trans am show

this is friggin hilarious. it's almost like he's making fun of his synth lines. They rip it up though!

tface vs. I-80

ok ... I know everybody has their desert island lists. I wanted to make a list of my essential top 20 (if I could only pick 20) for a drive across country specifically for albums that would keep my blood flowing from beginning to end. Theres plenty of stuff out there like thin lizzy, minor threat, metallica, june of 44, husker du. etc. that could easily slide into this list, but I wanted to exclusively have perfect albums (i.e. every song is totally amazing in my humble opinion). So here is my top 20 for makin' it coast to coast without the use of recreational substances other than crappy truckstop coffee.
p.s. Ideally you'd be driving like a '72 Gran Torino. (hey it's my friggin' fantasy right?) Feel free to study, lambaste, trash me if you want. Just don't mess with the material girl.

the list in no particular order:

ac/dc - '74 jailbreak
Aerosmith - toys in the attic
alice donut - mule
bad brains - bad brains
daft punk - discovery
Deep Purple - In Rock
Devo - Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!
gary numan - telekon
iron maiden - killers
madonna - madonna
misfits - earth a.d.
Shellac - 1000 hurts
slayer - reign in blood
sonic youth - daydream nation
the stooges - fun house
talking heads - fear of music
trackstar - communication breaks
trans am - surrender to the night
voivod - killing technology
zz top - Degüello

close seconds that should be on this list, but I just couldn't live without the 20 that were there.
minutemen - double nickles on the dime
priest - screaming for vengence
cromags - the age of quarrel
gang of four - entertainment
skynyrd - gimmi back my bullets
big black - atomizer
blonde redhead - fake can be just as good
black flag - nervous breakdown

uncomfortable

I made this a while ago and stumbled across it. Here is a list of foods and food items, from my childhood, which give me a feeling of uneasiness or unexplained discomfort, most likely from a triggered memory or past connection:

-dry granola bars
-alphabits cereal
-sixlets candy
-cheap microwavable borritos
-chicken croquettes
-funyuns chips
-milk w/ molasses
-brown bread (this is bread that actually came in a can)
-bugles
-capri sun (it was a drink that came in a box w/ straw)
-crazy bones (little bone candy that came in a coffin)
-shake-ups (icky sweet shakes that came in a carton)
-steak 'ems (thin slabs of frozen meats separated by a sheet of wax paper)
-little debbie star crunch cakes
-freedent gum
-fudgie the whale icecream (made by carvel?)
-Magic shell (for ice cream)
-orange crush
-homemade english muffin pizzas
-fruit punch (of any kind)
-sloppy joe's
-plastic cups that have what looks like wicker inside them.
-mugs that have gold around the rim
-hard cookware specially formulated for microwaves by litton
-hard plastic straws that are meant to be reusable
-clear plastic table cloths that go over a cloth tablecloth!
-placemats with early 19th century illustrations

thoughts?

In 5th grade I got in trouble for sticking an entire pack of "wackypacks" to various parts of the classroom. Truly the greatest thing since smash-up derby to a 5th grade boy.

the ocean wants me

Had a beautiful night on the coast with my brother Eric. Our intention was to record as much as possible in one night as we both know the reality of our geographical proximity (we never get to hang like bro's should be able to). It was perfect weather and while very much blissed out with our conditions for the evening, we couldn't get the digital recording set up to our liking. We did however photograph each other doing Karate in the sunset and play lush music into the night until the cold medicine kicked in. Silly codine.

