The Big Green House

Wednesday, December 31, 2003

 

Boy in the ‘hood

OK, so where did we leave off? Oh yeah, the new neighborhood. Well, just so you don’t think I absolutely hate it there, I should tell you that it does have a few redeeming aspects to it. For example, not all of the older houses have been demolished to feed the ego of some demented rich dimwit with all their taste in their mouth. There are still quite a few beautiful homes left standing. Several would certainly qualify as “mansions”, to be sure, but they’re not nearly as pretentious as the ostentatious dreck that gets put up these days.

Also, there are a lot of very old trees throughout the area. The neighborhood itself is chock full of old maples and firs, and the Arboretum is just a few blocks away from Science Manor. For those of you not in the Seattle area, the Arboretum is 200+ acre park full of trees and shrubs from around the world. It’s very easy to forget that you’re less than ten minutes from downtown. Lucy is in doggy heaven, living so near to it. And I’ll tell ya what, driving through it in the snow* last night on my way home was enough to set me grinning like an idiot.

With all the trees nearby, we get a lot of birds visiting the feeders Science Girl has put up on the back porch. She enjoys watching them from the kitchen.** I’ve never really been one for bird-watching, myself, but I have to admit that we get some interesting little freeloaders out there. If I had to choose, I think the flickers and the juncos are probably my faves.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

OK, I realize that this is not the most scintillating post I’ve ever thrown together. Part of that is due to my feeling Not Quite Right. Not sure what the problem is, but I’m definitely not at the top of my game. Hopefully it’s just a shortage of sparkling wine; I should be able to rectify that tonight after work.

Also, I’ve noticed that a lot of my recent posts have been on the negative side. Mind you, I’ve got nothing against a good rant; it’s what Al Gore invented the internet for, you know. I just don’t want to slide into unrelieved snarkiness all the time. I had an acting teacher who one day told the class, “Anger is the ketchup of emotions”. I’m not entirely sure what he was getting at, but I’ve always interpreted it as meaning that it’s very easy to give in to the Dark Side – entirely too easy, sometimes. When I’m stuck for a writing topic, I know I can usually whip up some sort of rant with minimal effort. While that can be cathartic, it can also be a trap. I want to push myself away from the easy option, from time to time.

Does this mean that reading The Big Green House will now make you want to rinse the sweetness and light off your brain afterward? Will it be unsafe for diabetics? Well, I hope not. I don’t think there’s too much to worry about on that count, since I’m constitutionally unable to maintain a positive outlook for more than fifteen to twenty minutes at a time. My inner cynic has my inner child tied up and locked in the closet a lot of the time.

Anyway, here’s to a better year for everybody except that asshole in the White House.

Oops.

*We got about three inches, citywide. It’s all gone now, but we’re supposed to be getting more through the weekend. Life is good.

**As does Martin the cat. He makes the “kill the bird” noise, but that’s about as far as he goes in his aggression toward them. During the summer, he actually sleeps under one of the feeders, ignoring the birds as they ignore him. Every now and then he’ll look up at them, give them the kitty equivalent of “Eh, too much work”, and go back to sleep.

bmarkey 12/31/2003 09:06:00 PM

Tuesday, December 30, 2003

 
Hey, kids! The IT guys at work have got the computers there all disassembled & stuff. Since time at home is much better spent with Science Girl than in front of the computer, you probably won't be seeing anything new here until the first of the year. Happy New Year.

See ya next year! (tee hee)
bmarkey 12/30/2003 10:22:00 AM

Friday, December 26, 2003

 

Come and listen to a story ‘bout a man named b

Science Manor was built around 1936. Four years later, the last trolley line in Seattle, which ran up a nearby street, was discontinued – crushed under the wheels of the US automobile industry, just like all the other inter-urban railways of the time.

When Mere et Pere Science bought the place in the mid-Sixties, the neighborhood was still mostly working-class. Since then it has been swallowed, more or less, by an unspeakably affluent area. When I tell people the actual name of our neighborhood, I’m met with the blankest of stares from all but the oldest Seattle natives. I have to use the name of the chi-chi place to get any kind of recognition at all, and then it’s usually of the awe-struck “ooooh” sort, mocking or otherwise.

