Get Your Pics ...

While at SXSW Interactive, spent some time checking out LuckyOliver.com ... a cool new site that enables photographers to sumbit their pics to be used as stock photography (and get paid when their photos are used, of course) ... plus designers have a new way way to discover stock photos for their projects. I'm going to spend some more time playing with the site but looks pretty cool so far ... Check it out!

www.luckyoliver.com

Thank You, Mimoco

There really are people in tech who have heart, soul and a sense of humor ... found some of them today at the SXSW Interactive tradeshow - Mimoco! Of course, had to have my own mimobot. I went for "Fresno" part of the Circus Punks Artist '06 series ... everyone should have their own mimibot USB flash drive ... makes working in tech much more enjoyable.

www.mimoco.com

Film Junkie ...

Saw Eugene O'Neill's autobiographical play, "A Long Day's Journey Into Night" yesterday (a good way to spend Feb 13 ... t'hell with hearts & candies) ... this led to a discussion with a friend about morphine, moms & movies ... and, the torture of not being able to remember the name of some heroin flick from the late '80s / early '90s.

I rented the movie around '91 or '92 ... remember it having a few core characters (as opposed to an ensemble cast) ... and the 'action' taking place primarily in a desolate apartment in NYC ... I think the main character was a musician.

I know, this could describe a plethora of modern drug films ... must find the name of that movie just to get rid of the nagging in my head.

Web Works ...

I found my old roommate & friend today ... guess the Internet is good for something.

Stuck ...

Trying to break the blogging block ... pulled (What's the Story) Morning Glory? from the shelf today to provide a backdrop for the Saturday list of to-dos ... but what's been stuck in my head all day (and that's a good thing) is 'While My Guitar Gently Weeps' performed on the uke by Jake Shimabukuro.



Maybe I'll break the blogging block tomorrow ...

'Tis the Season for Vanilla, the Plastic Snowman

The holidays bring a mixed bag of eager anticipation for Christmas morning along with a lump-0f-coal funk stemming from work, shoppers and ghosts of Christmas past. This year's no different. Once again, stores started playing holiday tunes just a wee bit earlier, Thanksgiving snuck up just a wee bit faster, and I find myself with a wee bit more funk ...which means the inevitable "your year is ending" holiday is just around the corner.

Usually the holiday spirit doesn't kick in until I walk out of the building on my last day of work day for the year. However, this year, thanks to a snowman and some Yamaha electric organs, I'm finding my grinchiness lifting about a week ahead of schedule. Enter: Logan Whitehurst & the Junior Science Club.

Picture one man (Logan Whitehurst), a plastic snowman (Vanilla), several instruments (including an accordion and a concertina) delivering a CD full of songs about plate tectonics, the ocean, 'The Robot Cat' ...

When I say Ro, you say Bot.
Ro. Bot.
Ro. Bot.
When I say Bot, you say Cat.
Bot. Cat.
Bot. Cat.

And, of course, 'The Ice Cream Man.' (I should mention, there are whispering voices in this song and it does not look good for the Ice Cream Man, nor the Popcorn man for that matter.)

I hadn't listened to this album in well over a year but earlier this week I went to the wall of CDs and pulled it out. Somehow, this is the CD that is putting me in the the spirit and leading me to shake off the work baggage in favor of tree trimmings.

A Somber Note: While writing this post and searching for the appropriate links, I was saddened to read that Logan Whitehurst passed away 5 days ago. He completed his Very Tiny Songs project which I hope to get as soon as it's available.

Goodbye, My 4-Track.

Random Report ...

Day 5 of 'play all' and I was delivered this on the drive home last night:

• Lime Spiders
• Elvis Presley
• Sarah Vowell

The joy of shuffle.

Jesus vs. The Penguins

So claimed the headline on Moviefone today. But did I spend my Friday night watching an ancient birthday party? No. Did I spend the end of my week watching small, flightless birds dance? No. Instead, I planted myself on the couch and watched a 2 hour and 48 minute musical about the congressional fight over and final signing of the Declaration of Independence. Fresh from the New York stage and coming to a silver screen near you in 1972 ... it's 1776!

Watching the movie felt like the right way to wrap up a week spent listening to Sarah Vowell's The Partly Cloudy Patriot while trying to avoid idiots in BMWs on my daily commute. Not only did I get a refresher course in early American history and catch a clue as to why Virgina "is for lovers" but I also learned something new while watching 1776 ... Benjamin Franklin reminds me of my Grandpa.

Thanks, Howard Da Silva.

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.