new/old gems I am listening to include:
• Chavez - Gone Glimmering
(matt sweeneys early band that'll kick you in that ass 2x. This disk is so good and ahead of it's time)
• Dead Meadow - Shivering King And Others
(heavy early sabbath drudge blues sound. Not quite stoner rock, but it a good time.)
• • The Pretty Things - Parachute
(why i never got into this band I don't know. a stripped down badfinger meets early kinks)
Sleep - Holy Mountain
(old project of Matt Pike from High on Fire. It really doesn't get much heavier that this guy)
• Kimya Dawson - Remember That I Love You
(this woman will crack you up and make you cry. She writes beautiful quirky songs on her acoustic about stuff you might actually care about)
• Giant Skyflower Band - Blood Of The Sunworm
(Side project of Shayd and Glenn from Skygreen Leapords. Neo Psych from the weird part of your soul)
• Neil Young - Zuma
(doesn't matter how many times you've heard Cortez the Killer ... that guitar tone is the sweetest thing to the ears. Makes my heart slow down and my blood speed up.)
• Trans Am - Sex Change
(latest effort for the swell DC synthy cockrock trio. More electro fun than previous releases)



This Mummified Chupakabra is really freakin' me out. Thanks Derek.

Roger Corman = that special time of year

Saw this deliciously fantastic film I somehow missed over the years. I grew up watching creature double feature on saturday mornings as a kid. Afterwards they'd often have a good vincent price flick on like pit and the pendulum. I thought I had seen every Corman film in the book, until this weekend.
"The Terror" (1963) stars good ole' Jack Nicholson and Boris Karloff (toward the end of his life). This flic has every visual in the book of vintage goth flicks you can think of. Little graveyards with fog, a pointy castle secret passageways and crypts, decaying bodies, possession, ravens, and Karloff himself. The opening credits have this great hand-painted montage of a dungeon scene. Corman, Coppola, and Nicholson all take turns directing. Way up there on the Richter scale as far as halloween flicks go.

---

Lasts nights show with Patrick Hayden at Sam Bonds was rather cathartic. We played second and while it was a little tough getting the drums and amps to peacefully coexist with patty's acoustic, we played remarkably smooth. Drummer Rob had only a handful of pracs in before the gig and if you know Patrick's music, that can be awfully daunting with all the subtle hairpins in there. The record still needs a proper release. Parson Redheads rounded off the night.

girls rock yer boys ...

been a busy boy in music land lately.

Caught Pierced arrows at Wandering goat a few nights ago. This is essentially the new deadmoon. For an old couple in their late 50's early 60's ... they can dole out some lethal auditory punishment. They were so fun to watch and I can only hope i'm rocking half as hard as they do when i'm that old.


And the punk rawk don't stop. Caught the mighty The Underlings at sam bonds. Ed's band is in top notch form and I can't wait for their first album to hit the shores. They're having me do the art so I guess a band meeting is in order soon. My apologies for the noisy recording.




Last night one of my employers turned 60 a we surprised the hell out of him with a surprise party at skateworld. I pounded one of those twitchy rockstar drinks and skated with a 3-piece suit and my creepy bunnymask for a couple hours.

Then headed to Portland w/ p hayden and new local drum henchman Rob Smith for one of the most amazing scitzo shows I've ever whitnessed. Thurston Moore at the dougfir. Openers Scorces were comprised of Christina Carter (Charalambides) and scottish musician Heather Murray. It was quite the improv noise set and I had a stomach for about 25% of it. My official review ... "floating down the Ganges River while simultaniously getting papercuts and a BJ." It was nuts.
Then Thurston proceeded to make everyone see god. In support of his first full length in a decade trees outside the academy, I was giddy like a schoolgirl waiting to be hit with a wall of sound. The sonic lord was joined on stage by a slew of heavy hitters including SY drummer Steve Shelly, chris brokaw (come, codine), samara lubelski on violin, and Matt Heyner on bass. The first set was pretty much all the gems from the new album plays on acoustic guitars (although to call it an acoustic set would be quite the stretch). If you stuck coal up their asses, you'd get a handful of diamonds. They were so damn tight. Brokaw looked so relaxed up there pulling off magic dischordal licks fitting right in. Then they return for a whole second set of electric stuff from Psychic Hearts. I went into some kinda cerebral coma for "Queen Bee and Her Pals". It was just so damn good. I think I still feel a little flush. The drive home went by like a snap with all those hooks still in my head.

at the show I had a fantastic conversation about recording with a friend. He proceeded to dose me with some razorsharp honesty about the music I make in a way that really got me thinking about the nature of recording in general and why we do it. I wish I had more fucking time to woodshed and make art. Someday is coming. "someday is NOW" my mom says.

