Where Evil Dwells

First 20 tracks on the iTunes this splendid Halloween eve...

1. "Take It Off" - The Donnas

2. "Fake Purse" - Joey Santiago

3. "Slug" - Passengers

4. "For Those Who Like To Groove" - Raydio

5. "Sex Shooter" - Apollonia 6

6. "Cochise" - Audioslave

7. "Boards Of CanaDaDiDaDi" - The Evolution Control Committee

8. "Lonely By Your Side" - Azzido Da Bass feat: Johnny Blake

9. "Permenent Green" - Moby

10. "Disciples Of Funk" - Bootsy's Rubber Band

11. "Launch (Ole Skool Mix)" - DJ Jean

12. "Do Yourself A Favor" - Jesse Johnson

13. "The Tracker" - Peter Gabriel

14. "Waterfall" - Wendy & Lisa

15. "The 80's" - Robbie Williams

16. "Lucid Dream" - Meat Beat Manifesto

17. "A-Frame" - Garage A Trois

18. "Staring At The Rude Boys" - The Ruts

19. "Bang" - Frankie Goes To Hollywood

20. "Loose Booty" - Funkadelic

Female Trouble, And Spoilers Ahoy!

Two of my idols. That's Gilbert on the left and his hermano menor Jaime at the 25 Years Of Love And Rockets exhibition in Seattle this past spring.


Yes, I have been keeping up with Love And Rockets over the years. Pretty much religiously ever since I picked up my very first issue at a comic convention in 1988. That's a pretty darn long time following the lives of people that have never truly existed other than in the minds of two California brothers who have been writing about the lives of these funny, sexy, and fascinating women since 1981. In the latest issue, Gilbert's ongoing story of former psychologist turned lurid B-movie film star takes on a new, somewhat surreal dimension as Venus, the little girl that I couldn't wait to see grow up finally, well, grows up and becomes the clever, imaginative, and downright spunky chick I always hoped she'd be. And since I loathe the word "spunky" that's quite the compliment coming from me. And Jaime's heroine Maggie finally turns forty years old on a vacation with her old friend Rena that nearly becomes the last day of her life. Nearly everything about Maggie's life -- from her early years in the punk scene, her twisted sense of humor, her insecurities about her weight, and her reckless habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve -- have nearly run parallel to my own in a way that's almost alarming. But then again I know far too many girls that either are Maggie or know somebody in their life who is Maggie, and that in a large part is what makes Love And Rockets so compelling to so many people all over the world. There's a reason that it has endured all these decades.


What else am I reading these days? More girl-centric funny books, as per usual. Since the demise of Strangers In Paradise earlier this year I've been avidly following the official Season 8 of Joss Whedon's Buffy The Vampire Slayer, which picks up right where Season 7 of the television series abruptly ended. I quite enjoyed the series, though never quite the rabid "Buffista" that fuels its prodigious fanbase. Here we have the Scoobies broken up into small slayer armies in and around Europe, with Giles back in London, Andrew in Italy, and Buffy and Xander running the base of operations in a medieval fortress in rural Scotland. Dawn is there too, but has grown to gigantic proportions, apparently after a sexual encounter with a "thricewise" (whatever that is), and is still working out her strained little sister relationship with her perfect older sibling that she feels she can never live up to. This time the "Big Bads" come in the form of the witch Amy who goes proverbial wand-to-wand with Willow, who apparently has developed the means of human flight (pictured below), as well as the U.S. Army who are growing increasingly uncomfortable with the notion of a world of superhumanly strong females running amok and, well, probably making them look bad in comparison. More likely the latter rather than the former, to be sure. ;)