Now, on our block the neighbors are still regular people – a couple of teachers, an architect. Further up the hill, however, there is a relatively well-known actor, the CEO of a very famous internationally-despised coffee chain, several former state governors, etc. Rich folks buy the charming older houses, tear them down, and replace them with the most hideous McMansions outside of Hell or Southern California. (Not that there’s much difference between the two.) There are some seriously ugly shitheaps that cost more than the gross national product of some of the smaller third-world countries, just a block or two away.

And I would be remiss if I failed to point out that we are within walking distance of Kurt Cobain’s last earthly abode. It’s kind of a long walk, but hey, we can probably both use the exercise, right?

We’ll have to watch out for the traffic, though. Given the huge number of Range Rovers zooming around the place, you’d think we were on the edge of the fucking Serengeti. Such is not the case. However, I tell you that these vehicles are absolute necessities. How else is one to cut through the herds of lesser beings in their Volvos, Mercedeses, and Lexuseseseseses Lexi Audis on one’s way to dinner at Rover’s? I feel like Jethro Bodine driving around in our little Subaru, but in a good kind of way.

Come to think of it, this spring I’m gonna buy some goats so I can herd them down the street, knocking on doors & asking if we can graze on the south 40. I just can’t imagine a better way to meet the neighbors.

bmarkey 12/26/2003 09:10:00 PM

Thursday, December 25, 2003

 

We are Santa’s elves

Feliz navidad, y’all. Lucy and I are here at work, while Science Girl prepares Xmas dinner for Science Mom & her husband. I’m hoping they’ll save me some leftovers. It’s not that I haven’t eaten; my employers provided a nice dinner for all of us working tonight. SG is trying out a new chicken recipe tonight, and I’m curious as to how it will turn out.

Chicken. Very definitely not beef.

Santa was very good to all and sundry living at Science Manor this year. We all got some pretty groovy toys. We hope the same was true at your house.

Since all the higher-ups are gone today, I was able to bring in some decent Xmas music for a change. Right now I’m listening to Ella melting all over “The Christmas Song”. A very welcome respite from the crap we’ve been stuck with, I can tell you. Oh, wait, the disc just changed - now it’s Vince Guaraldi. Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard any of his work outside the Peanuts realm. Anybody out there know anything about his other stuff?

To be honest, I’d rather be sitting in my favorite chair by the Xmas tree, sipping some port and scratching the dog on the head. As it is, I’m sitting in a chair, by a tree, scratching the dog on the head. No sign of any port. Can’t have everything, I suppose.

bmarkey 12/25/2003 05:51:00 PM

Wednesday, December 24, 2003

 

Santa Claus is back in town

If I were a believer in omens, I’d be pretty pleased with the way things are turning out these days. When the mail came on Monday (the birthday), my new copy of The Big Takeover was there. I’ve subscribed to a lot of magazines over the years, but never before have I gotten a handwritten note from the editor/publisher thanking me for renewing my subscription. Jack Rabid is a nice guy who puts out a hell of a magazine.

Anyway – omens. So that happened just in time for my birthday. In today’s mail were the Xmas CDs I’d ordered back at the beginning of the month plus some money The Gov’t owed me, just in time for Xmas Eve. Granted, I would have preferred to have recieved both items earlier, but having them show up when they did was pretty cool.

So, if I can pass on some of whatever holiday mojo is working for me to you all, I do so here. You must promise to use this power for good, never for evil.

Seasoned greetings to one and all, whichever holiday you might be celebrating. Or, if you’re just digging the time off, enjoy that, too.

bmarkey 12/24/2003 08:21:00 PM

Tuesday, December 23, 2003

 

Something else Gene Rayburn and I have in common

So the birthday came and went in a peaceful manner. Science Girl and I had a nice Greek lunch (as much as I dislike cooked spinach, I loves me some spanakopita – go figure), then we went to see The Return of the King - all three-plus hours of it. Thumbs up from both of us, although my inner nerd is still grumbling about all the changes to the story line. Of course, without the changes you’d have a nine hour movie. What can ya do?