3 paintings by ...

dan krall

A Ass Pocket of Woopass

"I didn't mean to kill nobody! I just meant to shoot the sonofabitch in the head. Him dying was between him and the Lord."
-RL Burnside

Been seeing lots of little indie films pop up about the distinction between mississippi blues and rural northern hill country Mississippi blues. On of my hero's R.L. is a center piece. He was just so amazing to watch. The dude certainly had reason to sing the blues as his father, brother, and uncle were all murdered in chicago. One film floating around out there is "You See Me Laughin'".

I love the "weelllllll ... well well's" at the end of every song he plays. Thats his adopted son Kenny on guitar and his grandson Ced on drums.



my other new vice is a band called "BLACK MOTH SUPER RAINBOW"

Their last album dandilyon gum has all the tape-warbliness and vocoder action of a "boards of canada" album but the psych factor is through the roof. Driving party drums. vintage synth deliciousness. Totally harnessed nostalgia. They have songs like: Lollipopsichord; Neon Syrup For The Cemetery Sisters; Spinning Cotton Candy In A Shack Made Of Shingles; Lost, Picking Flowers In The Woods.
They play the wowhall on the 30th of Oct with Aesop Rawk.

nocturnal emmisions

• Usually when I tell people about a dream I had, it has something to do with bunnies, or weird monsters, or some kind of creepy weirdness. Most guys dream of sex and violence and mine are no exception, except that they're all colored a bit more lowbrow with a touch of psychedelia.
The other night however I had the most incredibly vivid dream that I though I'd write about. I was cleaning out an uncles house going through old stuff. The house was very 70's with yellow carpet and wood-paneling with a heaping portion of kitsch ... coo-coo clocks on the walls and lots of cute figurines everywhere. It smelled like cigarettes too. (mind you I have no uncle that fits this description. This is my mind in overdrive) So as I'm going through his stuff, I come across this amazing "photo". The image is of this old jazz singer from I'd guess the 20's. She's black and has on this long white lace dress. The thing about the photo is that it is this elaborate piece of origami that folds out like a flower and the folds resemble some kind of art deco structure. The outer edges are black and embossed. As I open and close the photo, I realize that it is also playing her music. It sounds like an old 45 with all the crackles.

I wake up really sad and wish I could keep the photo. Her music is still in my head.

LP battles : round 11

Afterburner!

vs.
Third Stage!

a very special cake-let

gawking and rawking

There is a special voyeuristic place in my heart that loves following trashy hollywood. No I don't need to know all the sorted details of who was seen on what beach with who and which desperate housewife has a grainy sex-tape, but damn if I don't chuckle when Dave Letterman makes Paris shed a few tears when she's on his show.
Anyway ... our once bubblegum friend Britney was the subject of over 50 pieces of art at some LA gallery over the weekend. There was a 6x10 ft. "Gum Blond XLVIII" by Jason Kronenwald, made of chewed bubble gum. I love that kinda stuff.

----------behold a subject change-----------

Saturday I played with the mighty Tractor Operator for his CD release in PDX. James on skins and me on Bari and Eric on slaying guitar. The Tonic Lounge is a good spot for that kinda mayhem. Before that Rob Jones and Mel had a fantastic party to celebrate their knot tie.

I'm excited to start more home recording with my new gear upgrade. Now I just need to figure out how to make my garage "man room" warmer in the winter. Tom would say it's "colder than a well diggers ass." I'd have to agree.

nar nar

Gibson called their reverse flying-V "a daring move". I call it a "nauseous hurt on my eyes" .... but the all time ugliest guitar in my opinion (excluding anything in the myriad of Steve Vai's collection) has got to be this Hallmark guitar. I mean please? does anyone own one of these? painful.