A newer storyline has former renegade slayer Faith recruited by Giles to bring down a potentially dangerous new slayer that could be powerful enough to destroy the world as we know it (isn't that always the way?). The trick is that this new slayer is British royalty, an arrogant teenage princess under heavy guard and being trained to kill by a mysterious man who appears to be in liege with a dark cult that has the Scoobies in knots trying to decipher. The fun, of course, is watching the typically rough, uncouth, and uncultured Faith disguised as one of the landed gentry trying to pass herself off in the princess' company as one of her own. Bonding unexpectedly over cigarettes and a mutual love for Amy Winehouse, Faith as been so far hesitant to take the fellow rebel's life, although perhaps her hesitancy turns out to be advantageous, as Faith slowly begins to win the princess' trust, she gradually begins to uncover a plot to usurp Buffy as leader of the slayers. Leading to what, we're all still left hanging. I guess you can tell I'm reeled in. The artwork, by the way, is smashing, especially in the way that the artists are able to capture the faces of the actors who originally portrayed them on television, as well as the occasionally cartoony distortions that punctuate particularly humorous panels. Overall, I'm looking forward to what they make of this season that was meant to air but never got the chance. At least the CGI budget is relatively within financial range, I'm sure.


My very latest comic obsession, however, has to be Linda Medley's Castle Waiting, which the guy at Trilogy suggested that I pick up and haven't looked back since. Set in the land of make-believe in what also appears to be the Black Forests of Germany, Medley takes a new spin on the classic fairy tale in a story involving the former partially abandoned castle of Sleeping Beauty after inexplicably running off with the first boy that kissed her (a hilarious telling of what an utter flake she must have been to fall in love so easily), which has since become a safe haven for travelers, outsiders, social pariahs, and heavily pregnant young women on the run from their wicked husbands. This is a world populated by horse-headed knights and stork-headed dandies, of hobbit-sized thieves and money-lending cats. Several back stories of several regular characters have been put into motion, most particularly a deeply fascinating and extraordinarily written and illustrated fable of a beared nun from an order of similarly hirsute sisters who are seen and written as such warm, wonderful, and even astonishingly beautiful women in a way that I haven't quite read before or since in any form of literature in a very long time. There's also the castle itself -- old and dilapidated, in desperate need of repair and infested with spites, fairies, and other magical boogins, but full of surprises that even those that have lived there for ages are amazed to discover. The art is black and white, finely drawn, and at times ornately rendered with a fantastical imagination that brings the work of Arthur Rackham to mind ("Rackham", coincidentally, is also the name of the of the castle's main denizens). Beautiful work and wonderful storytelling appropriate for all ages. I can't recommend it enough to everyone.

I actually can't recommend any of these terrific titles enough. You can purchase both Castle Waiting and Love And Rockets at Fantagraphic Books. Buffy The Vampire Slayer Season 8 is available at Dark Horse Comics.

For Castle Waiting, I highly recommend the first collected volume to start you off on the story. The Gilbert and Jaime Hernendez stories from Love And Rockets are being re-released in separate volumes starting from the very beginning. The first few issues of Buffy are coming out on trade paperback very shortly, so keep your eyes peeled for that as well.

Anybody reading who has experienced any of these titles themselves? Weigh in. I would love to read your feedback.

Whatever Gets Me Through The Night

What an ucky morning.

Maybe it was the dose of metformin I took. Maybe it was the fact that I've been taking 1000 milligrams of the shit every day for the last week instead of my usual 500, but I was in so much pain this a.m. shortly after taking my morning dose I was outright doubled over and wailing, thinking that I was going to have to drive myself to the doctor, and Brian must have thought I was being axe murdered when I called in at work to call out. Crap, and Hunter was supposed to come in this afternoon to pick up the used copy of Rogue's Gallery that I put on hold for her. I hope those nitwits at work don't put it back out on the shelf again. As popular as that compilation is these days I can't see us getting a cheapie back in again, buybacks or no. I guess I'll phone her later and let her know.

Feeling a touch better now, although that could be the Advil talking. I will say one thing; the doctor's advice about taking two doses of metformin a day instead of one has really has helped to do miracles in curbing my irrepressible hunger, and if you know me you know what a bottomless pit I am so this indeed is quite a moment for the history books. I ate this morning, no matter how much I didn't want to (mainly because of the pains) to hopefully take care of what I thought was maybe an overdose of metformin so I treated it like an insulin overdose and ate some chocolate that Joe gave me since I don't keep sugary stuff on my side of the pantry. So I am making sure to eat. In fact I was quite hungry when I got home from a stressful night at work and still had no intention of eating anything since I had points'd out for the day, but I arrived finding Al and Mike and Cindy in my living room eating popcorn so I indulged in a bit (okay, a lot) of that along with them just to be all sociable-like. But overall this week has been amazing by the book. And it's been encouraging. I feel my energy returning. I feel the need to not sleep so much. And I think I've eliminated the urge for sugar, in an oddly roundabout way that didn't involve Atkins in the least. Of course now I just have a heck of a lot of bellular (S.'s old term for describing any ailment that involved the "belly") angst to show for it.

