and even appears unfazed at her own mother's announcement that she has breast cancer, a storyline that is soon immediately dropped. Another storyline suddenly dropped is Wiseau's character's young ward, a teenage boy with a drug problem that suddenly gets swept under the proverbial rug. But overall this messterpeice (supposedly played straight and meant to be taken seriously, though I hear that since it was laughed out of respectable theaters it's being remarketed as a "black comedy") as bad as it is was still wildly entertaining, mostly when you have two classic improv riffers like Mike and Joe in the same room, and I thought Cindy was going to snap in half the way she was doubled over and howling along. We didn't have any plastic spoons to throw (Wemblee says there's something about a scene where for no explainable reason there is a framed picture of a spoon sitting on a desk but I still have yet to find it) but fun was had and I highly recommend this being seen in a room full of as many people as you can cram (believe me, four is about our max cap) and let me know if you find THE SPOON because I got me a big bowl 'o nuthin' right there.

This whole post is reminding me that I might not have ever fully posted about the films of Greydon Clark. Ohhh, Greydon. You'll have your own blog entry next time. I promise.

It's 5:30 am. Cough or no cough. I need to get some shut-eye.

Happy Birthday

I'll be thinking of you.

Humdiddlededumhoowahaya

I got to watch The Lives Of Others last night, and while I liked it, I just don't buy into it beating out Pan's Labyrinth for the Foreign Picture Oscar. Maybe it was all the hype Pan got which often hurts movies chances of winning, or even being nominated. Although that mostly happens in other categories, especially the Documentaries (one of the reasons why the phenomenal Hoop Dreams didn't even contend). Pan's Labyrinth was just... wow, whiz-bang. But don't get me wrong, Lives was pretty darn good, if a tad draggy in places, and actor Ulrich Mühe rocked my socks as the stoic Stasi agent who used little more than his facial expressions to either mask or betray his always deeply hidden emotions. Good work all the way around.

The cough is... persisting. Not like it was, but... yeah. Last night was kinda rough.

I suppose it's been awhile since I updated some of the stuff I got, musically, etc. but it's a little too much to encapsulate into one blog entry. Maybe a brief rundown of what's been getting me through this ordeal over the last few months:

A used copy of The Kinks' Muswell Hillbillies finally floated in, which I've been waiting for since who knows when. The first of their RCA albums where Ray Davies was starting to get all nostalgic and going into full on storytelling mode. Very folky, very lovely, as only The Kinks can be at their best. It's my first SACD hybrid and I was a bit worried that it wouldn't play on my regular CD player but it did smashingly. Am I really missing out on anything with these SACD flotchies? Anybody ever listened to one?

Seasons one and two of the defunct Showtime series Dead Like Me, which I had been hearing wonderful things about from people whose opinions I trust. The story of a sullen 18 year old girl who dies in a tragic and bizarre space toilet accident (you had to be there) she is selected among other dead entities to serve as a grim reaper and collect the souls of people within seconds of their demise. A lot of black humor and well written dialogue, my favorite being for the actor Mandy Patinkin who gruffly hands out reaper assignments on yellow Post-Its during breakfast meetings at his favorite German waffle house. I hear there are plans to make a feature of this show in the works, and now that Patinkin is no longer with whatever show he was with recently the whole cast might be signed back on again.

Heather Roberson is a young university student and peace activist who wants to prove to every counterargument she ever had that war is never an inevitable outcome, that differences can be resolved by peaceful means, no matter how hot tensions may run. So she travels alone to Macedonia, a country rife with religious and ethnic antipathies has always come to the brink of violence and civil war, only to find ways to resolve their issues before things get to that breaking point. Harvey Pekar and Ed Piskor help write and illustrate this graphic novel depicting Heather's solitary and oftentimes scary journey into this fragile land where she is constantly ripped off, leered at, and mysteriously photographed. But at the same time she meets new friends and makes unlikely allies, and eventually comes to the conclusion that conflict is a very necessary thing, and peace is a continuous balancing act, but war never has to be the final solution. A very engaging graphic novel, educational, and definitely thought-provoking.

Things at work are also a little weird right now, but I can't exactly expound upon it presently. I just wish things would finally settle down over there to some degree for a change.

Mike is coming over. I love Monday nights, with Mike and Joe downstairs in the living room playing video games and howling and cranking tunes. Their laughter is music to my ears. It feels like family. It feels like I'm home.

