Last fall I played some bass for an episode of The Education of Max Bickford. It was a weird experience. The daughter on the show, Nell, has a band. The drummer and guitarist are real musicians, but the bass player is an actor. So he "played" on stage and I sat off camera and really played the bass. It was a lot of sitting around, but I made $900 in two days. That was good. So I invoiced them, sent a w-9 and so forth and got payed, with no taxes taken out. Easy money. A couple of months later they sent me a w-9, saying they still needed one. But I had gotten paid so I ignored it. I just received a third notice from them. So I called to clear it up. They called back and the nitwit on the phone basically said it was not possible I had been paid, pretty much saying I was lying, which why I would lie about this I have no idea. So I said I would send another w-9 and a copy of the pay stub. After I hung up I realized I was being stupid. I'll just send the w-9 on the off chance they are so stupid as to pay me again. That'd be great. $1800 for two days of work courtesy of a really terrible show. Thank you Richard Dryfuss.
Sunday we noticed a very unpleasant smell in the hallway of our apartment building. Shit basically. Weird smells are not totally uncommon, but this was pretty ripe. It seemed to be coming from the apartment accross the hall, which is occupied by an older drunk with three cats. But it wasn't the smell of cat shit. It was definitely of the human variety. This man is an odd bird to say the least. Several weeks ago he fell in the hallway and couldn't get up. I tried to help him, but was unable. He is fairly large man. So I called an ambulance and they came and the paramedic was pretty verbally abusive. It was really unpleasant to watch. Almost like a nightmarish version of a scene from Bringing Out the Dead.
The smell did not dissipate. Monday... Smell! Tuesday... Smell! Wednesday morning the smell has transmogrified into the unmistakable smell of death, not shit. Plus, the menu stuck in his door Monday is still hanging there undisturbed. We are worried. I will call the landlord from work, where I have his number. But it turns out I don't have it there, so I have to call when I get home. But when I arrive at home, someone else has already called. There are cops and detectives and animal control all over, plus the super, who told me the bad news, and neighbors hanging out in front of the building unmistakably voyeristic. The window and door to his apartment are wide open and there is some sort of disinfectant smell barely masking the smell of death. I am sad. The animal control guy is having trouble finding the cat. I tell him I think there are multiple cats. He seems surprised, but the apartment was wide open when he arrived, so he speculates that they maybe ran. Cops maintain a presence late into the night. At 2 AM when I finally fall asleep, anxious about giving notice at work, they are still in and out of the building. When we leave this morning, there is still the overpowering smell of death, plus a large padlocked deadbolt on his door, and a green seal stating something about DOA and "No Entry!" It all makes me sad, but also greatful to be leaving New York.
Top 10 Reasons I Love The Suburbs
10. There are so many super markets to choose from
9. I can buy the same products no matter what part of the country I am in. Gap is everywhere.
8. There is no pretense of walking. Great for lazy people like me. I even drive to the gym.
7. Pesky public transport buses don't clog traffic.
6. You can play your car stereo loud enough that people can hear it from miles away.
5. Apartment complexes are aesthetically beautiful.
4. You don't have to watch out for annoying pedestrians.
3. Everyone is so happy and white.
2. Three words... Left Turn Lane!
And the number one reason I love the suburbs... drumroll...
1. Strip Malls!
I ate too much pizza for dinner, then had this dream where I had the muchies and went to WaWa and got a Hoagie and after two bites was like "Why am I eating this. I am full!" But I kept eating it anyway because I had spent money on it and when I woke up I still had that really really full feeling!
Al right all right. Here's the damn Burn Baby Burn track list (I have read other people decry the use of surf music or the Beach Boys as too obvious but personally, I really like the Beach Boys and I used surf as the glue that glued the whole thing together):
Miles Davis - Summertime - Nothing cools you off like a little Miles, and this just sets the tone for the whole thing
Ry Cooder - Boomer's Story - This song has been on every mix I've made since I got that record
The Ventures - Perfidia - Great surf music is just good
Ben Harper - Homeless Child - Starting to pick up the pace here
Madonna - Music - This record is her best ever
Sublime - KRS-One - See what taking lots of drugs can do for you
Shuggie Otis - Ice Cold Daydream - Thank god for re-issues
Patti Page - Tennessee Waltz - Time to catch your breath a little
The Cars - My Best Friend's Girl - Hello pre-adolescence
Dick Dale - Let's Go Trippin' - More cool surf
Captain Beefheart - Sure 'Nuff and Yes I Do - Who knew at this point that he would go on to create some of the strangest rock music ever
The Kinks - Village Green Preservation Society - Why are these guys worst records the most popular?
The Beach Boys - Good Vibrations - I love that most people only know the poppy hook, but really its a psychedelic masterpiece
Ryko Jazz - Wachi Wara - What the hell is this?
The Who - Mary Anne With The Shakey Hand - Best Who Album Ever
The Chantays - Pipeline - Yeah so like do I need to reiterate this thought?
Outkast - The Whole World - I pretty much like anything these guys touch right about now
The Melodians - By The Rivers of Babylon - Great harmonizing vocals
Os Mutantes - Virginia - A little psychedelic gem from those Brazillian geniuses
George Harrison - Wah-Wah - Getting close to the end here, gotta wrap it up in a big way
Dick Dale - Victor - Woooohhhoooooo
Tom Waits - That Feel - Tom Waits and Keith Richards take us home in a stupedously drunken manner
Aaaarrrggghhh!!!!! Stress!! Sometimes it gets to be just too much. Like when your blog server wipes your post, and then two days later wipes your post again. But really, it’s mostly just a frame of mind thing. Like “From now on I’m typing posts in Word or something and then transferring them!” Also like how this morning I had that knot in my stomach, and now it’s gone. “It’s just a job!” I tell myself. And then I go to the gym and run 4 miles. Now I feel better.
