Do yourself a favor and find some old picture books about ancient Rome, Greece, Capri, India... anywhere, really, that has retained its ruined past and has grown up around the remains. I say "old" picture books, because there is something about the outmoded film, cameras, developing, etc. that produced photos of such a rich and saturated quality that the colors burn right into your head, forcing you to wonder what kinds of adventures the previous owners of the books had been inspired to undertake.
I have acquired several of these books at Goodwill, Salvation Army, etc. I've found each one at different shops, yet I've somehow amassed a collection that seems to come mostly from the same foreign publisher. When I'm laying in bed, looking at the gigantic edifice of say, the Porta Maggiori in Rome, or the Parthenon in Greece, Hindu temples in India, Mayan pyramids, or even the Taj Mahal, which, while not exactly ancient, is really brilliant to look at, I go away in my head. I think I'll go there now. Maybe I'll teach my kid to surf in the shadow of some Zoorastrionist holy shrine while my lovely wife drinks mai tais from hollowed-out pineapples. Doesn't that sound grand?
Monday, July 6, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Page 12. Right?
the Family Effing Feud.
After we failed to win the big prize, someone shoved my brother and sister and me to the stage and we ran down and hugged our family, which was typically a celebration reserved strictly for the victorious team. I felt like such a dipshit.
10:48pmDave
dude, you totally have the DVDs of the Midnight Special, don't you?
10:50pmCraig
no - but i want to order the set
10:51pmDave
both Neil Sedaka and Blackfoot are featured on that show (this is in response to Craig's use of both of those acts in his bio for a phony MySpace character he has created and maintains.)
I feel like it's the same disc
maybe you saw an ad for it
ha
it got in your sub
Sedaka is a total dork trying to be hip in this white suit and red fedora
and Blackfoot is all in warpaint and paramilitary-native american type clothes
10:53pmCraig
that's smart dressing
10:54pmDave
the guitarist dances onto stage to heavy drums before strapping on his axe, er, tomahawk
and he has a full feather bustle and shit
I love it
but f*%# Sedaka
hahah
10:55pmCraig
i remember my mom went to see sedaka when i was a kid
my mom has always been 65
10:55pmDave
yuck
I think my mom story might just blow all others away
In 1980, my family somehow ended up appearing on "Family Fued".
So my Mom, Dad, aunt and uncle, and my Grandmother went on the show
and Richard Dawson was all creepy and shit, and we got free tootsie pops in the live studio audience
10:58pmCraig
wow
10:59pmDave
(incidently, we almost didn't make it, because my older brother Dan was in the record shop instead of the arcade, where he was supposed to be picked up on the way to the taping).
so, my family beats the other family by a hair and goes on to the $10,000 round
11:00pmCraig
good so far
11:01pmDave
my dad goes first, and he does pretty well. When asked, "Name a famous drummer," my dad says, "Ringo Starr". Turns out to be the number one answer in a survey of 100.
"Survey Says!" I can still hear it.
11:01pmCraig
awesome
11:02pmDave
So Joan, my Mom, comes out. She's doing okay, but she needs to do well on this drummer question.
11:02pmCraig
buddy rich
11:03pmDave
Richard, flirtatious and soft, asks my mother, "Name a famous drummer."
*beat*
"Cubby!"
11:03pmCraig
from the mickey mouse club?
11:04pmDave
Cubby, the f#%*ing drummer from the g*#%amn Mickey Mouse Club.
Richard Dawson is perplexed.
"Who?"
Hahaha!
11:04pmCraig
awesome
11:05pmDave
They split twelve-hundred dollars between three families.
But hey, that was $400 in 1980
11:05pmCraig
not quite bass boat money, but still pretty good
a house payment
11:06pmDave
(I say that like I'm some sort of expert on the financial climate of 1980 America)
yeah, house payment
a week's supply of crystal meth
11:07pmCraig
on a slow week
like easter
11:12pmDave
man, I had something profound to tell you, and then *poof* it went away
11:12pmCraig
that'll happen
it will come back around
11:13pmDave
yeah, I guess.After we failed to win the big prize, someone shoved my brother and sister and me to the stage and we ran down and hugged our family, which was typically a celebration reserved strictly for the victorious team. I felt like such a dipshit.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Page Eleven
Do yourself a favor and watch some movie from the late '80s that you know you've seen, but you don't really remember much about. My choice for tonight is Throw Momma From the Train. The risky part of telling you this is that I haven't actually tested this notion. I'm about to, and the cool part is that I think it might actually be pretty fun and funny, still.
There was that weird bunch of comedies that were neither too heavy nor too light; they featured great acting by solid actors, fairly good writing, and always at least one hilarious scene that most people my age (almost 36—eep) will recall with great enthusiasm. Picture Danny DeVito shouting "You lied to me!" and clocking Billy Crystal in the face with a frying pan, or Jim Belushi descending into madness after some fairly outrageous moments in The Man with One Red Shoe, a lesser-known Tom Hanks gem.
When I revisit something that I haven't seen in a while, I am amazed and delighted by how much I have forgotten. I suppose that's one upside to the impending memory loss of old age.
"What's this called? Toothpaste? This shit is AWESOME!"
There was that weird bunch of comedies that were neither too heavy nor too light; they featured great acting by solid actors, fairly good writing, and always at least one hilarious scene that most people my age (almost 36—eep) will recall with great enthusiasm. Picture Danny DeVito shouting "You lied to me!" and clocking Billy Crystal in the face with a frying pan, or Jim Belushi descending into madness after some fairly outrageous moments in The Man with One Red Shoe, a lesser-known Tom Hanks gem.
When I revisit something that I haven't seen in a while, I am amazed and delighted by how much I have forgotten. I suppose that's one upside to the impending memory loss of old age.
