May 29, 2011

Formaldehyde and Warm Cherry Pie

May 29, 2011

What happens when you stick They Might Be Giants, Rocky Horror, burlesque, and a studded dog collar in a blender?  Crystal Bright and the Silver Hands.



Fucking christ! Sarge and I saw them play last night.  Dude.  Whoa.  At one point, she was playing the accordion, the piano, and singing at the same time.  Oh, I shan't forgot the SAW.  Yeah, she played a fucking hand saw.  That you cut down trees with.  Like a violin.  There was a glockenspiel involved.  A double bass.  I think some guy was playing pots and pans with spoons.  I swear. They played a 6 song set and I don't think I moved the whole damn time.  I think I drooled a little.  If you live anywhere near the east coast, you must find them and see them.  UH-MAZE-ING!  Did I mention she's hot?  Yeah, that's just a bonus.





Ok, sorry.  I'm easily amused.  But C'MON!

May 24, 2011

Dear Janis

May 24, 2011

When I was in high school, a friend of mine and I made a mix tape of Me and Bobby McGee.  Yep.  One song.  Over and over and over and over again.  On both sides of the tape.  We'd play it in her car as we drove to or home from our current haunt.  Or just driving around aimlessly, laughing at mindless things in a mindless town.

Several years ago, I thought a thought.  And it's been wiggling it's way around the gyri and sulci in my noggin ever since then.  It bothers me.

And so now, I've added one more thing to my bucket list.  That one day, Janis and I shall have a chat.  I know she was from a different time.  Clearly an idealist from an idealistic decade, for sure.  And I am more of a harsh realist.

But I will say, I do not believe that freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.  If you have nothing left to lose, you are dead.  Not free.  Because as long as you're alive, you have air in your lungs and blood pumping in your veins.  And those things.  Air and blood and pumping muscles.  Those are things you still have left to lose.  I don't know what freedom is.  But maybe she's been chillin' out with jesus christ superstar long enough to have figured it out by now.  And maybe she'll tell me.

Until then, it's still a fuckawesome song.


May 15, 2011

old man steps

May 15, 2011

Every morning, I go out.  Sometimes for a long time.  Sometimes more than 2 hours.  Sometimes I walk.  Sometimes I run.  All the time, I'm listening to music and just being.  I go different places, different directions.  But all the time, I see a man.  He looks Spanish of some sort.  An older guy.  Maybe late 60s?  And he always wears a wide-brimmed hat.  Every day.  For a long while, several months, I avoided eye contact with him.  The same way I do anyone else.  I pretend to be so lost in my Ipod that I don't notice them.  Many times, people will even throw a cursory hand up, perhaps a sad effort at a wave, which I don't even acknowledge.  But Mexican-or-maybe-Puerto-Rican man never did.  What he did do was look at me.  I know this because I could see him out of the corner of my eye.  He'd stare, fix his eyes on me until he had walked all the way past me.  I know he was waiting on me to acknowledge him.  But I didn't.  For months, we continued in this way.  I walked with my head down, or up but looking past everything in my field of vision, and he watched.  Things would get particularly awkward if I ever had to pass him.  Usually, if that happened, I'd start running if I wasn't, or just speed up if I was, and cut a wide path around him.  Easy enough.

But then, one day, I didn't see him.  I walked and ran and searched but there was no man.  I wondered if maybe we just missed each other that day.  Maybe he had something to do.  Maybe.  But I was concerned.  It just wasn't like him to miss a day.

You can imagine my relief the next day when I caught a glimpse of the top of his hat just over the next hill, going up and down with his wobbly, old-man steps, as he walked in my direction.  I was very glad to see him.  So glad, in fact, that as I walked past him that day, I waved.  And smiled.  It wasn't planned.  I didn't even realize I'd done it until he waved back.  And smiled at me, too.  Such a silly thing.  We wave every day now.  And smile.  I'm pretty sure I like him.

May 3, 2011

It's All Relative. Except When It's Not.

May 3, 2011

I apologize in advance to anyone who will inevitably be offended by the following rant.  But if I don't get this out, I'm going to explode.  I've been dealing with this for months now.  Maybe longer.  It has been slowly percolating deep in my gut, threatening to boil over in a disgusting mess of gut juice.

Deep breath......



Old Navy's sizes are A FUCKING JOKE!  What the ever lovin FUCK are they doing?  They can't be fucking serious.  What the hell does "small" even mean anymore?  Are they marketing to giant trolls now?  Why was I not informed of this?  Seriously.  When I was a kid, small meant SMALL.  For FUCKING SMALL PEOPLE.  Not "kinda small so normal people can buy a small and it will make them feel better, so they will buy more clothes from us."  That is so beyond fucked up, I can't even explain it.  They've even resorted to using the term "extra small" now.  I suppose as a consolation to those of us who are 1 size away from NOT BEING ABLE TO FUCKING SHOP THERE ANYMORE.  But what?  What is that?  You say "extra small" is STILL TOO BIG?  Holy mother mary!  I can't even begin to imagine who their size models are.  Russian women?  Kaminoan women?  You know, I understand I am on the extreme side of the female size range.  I get it.  Really, I do.  And I am not asking them to make an entire line of clothes just for me.  Although, now that I think about it......  No.  I can't possibly be the only one who has noticed this "size adjustment" that has been going on with clothing manufacturers over the past, what, decade?  I have NEVER in my life worn the size jeans I have to buy.  NEVER.  Not even in my earliest memories have I worn a GODDAMN SIZE ZERO.  That's the most ridiculous shit.  It doesn't stroke my ego.  It's a fucking insult.  And their shirts?  Extra small?  For REAL?  Who the fuck is this supposed to fit?  Extra small body builders?

So, I either shop at another store or go naked.  I hate shopping.  So, ummm..... yeah.  

Fuck and damn.

That is all.