Afterward, we drove around for a bit and checked out Xmas lights. There’s a guy who lives just up the street from where SG lived during her high school years, who puts up an amazing display every year. I think it was the biggest yet this year. It’s fairly awe-inspiring, if perhaps something of a bummer for the neighbors, what with the traffic and the brightness and the being visible from space. I’d imagine they’re used to it by now, though.

When we got home, we had a very relaxed hors d’oeuvre dinner and some wine, snacking and drinking and talking into the night. If the rest of year forty-three goes as well, I’ll be a very fortunate man indeed.

bmarkey 12/23/2003 09:23:00 PM

Friday, December 19, 2003

 

Homeward bound

The movers came this morning and picked up all the furniture and the really heavy boxes from The Big Green House and took them over to Science Manor. There are maybe six or seven carloads of odds & ends left to pick up at TBGH - it’s a small car - and then we’ll be all moved out.

I’ve been looking forward to this for oh so long. At the same time, there is that little twinge of nostalgia-lite that I tend to get when I move from one place to another. It’s a little stronger this time out, since TBGH was the first place Science Girl and I had together. It will pass, though, since Science Manor is a pretty cool place, and much, much bigger.

We’ll see how Lucy gets on with Martin, the resident cat there. Lucy is very interested in cats. Sadly, her displays of interest tend to be a little intense, a little on the loud side, and thus somewhat threatening to most cats. Wish us luck.

I’m gonna be taking a long weekend, since Monday is my birthday. Barring any ideas/links that simply must be posted between now and then, I’ll see y’all Tuesday. (Metaphorically speaking, that is – I can’t actually see any of you through your monitor. Given what some folks do in front of their computers, perhaps that’s not so bad.)

bmarkey 12/19/2003 07:19:00 PM

Thursday, December 18, 2003

 

It’s the most wonderful time of the year

This busy holiday season, don’t forget what it’s really all about: flipping shit at underpaid service workers who are just trying to do their jobs. They are there not only to provide service, but to act as receptacles for your anger and frustration regarding your tiny genitals. Or, y’know, whatever’s pissing you off at the moment. You are the center of the universe, after all, so it’s only right that you vent your spleen all over some peon that happens to be in your line of fire. I mean, it’s not like they’re actually people.

bmarkey 12/18/2003 10:04:00 PM

Wednesday, December 17, 2003

 

Death of the cool

I am, for the most part, of the “live and let live” school of thought when it comes to musical preferences. I may not care much for the tunes that turn you on, but I will respect your right to listen to whatever it is that you like. ‘Twas not always so, but age and laziness have mellowed me a bit.

Except when it comes to “smooth jazz”. That shit has got to go. You know what I’m talking about – it’s that syrupy goo that oozes out of the speakers in bank lobbies and dentist’s offices across this once proud nation. Smooth jazz is a semantically null phrase. To my understanding, jazz is meant to push both artist and listener, not to provide innocuous background burble.

You want to know why the rest of the world hates us? It’s partly due to horrible foreign policy, of course, but I think the lion’s share of the blame goes to the fact that our record companies foist this crap on a jazz-hungry world. Americans invented jazz! How can we have let things slide so badly that this hideous treacle not only passes for the real thing, but it gets lapped up like the cream in a contented kitty’s bowl?

I’m no jazz expert, by any kind of measurement. My exposure has been fairly limited, but I know what I like & this ain’t it. There’s so many real jazz artists out there: Miles Davis, Dexter Gordon, John Coltrane, Wayne Shorter… just to name a few. Why settle for the likes of Dave Koz and Kenny G? Those two are to real jazz as “nachos Flanders’-style” is to authentic Mexican cuisine. Do not accept false goods, people.

Let me put it to you this way: back in the early 1990’s, for various reasons I won’t go into here, I went through a fairly long period without, ah, female companionship. (You can stop snickering now. Don’t try & tell me that you’ve never had a drought.) One of the women I worked with expressed a small amount of interest, so I cast aside my firm “no fishing off the company pier” policy and asked for her phone number.

