She's Outta Here...

I'll be back Sunday night, my pretties. Until then, eh, I may as well...


The Friday Five:

1. Have you ever considered running away from home?
I think as a kid it was what a wanted to be when I grew up. A runaway. And no, not of the "Cherry Bomb" persuasion.

2. Have you ever actually run away from home? (If so, for how long?)
When I was a kid my best friend Sheryl and I packed out Lego toys in a pillow case, tied it to a stick, and camped out in a neighbor's yard. That, in our minds, was running away on a grand and official capacity. And predictably, it didn't last long.

3. What would make you want to run away from home?
Nothing to do with home so much. Just my usual eaten up with desire to see the world. To Kerouac across the country on a train and defy conventional civility. To Huck Finn it down a river and ponder the notion of being free. Later I got older and said, fuck all, I'm buying a plane ticket. Drafty rafts can eat a bag of dicks.

4. What would you do if a friend ran away to your house?
Heck, they still run away to my house! Well, not like they used to do.

5. If you were going to run away from home, where would you go?
I go where I'm invited, baby.

And speaking of which. Outer Banks, here I come.

Summer Of '72

This one goes out to Hunter, who sang the entire theme song at breakfast this past Sunday, completely trumping her impromptu rendition of the Maude theme the week previous.

And this one goes out to Lloyd, who regaled me with this rare jewel verbatim just this afternoon.



I have me some wicked cool friends.

Or maybe just bigger nerds than me.

Vacation

I'm off all this week. Thank Yod. Nag's Head this coming weekend. Time to have the first few truly relaxing days since my agonizing summer cough. And my last big break before the holiday season. Maybe this means I'll have more time to blog. I suppose we'll see. Maybe a wacky link hither and yon. Although that's cheating I know.

Oh heck, why not. Superman's a dick.

I Just Love Christmas Specials

DUDE! Screamin' Jay Hawkins doing a live version of "Constipation Blues"... with Serge Gainsbourg goading him on in French. Yep, that Gainsborug; Clearly an enabler.

What the hey-hey?



**putting down peyote buttons for now**

Silver And Orange

Call me sad (go on, you know you're thinking it) but I love working on my used CD endcap every week at my store. Each Wednesday rolls around and it's "Wheeee! Time to change out my weekly used CD endcap!" and then I get to stand back and admire my own fearful symmetry, my clever positioning of the Sex Pistols next to the Sugar Hill Gang. Appreciating the sweet cheese of the Against All Odds soundtrack next to the last great Public Enemy CD. Having the creative audacity of placing execrable crap like Daughtry on the same waterfall as Stiff Little Fingers. And I gotta represent my Prince Rogers Nelson, of course. And you know, I had today off, which means I have to change my endcap on Thursday instead of Wednesday, and you know, it just throws my whole week off, dad blastit. Regulars were probably coming in all day today going, "What the... JOCK JAMS IS STILL UP HERE?? What the fuck, yo? Somebody's slackin', the flippin' frackin' slackin' gallowsbird bitches! This throws my whole blasted week off. And I'm sorry, Bucky Covington?? Fuck this noise, I'm out..." and then that overwhelming sense of failure will descend upon me once again and I'll spend my lunch break at the Barnes & Noble cafe next door crying into my Starbucks Frappuccino®. Eghads. I really, really need a new job. I simply can't wait for my week off. GASP! Who will do the used CD endcap while I'm away? Bloody hell, people. When does it end? When when WHEN????

You know what cheers me up, though? JESUS CAT!!!

Nearer To The Heart's Desire

I finally received the copy of Abner Dean's What Am I Doing Here? in the mail this weekend. You know, the one I bid on over at eBay. As you can see the dust cover is a tad jacked up but that's pretty much why I managed to get it so cheap, as pristine copies of his first editions go for considerably more than just a sawbuck a pop. And this is indeed a first edition 1947 copy, and the book itself is in damn

phenomenal condition for an article of this age. The subtitle, I just noticed for the first time, says "A book of pictures, which may include you." and I have to say some of these drawings are even more astonishing than my other Dean book It's A Long Way To Heaven which I won off eBay last year, though to say one book of Abner Dean drawings are more astonishing are like the age-old

comparisons between Minneolas and Gravensteins. To use the vernacular of the kids these days, it's "all good", yo. Check out more pics from this book on this Abner Dean page, and enjoy Chris Lanier's article about the artist from The High Hat. Me, I gots some "readin'" ta do.