Schedule

Mon 20: 3-cl
Wed 22: 4-cl
Thurs 23: 12-8
Sat 25: 3-cl

Softly As In The Morning Sunrise

First 20 tracks on my iTunes this morning sitting here trying to remember what it once felt like to be cold:

1. "Zyclon B" - Leather Strip

2. "Elevate My Mind" - Stereo MC's

3. "One Of These Days" - Pink Floyd

4. "Machine Gun" - The Commodores

5. "Got To Get You Into My Life" - The Beatles

6. "No Name" - Billy Goat

7. "There's A Ghost In My House" - R. Dean Taylor

8. "Meat Market" - Everybody Else

9. "Skipping" - The Associates

10. "Wish" - Nine Inch Nails

11. "So In Love" - Duke

12. "I Found That Essence Rare" - Gang Of Four

13. "Set It Off" - Juvenile

14. "Fat Babies" - Lyle Lovett

15. "In My House" - Mary Jane Girls

16. "No More Time Outs" - David Holmes

17. "Fortunate Son" - Creedence Clearwater Revivial

18. "Die Right Now" - The Lemonheads

19. "Dogman" - King's X

20. "Small Town" - John Mellencamp

Take Me Back To My Boots And Saddle

It appears that my beloved Jack Stehlin will be directing Twelfth Night as well as playing the part of Malvolio. Extra added bonus, Fred Molina.

Oh God, how I miss Jack. Of course with finances being what they always are I don't know when I'll ever make it back out to L.A. to see him again. The only vacation I'm going to attempt to take this year is a week off at the end of September and just not be at work for awhile, which I think I really need. Al is inviting Joe and Mike and me back down to his aunt's beach house in Nags Head like we did last year so maybe we'll drop in for a day or two. I could really use the stress-free week. Providing that my cough is gone by then.

Yes, tomorrow I fly solo. No more Tussionex, for I am being "cut off" by my physicians who fear that I may become hooked on it, which hey, I can understand -- they're just looking out for me. But meanwhile I gotta suck it up and endure. Seems like I've been reciting that particular mantra too often lately.

Have I already mentioned how much I miss Jack?

Schedule

Mon 13: 12-7
Tue 13: 3-cl
Wed 14: 12-7
Fri 16: 3-cl
Sat 17: 11-7

Time Is Tight

Vance. Coming to a DVD store near you in November.

Okay so I fibbed a bit. It's a live Cowboy Mouth gig, but hey, Vance will be there. And as far as I'm concerned it will be the most porn I've watched in the last few months.

I have a pulmonary test to take this afternoon at the hospital, so let's see how those goes. This time. Meanwhile I have a few days Tussionex on me to last me the rest of my sanity. And oh, I'm selling off a buttload of old CDs. If I can just get $60 this weekend I'll be in the clear. It's either mortgage or this old Lemonheads CD I still have for some reason, despite the fact that I was never a huge Lemonheads fan. Now if this Lemonheads CD was only worth $60.

I really, really hope the air conditioner has been fixed at work.

This Wodehouse I Call Home

Would somebody please please please buy me this. I'll give you a hundred quid for it. Er well, okay, it will probably cost a hundred quid for it in total. But it's Jeeves, dammit. It's JEEEEEEAVES!

Guess I'm up for air at the moment. The cough got better, and then... ugh. I went to the doctor for a follow-up and she's still convinced I have asthma, so she gave me a hit of some kind of inhaler that's had me coughing and hacking worse than it's been since the first week, so bad that I called out of work and slept all day trying to calm my lungs down. And even if I beg them for more Tussionex I have no money to buy any right now, so I have to suck it up and endure. Which, basically, is all I have been doing over the last few months.

I guess it's why I haven't posted in awhile. The depression gets to me sometimes. I was just telling a friend today that I feel like the only reason I'm being kept alive is to serve as some fatted host for a parasitic entity that's higher up on the food chain than myself. I hate hate hate feeling so sorry for myself but on days like this my tough-cookie resolve breaks down and I sleep my day away not so much to calm my coughing, but it's the next best thing to not being alive right this moment. I mean don't worry... I always get like this when the cough lasts for as long as it does. After 25 years of this I've got the routine down. But at the same time after 25 years of this I can't always be strong every second of the day. I can't exercise like I used to. I have to sit down every few minutes at work to catch my breath. The medicine makes me constantly sleepy. I feel every ounce of creativity and life ooze out of me when I'm on it. It's like a lobotomy in a bottle. But it lets me expand my chest during the 6-12 hours that I'm on it, and that's a gift I never not take advantage of every opportunity that it's given.

I wan to thank friends for being patient with me, and the people at work, and Joe especially. When I'm 100% up to snuff, I'll find ways of repaying all of you for... well, for just being all of you.

I love you all. And you all know who you are. ;)

Schedule

Sun 5: 11-7
Mon 6: 4-cl
Wed 8: 10-6
Fri 10: 3-cl
Sat 11: 3-cl