When I called her a couple of days later, we had a nice little chat. Things were going relatively well, up to the point where I asked her what she’d been doing before I called.

“Oh, I was just listening to the radio.”

Really? What station?

“KKSF. It’s my favorite. Well, that and The Quiet Storm”

There was an embarrassed silence on my end of the line. It was as if she’d told me she’d been masturbating to a picture of Pat Sajak. She was a nice person and all, but she was listening to bland jazz and blander “R&B” - The Quiet Storm’s motto at the time was “Soft and Warm”. Just like a loaded diaper.

Needless to say, we never went out.

Yes, I gave up the possibility of companionship during an extended drought because of her lousy taste in music. That either makes me shallow or discerning. You be the judge.

bmarkey 12/17/2003 08:53:00 PM

Tuesday, December 16, 2003

 

Born, not asked

Yet another birthday swiftly approaches and here I stand, like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi.

Actually, it's not that bad this year. Last year at this time I was having a minor meltdown of sorts. This time around I physically feel older, no doubt due to moving boxes out of the basement of The Big Green House and upstairs into Science Manor. But the actual aging part, the addition of another year to the score (actually two score and three, but who's counting?) isn't bugging me so much. Which is fine, actually, since there's not much I can do about it. Y'know?

In case anyone's wondering, the day in question is next Monday. I'll be taking the day off, of course. I think Science Girl has plans for dinner & possibly The Return of the King, bless her heart. That sounds just about right.

If any of you think you might want to do something to celebrate my b-day, I'd be very pleased if you would do something in my name for the betterment of all humanity. For instance, you could bring me the head of Kenny G. Or, failing that, maybe you could just stick that soprano sax straight up his ass. It would certainly improve his playing, and you'd get that wonderful tingly feeling that comes from a good deed well done.

bmarkey 12/16/2003 07:56:00 PM

Monday, December 15, 2003

 

Under my wheels

We spent the weekend moving things from The Big Green House over to Science Manor. This entailed spending a lot of time in the car, driving from point A to point B and back. Far too much time, in fact. Oy.

As a public service, and to keep my spleen from climbing up my throat, reaching out the window and strangling the next pinhead who cuts me off in traffic, let me take this opportunity to pass on some driving tips to my fellow Seattle drivers:

1) That funny flipper-thing on the side of the steering column is actually called a "turn signal". It's used to alert other drivers when you are going to change lanes or make a turn. Hence the name. Please use it.
1a) The turn signal only works if you use it before making the turn. While I appreciate the thought, signaling as you're turning is pointless. Signaling after the turn is just insulting.
2) Let's review traffic lights for a moment. RED, of course, means "STOP". Most of you seem to have a handle on this one. YELLOW means "CAUTION, SLOW DOWN, THE LIGHT IS ABOUT TO CHANGE TO RED". Again, not much difficulty here. No, the problem light seems to be GREEN. GREEN means "GO". It does not mean "meditate on the beautiful scenery around you". It does not mean "inventory your glove box". And, for the love of all that is good and right and decent in this world, it very definitely does not mean "feel free to pick your nose". I just can't stress that last point enough.
3) Backing into oncoming traffic for three-quarters of a block on a very busy street? NOT A GOOD IDEA.
4) Oddly enough, stopping in the middle of an intersection to consult your map may cause aneurysms in drivers behind you. Much better to pull over to the side of the road, yes?
5) Driving a Suburban Death Vehicle does not make you immune to the laws of physics: two bodies (cars, in this case) cannot occupy the same space at the same time.
6) The speed limit on most streets in town is 25 mph; on arterials, it's usually 30-35. Most police officers will wink if you're within 5 mph of the limit. However, driving down any street at a steady 15 mph will surely reserve a very warm corner of Hell for you upon your death. Which, frankly, cannot come too soon.
6a) While we're on the subject of speed: freeway onramps are as long as they are so that you can get up to speed before you enter the flow of traffic. They are not actually surface streets. It's okay to go faster than 35. Really.
7) As much as it pains me to quote a bumper sticker, perhaps you would drive better with that cell phone up your ass.