Then again after a night like the last two nights at work, I might just be having an allergic reaction to being there. Man, that's another whole blog post for another time.

Waiting For Mary

I just love Tom The Dancing Bug.

C'mon Everybody Now Clap

This is some funny shit.

Liner Notes

Joe will be back as co-host of the Minority Roundtable this Tuesday night at 11pm EST on CTIradio.com. Subject for the week will be the history of professional wrestling video games. A topic that Joe knows all too well about, given what he and Mike do all night together on Monday evenings until three in the a.m.

Schedule

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

The Long Dark Tea-Time Of The Lepus

I just noticed that I haven't posted a new picture of Bunny Rose Wagner in awhile.

Also, here's a video to The Raveonettes' cover of John Lennon's "One Day (At A Time)". I love the way the coffee trails crawl through the walls and over people's arms, creating the barbed wire effect from the Amnesty International logo.



The new Raveonettes album Lust Lust Lust is being released On Fierce Panda Records in Europe November 12th, and what I've heard so far sounds extremely... dark. Not as dark as their first album, but not as overtly poppy a their previous. I like that. I missed that. I'm happy to hear it again. Hear a few tracks from the upcoming album on their myspace page.

In other news, my second-hand permit came in the mail at work this week, so we're taking buybacks again. We need to keep them at posted at the point of sale, which is perfectly fine with me. Lousy stinkin' city needs to tax the bejeezus outta everything we do. Not to mention it looks like freakin' Diane Arbus took my license photo, too. :::shudder:::

New Direction

So I went in for the pulmonary test that I was scheduled to take months ago back when I had, you know, that cough, and of course now that I'm not coughing I breezed through the test with flying colors. But we are discussing future preventative measures for the next time when I sense another cold coming on, signaling the cough's return. I suppose we'll see how all that goes.

The doctor also talked me out of doing Atkins. And to be honest, she didn't exactly have to twist my arm. I've been feeling sicker than I ever remembering feeling last time I did this in 2003, where all I remember experiencing back then was dizziness and a twinge of sugar withdrawal. Last week I had to leave work early because I thought I was going to throw up if I didn't get a carb into my system somehow, and I know I shouldn't but I never felt physically ill from the body trauma of it before. She suggested getting back on Weight Watchers again, so starting tomorrow, I'm counting points once again.

Lord, give me strength for this. I still haven't flipped that breaker in my brain yet tell me I need to do this for my health. The depression of being such a failure causes me to sabotage myself all over again. I have to many distractions in my life. Too many things that keep me from focusing on my health. I need to eliminate them. Drown them out. Focus. FOCUS.

Help me through this.

So What Else Is New?

The Cramps performing at the Napa State mental hospital. Because you really gotta know your audience.

Will Oldham, a.k.a. Bonnie "Prince" Billy doing an album of covers, including Danzig, Bjork, and um... R. Kelly. A shame it's not the "Trapped In The Closet" saga. Then again, I'd much rather hear Danzig sing the "Trapped In The Closet" saga.

Oh yeah... so ah, has anyone "purchased" their copy of Radiohead's In Rainbows yet?

Falcon Crest

First 20 tracks on my iTunes shuffle while making up a gift package for very sweet friend...

1. "Playing To Win" - Anne Dudley

2. "Rock Star (Remix)" - N.E.R.D.

