Thanks to the foresight of a pre-nup, Nick would get custody of the brain on weekends.
Monday’s Quotelet: What Hope Is There For The Rest Of Us?
Thanks to the foresight of a pre-nup, Nick would get custody of the brain on weekends.
Thanks to the foresight of a pre-nup, Nick would get custody of the brain on weekends.
Friday’s Quizzlet: Be The Bard, Danny.
Appetizer: What did you look like when you were a teenager?
I actually looked a lot like James Coburn during my teens. Smoking a pipe and wearing white tuxedos almost exclusively. What kind of a silly question is that? I had less wrinkles, more hair and was a liberal. I pine only for the first two.
Salad: Whose advice do you listen to?
I like to listen to my own advice, primarily. But there a few folks I turn to from time to time when I need some guidance. You know who you are. And you wish I’d stop calling.
Soup: Name a book you would like to memorize.
The combined works of William Shakespeare. To be able to shout out powerful passages in modern, everyday situations would be… annoying.
“Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.” “I still don’t understand, sir. does that mean you want the fries or the coleslaw?”
Main Course: How often are you sick?
About once a year during the winter. I take very few sick days, as I need them for traveling to Canada, etc. If we’re talking about sexual deviance, however – is it noon yet?
Dessert: Do you like or dislike change?
I like it. I have moved around a lot in my life. I went to three different high schools and have been lucky enough to travel all over the world. Bring on the change, I say. Providing, of course, that I don’t have to leave the North End.
Thigetty-Thanks To The Giving.
Live from Concord – just got back from the football game where the Pats were receiving a sound thrashing from Bedford. I hope it worked out as we had to leave early. I saw absolutely no one I knew, save for Gilbert Simmons, and felt about 400 years old. Still, it’s great to be out here as always. Deep-fried turkey, old friends and beer. Have a great holiday everyone.
Wednesday Wadio: Kate Bush’s King Of The Mountain.
Opening with mysterious panning pulses and the whistling of wind, the song gradually swells into a climax of guitars, crashing drums and spookily layered vocals. As comebacks go, they don’t get much better than this. – Virgin
When I heard Kate Bush was making her unlikely comeback, I decided I should put her 1978 classic Wuthering Heights up on Radio Pye. WH is based on Emily Bronte’s book of the same name, and has long been an obsession of Bush’s. The tune took the scene by storm, and although it confused the heck out of a lot of people, it stayed at #1 in the UK for a month that year. Bush went on to record with Peter Gabriel, release a good album every few years until 1993 – and then go absolutely stark raving mad before disappearing into the desolate English countryside.
Earlier this year she spent 2.5 million pounds on an estate near the setting of the 158 year old novel, and registered herself to vote in the county under the name Catherine Earnshaw – which just happens to be the name of Wuthering Heights’ heroine. But she’s back, and I’m pumped and I want to share. And, no, her new album isn’t entitled “Mad as a Box of Frogs”.
The first thing about Kate Bush is her voice. If you hate her, that’s probably why. It’s childish and prickly, and she sweeps through her four-octave range with all the inhibition of someone taking a shower in an empty house, seemingly oblivious to the fingernails-on-chalkboard effect a voice like that can have. – Salon
See what you think of King of the Mountain. If you like it, try Wuthering Heights, Running Up That Hill and Babooshka. And maybe don’t try moving onto a remote moor and spending all your time reading the Bronte sisters and sculpting whilst wearing leotards. Or do – you know what? It’s almost Thanksgiving. Let’s all get a little nuts this weekend, hah?
I Wish My Building Would Fuck Off.
We’ve been in the midst of a monsoon here in Boston for the past 24 hours or so, and it’s quite miserable to say the least. I’ve just heard from a building-mate that the roof in her bedroom is leaking like a seive – so we can add that to the list of decrepitude that has taken place since I took over managerial duties. Let’s recap, shall I? Fine then:
1. Two windows were broken by people moving out just prior to my tenure.
2. A sink fell off one of the walls.
3. Two medicine cabinets had to be replaced.
4. The front door lock was destroyed by a burgular/drunk.
5. The fire-escape broke and had to be painted.
6. The roofdeck had to be stained.
7. The washer and dryer broke down.
8. My inebriated, keyless roomate destroyed our front door.
9. The fire alarm malfunctioned.
10. The exterior light stopped working.
11. The roof is leaking.
Am I forgetting anything? Probably. It’s just dumb luck, as it’s a great little building. But I wonder why it has waited until my reign of terror to begin falling apart. Does it think I have more empathy than Seamus? No replicants have moved in to date, so I guess it can’t be all that run down just yet. All those… repairs will be made. Like tears in rain.