LP battles : round 10

STYX

vs.
Nazareth

I heart you 1970's

New kids programs don't hold a candle to this shit. Check the vintage synth's:

meth head - 1 .. band - 0

last nights show at luckeys was a rollercoaster of emotions. Night started off swellingly with Derek Trost filling in for jordan in Patrick's band ("doubles" is what he's currently calling it). The set was amazing. I'm really loving my new A/B box so I can play through my f-deluxe and my bass stack at the same time. Even at low to mid levels it sounds like a fucking Pontiac GTO with a 389 under the covers. We tried to get all the subtle shit from the recording to come across and push the anti when it needed it. The result was a really intense set and the peeps seemed to dig.
So then tractor operator gets up to play. All the gear is already there as we're sharing (sorry ... i play in both bands) and we are just about to hit it when someone asks if it might be our car that just got broken into in the back lot. Of course it is and all Brian Gardiner's shit got nabbed. (computer, check book, etc.) I see him like once a year because he's in a doctoral program in Indiana. He is beside himself and Eric and I do the set as a duo. How fucking lame that a meth head thief could prevent us from rocking our ass off. We already made the other bands wait long enough while we got our heads back on straight and taped up the window they smashed on Jen Choates car. So pissed off.

Thanks to everyone who showed.

buy anything day

This morning I set out on a task to buy something (anything) on eCrack with the idea that it would be something in a color I normally wouldn't buy and it had to be something I didn't need. So I scavenged randomly in things that had end times of 2 minutes. Low and behold, what pops up but this adorable pink er.. guitar. Well I definitely don't need any more guitars and I have no instruments that are pink. (hey get your mind outta the gutter). I stole that sucker for a whole $6 and change. I'm sure its a piece of shite, but damn if I'm not gonna have fun with it. There is a sad part to this story friends. Apparently (after I checked the bidding history) I won this guitar by outbidding some little girl. Her buying history had things like bracelet charms and Zac Effron paraphernalia. I immediately felt like an anonymous tattooed cyber-bully on the worldwide playground. Oh well. I've got a new friggin' pink guitar. Jealous much?

LP battles : round 9

scorpions

vs.
hotel alexis

LP battles : round 8

sacred reich

vs.
nazareth

the rawk

forgot to mention my anticipatitus for fridays rockfest.
Luckeys - fri sept 21
Tractor Operator and Patrick Hayden.

I'm playin in both bands. Brian Gardiner is out here from Indiana on drums for trac op.
Also, very excited to play out with Patty. He's calling it doubles. We'll be doing all the stuff we just laid down at Gung Ho studios. We're first and second which means no gettin off stage at 2am.
come check it out ...

eas cose wes cose

good lord.
Sorry for the laxness in posting. much travel abound. Had a fantastic time throwing a party for mc homemade in Brockton, MA. Thanks to the help of Kristin, he had no idea what hit him. walking into his house to a room full of mullets, ferrari sunglasses and denim. We played some great maiden and dokken covers in the basement. Jim Tyrell was still down there at 3:30 rocking to himself on the keys. Damn good thing we recovered the next day by lounging around the pool with a pitcher of tequila surprise.
Then spent some time up north with my aunt and family. She's still recovering from an illness and I tell you she's a damn ferocious scrabble player.
Played an acoustic testface show on Portsmouth Public Radio with Guy III and Greg Porter. Thanks so much for settin that up Guy.



No sooner was I back from oregon that i got back in the car and went to Orcas Island (up near canada) for George and taras wedding. George is 1/2 of sleepsound records, the entity responsible for the last testface recording.
Had a great time hangin at the B&B with Mood area 52. I'm so psyched that dan is frank blacks low-end on his up coming tour. Could pick a better bass player Franco!! Who else can make clam dip on the fly? Fantastic wedding, but i don't do so well in long car rides. My guts are still on the verge of technicolor yawn.

