flying on a weird gust since 1994
This is about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. The concept is that it amplifies and projects the little birdie sounds from inside the house. Sinister, yes, but SO CUTE! The company that made them doesn’t seem to be making them anymore. Perhaps I’ll have to craft me up one.
It has been so dry here in Texas this summer, that we’ve had a minor tiny-black-ant invasion. Little dudes are so thirsty! I’m happy to provide a little sip for them, but once they start fucking with my food, the deal is off. In order to save some little ant lives from my horrible vengeance, I do like my mamma (and her mamma, etc) does. I put a moat around the sugar. Works great if you leave out food for your pets, too. You’re welcome…
Last weekend, I checked out the latest show over at the Museum of Natural and Artificial Ephemerata. I love people who choose see the magic in the way the world works. People who look a little longer, and who consider alternative explanations. And I also love poeple who cram their converted garages with a bunch of weird crap, then invite the general public to come have a look! If you’re in Austin this weekend or next, you should really stop in (they’re open on Saturday afternoons). But don’t worry if you miss the current exhibit because, as their bumper stickers say: “We are living in the Museum of Ephemerata.” Indeed we are.
Can’t Hear You, originally uploaded by Eric Kilby.One reason I’ve been wanting to blog is because I need an outlet (besides Jeff Tartarsauce) for my thoughts on NBA on-court fashions. And the 2008 Finals is a perfect first post.
I started out as a Spurs fan in the early 1990s (thanks, Charles). I still am one, but as players have moved around, so have my allegiances. Most Spurs fans can’t believe that I can also root for the Mavs, for example. But Avery Johnson was coaching the Mavs, and while that was happening, I had to pull for The Little General!
This year, I wanted a Pistons/Spurs final. That’s pretty much my dream series. Unfortunately every other living human wanted a Lakers-Celtics final with all the bullshit nostalgia (I wasn’t into basketball yet, so why would I care?) that goes along with it. And here it is. Luckily, the series has not sucked. And luckily, the Lakers are behind. That’s the way I like them. The only way.
So I had to decide who to pull for in this series. It was hard, but not too hard. See, I’ve always disliked the Celtics. There are several reasons:
1. I’ve never been given a reason to like them.
2. I’m not partial to green as a team color.
3. I’ve never been to Boston.
4. I’ve never been a big Larry Bird fan.
5. I fucking hate parquet!
So it came down to deciding what I hated more, parquet floors or Kobe Bryant. Framed that way (and really, I hate parquet quite passionately), it was easier to choose.
I’m really not a mean-spirited person. I don’t yearn for the ruination of others. I really don’t. Except for Kobe Bryant, George H. W. Bush, and a very few others who have offended me deeply. What did Kobe do to offend me? He smirked. He’s always smirky. And I hate him.
Ok, so I have a better argument for hating Bush (the killing, and the tax-cuts-for-the-rich, and the killing, and the smirking). But I still hate Kobe. I guess that’s part of what people like about sports. I can focus all my vicious hatred on Kobe, rather than someone who might object to my wrath or, perhaps, punish me for it. No, I can hate on KB all I want. And for no good reason, too. And in Central Texas, I have lots of company!
So tonight, I’ll be pulling for the Celtics to win their first championship in, um, a really long time. But more than that, I’ll be hoping to see them wipe that smirk off Kobe’s face and replace it with a grimace. Or a scowl. Shit, I’ll settle for a frown if I have to.
There’s poison ivy all along the fence on two sides in our back yard. I’ve never had a reaction to it, but lately, I’m getting real itchy after I pet Smudo. And he’s itchy, too. For a while, I thought it was spring allergies, but now I’m not so sure. I think he’s getting sick of being doped up on Benadryl all the time. I know I would be.
I’m going to try pulling the evil stuff up by hand but, of course, I really like the idea of renting a goat for an afternoon. They love to eat poison ivy. Because they are freakish space creatures. I mean, look at that thing! Smudo is pretty terrified of goats, so it should be lots of fun for all of us! I think I’ll wait until my mom comes to visit in a couple weeks. Something tells me she’ll be handy with a goat. Or at least entertaining.