My Brain Hurts...

Heave, Ho

Friday Five:



1. What was the most sick that you've ever been?
I suppose I've had moments where whatever I typically get every now and then was worse than it would have normally been. Besides my annual Death Cough (being particularly gruesome this year) and maybe that time I was vomiting for three days straight after I had my wisdom teeth out, maybe the worst I can recall in recent times was when I thought I had strep throat back around New Years, and since it wasn't strep the antibiotics didn't help and it was like having raging strep for a week and a half, which was unspeakably uncomfortable to say the least. When one doctor prescribed me painkillers I took so many just trying to kill the pain I got sick off of those as well. It went away the day after New Years' Day, but was followed immediately by the Death Cough. Anyway, I've basically lucked out in the X-treme germ department. Nothing that bad has happened to me as far as bone breaks or leprosy or whatever it was Joe had when he was six where they had to burn all his clothes and toys. I do get a gnarly case of "spring fever" about once a year. So bad I often have to call out from work. That gets pretty debilitating.




2. What disease are you afraid of getting?
Anything that makes me so delirious I throw out all my albums and vote Republican.




3. Are you a big baby when it comes to taking medicine/shots for your illnesses?
My father and I were both in the running for Queen Wuss In All Of Wussville when it came to getting shots or even just blood drawn, since we are both wildly phobic about needles in general. He actually has to lay down on the floor sometimes to have it done in case he might faint. I'm much better at handling it, so long as I don't look at the needle going in. As far as mind-altering meds, bring it owwwn. Just don't shoot it in me.




4. Is going to the doctor really THAT bad?
It's not bad at all. Just a drag, really. My $20 co-pay could be better spent on more mind-altering panaceas. Anything that puts me a nice long healing coma should be good for what ails me.




5. Would you have the flu twice a month if you were paid $1,000 for having it?
I spend about that much in cough and cold and flu medicines a month one on flu at a time, considering that my Death Cough always comes immediately after. No thanks, Chester.

Schedule

Sat 15: 12-7:30
Sun 16: 11-7
Tue 18: 3-cl
Thur 20: 3-cl
Fri 21: 9-5
Sat 22: 9-5

What I See

First 20 tracks on my iPod sitting at my desk during my lunch break this afternoon.

1. "Fledermaus Can't Get Enough" - Von Südenfed
2. "Who Is Dragonfly" - Mellow
3. "Potential Break Up Song" - Aly & A.J.
4. "Take It" - Insane Clown Posse
5. "Horse And I" - Bat For Lashes
6. "More Human Than Human" - White Zombie
7. "Throwing Things" - Ned's Atomic Dustbin
8. "You Are In My Badia" - The WHo Boys
9. "Theme to 2000 Maniacs" - Herschel Gordon Lewis
10. "A Sentence Of Sorts In Kongsvinger" - Of Montreal
11. "Shimmy Shimmy Koko Pop" - Littel Anthony & The Imperials
12. "Fopp" - The Ohio Players
13. "Impetus" - Clutch
14. "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey" - Paul McCartney & Wings
15. "We Know Something" - DJ Format
16. "Shave 'Em Dry" - Lucille Bogan
17. "Compared To What" - Della Reese
18. "Compositor Confundido" - Ibrahim Ferrer
19. "El Estuche" - Aterciopelados
20. "Fashion" - David Bowie

Leave My Kitten Alone

I want to thank my new friend Tim for burning me a data disk of the movie Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains which I had mentioned a few weeks ago that I was desperately willing to sacrifice my girlish honor for (aw heck, I lost my honor several bus stops ago). You're a peach, toots. And here's a short clip from the movie found on Youtube:



Diane Lane is too young here for me to properly lust after, although I think she looks far foxier now than ever. Ho boy! I can't wait until I finally get a moment to myself to see this again. Damn I need a life outside of work.