3. "Come" - Dizzy Monk

4. "Cherry Bomb" - The Runaways

5. "Cosmic Slop" - Funkadelic

6. "I Know A Place" - Jay Reatard

7. "Closet Freak" - Cee-Lo

8. "Serial Killer" - VNV Nation

9. "Like Dust" - Passion Puppets

10. "Lord Grung" - The Frogs

11. "Rules Are made To Be Broken" - Hugh Marsh

12. "Ain't No Sunshine/You (medley)" - Bill Withers

13. "The Reincarnation Of Benjamin Breeg" - Iron Maiden

14. "There Was A Time" - James Brown

15. "Stickin' In My Eye" - NOFX

16. "Doowutchyalike" - Digital Underground

17. "Loose Shoes" - The Darktown Players

18. "Talkin' Dust Bowl Blues" - Woody Guthrie

19. "Commotion" - Creedence Clearwater Revivial

20. "Din Daa Daa" - George Kranz

Everybody Calls Me Something

Joe will be a co-host on the Minority Roundtable Tuesday October 23 LIVE @11:00pm EST on CTIradio.com. Pro wrestling talk and NWA legend Baby Doll will be a special guest. It will be available as a podcast for download as well.

Schedule

Fri 19: 11-6
Sat 20: 4-cl
Sun 21: 11-7
Mon 22: 9-5
Thur 25: 10-4
Fri 26: 3-cl
Sat 27: 4-cl

For Future Reference

I would just like to point out that the old gospel standard "Just A Closer Walk With Thee" is the same exact tune as "Butter Beans" by Little Jimmie Dickens. Or rather, more likely the other way around, I guess. I know the guys all thought I was nuts for repeating that over and over during the church service today, but dag gummit, I'm puttin' it out there. Has this always been the case? Why am I always the last one to know about these things?

Also, note to self: Never sit next to Alvin during a funeral service. Nearly every 5 minutes he was either poking me in the ribs or leaning into my ear to whisper something funny or wildly inappropriate to be said during a church service causing me to hide my face behind my program or risk getting bounced from the joint for snickering like a schoolgirl. As if "Butter Beans" running through my head wasn't bad enough. But getting past all that it was a pretty nice service for Mike's mother. For all the Marx Brothers buffoonery going on in our aisle, it genuinely broke my heart to hear Mike take the podium and tearfully recite "Those happy hours/that we once knew/tho' long ago/still make me blue/they say that time/heals a broken heart/but time has stood still/since we've been apart/I can't stop loving you/I said I made up my mind/to live in memory of these lonesome times." Just a really nice service all the way through. Kind of funny how Joe, Hunter, Alvin and I were probably four of the six white people at the entire African American church and funeral service and members of Mike's family kept asking us if we were "in the band". I guess they meant Mike's band DC3 since he's the only black guy in the group. Mike, of course, thought this was all very hilarious and we were actually pretty glad we could be there if anything just to cheer him up during what had to be a truly emotionally draining day.

After the service, interment, and banquet Joe and Al and I hung out a little at Mike and his dad Ernest's house. Al misheard Mike's father say something like "get the gang a glass (of soda)" as "Pabst" and Al jokinging asked Ernest if he wanted a Pabst. Ernest thought about it for a second and said, "Er... yeah.... yeah, I would like a Pabst, now that you mention it." so Joe and Al and I marched merrily down to the corner grocery to buy beer and we all kicked back a bit to watch Mike's new DVD of Lightening In A Bottle, which I've been telling him forever was really good but I guess he finally got around to buying it now. Al had a meeting in Suffolk so he bolted while Joe and Mike and I ate dinner at Pete's Tent Top, one of my long time favorite restaurants in Ghent, so naturally I chose this day to stray from Atkins a tad and had the chicken and feta pasta, which was typically Tent-Top terrific. I'm mighty sad that Pete removed the delightful velvet painting of Gary Coleman hanging over the toilet in the bathroom there for years. But hey, the food can't be beat. And two guys I recognized from The Pushers were seated next to us, too. Like, eek, man.

After dinner we met up with Alvin again at the Dairy Queen down the street and had ice cream cones (yeah, I waaay overdid it, but it was just me picking listlessly at a little cup of soft serve dipped in cherry hard shell sauce, which made it taste somewhat like bland vanilla-like paste dipped into a waxy, cherry flavored candle) and basically kept each other in stitches for the entire night with our usual non-stop wisecrackery until it was time to break and go our separate ways. Joe and I left the house at 9am and didn't get back home until around 10:30pm. So yeah, I'm a little beat. May be hitting the sackaroo early this evening. But it was worth it all if we indeed succeeded in making Mike forget his miseries for a few hours. At least I hope we did.

