Toast ...

Writer's block over your own life - how pathetic is that? (Note: Rhetorical) But really, nothin'. Toast. I made mental notes that I switched the radio to NPR during my commute this week and put Pink Floyd's, Wish You Were Here in the CD player last weekend but while a change in pattern for me, these things didn't seem noteworthy enough for topics. Yet, maybe they do signify something. Age? Depression? Looking for change? (Note: I typically don't listen to Pink Floyd or NPR, tho' I am a fan of some of their writers) I'm going to go with nostalgia.

I recently read "If I Had A Stammer" by Meghan Daum, one of the essays in Bookmark Now (edited by Kevin Smokler, worth reading, go buy it). In "Stammer" Daum mentions a level of sentimentality that comes on with age ... it got me thinking. Does the scan to 88.5 or the latest addition to the CD collection put me in the "sentimentality" camp? If not, maybe the posting old pics of my grandparents in their younger years on Flickr was my entry ticket.

Shedding a little light on people past for holiday current, Happy Thanksgiving ... Toast.

Little Black Cloud In A Dress ...

Ok, so I'm not wearing a dress in this shot (rarely did, still rarely do) and the Billy Bragg show at Great American Music Hall was last week (fantastic) but I did see Little Miss Sunshine tonight and felt compelled to share this pic with the world (or at least the 2 people who read this blog).

I attempted a beauty pageant of sorts once. It was probably around 1978 (judging from my memories of a long dusty rose, polyester dress with spaghetti straps) and while it seemed like I primped forever in order to look my best when I attempted to glide down the catwalk, I still looked like a tomboy who'd never before seen a curling iron and would obviously be much happier in navy blue bell-bottomed cords and desert boots.

That was it. Done. Bring on the Rick James and embrace your inner Super Freak.

Blog on ...

Ok. So, haven't quite gotten the hang of blogging on a regular schedule. Part of the issue is time (standard excuse) but the other issues is I'm honestly not sure what to blog about ...

What's worthy of hittin' the keys and creating some sort thing on this here site? Should there be a common theme to the blog? Will a theme occur organically? I'm not so interested in posting the mundate goings-on of my daily life (nor do I think the 2 to 3 people who peer here are interested in reading such things).

For now, I'll say things to do while at work waiting for a friend to arrive on a Friday night:

• Listen to Pandora
• Dust on some make-up in an attempt to appear awake
• Avoid work email
• Post a random blog entry

Off to the Big Star Tribute show ... blog off.

It was 40 years ago today ...

... that the Beatles played their last concert ... 'twas at Candlestick Park.

There was a guy who couldn't go to the show. He gave his younger brother his ticket the following day. Years later, my mom met the brother at a bar (no, not like that). After discussing collectibles that eve and some continued negotiations over the following months, the ticket changed hands.

I have the ticket. Face value: $4.50.

Thanks, Mom.

I've got blisters on my fingers ...

Ok. So occasionally I obsess. Or maybe it's more accurate to say when something catches my interest, I don't lightly dabble.

Case in point, 2 weeks ago, a friend re-strung my mom's childhood ukelele and provided me with a quick lesson post-work. Now, I've never attempted a song on the uke, but 15 minutes in, I was roughing out 'Back in the U.S.S.R.' That's it, I was done for. That night, I started cruising eBay and 3 days later, the winning bid secured a koa wood concert uke to fuel my new-found obsession.

Mom's lil' soprano uke is resting again as I now have a ukelele of my own. My uke arrived last Wednesday and nightly playing has turned out to be the perfect way to wipe away the work day. As George Harrison once wrote about the uke, "you can't play and not laugh!"

Last night, I played, laughed and went to bed with blisters on my fingers ...

Get the Little Man Out of My Head ... or ... How I Became Addicted to Coffee

I realized something yesterday ... I should never, *never* start the day without coffee. I don't know how it happened. I mean, the day started as usual (with me running behind schedule) but then it just got away from me and the next thing I know, it's 11:30 am, there is no caffeine in my system and a little man is desperately trying to kick my eyeballs out of my head (ok, I'm just picturing him as a little man ... maybe more gnome-like ... or even a bit of an elf).

I discovered (or, rather, was introduced to) coffee when I was 9. My mom used to make stuff and sell her wares at holiday craft fairs (it was the '70s ... think macramé, decoupage and Christmas ornaments galore). At one particular craft event in Concord, it was insanely cold (December) so Mom determined we needed hot beverages. Unfortunately, the snack shack at the end of the community-center-turned-craft-boutique offered nothing in the way of a child-friendly, hot chocolate-like beverage. Mom (being clever) bought me a coffee instead and loaded it with several packets of cream-like powder substance and sugar. I think it was only a week or so before I was drinking my coffee black.

Coffee Black. Straight-up. Leaded. Regular ... except when in New York City. While visiting a friend in NYC several years ago, I discovered that to New Yorkers, "regular" means cream and two sugars. Suddenly my images of the tough New York crowd were shattered as I realized they drink their coffee the way I did when I was 9. But I digress ...