I Get My Fortunes Told For Free

Mike was wearing this same goofball Walmart T-shirt when Joe and Al and I went to see his band DC3 play the White Horse Pub last night, to which they launched into their usual tight set of covers like "Cissy Strut" by The Meters, Brubeck's "Take Five" and any number of random Allman Brothers jams. Mike, sort of a black, considerably less gay Bruce Vilanch, rarely ever wears the same slogan T-shirt twice in public so I was quite knocked over to see him suddenly repeating himself in such a, uh, broad communal setting (about 50 people, but a good night for the White Horse) opening up for a band called, er, Thundercock. And yes, we went basically to see if indeed a band called Thundercock could actually live up to such hubris. But actually after helping Mike break down his drums we didn't stick around long for their set because I had to make another appearance at another venue where I was also invited to attend the same evening: The weekly talent show Saturday nights at the Ambush. And I haven't been to the Ambush in over a decade, back when it was in the old Ames shopping center (which is now a Weight Watchers, which made me giggle every time I went there for meetings, sitting amongst cackling old biddies discussing recipes while I thought about all the hot young gay men that used to dance til they stuck to each other's sweat in that very same room) but the show has been moved a little closer to my house, and Saturdays are their typical talent/drag show shindig, and Miranda's girlfriend Ashley mentioned to me at work yesterday that she was in the finals for the top prize and to come on out and hear her do her thang. Her thang not involving drag so much but just her up on stage singing straight-up Faith Hill ballads and somesuch. And she sounded quite lovely, despite her taste in material. The other drag queens did their lip syncing bit, and some guy accused Al of calling him a whore, and when Al apologetically explained that he never said any such thing, the guy said "Aw, too bad." and kissed him. Whoo, score! And all I got to feel up all night was Ashley's boob. Which was pleasant, don't get me wrong. But the best part was Al's nonplussed expression when he pointed and roared "That MAN just KISSED MY EAR!!", obviously not as accustomed to being come onto in such an interesting, antagonistic manner, and not to mention Al being not gay and all. Later as we left we saw the same guy mackin' on some other dude in the parking lot. Poor Al. Barely an hour had passsed and already yesterday's lunchmeat. ;-)

Alvin, as always, keepin' it gangsta.

It's an amazing sensation, sitting here right now just coming back from brunch at A.W. Shucks with Mike and Al and Joe and the gang, and realizing that this is probably the first time in months that I had a brunch meeting with some of the funniest folks this side of the peninsula and I didn't cough once. And I didn't cough last night, laughing at the Ambush. Or earlier, when I was howling at Thundercock. Earlier this morning I was in my backyard while Joe was taking the weed-eater to the lawn, and I was breathing deep of the sunshine and flying grass, and I was able to exhale without a single seizure. Did get a mess o' bug bites on my ankles, though. That did kinda suck. But no coughing. That didn't suck.

I'm well again. At least until next year.

Here's to health. And to the good folks at the Ambush. And to, uh, the guys in Thundercock, wherever you may roam.

Prost!

Schedule

Mon 10: 12-6:30
Tue 11: 11-7
Wed 12: 3-cl
Fri 14: 3-cl
Sat 15: 12-7:30

I Flippin' Love Scott Walker

The video to "Jesse".

Jesse was the name of Elvis Presley's stillborn twin brother.

Notice the vague hint of "Jailhouse Rock" weaving hauntingly in the background.

Best heard at two in the morning with all the lights out.

Take my word for it.

The Only Way Is Up

So within about the span a half an hour Joe and Mike managed to improvise and write an X-rated version of "Winchester Cathedral" all while playing WWE wrestling on the Playstation last night. See? Even we can be funnier than that comedy troupe we saw Saturday night. Well, that is Joe and Mike can. I couldn't even manage a funny blog entry to save my wretched soul (that should be immediately evident to anyone who reads this hash.)