City Museum, St. Louis, MO – 2006
I’m currently in the process of packing for a trip to visit some friends in St. Louis, MO. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a lot of fun, but there’s a slight chance it could turn into Hell Vacation. We shall see.
My rad boss told me to have a good time and keep an eye out for Beatle Bob. BB was one of the first topics we really connected on and we update each other when we see him. Interestingly, one of the friends I’m going to see in the STL loathes BB (as do many local live music lovers) for his negligence of courtesy and his sense of entitlement. But he also does a funny dance and some people like that. His stamina, dedication, and seemingly endless supply of sport coats are also inspirational. And he likes to pose for photos with people (I think he’s one of the only people I’ve gotten a photo with all tourist-style like that). Search “Beatle Bob” on Flickr if you don’t believe me. Or see below.
Me & Beatle Bob @ SXSW – 1998
Also while I’m Midwesterly, I hope to be lunching with a long lost acquaintance. He used to be a dude in a band I liked. He and his (male) band mates were much older than me and my (female) companion in rock. This was particularly problematic since we were in our teens at the time. They were in their late 20s (early 30s?). We hung out after shows sometimes. It all seemed very innocent to me, although in retrospect, I can imagine how fraught it likely actually was. But they were always perfect gentlemen — when we were present, at least. The dude is now an academic, as, arguably, am I. We’re both married & he’s bringing his toddler along to lunch. Ah, the times they do change. Oh, and he’s also the person who first explained to me who Beatle Bob was. At SXSW, um, 1995? 96?
The rest of the trip will involve daytime sightseeing which I am uncharacteristically playing by ear (botanical garden? transportation museum? arch again? H&M? thrift shopping? bowling? pool party? microbrew festival?), and nightly attendance at Twangfest. I’m not particularly hyped about any of the bands, really, but last year, my friend discovered a really amazing band there. And I’m interested in checking out some folks I’ve never seen (Old 97s, The Gourds), and curious about a couple more (Ha Ha Tonka, Miles of Wire, Hayes Carll). I’d like to see Centro-Matic, but they are playing, um, right now, so that ain’t gonna happen. And the Waco Brothers top it all off, which is their specialty. I’m totally excited to see them every single time. Helps that I’m usually in my cups by that hour. The front of the stage at a Waco Brothers show is my favorite place to be when I’ve had more than three drinks in an evening.
Waco Brothers @ an early Bloodshot Records party @ Yard Dog Art Gallery, SoCo, ATX – SXSW 1998 (notice Fred Armisen on drums)
Oh, and man! I have been waiting for this Obama shit to take off for soooooo long. Here’s a photo from his appearance at Garry Mauro’s house when he was raising $$ for his Senate bid (Mauro’s been working hard to promote Hillary in the primaries). That was the first of many $25 donations I’ve given him. He was amazing. He called us Progressives. I got to shake his hand. Hott!
Barack Obama fund-raising for his 2004 Senate bid @ Garry Mauro’s joint – August 2004
Mike Wiebe + John Doe, originally uploaded by lasuprema.
I’m gonna be posting a lot of photos on this blog.
This one is from last night’s X/Detroit Cobras show at La Zona Rosa. This is the crappiest of all the crappy photos i took last night, but that’s what I want to talk about. I am a very, very amateur photographer. Add that to the fact that I like to take pictures at rock shows and what you get is some blurry, fucked up photos. Sometimes they work, though. Sometimes they evoke the show better than a good photo would. Sometimes, as in the case of this one, the photo seems to become a whole different thing. Like a painting or something.
This is my creative process. I always start out with some idea or intention, but I leave it up to chance, too. It could easily be argued that I do this because I can’t focus on one thing long enough to perfect my technique. But I’d like to think I do it because I like to improvise and I like to “discover” how the project turns out.
