Archive for April, 2011

I Hate Me, part 266,109

Running very late for work. Since I’ve been on my diet I have to prepare all my own food, it’s not hard just time consuming. I threw all my food in a plastic Foodtown bag and headed out. By the front door was another Foodtown bag.This one filled with dogshit, the tiny terror had eaten something (god only knows what) that didn’t agree with her. So I ran out with the two bags and naturally threw out my lunch and went to the car with the dogshit. On Saturdays I usually walk to work or ride my bike, when I’m late I take the car. I took the wrong car, I took the good car. I should have taken the old car, a 1989 Civic. A car so small that it looks like a clown car whenever I drive it (big guy, little car. How many big guys can they fit in it?).  So  I took the good car and realized it when I was about a block away from home. I turned around (now completely furious) and switched cars taking the dogshit bag with me. I got to work  in time, as i was getting out of my car I thought  that my lunch shouldn’t smell as bad as what the bag smelled like. Fuckin’ shit! I drove back home, got my lunch bag out of the garbage and switched it with the dogshit bag. All before nine am.

I Like Records 51

Slow night, Sean and I were standing at the back counter talking about how shitty the Knicks were, this kid steamed up to looked to me and to Sean and back again. He seemed to be in his early twenties and dressed like he was going to a rave that happened ten years ago:
Kid-Which one of you is the manager, cause I need to speak to the manager
Me- yeah?
Kid-aaahhh…I thought it was you…I’m interning at Rutgers, TV, radio production stuff and you know I wanna get the fuck out, am I right?…So there’s like hundred and fifty of us goin’ through town askin’ people like YOU how far they got in school…Fillin’ out forms for stuff an then when we got the info we wanna input it, Buuuut we’re gonna need you to buy some subscriptions for Playboy it’s for with HIV Aids…You wanna help those kids right?
Me-I don’t have any money
Kid-(opened up a large zippered wallet, lots of cash and hand written receipts in it)
…It could be anything…anything for a subscription..Playboy…you don’t got nothin’ for HIV Aids kids…kids who have HIV Aids…nothin?
Me-Man, I can’t help you. I’m a fifty year old man working in a record store, I got no money.
Kid-Shit…every time I try talkin’ to people they bug out.

Matador catalog

While sifting through the vast piles of useless shit that make up my life, I occasionally find something worthwhile. This was a fake cd catalog that was in an old Matador records cd. There are a few inside jokes that I don’t get, but I found the whole thing pretty funny. I appreciate the fact that there was no reason to do it, which is the best reason for stuff like this. Yo La Tengo actually released an album as The Condo Fucks

Sunday Music 4/24/11

Schizo-Schizo (and the little girl)
Schizo was a experimental french rock group featuring Richard Pinhas (Heldon) this is from a single released in 1972. I found it on Galactic Zoo Dossier, Tape Club Vol.2 #3 (The Holy Sound of Revving). The sound quality isn’t great (old vinyl to cassette to MP3) but the song is great. play loud.

a repost of last Easters blog

If Marv Albert called Good Friday

“Jesus putting a move on Peter…goes to the net…and De-Nied! by Peter…Jesus who’s had a pretty hot hand dribbles left…and with a step…goes to the net..aaannd De-Nied again by Peter…Peter is on fire tonight…and he’s in Jesus’s face….Jesus….slowing things down a bit showing his full repertoire of moves…goes to the baseline….and Re-Jected by Peter…He’s denied Jesus three times…There’s the cock crow and it’s all over.”

Traffic Watching (odd childhood 2)

My father was a bit eccentric. He claimed his favorite music was “Cuban Opera” and bagpipe music, for a time he sported an elaborate “British Sgt. Majors” mustache, he wanted me to name one of my bands “The Haggis Heads” and one of his favorite activities was traffic watching. Now I don’t know if “traffic watching” is a legit activity but my dad raised it to an art. Summer on the Jersey Shore meant sunday afternoon traffic jams on the north bound side of the Garden State Parkway. Every sunday afternoon the parkway looked like a parking lot. So in the late afternoon on most sundays the four of us would pile into the car (’74 green Ford Torino station wagon) and head over to a quiet road that ran next to the parkway north. We’d pull over on to the dirt shoulder and parked. We’d sit there and watch the backed up traffic, we’d be there for a while, sometimes we’d bring a light picnic. My brother and I would read comics and my mom usually had a book with her. My dad would laugh softly and occasionally point out a particularly vexed driver. Then when he’d had enough we’d head home, with dad in a markedly better mood.

me with the Torino

Dad with his fabled radish crop

Tree-napping (odd childhood 1)

It’s strange that things you take for normal when your a little kid don’t seem that normal when you get older and compare your experiences with others, a good example of this is “tree-napping”.  Tree-napping was a euphemism my mom used for digging up trees along the side of the road and replanting them in our yard. It happened a few times, there would be a need for some sort of shrub or tree in the yard and instead of going to the local shrubberers we would pack a few shovels and buckets into our ’74 green Ford Torino station wagon and head out. We would drive the quiet county roads of Monmouth County and when we’d see a likely candidate we’d pull over. Mom and dad, with military precision would dig up the shrub or small tree (making sure to leave a lot of roots intact) and put it in a bucket and we’d make our escape. According to my parents it was all above board, nobody owned those trees and nobody would miss those trees and besides we were going to give them a good home. I’m almost fifty now and I’ve never met anyone whose family did this.

Sunday Music, 4/17/11

John Barry-Like Waltz
The late John Barry did a lot of music before he concentrated on film scores. This is from The EMI Years, Vol.2: 1961. I think it’s  credited to the John Barry Seven. Space age hipster, surf music.

Notes From Das Boot 102

In 2001 we were on a pretty crummy tour with Buck Cherry and Professional Murder Music. We were playing tertiary markets, college towns where school had let out for the summer and a bunch of low level “radio station festivals”. These were kind of half assed, bare boned clusterfucks that local rock stations put on. The money was shit but bands were encouraged to play them because they might get more airplay from the station. One of the shittier ones was this thing called Pigstock in Clinton Iowa. It was a long day, nobody knew what was going on and everything kept getting pushed back.  It was also wretchedly humid and the smell was brutal, a combination of ass and mud. Towards the end of the day I was talking to the house sound guy, by this time the poor bastard was completely shot, having to oversee hours of shitty rock music and line checks. I asked him if it always smelled this bad and he said “Buddy, that’s Iowa.”

Basil Wolverton’s Booze Humor

Basil Wolverton, the master of the grotesque was an amazingly prolific artist. from the classic comic strips Powerhouse Pepper and Spacehawk through Mad Magazine and illustrating the Old Testament. This book is from his 1974 book Common Types of Barflyze.