A true coffee junkie will drink coffee from almost anywhere. Pots of coffee at Farm Boys (now defunct), early-morning grabs at 7-11 or the local gas station, hell, even Starbucks. It's an addiction. But when times are good, you ride the java wave of Peet's or a good local roaster like Dana Street or Barefoot Coffee Roasters.

Today was a good day.

Of Muppets and Monkeys ...

Rockstar Report: Have to say, this week, Jill was just a bad rock stereotype. She would have been fine swapping for Janice in Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem.

And Lukas ... dude ... Clint Howard and a howler monkey's love child.

Twist & Shout

Yoga + Irreverent = Namaste Mofo

I have all 5 Ts ... you should too.

No Static At All ...

FM. It was an exciting day when I inherited mom's old stereo and could actually listen to FM. Prior to that, it was all about my AM Transistor Radio; listening to KFRC on my walk to school while Dr. Donald D. Rose played current hits on the morning show. This was long before the 'oldies' format of today.

Then came FM the movie and my obsession with 'soundtrack movies' was solidified. Imagine my excitement to find a copy of the the record at Grant's (the local 'someday I'll grow up to be K-mart' store) only to turn back to my radio after discovering the songs were not by the original artists (I fell victim to the 'Studio 78' version. Save the children!)

Why remember this? Thanks to a friend sharing an episode of 'Yacht Rock' with me today ...

Doin' My Part ...

How 'bout you? Help keep Screeech off the the streets.

Get a T.

Bring On the Rock

Rockstar: Supernova. I can turn away from most reality TV shows; they don't interest me. But this. Sure, Rockstar: INXS had me hooked but this season the rockers rock harder (mostly) and the band comments are snarkier. It's damn good television. Must say, the girls kick over the guys this season.

Dilana is still my pick - but Phil moved up in my book this week. Both look like they could go psycho on stage and that makes for good show. Anyone remember Daisy Chainsaw?

SLC Punk

Seeing a pink mohawk on the trolley put me at ease. Suddenly things felt normal. This was not the case during the majority of my time in Salt Lake City. It's a very clean place and everyone is quite friendly. However, I think my friend put it best when she commented that the real living in SLC must take place underground. I feel as tho' I spent 3 days in a land of facades.

TV Tales

Tonight, as another thrift-store dresser was taught to shop, I hear music to my ears ...

"My personal style is that I'm a caffiene addict."

Ah, fellow java-junkie, thank you for that Monday night treat.

Of course, I don't have $5K for new rags so just have to enjoy a lil' vicarious living through the tube. But, as I learned tonight, if I were in the UK and converted my car from gasoline to propane, well then ...

"The government bungs you some wedge"

See, TV learns you stuff.

Loss of Hearing

I read a post today, oh my. It was on a message board at work. The poster was pointing out what a great service Pandora is (good. yeah! this made me happy) ... but, then, they called out that they haven't been big on music since they turned, oh, say, 30.

What? 3o!

Why is it so many people who say they are so in to music suddenly stop listening when they "graduate from college," "get married," "turn 30" ...

No question mark here - consider it rhetorical if you like - just think about it ... and go listen to some music!

WAH

There are benefits to working at home ...

First, a calendar of nekkid musicians from Austin would never fly in the office (July is Austin Lounge Lizards month).

Second, I can play my music as loud as I want without a knock from the the guy on the other side of the office wall asking me to turn it down (hey, it was a Friday night, what did he expect!?!). Today I have Mojo's Revolver Reloaded on heavy rotation. I think, quite possibly, Chris Eckman's almost spoken word version of "Yellow Submarine" could be my new favorite thing ... or maybe it's Mark Mulcahy with "She Said She Said or Jim Reid with "And Your Bird Can Sing" ... oh so many great things about this collection.

Third, slippers.

I could go on but, suffice to say, when working on a Monday that breaks up what could have been a 4-day weekend, home is the place to be.

Subconsious Seattle

Who knew today would have a theme ... wasn't intended.

Got up, put on my Barsuk Records T-shirt ...

Got to work, tuned in KEXP via live stream ...

Got home, watched an episode of "What Not To Where" that featured shopping at Ped and Les Amis ...

So cheers to my pals in the Seattle area.

Harrar & Honky Cats ...

Two days in and already I'm asked about when I'm going to post ... guess creating a blog sets expectations that there will be semi-regular updates of news, observations and pithy bits. I claim to offer none of these things but I will attempt to scribe now and again.

The request for posting occured during a conversation at Dana Street Coffee, the location where I discovered -- or, rather, learned of -- the incredible Harrar coffee. (I thank the coffee roaster/band booker for expanding my caffeinated repertoire.) As with my last visit to Dana St., music was a key theme so, with that ...

Go listen to Elton John's "Honky Chateau."

My first listen of this album was from Mom's stereo (the album opened up creating a big impression on a little kid) ... signing along to Honky Cat, I wondered what it would be like to meet someone like Amy. Was it warped for a grade-schooler to be reciting such lyrics?

Think I'm gonna kill myself
Cause a little suicide
Stick around for a couple of days
What a scandal if I died

I always found I Think I'm Gonna Kill Myself to be filled with humor. Guess I'm just twisted that way. Maybe I'll have a cup of coffee.

Is this thing on?