Science Girl gets upset when I impugn the skills (or the lack thereof) of the average Seattle driver. She claims that the problem stems from too many vehicles on a street system that just wasn't designed for anything like the volume of traffic it now receives. While I certainly wouldn't dispute that as a factor in the overall shitty-ness of driving here, I think there's more to the picture. I don't know if it's poor Driver's Ed in the school system, or something in the water, or what. In all honesty, I have to say that the drivers here are the very worst I've ever encountered. They're just 100% oblivious to their surroundings. I'm no Speed Racer myself (nor his older brother Rex Racer, aka Racer X, for that matter), but driving here is pushing my blood pressure off the scale.

bmarkey 12/15/2003 07:30:00 PM

Wednesday, December 10, 2003

 

Here we come a-wassailing

When I was 19-20 years old, I decided to make an Xmas tradition of drinking peppermint schnapps. I'm not really sure what put that idea in my head. Possibly it was the schnapps talking. At any rate, I only followed through with that plan for a couple of years. I don't think I've had a drop of the stuff since maybe 1982 or so. Given the bang per buck/resemblance to mouthwash ratio, I think I made a wise choice.

It occurred to me today that I am without an official holiday beverage. Don't talk to me about eggnog; that liquid cheese is not refreshment, it's spoilage.

The winter warmer beers are nice, but I don't always want to drink something cold during the winter. Maybe that's just me. Port and sherry are pleasant during the colder months, although they can be a little cloying after awhile. There's always red wine, of course, but aside from during the depths of summer I tend to drink that year-round.

If any of you are thinking of repaying me for the countless hours of mirth, education and snappy wardrobe tips I've provided here over the last year and a half, you could do worse than to slip a bottle of cognac or Armagnac into my stocking this Xmas. Some Irish whiskey would not go amiss, either.

I promise to drink to your health until I pass out. Can't ask for much more than that, can you?

bmarkey 12/10/2003 10:37:00 PM

Tuesday, December 09, 2003

 

Today's text: Pluto's The Republic

What a great idea! Anything that helps kids read is a good idea in my book, and dogs make the perfect, non-judgmental audience. When everybody else in the entire world thinks you're contemptible, dogs will still lick your hand.

I wish Lucy was a suitable candidate for this program, but I don't think she's got the right temperament. She'd be too distracted by the possibility of play and/or snacks to sit passively while the kid reads to her. She's usually pretty good when I bring her to work, sitting quietly in my lap most of the night, but she gets pretty excited when somebody new comes to my desk. She likes people a little too much to pull off something like Reading With Rover.

bmarkey 12/09/2003 09:31:00 PM

Monday, December 08, 2003

 

No sleep 'til Hammersmith Ballard

I appear to have lost my ability to sleep past 6:30 AM. Regular readers* will recognize the horror inherent in that statement. For those of you just tuning in: I'm at work until 11:30 - 12:00 every night, and usually don't even get into bed until 1:30 or so.

Also lost is my capacity for civil conversation with anyone, including Science Girl. Fortunately for me, she is a patient soul. If she were Catholic, I'm sure she'd be up for beatification at the very least. Being canonized sounds too much like something that happens to stuntmen and circus performers for my taste. Please do not shoot my fiance from a gun. Thank you.

Why yes, I am a little punchy. How could you tell?

So, as I sit here, alternately giggling uncontrollably and jumping down the throats of those unfortunate enough to cross my path this evening, the endless loop of the same hideous "A Billion and One Strings"/Zamfir/ Kenny fuckin' G. Xmas music that crushed my will to live last year Morris dances all over what's left of my one good nerve and makes me want to impale myself on a candy cane.

O peppermint death, where is thy sting?

Then I remember that we've started moving things into Science Manor. I put down the sharpened holiday sweet and picture all of us living under the same roof again. Ahhh. Much better. I sleep so much more soundly when Science Girl is in the bed with me.

Ten minutes later and I'm going through the entire cycle again. That had better not be a false memory I'm having of beer in the fridge, or I will be crying myself to sleep tonight.

