Archive for the ‘Thread Open; have at it.’ Category

This is the story of my time machine invention.
It’s not perfect, cuz I’m not that bright.
We walk our days with the best of intentions,
But when I screw things up, I wanna go back and make ‘em right.
Yeah, I’m a believer in mind over matter.
And I’ve made my mind up to travel in time.
Restart the days, and I’ll do it so much better.
I waste so much time a worryin’ I forgot to live my life.

I’m not going anywhere ‘til I’m back to where it was we were before.
I don’t need anything except always needing just a little more.
I run in circles so I can kick me in the pants.
There’s a reason God is doG backwards: we must chase the tail.

The truth is my invention refuses to go backwards.
A tiny glitch I’m sure to figure out.
But I can ride on the moment slowly time travelling forwards
So the next destination is always right now. (All aboard!)

I’ve finally solved the puzzle of my time machine invention.
You see, in the future, this present is the past, so
If you give this moment your fullest attention
We’ll just keep going forwards with no need for going back.

Warning, FWIW.  And like anyone would notice, as I often go away for a week or more. I am trying to do better.

But we are going away for a week or so, to another location.  San Antonio, if you must know. Home of the former Bloggerhood who ran Republic Of Dogs, and hosted an AG before he foisted her off on me, and we both ran away screaming….

Anyway, I reached out to him on FaceHell, but he is off the Hell for the duration of the election (must have a shitload of rightwing contacts) so I haven’t heard back.  Or maybe he was just so traumatized by the Zombie that he hates me now, whatever….

Anyways, anyone have any knowledge of San Antonio?  Good places/restaurants, entertaining or scary people, places to buy drugs?  Remembrances?  Places Ozzy Osbourne has peed?  Let me know.

So, we will be riding this Time Machine Invention just a little farther forward.  We will be back, I am pretty sure….

 

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Time to post my annual start-of-year punk rock video.  (note to pedants:  as a Mekons fan, I have a pretty loose definition of punk rock, so sit down)

 

Love that song.  Video’s kind of funny, too…

OK, I have made much sport over the fact that I don’t like Lucifer, the orange, leaky-ass dog and she don’t like me neither.   She likes to steal my seat on the couch..

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But here’s the thing; I like dogs, and cats, and most animals.  Like em better than most people, most times.  So even Snag’s Lucy was endearingly over-enthusiastic

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(admittedly, I only had to endure her work for short periods of time; on a daily basis, maybe not so much.  On the other stump, Paleo’s Jaxon is a fucking delight to share a back seat with, especially coming home drunk from First Avenue).

But, here’s what has changed:  Me.  Since the Event, I have been told in very direct terms by any number of Health professionals that I need to change my ways. Usually accompanied by some variation of “and you need to do this for the rest of your life” delivered in as dark a tone as they feel they can get away with in a health-care setting (which makes me kind of chuckle, as I am conversant with serious foreboding in stupid horror movies, until I remember they are are talking about ME).  And one of the things they impressed on me is the need for daily exercise.  “Unless you want to die” is the unsaid half of that dire warning.

So one of the things I did is bought an extensible leash (Lucifer likes to range) but she also like to work fast, so she maintains a decent pace.  And in the summer, I went on many walks with her; the extensible allowed her to go up ahead, and to linger over smells, but only to an extent, because we needed to MAINTAIN A PACE, you foul beast…

And so now, whenever I get up and even make a motion toward the shoes, she gets excited.  “Walks? Walks?  WALKS WALKIES WALKIES”  Sorry, you damn pathetic beast, I am going to work.  In the oncoming fall, I have gotten back to my taekwondo family (instructor is also a cardiac therapist at the hospital that takes the REAL hard cases) and I joined a gym near my office where I can do an hour or so of mild, middle-aged style cardio.  It’s gonna be winter…

But I have a partner, Wife Sublime.  And she has been working crazy to make things happen for a large globe spanning corporate megalith that has also footed my bill for the recent Event, so I am hardly one to bitch.  So today, I did laundry, i cooked, and went to the grocery, and I took Lucifer to the dog park.  Made dinner, simple as it was.

Which she needed. (Both of them).  But Lucifer needed some Dog Time. She gets restless.   She is, as best we can tell, pretty much a pure-bred hound dog called a black mouth cur and we figure that she was abandoned by a puppy mill because she had a few white stripes across her snout.  Yeah, we got her from a rescue situation, what did you expect?

She is now old enough that her snout is mostly white (as is my hair, let’s be plain) but she still needs much exercise and as a hound, she needs to sample the smells in the neighborhood.  She also needs to run, and the dog park gives her some room.  And many other friendly dogs (some overly friendly, we watched one mount another).  Good doggy fun no matter, and she poops more than I really wanted.

She now likes me more than I expected, and the way she looks up at me when we walk on leash is heart-melting.  It almost makes me forgive her for the way she yanks the shit out of my arm…

Dammit.  I never expected Lucy, the orange, leaky-ass dog to be my avenue to being more healthy, let alone to being more composed.  Dammit.  This is what happened with the last damn dog.

Shit.  I know how this ends.