On heavy rotation right now ... beach house and Vic Chesnutt. The new vic has Godspeed you black emperor as his back-up band and the whole thing was recorded at that Hotel2Tango place up in canada. Tons of haunting room sounds and a whole lotta space make this record such a beautiful listen.
Beach house is a duo from Baltimore. Very slow and moody shit that swirls in the air like a cottoncandy tornado in front of a licorice sky. heavy organ, effected key boards, and nico-like vocals. Great hangover music.

in other news, i'm an uncle of sorts. Jay and Shannon had their kiddo finally. Welcome Eli. Its best to start rock school as soon as possible and teach him the difference between patti smith and patty smythe.

vintage: I heart America

monsterously wild propaganda poster from 1944 depicting motifs such as beauty pageants, Gangsta life, materialism, mongrelization, decadence, and bloody foot bombs. This bizarre image is bound to get a reaction out of just about anybody.

classic rock in new hampshire

LP battles : round 7

prince




vs.

prince

hair

Dear Dan the haircutter,

I just wanted to thank you for transforming my head into a vision of some deep layer of hell. My brother and I walked into your little backwoods roadside establishment with some fantasy that a mystic jovial barber with cleverly sharp banter, aged skilled hands, and all the warmth of a mountain holiday christmas special would be more than happy to put down his local newspaper and craft me a good old boy haircut. You my gruff bulldog friend were none of these. From the moment we walked in there with my long unkempt locks, you probably assumed my brother and I were ungodly homos from the big city, perhaps mocking you by daring to step foot in your "well respected" business. I did in fact notice your hand hewn GOD BLESS AMERICA sign swaying below your hours. Your first greeting was "well you gonna take your hat off?" You might remember my little brother making a circus of the ordeal by snapping away with his digital camera ... you getting more and more paranoid. As you wacked away at my long greasy locks, I realized that you were drifting away in your head to some distant hunting adventure, perhaps a 4-wheeling excursion to your favorite mud hole. And as that hair fell all around your ex-marine tattoos, I looked into the mirror and winced with horror at my decision to do this. You became visibly angry when I suggested you take it down a little bit more. It was all clear now. You assumed I was from California and decided that I must be looking for a skater haircut circa 1986. Mostly I regret the dollar tip I gave you. Consider that a generous gift sir.
It didn't help that as we got back in the car my brothers laughter steamrolled from a chuckle to a gurgling guffaw by the time the car door shut. "What the fuck?" I said. "What the fuck" he agreed. What merciful master craftsperson will fix my nickelodeon head?

My dear sir ... I must recommend you look into a career change at the soonest possible moment. Perhaps taxidermy, or maybe one of those militant rebound schools for wayward kids like me. Hell .. go bonsai enthusiast for all I care.

Please just stop with the cutting of the hair thing.

Cordially,
Scalped in Oregon

honk if you know what these are

high water marks

tues aug 7 - 8:38 EST
I've been vertical since 4am pacific time. Already bent by my mom's chronic lateness, I find myself spinning the tires of her ford focus (not going for cool points here) on the way to the airport.

Now I'm sitting on a humid couch in a humid New Hampshire. The crickets feel like nitrous. I'm still trying to see straight after I've left the diner as my thoughts are clouded by copious amounts of grease and sugar. Fried Clams with the gritty bellies intact only to be polished off with a solid root-beer float. I think that spending time with my blood is like an unwritten excuse to practice what it means to be unhealthy at the core. My mom is being her usually witty self on the plane and I'm already working my mood into something that resembles dread and homecoming all in one. My mom quit smoking in january yet here I am being scolded to shut my mouth and just go buy a pack of merit 100's for her at the Texaco station. We are here visiting my aunt who just got out of a rehab center for a combination stroke and kidney failure. I find myself paying attention to every feature in her face. The war. The high water marks. She tells her grandson the best thing that happened to her today was sitting in a chair. My little nephew trying to remember what my uncle was like when he was alive. Me wondering if i'll have time on this trip to visit my dads grave site. Me wondering when i'll grab my cousin and hit the nearest bar. Literally as I write this my cousins cat is dragging its asshole across the mustard linoleum tile. The revulsion will not be televised. Maybe it's as uncomfortable as me. I take another half assed pull from a tepid ale.

On a feathery note, the silver lining here is a new mini-golf mega-mountain that just opened up down the road. You bet your sweet ass I'm there.