Oh my word, so much to catch up on. So much sleep needed. Oh, the paradox.

Chicken And Cheese

So last week -- Thursday, I think it was -- I decided to start doing Atkins again. Yes, the very thing that kick-started my massive weight loss regime back around this time in 2003, and I'm currently enduring the initial first week of "sugar purging", where I eat nothing but meat and cheese and wash my system clean of sugary toxins. And although I have not forgotten how difficult the first 10 days of this were back in 2003, I sure am not pleased to revisit it again like this in 2007. Every fibre of my being is screaming for sugary texture. And I'm doing exactly what I did that first year every time the urge for sugar becomes too great; eat more meat. Yeah, that's pretty much it. Doesn't help the sugar fix, but it tends to trick my body into thinking I'm giving it something. Dieting is all about tricking anyway, I suppose.

I diverged from the diet slightly this weekend. This past Tuesday my friend Mike's mother passed away and a bunch of the gang went over to his house to help clean up for the funeral this coming Tuesday, and afterwards Joe and I went out with Hunter and her boyfriend David to Kim's Chinese Buffet in Norfolk and I had some lo mein noodles with sushi and a single scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert. I did good Saturday, and Sunday with the breakfast club I did have toast and grits with my bacon and cheese omelet. But that's been it as far as carbs. And tomorrow's funeral is going to be another daunting challenge at the reception in the church parish. But I had decided that, unlike last time, I will allow myself one day a week of indulgence, if I have to, since as we all know life doesn't always accommodate our dietary needs. Weight Watchers suggests the same thing as well, in their "flex points" program, for the very same reasons that I just mentioned. But I've been an amazingly good girl this weekend, I like to think, even though I haven't been as tight in my regime as I was years ago. In 2003 I would not have had lo mein noodles and ice cream one day, or toast and grits two days later. Although I went to a party Saturday night and didn't imbibe once. Well, that's no biggie for me anyway, since I really don't drink. But in the past I would have accepted a glass of sangria or something and just nurse it all night to keep the hostess from drunkenly pouring more into my glass, worrying to death that I'm not drinking anything (I've had years of practice in hiding drinks at parties, surreptitiously pouring them into various potted plants or half-empty Coke bottles) but Saturday all I drank was water which was perfectly fine with me seeing as how eating this much salty meats and sharp cheeses keeps me perpetually parched.

I just know that after the tenth day or so of carb negation I'll wake up one morning and not have the sugar shakes, and feel fine and healthy and my skin will take one the most amazingly soft texture I have ever know it to have since maybe I was only a few months old in my brand new skin. I remember touching myself all over, running my hands over my face and arms and thighs and marveling at the bizarre silkiness I've adapted on the all protein diet. More importantly (more important than having an impossible silky smooth bod-day?) I have more energy and feel less compelled to pass out wherever I stand when I'm not mobile due to my insulin resistance. In my case, less sugar means more energy, or at least no need to take three naps a day on my day's off. Maybe I can sit through a movie or two for the first time in a year without zonking out on the couch before the opening credits finish. Maybe I can finally write some movie reviews again, like in olden tymes!

Anyway, wish me luck and all that. I'm going to go buy some whipped cream.

Schedule

Sat 13: 9-5
Mon 15: 3-cl
Tue 16: (off for funeral)
Wed 17: 9-5
Thur 18: 3-cl
Fri 19: 11-6
Sat 20: 4-cl

Care of Cell

New permit policy for selling and buying used CDs in retail stores.

Basically this is what I came back from vacation to find happening to my store -- or rather, I called that Saturday from Nags Head and Stacy told me what the scoop was. Two detectives came into the store looking for some background information on a possible stolen DVD thief and going through our records it was discovered that we didn't have these permits to buy and sell used product, so we had to put an immediate halt on all "buybacks" (as we call them) until each one of us gets their individual permit -- and yes, that's each person getting their own personal permit, not just the store.

I suppose in a sense it makes sense in some ways. You need a permit to have a yard sale and such as that. But at the same time what exactly does this do that taking the seller's name, ID, address and social security number on file doesn't already take care of? And this only seems to be cracking down on brick-and-mortar stores, since I don't see any of this applying to Amazon or eBay sellers. That is, if this new law is indeed really about curbing theft and fraud, as the article (and the two detectives in our store) imply.

