
(some attendees at a local funeral home's Michael Jackson observance [!], D_____, O_ [DDN])
"Life being what it is, one seeks revenge." - Paul Gauguin
A lot of people are probably wondering when I intend to start showing up at used book stores and pet shelters and sort of setting up some equipment and throwing down spontaneous guerilla deejay sets, putting smiles on downtrodden faces while flaunting my peerless musical erudition. You know, you're walking by and hear a run of: New Order "Regret">Rush "Witch Hunt">Bad Brains "Sacred Love"> Zombies "Care of Cell 44">504 Boys "Tight Whips">Dolly Parton "Here You Come Again">Nation of Ulysses "A Kid Who Tells On Another Kid's a Dead Kid">Krokus "Long Stick Goes Boom">Chet Baker "Everything Happens to Me">Beatles "Everybody's Got Something to Hide (Except for Me and My Monkey)>Blue Nile "Tinseltown in the Rain">T Rex "Highway Knees"...you know, that sort of thing. Sounds just dreamy, right?
That Mark Sanford, is it? With the Argentinian gf? Hey, gov! What's wrong with American chicks?
And no one made a big deal about Fleur Cowles, who edited the short-lived Flair magazine in the 50's, and who surely made a bigger impact on me and my apartment than did the Manchild from Gary? She also died, and this month!
Not much to say that hasn't been said, except that one time in high school, Episcopal youth group doodad had a scavenger hunt and one of the items that could be found in a parishioner's home was an autographed copy of Thriller. I had no idea who had this, but I knew that I had a copy that belonged to my neighbor Robbie H______ (hello, Robbie! And sorry about that copy of Thriller!) that had been left at my house. So we (my team and I) dutifully drove to my house and got it, I got a black ballpoint and just scrawled Michael Jackson on it. When we got back in the allotted time, the associate rector looked surprised and said something to the effect of "Did my wife give it to you?" I, flummoxed, shook my head No. Turns out it was HIS daughter who had the elusive copy. If I had only kept my stupid mouth shut, we may have won some Cassano's coupons or summat.


My dad (he's 86!) is fond of telling about his friend Skoley when they were kids. My dad and his friends the Parkers (brothers, he still has lunch with one or possibly both of them) were fairly dirt-poor, but would hang out with Skoley, whose folks were loaded and he had all kinds of crazy toys and rich-kid stuff that was hot ca. 1930 (platinum spats, ivory jacks, etc).ANY SECRETS IN THIS YARD MUST BE TOLD TO ME
House sitting!
It's swampy as hell here, with big storms on for later - in other words, summer in O___!
Wait - what? I just remembered about In the News, the 2.5 minute news segments for kids that CBS used to run on Saturday mornings!
Spent the last two evenings re-reading this book, by Walter Tevis. It's so good. Takes me back to eighth grade. You, being smarter that your correspondent, could read it in a couple of hours."Why does Teri Hatcher make that face?"
"Who are these idiots who prefer Joy Division to New Order?"
"The Hold Steady - WHY???"
"Norwegian Wood by Maruki Hurakami - you got to be shitting
me!"
"Why has no one ever figured out or asked whether he's saying ECK cetera in
'Sweet and Tender Hooligan' on PURPOSE?"
aunt's cat Cutie, who is like Hyman Roth in that she's been dying from "renal failure" for two years but shows no real effects that I have ever seen - well, my aunt is moving to Columbus at 88 and the cat can't come due to allergies on the parts of someone (son? daughter-in-law?). So there was a last-minute big panic about what to do with this "dying" cat. My aunt was sobbing that the night before the move the cat was all extra-lovey and giving her kisses and the like. I'm sure my cousin was just hoping for a Night of The Long Needle or perhaps dropping said puttytat from an airplane. ANYway, I took the cat by the whiskers (to coin a phrase) and got my boss, the gentleman farmer of chicken-rescue fame, to take said cat and let it live in barn/garage/stables with other cats, horses and the rooster. Sweet!
Other nice thing is that my driver's side window has been slowly dying - it would go down, but not back up, at least not without getting out of the car and putting one's whole weight on it. Then, yesterday, with a storm (that never materialized) a-brewing, the button completely died. When I pulled in front of my building, the guy up the street and his buddy were out putzing with one in a series of small motorcycles (weird orange 70's Yamahas, eg) and I thought to save some stair-climbing by asking him if I could use a flat-head screw drive to poke around. The dude just gets up, comes over, takes the door apart, removes the switch (1989-era Swede engineering at its finest, replete with ball-bearings inside), reassembles it, puts the door back together and now it works like a charm! If I had a hundred years on the moon by myself, I could not have done this! Neighborly as fuck!
Have one!