LP battles : round 6

Man o war


vs.

saxon


vs.

Rick MF James

LP battles : round 5

deep purple


vs.

Trans am

Get Confident, Stupid!

sorry, but I'm really into lists lately. so ... heres a list of my favorite Troy Mclure films and self help videos:



The Wackiest Covered Wagon in the West
Here comes The Coast Guard
Gladys The Groovy Mule
Today We Kill, Tomorrow We Die
Dial M For Murderousness
The Erotic Adventures Of Hercules
'P' Is For Psycho
The Boatjacking of Supership 79
Coffee, Tea, or Fiddle Dee Dee
Eenie Meeni Miney, Die
Troy and Company's Summertime Smile Factory
The World Without Zinc
Fuzzy Bunny's Guide To You-Know-What
Here Comes The Metric System
Lead Paint: Delicious But Deadly
Alice's Adventures through the Windshield Glass
The Half-Assed Guide to Foundation Repair
We're Sending our Love Down the Well
Get Confident, Stupid!
Smoke Yourself Thin

Meow

This Cat knows when you die.

LP Battles : round 4

Yes


vs.

Air Supply

LP Battles : round 3

Rainbow


vs.

Starcastle

LP Battles : round 2

david crosby


vs.

flying canyon

LP Battles : round 1

vs.

Concept Album

Fantasy Concept Album # 387

----------------------
Psychedelic Idiom Odyssey (in quad sound)

side 1:
A Bird In a Dozen Buckets is worth a Piece Of Cake
A Fool And His Money Make The Heart Grow Fonder
A Slap On The Wrist Speaks Louder Than Words
All That Glitters Is Not a Dead Horse

side 2:
All Bark And No Bush
Don't count your Sleeping Dogs until they're in the Frying Pan
Blood Is Thicker Than Wolves
Burning The Tongue At Both Ends

side 3:
Spilt Milk In Sheep's Clothing Has A Silver Lining
Bygones Make Waste
You Can't Judge A Pig by its Salty Old Wound
When It Rains, It tastes like medicine

side 4:
Over My Dead Foot in my Mouth
Great Minds Who Live In Glass Houses Should Raise Cain
Idle Hands Are The Devil's Heels

When I grow up, I'm going to Bovine University!

and in honor of all the hype, I present thee my favorite clip:

fisted again

The lovely folks over at Diamond Parking have bent me over again, sans Vaseline. OK .. "at" may be a misleading term, as they are more of a permeating virus than a location. I went to have tasty bevy with patty jo the other night at the Bier Sty on 11th. There is a massive friendly empty lot next to the place. After a quick glass of vino, i notice a love note on my windshield. Closer inspection reveals a 30 dollar violation. I look around and sure enough there's a miniscule sign dangling on a pole at the far entrance. This is not the first time they have screwed me. For a privately owned business that exclaims "we care", that family must be wiping their chocolate starfishes with hundred dollar bills.

current mood: "Hey diamond, go eat a shit sandwich."

--------

Last night I really wanted to see Jordans project at sam bonds and had every intention of going. I stopped at Max's and ended up kicking asses on the pooltable until i couldn't do it anymore. Sometimes its easier to have a night talking to people you don't know or want to get to know and just leave it at that. Went home and put a further dent on Murakami's Kafka on the Shore. Stellar read. Sorry Jordy ... i'll catch you next time.

Today I am trying to bust ass on work so I don't go into freakout mode this week. It's muggy and I have PMS. my skin is sweating coffee.

THE PACKAGE

MC Homemade and I have beed sending a BOX back and forth to each other for i'd say at least 10 years. The original box was turned into a shirt (yes a shirt), but I believe the 4th installment is what is being mailed back and forth to brockton from eugene. Now everytime a mailing occurs it will be documented here.
Have a look.

mike ... will you please photograph the shirt for us. The masses demand to see this.

I'm blushing

Shock has gripped the world and Mary-Kay stocks have plummeted as their spokesperson has passed on. News at 11.

