Appetizer: What are you proud of? I am proud of my mother who beat a very serious illness last year. I hesitate to talk about it for fear I will somehow jinx her health, but it’s the truth. She quietly and bravely dealt with the painful treatment for months, and it’s all just a bad memory at this point. That situation was a big factor in my deciding to move back, and it remains inspirational.
Soup: What is the best thing youâ€™ve ever won as a prize? I’m sure you all remember the rap group 3rd Bass with great fanatical fondness. Their first album, which featured Gas Face, was called The Cactus Album. The Newbury Comics in Framingham had a contest – come to the store and enter your name to win a real cactus. A few weeks later, I got a call from some record company stoolie telling me I’d won. We drove back to the store and picked up the 4 foot tall cactus which was worth about $100. I had it for about 4 years until it died. At the time, I was quite psyched.
Salad: Name something you do that is a waste of time. Anything that doesn’t make money is technically a waste of time. Jeepers, take your pick. Watch TV and movies, sleep, eat, go outside. It really depends on your definition. For example, if you are a birthday party clown for hire, making balloon animals is definitely not a waste of time. Otherwise, you’re going to make me a little uncomfortable.
Main Course: In what year of your life did you change the most? I predict it will be this year, post move. Nothing has changed much in the last seven, which is part of the problem. Check in with me mid-May, quizzlet. And then there was the sex change.
Dessert: Where is a place you consider to be very tranquil? The end of my parent’s dock in Portland, Ontario. I expect I will spend a lot of time there over the next several months. I plan on getting my boat license and possibly buying a jetski. I am getting aroused just thinking about it all. Maybe I’ll just rent a truck this afternoon.
Janet, Matt, James, Sully and I just took Jim to RedBones for his birthday. Jim is one of my oldest friends, and I’m glad Matt organized the dinner, because life gets in the way of the important things sometimes. Most of the time.
A few weeks ago I cashed in my Nextel chips and got a Blackberry Pearl. I fricking love the thing. I have hated every cell phone I’ve ever had, but I adore this little dohickey. I’m thinking about greasing up the USB port to see if I can actually pork it. My digital photo taking has petered out recently, but I love having the ability to take a photo and instantly MMS or email it to people. That’s something I could never do with Nextel, and don’t worry it’ll get old.
I thought it would be fun to set up a Flickr plugin in the sidebar so people can see my most recent snaps in real time. I can email photos to a special Flickr account and have them available on the fly. So here it is folks (look to your left) and it includes, among other things, images from tonight, skating in the North End, the Boss Cat, Pogues and a whole lot more. If you’re on the market for a new phone, get a Pearl. If you’re not, get a Pearl. Ansel Adams, out.
I stayed home and worked all weekend and I invariably get bored of being in my room at my desk and move the laptop on up to the couch. My roomate also opted for a TV-facing weekend, and we usually toss the remote back and forth to each other all day whenever a movie or program ends. It’s very diplomatic and mature, but yesterday it reached a tipping point that was kind of fun.
I suppose I fired the first salvo when I made her sit through Doctor Detroit. I used to love this movie as a kid, so it has a lot of sentimental value, but at the end of the day – it’s a stinker. Said roomie cringed as she was forced to sit through Aykroyd’s antics, and when I tossed her the remote after the big song and dance number at the end I had a feeling I was in for some retribution. I hate being right all the time.
James Brown wrote this song especially for the movie, and the hooker dance scene is hilarious.
Just my Luck was a breathtakingly stupid flick starring Miss Lindsay Lohan – I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen any of her movies, so I grinned and bared it. For the uninitiated, Lindsay loses and gains luck based on whom she kisses. I did enjoy the scene where she dropped her contact lens in the dookie-laden cat litter box and then put it right back in because it was her last one. She had a black eye for the rest of the movie which was just enjoyably weird.
