FYI...
Nothing brings home one's loneliness like coming home, see all the cars parked for blocks and wondering Who's having the party? and finding out it's your neighbors.
It's not that I'd hang with their crowd - they're students - law students, I hear - but I mean I can hear the hubbub of the crowd in my kitchen, the talking, some laughing and some squeals [decidedly female]... And I'm in my kitchen - me and Evan Williams black on the rocks. Me and my computer. Me, my computer and my record collection... What would one play to drown out the party next door? So Lonely by the Police, Lonely Teardrops by Jackie Wilson, Alone Again [Naturally] by Gilbert O'Sullivan [?] ....
So I'm Watching VH1 Classic's The Vault....
... after the time change [anybody else know there was a video for Keith Richards' Make No Mistake from Talk Is Cheap? Why isn't Waddy Wachtel in it?] and the bourbon and waters, waiting for the sandman to club me over the head and they're playing god awful 80's hair/lipstick metal like Dangerhouse and E'Nuff Z'Nuff and it hits me about what killed hair metal: Guns N' fuckin' Roses.
When Appetite hit with its songs about dope and hookers and life on the streets, suddenly it wasn't cool to be singing about Nothin' But A Good Time anymore. Except for drummer Steven Addler, none of those guys had stiffed up hair and only Axl would think about spandex [though he did have some ass-less chaps that scared the fuck out of straight men, "What the hell's that shit?!?"]. Suddenly you had to have SUBSTANCE to your music again. You had to mean something again.
Of course that's been taken to the extreme, too. There's nothing wrong with something just out and out fun like I wanna rock and roll all nite / and party every day or We're not gonna take it in small doses. But you can't build an industry on it, which was what the 80's glam craze was.
I'll say it again about today's 'New Country:' right now it's not about the music, it's about how you look. And they're headed for the same fate as Danger Danger, Dangerous Toys, Winger and Band Tango; the cut out rack.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
A NIght Like This
It was a night like this, sometime around two years ago. The wind was blowing cold out of the north and the stars shined though on a jet black sky, even through the city lights. She called me up on a Monday night to meet her at a bar near the house she was staying. I know it was Monday night because we watched an improbable comeback on Monday Night Football. She'd gotten off early from her waitressing job and she owed me a couple drinks.
I was drinking vodka and tonics. She ate some cheese sticks and potato skins, I don't remember what she was drinking, but she would have about three too many before the night was over. She was hiding out from her latest relationship disaster, I'd heard the stories when she called a few weeks before out of the blue after not hearing from her for about three years. It seemed to be a pattern; she'd call me after her latest marriage/ long term relationship crashed and burned, we'd laugh and cry about it, we'd start moving towards each other, then she'd disappear after getting my heart and libido into a first gear and revving it up. She was so beautiful and I'd look into those wide blue eyes and see hope and sparkle and my brain would quit working.
We talked about it again that night, before the drinks really got going. She said to me "I feel so comfortable with you and I look at you and wonder if I keep missing out on true love" or something similar. And of course, she was/ is /did. I thought back to the last time we'd met in an apartment in southwest Arlington and I told her, despite my normal reservations about children when she had two then, that I was ready to give it serious go, that I would set aside my reservations for HER. Then she became unreachable and disappeared into the ether again. It's funny [sad, not ha ha] how one can dismiss those alarm bells and tornado sirens going off in your memory when you don't want to remember, when you want this time to be the time she says 'yes' and you go off into the twilight [or the dawn] together for better or worse, but you give it a real try, which you have never let yourself do before....
She didn't even leave with me that night. She had about a half a drink left and was talking to some people we'd been talking to and shooting pool with when I decided I needed to get out. I kissed her goodnight, not realizing that I was kissing her goodbye again. It was the next to the next to the last time I saw her. The next to last time, she called and asked for a favor, which I did against my better judgment, assured of payback within a few days. I got a message a couple days later advising me to stand by in case she needed a rescue which caused the captain to light the "Royal Dumbass" sign in my head and cut me deeper than I'd felt in a while. The last time I saw her was ten days later when I went way out of my way to find out what happened to my promised repayment and I got a headful of excuses and tales of woe and broken down vehicles which I knew were only half true because the damning evidence was in the living room that had been bare the week before.
Why does the memory play tricks and remind you of things like this when you're tired but wired from a couple extra hours working and a couple extra cups of coffee and hornier than a hound dog? Why her? Why not one of the other disasters of my love life? But I know why.... Because it was a night like this about two years ago.....