*Despite my full and rich fantasy life, I assure you that there are indeed at least two regular readers.

bmarkey 12/08/2003 10:57:00 PM

Friday, December 05, 2003

 

No one can save us but Kim the waitress

About six feet from my desk, there is an Xmas tree that's probably a good fifteen feet tall. It's very pretty, I guess, but it's a preternatural shade of green, due to the fire retardant it was dipped in/sprayed with. Everybody that walks past tells me how wonderful it smells. And it does smell nice, if you're just walking past. If you're sitting next to it the whole night, it smells like a refinery fire. I don't know that it caused my headache tonight, but I can tell you that I felt fine before I came to work.

Part of that fine-before-work feeling was due to hearing the new version of "Kim the Waitress" on the radio as I was driving over here. Apparently The Green Pajamas have a greatest hits album out, called Through Glass Colored Roses, and they decided to re-record the song for it. I prefer the version on Indian Winter, but that may or may not be out of print. (I get conflicting answers. I guess I should just attempt to order it & see what happens.)

If you�re unfamiliar with Green Pajamas (and let's face it - unless you live in Seattle, you probably are, since even if you do live here there's a real good chance you've never heard them), they're kinda poppy, kinda psychedelic. Right up my alley, most of the time. I keep hearing comparisons to Revolver era Beatles; it's been several thousand years since I've heard that album, but that doesn't sound inaccurate. I first heard of them through All Clues Lead to Megan's Bed, which got heavy airplay on KCMU* when it came out. It's a damn fine CD, and you should run out right now and buy yourself one.

Anyway. "Kim the Waitress". If you've ever developed a crush on someone in the food or beverage service industry, this song is for you. It encapsulates that feeling you get when you know that it's bad form to hit on your server but you almost can't help yourself. (By the way, it is very bad form indeed to hit on your server. They're being nice to you because A) it's their job and B) they want a nice tip. The only time it would be appropriate to approach a waitress/waiter, bartender, etc. in that way is if they have already made their intentions towards you very clear - giving you their phone number, say, or, I dunno, grabbing you someplace that's usually only touched by you or your doctor. But I digress.) It's a great tune, and, as I just discovered this evening, one covered by the always wonderful Material Issue.

And, just to show the circular nature of the universe: I ordered the Green PJ's Xmas album, The Caroler's Song, tonight.

'Cause, see, I started out talking about the stinky Xmas tree?

Oh, forget it.

*KCMU is what KEXP used to be before Paul Allen gave them a buttload of money.

bmarkey 12/05/2003 10:20:00 PM

Thursday, December 04, 2003

 

Bow wow wow yippee yo yippee yay

Today was all about dogs.

Of course, that's true most days. I am what is commonly known as a dog slut. Back when we first started going out & before Lucy came to live with me, I would occasionally drag Science Girl with me on a walk around Green Lake specifically so I could get my dog fix. Yes. I am that man walking down the street, petting every dog that looks friendly enough and making googly eyes at all the ones I can't actually pet.

Anyway. The wind woke me up around 8 this morning, so Lucy and I were out and about earlier than usual. That turned out to be a good thing, since we ran into a couple of dogs that had some how gotten loose (I assumed their gate blew open) & were wandering around, checking out the neighborhood. We took them home with us, over Lucy's vehement objections, and called their owner. He was very happy to come get his escapees, and thanked me repeatedly. I told him that it was no big deal. I did what any other dog owner would have done. It's like preventing someone's toddler from running out into the street; it's just what you do. I trust that someone would do the same if, gods forbid, Lucy should get out some day.

Needless to say, I had to spend the rest of the afternoon assuring Lucy that the other dogs would not be living with us, and that they had in fact gone back to their own home. It was a tough sell, but I believe I finally got through to her.

Which is good, because I had to leave for work a little early today. I had promised my friend that I would give her dogs a walk before work. Riley, the 25 lb. Westie, won't go out unless Quincy, the 5 lb. Silky*, goes, too. If you try to take Riley out alone, he'll go about 10 feet down the sidewalk and stop, alternately looking between you and the house as if to say, "Wait a minute - aren't we missing someone?" It's cute, if somewhat annoying. Walking both of them at the same time is a handful, since Quincy wants to get into everything and Riley will follow him wherever he goes.