Speaking of which, as a person who does a large majority of the buybacks in our store, I really am conflicted about the situation. Most of you know how much used product I buy. True, the artist doesn't see a lick of that money, but it is almost 100% profit for our store, which keeps our little business alive, and what with retail prices the way they are there is no way a lot of folks can either afford or are willing to shell out $18.99 average for a single disk CD. Not when we carry a used, hardly played copy for $9.99 at the most. And I admit, the thrill for me is being on the front lines for potential great, rare product that might come in which that the people selling it back might not know the value. I recently got another copy of the House Of Schock CD, which sometimes goes for a fat wad on eBay, for $7.99 used. Among other rarities (of relative value) have been the out-of-print Prince CDs The Gold Experience ($18, highly sought after for the underground dancefloor hit "P Control") and The Black Album ($25), plus soundtracks to Conan The Barbarian ($30), Ennio Morricone's The Thing ($60) and Argh! A Music War ($80). Stuff you just can't find anywhere. These days when they happen are few and far between, but when they do happen, it makes the hassle all worth worthwhile.

And a hassle it is. The downside is dealing with the customers... or as I prefer to think of them, the "merchants", because if they are coming to me with product to sell, that I am their customer, not the other way around. Still, most of them don't see it this way. Some of the worst confrontations in our store have been due to people who are furious that we didn't take every last piece of their scratched, jacked-up disks, or that we have too many copies of Spiderman in stock to take their 5 or 10 obviously stolen disks for cash. Actually most of the thieves steal box sets. DVD television series, mostly. We have these two cousins that come in every single Sunday with the same two dozen DVD box sets of the same TV series and wind up walking out with several hundred dollars in cash, and they pretend to be extremely nice and friendly until one day I announced that we just couldn't buy back their seven copies of the first season of House because we already had 20 copies on stock that weren't selling, and their false niceness turned into a poisonous row, on a dime. And then there was the man who I thought was going to jump over the register to throttle me because he had driven all the way from Nags Head to sell CDs for drug money and we didn't have any cash in our drawer yet at the early hour morning for the amount he wanted to sell back.

Yes, then there are, indeed, the drug fiends. The people who think that you are their personal bank. The ones who try and take product straight off the shelf and bring it up to you to sell. The "Ferguson Ring", a guy who would hide in the store and pretend to be a customer while sending several of his girls up to me one at a time to sell back boxes of obviously stolen DVD box sets, and then casually slip all of the money over to him. The daily dose of hostility. The threats. The tantrums. When a majority of these days are nothing but taking back mountains of crap like Wild Hogs and whatever hack hip-hop CD was last week's flavor of the month, sometimes it really doesn't seem worth the misery. Doing buybacks has made me the angry, impatient woman who doesn't suffer crackheads gladly anymore. I've lost all semblance of diplomacy I might have once been famous for, and having to deal with the same jerks day in and day out, taking back garage that nobody wants because they feel I owe it to them, for people who never even shop in our store anyway and just come in to hassle us for money -- every passing day I could feel that fire burning behind my eyes, and I'd bite my tongue and hold back my fury and come home every day emotionally exhausted and mentally pureed.

But when something good does come in. Wow, I can't decribe it. Only other music collectors know the feeling. Like holding the Hope Diamond in your hands, the one and only copy you have ever seen of something you have only just read about. And you're trying not to shake, to keep it cool. To not run victory laps around the store lofting the copy of the Creepshow soundtrack high above your head. Those are the days that make all the others seem like such faintly remembered bad dreams. Ahh, sweet, sweet valuable Creepshow soundtrack (actually that still has never come through our doors, but you never know, that day may come).

So I guess I'm not in any huge hurry to run down to City Hall and get my permit. And to be honest, nobody else is either, although two girls did get theirs already.

But at the same time. I kinda miss it. Or rather, I miss the possibilities. I miss the joy in something new. Something great. Something I could potentially sell on eBay to help pay the bills. Dag nabbit, I miss my endcap.