Berman

I keep running into this piece which I absolutely adore. Berman, of Silver Jews stature, has a keen way of telling you things you already know in ways that make your cockles shine and your teeth grin. For those of you who haven't checked out his first (only?) epic book of poemtry, ACTUAL AIR ... please stop what you're doing and buy it. He will narate the shit out of the life you wish you had to the point of you squirming in your chair.

But anyway ... heres what I wanted to share:

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Summer Before The Night Ecstasy Became Illegal In The State Of Texas

by David Berman, taken from a feature in Feed Mag.

MY FRIEND KYLE always had a lot of money and could get me into the expensive kind of trouble without the trouble sticking. He didn't mind paying for me if it meant raising hell with loyal company. We were seventeen. You only needed one reason to be friends at that age. I figured we had at least three. So we broke the law every day in every way and laughed our asses off at the fucking stupid world.

In late April we began to hear rumors about a new drug in the Metroplex. It was in the gay bars. Kids at the Arts Magnet were getting it. Certain people at certain parties had it and it was magical.

They called it X. It was supposed to make you unaccountably happy and tolerant of everyone from headbangers to rich fucks. Even "douchebags."

Psychiatrists had been using it in therapy for years, we were told. It was legal and local product (it was still special to Texas at that time). It would make you love and accept anyone. Even yourself.

This was a complicated promise for the teenager roiling with hate and confusion. I hardly believed it. But one night Kyle pulled out some foil holding four tablets, we each swallowed two, and went to a party where a lot of people were going to be doing it.

Coming around the corner of that house, I'll never forget the scene. Every high-school rule was being broken before me. The lions were chatting up the lambs. I saw sworn enemies talking like longtime companions; a prickly society bitch on her knees sifting white garden pebbles through her hands with happy eyes; a brutal wrestler from my school with his arms wrapped around the trunk of a pecan tree, saying his first words to me ever, "Hi David," sweetly, as I walked by.

I rolled my jeans up to my knees and sat at the edge of the pool. Maybe for the first time I felt like no one was going to try to push me in. The stereo was playing "Blues for Allah" instead of the customary "Eliminator." Nearby, two linebackers were confessing how much they depended on each other "on and off the field." I felt myself giving in to all the kindness, not caring if it was a lie or not. By the time a hot Fort Worth Jewess sprang into in my lap and began running her fingers through my hair, I was sold.

At sunrise, I came in through the sliding glass. I woke my father and his new bride, apologized for staying out all night, and pulled a chair up beside the bed. I continued to sit there and smile down on them. I said, "I just want you to know how much I love you, Dad." Incredibly, he did not kick my ass. That morning was never mentioned again.

AS I SAID BEFORE, ecstasy was still legal and as such carried virtually no stigma. Kyle's uncle kept a jar of tablets on his desk at his car dealership. Law-abiding adults were taking them at North Dallas cocktail parties. They were even sold behind the bars like cigarettes and openly hawked on street corners downtown.

That summer, I crushed two sports cars with my homely Buick, received six speeding tickets (three in one day), two tickets for public urination, impregnated a Collin County judge's daughter, and had a bottle of MD 20/20 broken over my head. Approximately none of it registered with me. A very real fault of the drug.

I'm going to skip the scenes of me chasing daisies and singing to stray dogs from still bulldozer cabs. I was exercising horses that summer for cash, and X hangovers were A-OK for barreling over the dull scrubland.

Sometime in August, the lawmakers in Austin finally got around to outlawing ecstasy. What a gift for the dealers! The price of ecstasy immediately quadrupled and the production costs plummeted as the manufacturers began cutting the pills with all manner of horrible stuff.

The night the law went through, I went to a concert at the Bronco Bowl and snagged two of the newly illegal pills for a dear price. I had never seen them in capsules and had no idea it was a sign they were crushing the old "legal" pills and mixing them with laxative, mannitol, low-grade speed, whatever.