While I was getting those two ready to go out, Lambchop, the teeny tiny little 3 lb. poodle who looks exactly like this (except for the red buttons - what's up with that?) was screaming like she was on fire, because there is no way in hell I'm gonna walk all three of them at once, and she knows it. When I brought Q & R back and got Lambie ready to go, they went into their "Help, help, I'm bein' repressed!" act. It's a shame we no longer have vaudeville, really. These three would be naturals.

So that's been my day so far. When I get home, Lucy will be ready for another walk. I really do love dogs, but there are times when I wonder who domesticated who.

*His owner claims he�s a Silky, anyway. He looks nothing like Lucy, or like any of the dogs on that Silky rescue page I linked to. I think my friend was sold an imposter.

bmarkey 12/04/2003 08:52:00 PM

Wednesday, December 03, 2003

 

bad sex, media lies, and videotape

Let's get this out of the way up front, OK? All you rubes looking for the Paris Hilton video need to wake the fuck up. There is nothing even remotely sexual about that woman, let alone sexy. You are being duped by the media into thinking that she's some kind of desirable fuckbunny when in fact she is, more than likely, just like your sister's Barbie doll under those designer schmatas - smooth, hard plastic.

I'm glad to see so very many of you stopping by and all, but I'd prefer to be getting the hits from something I wrote rather than some misguided attempt at scoring voyeur porn. You do not want to see this thing. Believe me. It will depress the hell out of you - because when you eventually find it, after spending however much money it's going for these days, you're going to realize that you've wasted a huge amount of time (and judging from my site meter, an awful lot of you are also wasting your employer's time) and effort trying to find a heavily drugged debutante going through the motions in a pathetic imitation of human sexual intercourse.

Again, I don't have the tape, I don't know where you can get it, and frankly I'm a bit creeped out that so many of you seem to want to find it.

Also, your favorite band sucks.

bmarkey 12/03/2003 08:09:00 PM

Tuesday, December 02, 2003

 

Sgt. Pepper's Tales of Topographic Oceans

I'm sure that this has been painfully obvious to everyone else who's ever been interested in rock & roll, but I swear on my copy of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway* that it never once occurred to me that prog rock evolved from psychedelia. Not until I read this month's issue of Mojo. How blind it that? Truly, I am as thick as a brick.

I mean, a simple glance at the career of, say, Pink Floyd, would have clued in even my ol' dear Granny, bless her heart, a woman for whom Lawrence Welk's salute to Gershwin was a little too far out. It's that unmistakable. The really odd thing is, I went through a prog phase in my late teens-early twenties (still like some of it, actually), and I've always enjoyed various aspects of American psych.** It's a very short hop sometimes between trippy and pompous, one that was eagerly made by countless bands in the post-Summer of Love murk. So how did I not see it?

My blindness in this respect stems, I think, from the fact that A) I tend to think of prog as being a mostly British phenomenon, and B) I don't generally think of the British as having had much in the way of psychedelic music. I know, I know, The Beatles, et al., blah blah blah. Please save your corrective emails and comments. You have to remember that I grew up in the Bay Area during the sixties, so Acid Rock, as I remember it being called at the time, is very much a San Francisco thing for me. The Beatles, in my little elementary school mind, were just a band I heard on my little transistor radio & saw occasionally on The Ed Sullivan Show. We didn't have any of their records in the house (shocking, innit?), so I never heard the more experimental bits until much later.

(Some of them I probably still haven�t heard. At the risk of incurring a heaping helping of scorn and derision, I've never been that much of a Beatles fan, beyond those AM radio hits of way back when. The Stones, The Who and The Kinks, yes yes and yes. The Beatles- eh. I don't hate them - aside from the vast majority of Paul's solo work, anyway. I've just never been that excited by them.)


*And yes, I'm pretty sure I still have my vinyl copy somewhere down in the basement. Wanna make something of it?

** A lot of what I've heard of British psych is just too damn twee for me.***

***Man, I'm all about pissing people off tonight.

bmarkey 12/02/2003 09:22:00 PM