Suddenly, the remote was back in my control, and I scanned through On Demand until I found another cinematic childhood atrocity, Howard the Duck. This is worth watching for the scene of Lea Thompson on all fours in yellow panties alone. Brandy rounded off the battle with The Family Stone, and then all was quiet on the North End front.
Spoke to me Mam today about plans for selling G-ma’s house and getting on with our respective lives. So there are no nasty surprises for any of my peeps, real or imagined, I will be among the faithful Boston departed as of May 1st. I’ve been living in the North End for a little over 7 years, and I will always have a soft spot for this neighborhood and this city. But baby, I gots to go.
It’s very bittersweet – not so much the fact that I am leaving Boston and moving to Toronto, but the reasons behind why I feel I have to. That having been said, I am tremendously excited to buy a car, buy my own place, spend time with my family – immediate and extended, and the fact remains that I have a tremendous group of friends up there from my very early high school (pre-1988) and University of Guelph days. It’s not like I’m shipping out to the Falklands.
While we’re sorta on the subject, the timing of Facebook’s very recent explosion into the Canadian market could not be better timed. Everyday I get friend requests from people I haven’t talked to in 10 years. We have a group for the house I lived in at Uni, one for my old dorm Mills Hall and the network keeps growing and growing. It’s all very, very serendipitous.
Before I lose consciousness from masturbating with maple syrup in anticipation, I should point out that my current employer, while allowing me to work remotely in the wilds of the North as much as I need too during this tricky time, also wants me back in Boston a few times a quarter – so I’ll still be seeing everyone in Beantown on the regular. No biggie, for the best.
It’s amazing how when you hear an older song out of context, you see it in a completely different light or find a new appreciation for it. For example, a tune you’ve ignored as part of an album you usually listen to in its entirety is featured on its own in a movie or something and you suddenly think – Wow. How did I miss that? And why am I watching Arachnophobia again?
I heard my favorite Joy Division song, Leaders of Men, on random ipodiness while walking around today and was taken back to my family’s house on Nashawtuc Hill where I used to sit on the hardwood floor and listen to it on cassette with enormous headphones covering my head. Because that’s where your ears are, generally. I wanted to feature it on Wadio today, but short of a short live clip there is nothing on YouTube which does it justice. Which is hardly surprising seeing as how it’s a lesser known song from the catalog of a band whose lead singer hung himself over 25 years ago.
I did find a good quality collage-clip of ‘Decades’ and was immediately reminded of an eerie story I read many moons ago, about a New Order recording session which took place a year or so after Ian Curtis cashed in his chips. You see kids, when Curtis died, JD became NO, and guitarist Bernard Sumner took over on lead vocals. After Bernard came out of the booth to twist the knobs on the vocals for one of the earliest New Order tracks, they realized it was unusable – because they could clearly hear someone whistling Decades in the otherwise empty sound booth. Whether that’s true or not… alright, it probably isn’t. But it’s a great yarn befitting a song that is already plenty spooky enough without the ghost story.
Frequently-cited famous over-actors include Nicholson and Robin Williams – but I have never seen a more shameless, award-fishing performance than Sharon Stone’s ridiculous fat suit episode at the end of Alpha Dog. Jeepers Crimminy, and I mean this when I say it: I sincerely hope that was not her idea. The jist is, a bad thing happens to a young kid and the movie is punctuated by a series of interview flashbacks. One of the last of which is Sharon Stone, the formerly sexy bereaved mother, giving her account of hearing about her son’s murder – a year later, in a grief-stricken alcohol and pill induced fat suit.
I see what they were trying to do. The last time I was really sad I’m sure I enjoyed having an actual excuse to drink and eat too much for a week. But Sharon Stone looks like a paler Cletus Klump with a bad blonde Cherry 2000 wig on. I couldn’t find it on YouTube or a still photograph, so just keep an eye out for it if you see the movie. A solid flick if you can stand all the half-naked teenage girls. I mean – a solid flick, and although I hated him in Six Feet Under Ben Foster is remarkable.