James Brown In Ski Party

I think that's Yvonne Craig (Batgirl) there in the beginning of the clip. I got a chance to meet her at a sci-con several years ago. And supposedly in an interview about this movie Brown says he split his pants when he was doing the splits in the doorway at the end of the song. I guess that explains him holding his ass when he takes a bow.

And dig da Flames in their groovy sweaters! Hey, is that Maceo?

Fuel Your Nightmare

And speaking of Doctor Who; watch this episode. If you dare.

I'm pretty jaded by horror movies. I don't scare easily. But holy cats, I am NOT going to bed tonight or closing my eyes ever again after seeing this. This will fucking rock me to sleep for weeks, bloody hell.

Somebody, please hold me.

*whimper*

Industrial Strength

I guess I really should be collecting these new Doctor Who series as they're coming out on DVD. I know S. has been watching it, and a few other friends, but damn if I'm barely caught up with Heroes yet, or even viewed a fraction of the new Battlestar Galactica, even though I have the first seasons of both sitting in a stack of stuff ready to be, well, viewed. I think I've probably watched less TV this year than I may have ever had in the last 5 or so, and it's not that I'm not interested in what might be out there (i.e. Heroes, The Doctor, etc) but just that I find myself passing out within minutes of any television show as of late. Damn if I ever remember how last season's Lost ended since I think I zonked out about halfway through. Then again a part of me feels like, feh, what did I miss anyway. I want something really, really good to turn my head again. And well, I gotta say this is been pretty darn engaging so far...

Peepshow is a British sitcom of sorts where the audience is privy to the inner thoughts of its two protagonists -- that being flatmates Jeremy, who aspires to be a techno pop star, and little else -- and Mark, his sad sack cubicle-jockey buddy. My darling guru 'o coolness El Gee sent it to me from across the pond and I've been enjoying it immensely, or that is I did enjoy it immensely because I've actually finished watching it last night and only fell asleep through one episode, which speaks volumes of how much I was willing to slap myself in the face to stay awake for every rib-tickling moment on the screen. Getting the second season soon. I hope El-to-the-Gee likes the "MSTied" version of Manos The Hands Of Fate I'm planning on sending him in return (now that's zonking out!)

Sleep Late, My Lady Friend

First 20 tracks on my iPod this afternoon while not feeling quite up to snuff...

1. "Shot Shot" - Gomez

2. "British People In Hot Weather" - The Fall

3. "Sketches of Israel" - Michael Garrick Trio

4. "The Grunt" - The JB's

5. "Come" - Dizzy Monk

6. "Chase" - Giorgio Moroder

7. "Straight Outta Clinton" - The Pee Tanks

8. "This Is My Story, This Is My Song" - Thelonious Monk

9. "My Bonnie" - Tony Sheridan w/The Beatles

10. "Psycho" - The Sonics

11. "Love At First Sight (live)" - Kylie Mingoue

12. "Grit" - Buzzov.en

13. "Hello Walls" - Faron Young

14. "The Booker Tease" - The Residents

15. "Clean Up Woman" - Betty Wright

16. "Sidekick" - Rancid

17. "Sad New Day" - Me Phi Me"

18. "Bang" - Frankie Goes To Hollywood

19. "A Bad Note" - Outkast

20. "Chips, Chicken, Banana Split" - Jo-Jo and the Fugitives

Wilhelm Scream

You know that feeling one gets, where they live with something long enough to think it's not really as bad as you think it is, and then when you step away from it for a little while you come back to it and discover that it really wasn't as bad as you thought, but actually worse?

I had a moment similar to this revelation this week when I walked back into my store Monday after being on vacation for a week and seeing just how... how sad it all is. How disorganized and disconnected everything is since we lost Nilda a few weeks ago (who left to take care of her sick mother in Florida), and how apathetic everyone truly appears during this disjointed bossless limbo we're temporarily experiencing. And then I learn that a portion of the staff are in the works to leave themselves. Even old veterans of the store before I came along. Everyone looks lost. Unhappy. Like they believe it to be the end. As in, The End. Of the store. Of the whole flippin' brick-n-mortar industry. Of something, but I don't know what.