Do you believe in ghosts?
No?
How about memories?
- Me, 1997
It was a night like this, sometime around two years ago. The wind was blowing cold out of the north and the stars shined though on a jet black sky, even through the city lights. She called me up on a Monday night to meet her at a bar near the house she was staying. I know it was Monday night because we watched an improbable comeback on Monday Night Football. She'd gotten off early from her waitressing job and she owed me a couple drinks.
I was drinking vodka and tonics. She ate some cheese sticks and potato skins, I don't remember what she was drinking, but she would have about three too many before the night was over. She was hiding out from her latest relationship disaster, I'd heard the stories when she called a few weeks before out of the blue after not hearing from her for about three years. It seemed to be a pattern; she'd call me after her latest marriage/ long term relationship crashed and burned, we'd laugh and cry about it, we'd start moving towards each other, then she'd disappear after getting my heart and libido into a first gear and revving it up. She was so beautiful and I'd look into those wide blue eyes and see hope and sparkle and my brain would quit working.
We talked about it again that night, before the drinks really got going. She said to me "I feel so comfortable with you and I look at you and wonder if I keep missing out on true love" or something similar. And of course, she was/ is /did. I thought back to the last time we'd met in an apartment in southwest Arlington and I told her, despite my normal reservations about children when she had two then, that I was ready to give it serious go, that I would set aside my reservations for HER. Then she became unreachable and disappeared into the ether again. It's funny [sad, not ha ha] how one can dismiss those alarm bells and tornado sirens going off in your memory when you don't want to remember, when you want this time to be the time she says 'yes' and you go off into the twilight [or the dawn] together for better or worse, but you give it a real try, which you have never let yourself do before....
She didn't even leave with me that night. She had about a half a drink left and was talking to some people we'd been talking to and shooting pool with when I decided I needed to get out. I kissed her goodnight, not realizing that I was kissing her goodbye again. It was the next to the next to the last time I saw her. The next to last time, she called and asked for a favor, which I did against my better judgment, assured of payback within a few days. I got a message a couple days later advising me to stand by in case she needed a rescue which caused the captain to light the "Royal Dumbass" sign in my head and cut me deeper than I'd felt in a while. The last time I saw her was ten days later when I went way out of my way to find out what happened to my promised repayment and I got a headful of excuses and tales of woe and broken down vehicles which I knew were only half true because the damning evidence was in the living room that had been bare the week before.
Why does the memory play tricks and remind you of things like this when you're tired but wired from a couple extra hours working and a couple extra cups of coffee and hornier than a hound dog? Why her? Why not one of the other disasters of my love life? But I know why.... Because it was a night like this about two years ago.....
Do you believe in ghosts?
No?
How about memories?
- Me, 1997
Friday, October 13, 2006
Preparing Some Crow [On Tortillas with Eggs and Tabasco and Cheddar Cheese]
Okay, it's only THREE GAMES, but Eric Lindros seems to be fitting in and helping the Stars. He's injury prone and it's very very early... that doesn't mean I LIKE him, but begrudgingly accept his presence in the same state as me.
Carolina can't win, Nashville looks sluggish, Pittsburgh looks like world beaters... what the hell happened this off season?
Then you look at the Steelers... is there as Super Bowl hangover like a Stanley Cup hangover?
Chris Berman - What An Annoying Loud Mouth
Anybody out there remember how people hated How-ard Co-Sell because he was a know it all? Well, I hate watching ESPN Sportscenter [Sportcentre for any Canadians reading this] on the weekends because of the overpowering presence ESPN's resident shouter Chris Berman. Can someone please explain the appeal of this guy? He with his girlish "WHOOOOP" when someone makes a move in a football highlight? Or the grunt that sounds like he is trying to push a two pounder out in the can "HE [pause] COULD [pause] GO [pause once more for dramatic effect] ALL THE WAAAAY!"
From ESPN's homepage:
In October 1979 - one month after its inception - ESPN hired a little known 24-year-old sports anchor named Chris Berman. For the next quarter century and running, Berman has become one of America's most respected, popular, and in many ways, most beloved sportscasters of his era. With his trademark combination of genuine enthusiasm, knowledge and wit, he has come to embody ESPN in its dedication to entertaining and informing sports fans across the country. He is best known for his signature delivery of highlights of every sport, most notably on NFL Sundays. Six times the versatile Berman has been selected the National Sportscaster of the Year (1989, 1990, 1993, 1994, 1996 and 2001) by the members of the National Sportscasters and Sportswriters Association.