One job I had was really stressful. But that was retail stress. You know, where it’s not the pressures of the job, it’s more the I hate the job so much kind of stress. It was at The Berklee College of Music Bookstore and when I first started, and remember now, this is my first job out of college, the retail stress slowly built up until I was a raving maniac and a co-worker had to be like “Dude! You’re a raving manic. You need to relax. It’s just a job!” And he was right. At five (or seven, or whenever the damn place closed) I left and no more worries. So this new relaxed attitude worked for a while. Eventually the Berklee students who thought they were so great but were really stupid assholes got to be too much, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
Another job, which had real stress, was at this major Recording Studio in New York, which I won’t name because the owners are really petty and would probably come after me for badmouthing them. Generally, the job was just stressful because I like working at a recording studio and I wanted to do a good job. But the place was mismanaged and understaffed, so all the assistant engineers were horrifically sleep deprived. At one point they decided to set up this slammin’ new all digital room, which I expressed interest in being involved in from the get go, but getting the room moving was really stressful First of all, no one really knew how to use the room, so we were making it up as we went along, and on top of that, the management was really proud of the room, and they were bragging about how great it was, so we needed to make it work, so they would call and hound us about stuff. I had the knot in my stomach for like two weeks straight. Later, they fired me. Talked about jerks.
When I was in school, until like maybe my senior year, I never would have chosen to read a "classic." Those were boring school books that you force your way through 'cause you have to and hope you understand it, and if you don't, pick up the Cliffs Notes and you'll be fine. Now I find myself (and yes, it's been a little while since I actually was in school, but whatever...) not only reading a Faulkner novel, but actually really enjoying it. I'm reading Absolom Absolom and it is, while pretty difficult, really amazing. The writing is very controlled for being so crazy. But what really impresses me is this sense of inevitableness. Like the action is already foretold, and there is nothing the characters can do to prevent it from happening. Some of this achieved by writing the whole thing as flashbacks, but it's more than just that. I am also fining it difficult to decide if Faulkner is really mourning the fall of the old South, or just writing about people who morn the demise of the old South. There certainly aren't any abolitionist characters.
The book is also reminding me of Sometimes a Great Notion, that flawed, but also quite good book by Ken Kesey. I mean, Kesey has nowhere near the command of the language as Faulkner, but he still manages to achieve that tragic sense of the inevitable.
I haven't actually "done" my laundry myself in some time. It started when I was working at the studio and I was super busy and I realized laundry places would do your laundry for you, and fold it for a nominal by the pound fee. Now, in most places I haver lived, this would be prohibitively expensive, but I was really busy then, plus, here in NYC, the stupid coin operated machines aren't all that cheap. Then, once I had "gone over to the dark side" there was really no going back. Plus, now I have to wear nice clothes to work so I have a fair amount of dry cleaning. There are different methods to shave some costs here and there. Launder, not dry clean for those shirts. Drop the stuff off when that women who doesn't weigh it until you pick it up is there. My sweaty gym clothes are lighter when they are dry and clean. And so forth. Also, you have to find a place that doesn't lose your cloths. We switched from a place that was prompt but often lost socks or donated other people's cloths to us to a place that kept our clothes together but often tries to hold on to things for several days. So what I am saying is that I have to sell my soul just to do my damn laundry. This will soon change. When I move back to Philly I will probably be jobless, and the coin machines will once again be so cheap that I can no longer justfy paying some place to wash my dirty clothes. In the meantime, I continue to fork over my hard earned cash in exchange for the sweet smell of clean laundry.
Whew! So that font color sucked to read, sorry about that, especially now that cd swap people are reading the site, I hope. Holiday weekend meant visiting loys of relatives, which reminds me of some travel stories...
Mmm and I got up this morning and had to kind of rush around to get out of the house. There was a lot to take care of. Shower, get dressed, eat something, get the cats ready for a long weekend, involving leaving extra food and water, and the toilet seat up for some extra added drinking, which actually they like that kind the best, and so on. I had to get clothes ready for the gym. And we had to pack... Clothes, Toiletries, Keys to various parental houses, the check book, on some off chance we see an apartment we really want, the camera, etc... Shockingly, we do not leave the house late, and yet, we have not cut any corners, or so we thought. It's off to work, and everything seems normal. At lunch I go to the gym and as I begin to pull my gym clothes out of my bag I realize I do not have a gym t-shirt, I have a baby-t of Meagan's...FuckFuckFuck... And that is when the real disaster hits me square in the face. I am leaving for a three day weekend in Philadelphia in 3 and half hours and I HAVE NO T-SHIRTS TO SPEAK OF... None at all. Sadly, this is slowly becoming a trend. Notice, September, just before Sauce and Sahooha leave for the West Coast, Mmm and I borrow their car and go to Philly for Labor Day weekend. Somewhere in the vacinity of exit 9 we realize we have brought nothing but the clothes on our backs. Notice summer 2001, mmm and I go to Central Pennsylvania for a wedding. Somewhere in the vacinity of Scranton I realize the dress clothes I have placed carefully out of cat hair's way are still there, and not in fact in the car with us.