I had my one indulgence of the month and cleaned out half my hold bin at work. Some of the highlights include:


Big Train seasons 1 & 2, the British sketch comedy starring Simon Pegg & Co. sort of in the vein of Monty Python's Flying Circus. Funny stuff. Joe was quite tickled by the visual of Prince out on the plains chasing down a herd of jockeys like a lion taking down a wildebeest. We've been watching it one episode a day, or every other day, to try and stretch out the hilarity for as long as possible. We went through such a crushing period of grief after we finished watching Spaced in such a comparatively short amount of time.

Delighted to nab a used copy of the brand new Popeye The Sailor 1933-1938 box set, which features 60 of my beloved Max Fleischer era animated Popeye theatrical shorts, back when the protagonist was voiced by the phenomenally subtle and sublime Jack Mercer. Also contains the tremendous, Academy Award nominated Popeye The Sailor Meets Sinbad The Sailor, as well as several interesting looking documentaries as added bonuses.

And of course, one CD won't break my budget. Especially if it's used. A used copy of Can Anthology which at least features some of their work that I don't have (and all I really have is Monster Movie and Future Days). Gotta beef up my Krautrock collection. I've had the hankerin' for something a little, well, unstructured lately -- although Can is more trippy than unstructured. In fact they couldn't be more structured in their trippiness. I guess I just want something other than what I hear every day, which is what we play in our store every day. Which is shite.

God, I need a haircut.

Funny How?

Um. So, yeah. If you want to see the kind of stellar local sketch comedy I was subjected to last night while I was at the 40th Street Stage with Joe and Al then go ahead and view at your own risk. Careful so that your eyes don't roll completely out of your skull.



I did, however, manage to flip my proverbial wig after the show, driving around downtown Norfolk with the guys and reminiscing about our slightly more Bohemian years living in Ghent during our inchoate music careers. First we took Al to see our old house from back in 1990 through 1993, a old colonial-style three-story affair where we lived with Goofy Steve and this usual character who pretty much had to be seen to be believed. A goth kid with a terminal drinking problem, he spent most of his early morning hours tanked on 40 ounce malt liquors and cranking Bauhaus, or lying on the living room floor on his back with his arms folded across his chest like an inebriated vampire. Years of intensive drug abuse had slurred his speech and thought process to the point where it constantly looked and sounded as if he were just waking up (S. used to refer to him as "The Logy Guy") and took an excuriatingly long time for a single sentence to escape his lips. Even when sober, which was rarely ever. Nearly burned the house down once trying to cook a pizza in the oven and then passing out, and once trying to commit suicide by taking an overdose of pills, but waiting until he got to work at the grocery store to do it. Anyway, we had all parted company ages ago and had never seen each other since, but we spent the evening chattering away about all the strange things that went on in that house with the doped-up goth who spoke like a lobotmized Eeyore and staggered around Coley Avenue in black cloaks and beer bottles. Until around midnight Joe decided to show Al the Horse & Buggy, this deplorable dive down on Sewell's Point where Joe had his first DJing gig in 1988. We walked in, established that it still resembled the film set to the movie Barfly, and as we were leaving and walking back to our car we encounter a dark figure approaching us on the mean streets of Norview... and we were greeted with that distinctive slow drawl that neither Joe nor I had heard in 14 years. Our old roommate. Strolling down the street. After Joe and Al and I had just come from driving past the house where we all lived together. And he was heading straight for the bar where Joe used to DJ almost 20 years ago. We stopped and talked a spell, and it seems he's quit drinking and doing pretty well, though still very much slurred and "logy". Not something that seems bizarre or impressive when you're just reading about someone else experiencing it, but while he and Joe were chatting and catching up Al and I scuttled a few feet away and just gawked at each other speechlessly. Getting back in the car Alvin bellowed "SO DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD NOW, JOE?" which had me in stitches so hard I was back to coughing fits again.

Which was still a thousand times funnier than anything I had seen at the comedy show that evening.