Once inside, I spent a half hour wiggling my way to the front of the floor. Unfortunately, when I got there I had a big problem. Not only were the drugs not kicking in, they were causing me to have to shit real bad. Michael Stipe was singing "Moon River" (hey!) a cappella and I knew I was going to blow if I didn't part this shoulder-to-shoulder crowd and make it to the restroom. The audience was frozen in place and dead silent as I plowed through, "Excuse me, excuse me, emergency here, please, please" ( I think I even yelled "gangway," such was my ambition to get through), completely stepping on the vocalist's Ethel Merman star turn and nearly getting shhhhhed to death.

I passed the rest of the concert in a nasty stall gritting my teeth, sweating and coming to terms with what was clearly the symbolic end of a spaced-out summer.

Fifteen years on, I can honestly say I'm glad it was outlawed. After three months of its use I had lost all discretion and was prepared to trust just about anyone. Worse yet, it was turning me into a joiner. That's not who I am. Anyway, ecstasy was not to find its true customer base until years later, when the strangely passive kids who grew up in the child protectorate of the U.S. eighties and nineties came of age, craving depersonalization. Apparently it helps them dance. They're a very attractive lot. Have you seen them dance?

The Workin' Man's Diner

OK .. so MC Homemade and I have been working over the years on an oral version of our restaurant idea. Here are the results of said conversations. Warning ... you will either love or hate this. There's no middle ground, unless you just don't get it. In that case .. we still appologize.
with that ... here goes:

Working Man's Diner

---menu---

Closer to alacarte:
Permanent Huevos Rancharos
fries by night
Farewell to Rings
Red Bruschetta
rivendill pickle
Foot long Sub-divisions
YYZ-BLT
overture on rye

Entrée nous:
working man-a-cotti
Passage to Bangers and Mash
Lentils of Syrinx
The Trees (broccoli)
Free Will (make your own pizza)
New World Spam
Dumplings for Nothing
Beneath Between Behind Beefstew

From the Madrigrill:
Sea Bass-tille Day
tom soyburger

Desert:
key LIMELIGHT pie
Finding My Curds and Whey
Cinderella Flan
Chocolate Xana-fon-du
The Necco-mancer
Twilight Cone
Vanilla strangiato

The Analog Kids Menu:
Lakeside Spark-ling lemonade
Bytor and the Snow-cone

Spirits on the patio:
Jacob's Bladder (some crazy ass drink)
Jose Cuervo 2112
Hemis-beers

burn out

Oft the question is proposed to me weather or not I "like" the town I live in. Depending on the askee, the questions is usually either A) an honest question or B) loaded, because they know that eugene gets a rap for being silly ole' hippytown and "wouldn't I rather be living in Portland".
And so I go back and forth on it all the time. I have a great house in a nice hood and for the most part I like my work. And so goes the enigma, can I be happy living amongst the numb, eternal buzz, cars held together with whiny bumper stickers, Herb-ivores endlessly exclaiming that it is in fact "all good". Most of the time my answer is yes, because my micro-cosmos can involve whatever I want it to involve. I don't have to read the Eugene WEAKly if I don't want to and I'm pretty tight with my friend base. This morning that yes answer turned into a "I have no idea". I think a part of me snapped when I went to my PO box to get my weekly ration of amazing credit card offers. This guy is standing in front of the post office like I always see him once a week or so ... singing off off key versions of uncle johns band and tangled up in blue. I'm sorry but FUCKING COME ON MAN!!!!

spoiler: agro venting to follow.

Play something original for almighty christ sake. Are you working toward some BIGGER gig down the road??? This is not the honey serenade I need in the morning. How much of that tip hat is filled with harmful threats written on scraps of junk mail as people leave the building. Please people, don't get me wrong. I don't hate the dead or Bobby. Its just that the little light inside me gets snuffed out like a wet fart when this is the only thing I see permeating the town. maybe I don't get out enough. Maybe instead of tipping him I should wince at him in the costume of a smile and toss a minutemen cassette in his hat. Maybe I should just torn around and make myself a nice stein of camomile. Like I said something in me snapped and in that purple haze I asked myself a million questions including "How can I be a part changing the flair of hippytown" and "Do I even want to".

OK i'm better now.