And for the first time in a dreadfully long time, I got swept up in the hive mind and became just as depressed and apathetic as everyone else around me. Because it suddenly felt overwhelming to me as well, knowing that Tracy will be leaving and maybe Stacy and Mary and who knows who else at this point. Kevin is still out on extended sick leave and I feel like I need him here more than I ever did, to help ground me and remind me again of that perservering ability to adapt and change, the way I always have, the way I've always been proud of being. Kevin and I are old vets at this. We've worked together since the Music Man years back in the 80's and we've always taken every vertiginous turn of the industry with a shrug and a "that's how it goes." I don't want to call him while he's home recuperating from his back operation and bother him with work-related drama. But damn if I couldn't use his grounding presence right now at the store, reminding me that this too, should just be shrugged off as well. That we'll both perservere. That this is how it goes.

Boy, I'm being optimistic, considering that Joe's own store is closing down this month and he'll be clean out of a job himself. I'm much more optimistic about his situation than mine, for some reason, I guess because I know what he's capable of and what he can accomplish in just about any given situation. I'm strong, I'm resilient. I got about average smarts and a terrific work ethic. But aside from knowing who the Bonzo Dog Band are I really don't have much else to contribute to society. We're okay for now. But from here on out, it's a bit of a free fall.

Go ahead and say it then, Fred: I need another job.

Schedule

Tue 2: 11-7
Wed 3: 10-6
Thur 4: 3-cl
Fri 5: 3-cl
Sun 7: 11-7
Tue 9: 3-cl
Wed 10: 9-5
Thur 11: 3-cl
Sat 13: 9-5

Weekend In Pictures

View from the balcony of Al's beach house. It was insanely windy and a touch too chilly to swim, although Freck did jump in for a few minutes alone while Joe and Hunter and I sat on the beach and watched. The water looked far too choppy and rip-currenty to let him swim without us at least huddled on the shore and hoping we don't have a reason to flounder in and save him.

Mike and Hunter out on the balcony the first night. We were about to go hiking down to the Black Pelican for dinner but they stopped serving at 10pm, so we braved the beach brambles crossing over to Sunburn's across the dune for quesadillas and karaoke. Hunter was screaming in the darkness thinking something was attacking her ankles, and wound up covered in beach burrs, which Freck and I proceeded to clean her like three chimpanzees in Sunburn's parking lot. Oh, and Mike sang "Dinah-Moe Hum" again. But this time the Irish kids weren't there in their full fawning glory.

A rather unfortunately blurry picture of Mike, Joe and Hunter, as my camera doesn't take good night pictures for some reason. Oh, at karaoke Joe and Al were going to sing Neil Diamond's "Coming To America" and it wound up selecting "Play Me" instead, which Joe had never heard and Al was too drunk to do anything else but repeat "You are the sun/I am the moon/you are the words/I am the tune/PLAAAAAY MEEEEEE" over and over again with a lot of dewey eyes and dramatic gestures and a final rock star throw down of the microphone, which greatly pissed off the karaoke lady as you might imagine. But "Play Me" became the theme of that weekend, and none of us could get that chorus (or Al's rendition of it) out of our heads for the next three days.

Freck's simply gorgeous classic 1970 Chevy Monte Carlo that he drove down from New York to hang with us that night. Appears even more a classic next to Mike's shabby (but endearing) little wagon. The better to carry his drums from gig to gig, my dear.

Al tried to convince Hunter to stretch out alluringly over the hood, Tawny Kitaen-style. But you can tell by the look in his eye that Mike would have rather secretly posed across the hood himself.

Hunter takes a shot of us surrounding the classic. Meanwhile, Mike photographs Hunter photographing us.

Sunday morning football with Barco and playing a game of "iPod charades". Here Barco is trying to get us to guess the name Paul Oakenfold (or more like trying to get Hunter to guess, since she was the only one of us who didn't know who the artist was). By the way, if you have ever seen the character of Dick from the movie version if High Fidelity, that is the image and essence of our good friend Barco right there. It was really nice to see him again, though. He lives in Nags Head all year but he only got to hang for a few hours Sunday morning before he headed off to work.

Oh, and of course we end off with Al trying to charade the Benny Goodman Sextet by simulating a sex act with his hand. Well, what else would you have done?