I have an ongoing discussion with mikey about music economics, (NOT AN ARGUMENT DAMMIT!) mostly on FaceHell but that must wait, let it be, let it be

Also, there is much to be said and shouted about TurdWaffle and his misbegotten imaginary Presidential ambitions, not to mention the depredations he is inflicting upon Wisconsin, a once beautiful and progressive state.  I am thinking I may need to bring back more frequent blogging just to drain the pus he is creating within my psyche.  Expect some Fuck You Fridays, o my yes…

But all of that must be put aside Because there is MUSIC.

Many people came to Robyn Hitchcock during a brief mid-80s dalliance with MTV stardom; although he ultimately proved too weird, and the channel moved into hair metal and rap and then into reality television, so he was likely better off; who wants to see Robyn drinking the blood of Hall & Oates in an abandoned warehouse building?  I mean, besides me?

I digress.

I was introduced by a comp tape produced by an architectural student friend, Ken, who had a running competition with one of his friends who was a jock on a campus station out east.  This tape was stellar; it opening with “Pink Frost” by the Chills, then went into “Shadow Of A Doubt” by Sonic Youth.  anyway, it had three songs from the man One Particular Bastard calls Uncle Robyn:

It says something that unlike most songs, you don’t have to put the band name in the search to come up with a relevant link.  Also, I am currently all on the iTunes Radio algorithm, and it just served up a Mekons song (one that features Neko Case vox, no less!) between some Yo La Tengo.  O well played, Apple robots!

I mostly always prefer the Egyptians period of his work, but I have seen him play several times in both incarnations (he asked about the gas station visible across the street, saying he didn’t recall it from the first time he played Shank in 1991).  Saw him with the Egyptians at Summerfest once, natch…

But he is an endearingly weird and engaging performer in any format.  He is obsessed with sex, fish and death, although he also played a song more-or-less tailored for Wisconsin:

I almost passed on this show.  I am swamped with Klark Kent duties, robotics is eating my branes, and winter is consuming our souls.  But Wife Sublime questioned that decision, so I pulled the trigger and SO GLAD she made me change my mind.

He is touring with an Aussie named Emma, and although she is diminutive, she has amazing pipes and she joined him for several songs.  Their voices blended wonderfully; but the real payoff was when they brought out Yvonne, ostensibly their driver, for the final song.  Their encores were all covers, and while one might expect them to be the covers on his recent album (The Crystal Ship and The ghost In You, for the record) ONE WOULD BE WRONG.  One of them was Love Hurts, and actually my favorite cover of that is by Milwaukee expatriate Kevn Kinney (yes I spelled that right, dammit)….

…umm, where was I?  O yeah, the final song.  The three of them, Robyn, Emma and Yvonne did an AMAZING version of Brother Lou’s song “Pale Blue Eyes”, trading verses and join on the choruses and was it sweet?  You tell me, but if you don’t think so, we might as well fight right now.  As I told Wife Sublime, I could sit there drinking beer and listening to the three of them sing songs all damn night…

plus, I need to have my hairdresser work my melon into this hairstyle.  Dammit, my hair is almost PERFECT.  maybe a bit more wavy.  But we can make it happen:

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I have mentioned that I had been on the periphery of the Milwaukee music scene in the 80s and 90s.  The owner of Shank Hall is an acquaintance of mine from college days – I did load-ins and load-outs for the gigs he booked on campus, and once spent a drunken afternoon setting up his expansive entertainment system in his apartment (he is legendarily fumble-thumbs).  I knew the sound guy working tonight, and later this week we are seeing one of my favorite local artists, Scott Wooldridge at the same damn place we were tonight.

I have seen Scott and his bands since they moved up here from Indiana, and helped them finance both his solo album and the upcoming Wooldridge Brothers album…I have requested a long-dormant song (named after a street we lived on at the time) and Scott has said he will see if he can dredge up the chords.  But hell, since I am credited as a “Contributing Producer” on his album, maybe it will happen!

I have had a not-wonderful early 2015, but as anyone who reads this bloggo knows, nothing evens my keel like music, especially live music.  I have like 8 shows in the next 4 weeks, several with one of my best friends; one of them is Wussy in Chicago, for which both of us are so stoked that we are willing to STAY SOBER ENOUGH TO DRIVE HOME!

Wife Sublime and I are in love with live performances; she leans toward theater, and I lean toward music.  Both of us, however, are completely captivated by the efforts of artists on some kind of stage, blowing their best out at you; the electricity of performer connecting with an audience is one of the best things humans do.  It connects us; it grounds us.  It reminds us that we are social, it reminds us that we are all artists.  In certain cases, it inspires some of us to stand up, to pick up a guitar or a script or a paintbrush or a camera or….whatever.  It reminds us that humans, despite all evidence to the contrary, are still a Creative bunch.

OK, that creativity includes the Romantics.  Shit.

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Going off the Grid and Off the Rails for a bit.

 

Behave yourselves.  I will be keeping tabs….

 

Fuck Scott Walker.

Too much talk.  No write.  Post video. Von doesn’t care anymore anyway.

Neko with Friend of Zombie the Great Kelly Hogan:

 

Oh, yeah.  BTW and Such:

 

I’m so busy, even my dream-puppets are exhausted.  So a viddy is all you get.

Talk amongst yourselves.  Start a fight in the comments or something.