I don’t want to hear myself sing this song more than anyone of you do. If I could truly visualize the audience I have built, I would never dare to take a hiatus. As I once said, a blog is like a puppy – if you fail to give it attention, it will die quickly. Or at least shite all over everything you have. Maybe a blog is like a pimp, or Godzilla, or some kind of giant pigeon. I’m not sure.
It’s definitely like a German dictatorship who have just developed the Panzer. Or Jake Gyllenhall’s nemesis in The Day After Tomorrow. A giant, wet thing that envelops me and washes me out to me sea. Cutesy begone.
I love this domain, this website, this entity. And I will be back when the dust settles over here.
Everyday it seems someone asks me when I am finally moving North. Late last year, when I first let the cat out of the bag, there were pressing issues that needed my attention. Now that my grandmother has been put into a home – that pressure is off, so my move has been rescheduled. I am still looking forward to it, and I am still excited beyond belief, but we’re now looking at spring – which, come to think of it, is practically here. So I’d better get the ball rolling.
What I plan to do is rent a truck and head up to my Grandmother’s empty house via Buffalo. I’ll then unpack my stuff so it’s nice and close for my eventual move to Toronto. Then I am going to live at my parent’s place in Portland for the summer. I should probably tell them that at some point. We don’t have too many good years left, so I want to spend some time with the old man while I’m able. Sad but true.
So there you have it. Packin’ up and heading out by Mid-May I expect. A couple more paychecks in the bank, time for my folks to settle in from Florida and hopefully I will get my American passport by then too. I have currently just completed the fingerprint stage, and next up is my naturalization interview, where I expect I will have to think kinda fast. Most people don’t get a passport and then leave the country. But I shall return.
I saw this live on SNL two weeks ago and found a new appreciation for Montreal’s eeriest band since maybe The Box. I was obsessed for about a week two years ago when they first came on the scene, but became disillusioned when they became the next big thing. I have listened to the new album a few times through, and there’s no sophomore slump to be found – so they’re back in my good graces. At least until I start my yearly, late-winter Smiths phase. And self-cutting.
Apparently they played three songs after the show was over for the studio audience. Then acted out their favorite Stuart Smalley sketch while Ouija’ing John Belushi and Danitra Vance. So yeah, a little weird. It doesn’t help that the lead singer looks like Young Frankenstein. These guys have more members than Wu-Tang Clan. And where is Michael Scott? I got nothing. Busy days at the moment.
I saw my sister last night, and apparently looked so unhealthy that she promptly staged a Whole Foods intervention. I was told she’d be picking me up today, which she did, to take me to get some healthy food for my pale, pasty-self. The placed was mobbed, the clientele either hippyishly annoying or yuppishly annoying – but I may never shop anywhere else again. Wholey Shit! See what I did there?
So $200 worth of hommous, stuffed grape leaves, granola, fruit and vegetables later – I’m stocked up and ready to start my anti-pasty health food party. Who knew they made lite havarti? If whole foods sold booze, I’d be all set. Why hasn’t anybody thought of whole-grain alcohol yet? See what I did there?
Note to self, just feed the tuna mayonnaise. Call Starkist.
Nate just emailed me with an excellent question. The subject line was “What year is it?” and the body read: Just saw this headline: Matt Dillon Directs Dinosaur Jr Video. But 90s nostalgia is all around us. Here are a few examples off the top of my head:
– The Pixies just had a hugely successful reunion tour which lasted 2 years and isn’t over yet. They play 3 dates in Australia this Spring. – The Happy Mondays are playing Coachella this summer. As are Rage Against the Machine, Crowded House and The Jesus and Mary Chain. – The Smashing Pumpkins are working on a new album. – I am going to see The Pogues in a week.
If you want to know why I wholly embrace 90s musical nostalgia, just turn on your radio for a few minutes and check out some hot, hot James Blunt. Maybe dig yourself a little Fallout Boy. Fuck me, it’s grim out there.