I don't know - maybe this guy had appeal, or maybe, like the early Billy Idol, Def Leppard and Thompson Twins videos on MTV - he was all we had back then. I guess maybe some people are used to him and maybe he knows his stuff, but the highlights segements that feature Berman will just drill my nerve and force me to seek information elsewhere. Like Fox.
Hidden Treasures?
Oh my gosh, I got boxes of records from Cory's Mom's cousin and the stuff I have found! Okay three or four copies of the first Village People record, six copies of one Leif Garrett record [and three of another, but most are in great shape... but piles of Johnny Cash, Barbara Striesand [I will put some on just to hear it. I've never heard much and I know she has style... but I probably won't KEEP it!], some early Van Cliburn, Chet Atkins, Glen Campbell, Don Williams [oh, what a vocal style he has!], Marty Robbins, oodles of 60s comedy [Bob Newhart and the Smothers Brothers]... I will not be keeping it all; aside from piles of duplicates and some not in such great shape, most I am not interested in. Jackie Gleason? But I may check some of it out just to hear it. It comes back to the argument: am I a MUSIC collector or a RECORD collector? I prefer to think I am a music aficionado [?]. I mean Glen Campbell's Galveston is a mediocre record beyond the title track... but a relic in great shape... what should I do?
Okay, it's only THREE GAMES, but Eric Lindros seems to be fitting in and helping the Stars. He's injury prone and it's very very early... that doesn't mean I LIKE him, but begrudgingly accept his presence in the same state as me.
Carolina can't win, Nashville looks sluggish, Pittsburgh looks like world beaters... what the hell happened this off season?
Then you look at the Steelers... is there as Super Bowl hangover like a Stanley Cup hangover?
Chris Berman - What An Annoying Loud Mouth
Anybody out there remember how people hated How-ard Co-Sell because he was a know it all? Well, I hate watching ESPN Sportscenter [Sportcentre for any Canadians reading this] on the weekends because of the overpowering presence ESPN's resident shouter Chris Berman. Can someone please explain the appeal of this guy? He with his girlish "WHOOOOP" when someone makes a move in a football highlight? Or the grunt that sounds like he is trying to push a two pounder out in the can "HE [pause] COULD [pause] GO [pause once more for dramatic effect] ALL THE WAAAAY!"
From ESPN's homepage:
In October 1979 - one month after its inception - ESPN hired a little known 24-year-old sports anchor named Chris Berman. For the next quarter century and running, Berman has become one of America's most respected, popular, and in many ways, most beloved sportscasters of his era. With his trademark combination of genuine enthusiasm, knowledge and wit, he has come to embody ESPN in its dedication to entertaining and informing sports fans across the country. He is best known for his signature delivery of highlights of every sport, most notably on NFL Sundays. Six times the versatile Berman has been selected the National Sportscaster of the Year (1989, 1990, 1993, 1994, 1996 and 2001) by the members of the National Sportscasters and Sportswriters Association.
I don't know - maybe this guy had appeal, or maybe, like the early Billy Idol, Def Leppard and Thompson Twins videos on MTV - he was all we had back then. I guess maybe some people are used to him and maybe he knows his stuff, but the highlights segements that feature Berman will just drill my nerve and force me to seek information elsewhere. Like Fox.
Hidden Treasures?
Oh my gosh, I got boxes of records from Cory's Mom's cousin and the stuff I have found! Okay three or four copies of the first Village People record, six copies of one Leif Garrett record [and three of another, but most are in great shape... but piles of Johnny Cash, Barbara Striesand [I will put some on just to hear it. I've never heard much and I know she has style... but I probably won't KEEP it!], some early Van Cliburn, Chet Atkins, Glen Campbell, Don Williams [oh, what a vocal style he has!], Marty Robbins, oodles of 60s comedy [Bob Newhart and the Smothers Brothers]... I will not be keeping it all; aside from piles of duplicates and some not in such great shape, most I am not interested in. Jackie Gleason? But I may check some of it out just to hear it. It comes back to the argument: am I a MUSIC collector or a RECORD collector? I prefer to think I am a music aficionado [?]. I mean Glen Campbell's Galveston is a mediocre record beyond the title track... but a relic in great shape... what should I do?