"What's this called? Toothpaste? This shit is AWESOME!"
Monday, January 12, 2009
Page Ten
Do yourself a favor and listen to more hip-hop. Start with the basic big names right now: Li'l Wayne, Akon, T-Pain, Plies, Kanye, and of course, Ludacris.
Beyonce gets her own line. Right here. She's owning things right now.
Here's what's badass about hip-hop. Collaboration. We crackers get so caught up in thinking that this is the music of selfish, materialistic gangsters that we completely overlook the fact that these artists are so committed to putting out the best music possible that they will work together in what seem like endless combinations to constantly keep the listener happy.
The other aspect of this genre that just blows my mind is its unwavering demand for quality. You music "fans" out there who are so proud of the fact that you will listen to "anything but new country and rap" consider these exclusions to be proof of how discriminating you are, but if your favorite hipster band were to put out a Shit Sandwich, you would be terrified of being the one person out there who admitted that the record sucked. You live in fear of someone, twenty years from now, saying, "You! You were the one person who didn't like that sixth Fleet Foxes record that is now hailed as a visionary masterpiece by the kids in Silverlake (or whatever part of town will be the hip part of town in twenty years.)!"
The point is this: a few months ago, VIBE magazine named, after an in-depth, reader-driven competition, Eminem as the Rapper of the Year. A lot of people took issue with this, but no one could deny that he was surely a valid candidate for the title. So, Eminem is riding high on most everybody's happy list, but if Eminem were to put out a crappy single or, even worse, a whole album of poop, HIS ASS WOULD HEAR ABOUT IT. The fans and the critics would demand more. Apologies would be called for, and his version of that apology would be another album that schooled everybody off the court. The fans would have spoken, and the artist would have upped his game, knowing that a bad single doesn't get played at the club, doesn't get played on the radio, and doesn't make him the shitload of cash he was hoping to make this year.
So quit worrying about whether or not your friends will no longer view you as a pure Gram Parsons fan if you suddenly dive into Snoop, or if you will be asked to step down from the presidency of the Ray LaMontagne fan club for bumpin' Luda out of your vintage Volvo.
And as a bonus favor to yourself: Watch Beyonce videos over and over and over...
Beyonce gets her own line. Right here. She's owning things right now.
Here's what's badass about hip-hop. Collaboration. We crackers get so caught up in thinking that this is the music of selfish, materialistic gangsters that we completely overlook the fact that these artists are so committed to putting out the best music possible that they will work together in what seem like endless combinations to constantly keep the listener happy.
The other aspect of this genre that just blows my mind is its unwavering demand for quality. You music "fans" out there who are so proud of the fact that you will listen to "anything but new country and rap" consider these exclusions to be proof of how discriminating you are, but if your favorite hipster band were to put out a Shit Sandwich, you would be terrified of being the one person out there who admitted that the record sucked. You live in fear of someone, twenty years from now, saying, "You! You were the one person who didn't like that sixth Fleet Foxes record that is now hailed as a visionary masterpiece by the kids in Silverlake (or whatever part of town will be the hip part of town in twenty years.)!"
The point is this: a few months ago, VIBE magazine named, after an in-depth, reader-driven competition, Eminem as the Rapper of the Year. A lot of people took issue with this, but no one could deny that he was surely a valid candidate for the title. So, Eminem is riding high on most everybody's happy list, but if Eminem were to put out a crappy single or, even worse, a whole album of poop, HIS ASS WOULD HEAR ABOUT IT. The fans and the critics would demand more. Apologies would be called for, and his version of that apology would be another album that schooled everybody off the court. The fans would have spoken, and the artist would have upped his game, knowing that a bad single doesn't get played at the club, doesn't get played on the radio, and doesn't make him the shitload of cash he was hoping to make this year.
So quit worrying about whether or not your friends will no longer view you as a pure Gram Parsons fan if you suddenly dive into Snoop, or if you will be asked to step down from the presidency of the Ray LaMontagne fan club for bumpin' Luda out of your vintage Volvo.
And as a bonus favor to yourself: Watch Beyonce videos over and over and over...
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Page Nine
Do yourself a favor and watch Star Wars with a four-year-old.
This little exercise in patience will teach you a lot about the proper way to explain situations the first time you encounter them.
Let me explain. No, let me sum up: Five minutes after I told my daughter that yes, in fact, the guys in white armor and helmets are always bad, two of them took off said white helmets to reveal that they were Luke and Han, whom I had already told her are always good. I had some summing up to do.
That's all. I'll have another page later tonight, Lord willin' and if the creek don't rise.
This little exercise in patience will teach you a lot about the proper way to explain situations the first time you encounter them.
Let me explain. No, let me sum up: Five minutes after I told my daughter that yes, in fact, the guys in white armor and helmets are always bad, two of them took off said white helmets to reveal that they were Luke and Han, whom I had already told her are always good. I had some summing up to do.
That's all. I'll have another page later tonight, Lord willin' and if the creek don't rise.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Page Eight
Do yourself a favor and have a good friend who tends bar at a pub.
Now, I'm not condoning befriending someone who tends bar at a pub simply to reap the benefits, but I would suggest becoming the kind of person who draws only the cream of the crop of humanity to his or herself. The bartender of a local pub has a very good chance of being in this group.
An important point—find an English pub as opposed to an Irish one. I'm just trying to keep you from spending any unnecessary time in a sports bar, mired in Lucky Charms paraphernalia. There's even a groovy little Scottish bar in the valley.
Several years ago, when I lived in the sleepy little town of Fullerton, California, I became pretty tight with a guy named Sean Stentz. Stentzy was my local English pub (The Old Ship) keep, though I'm pretty sure we became pals before he worked there, and The Ship was a few doors down from a coffeehouse at which I had a weekly band gig. Every week, just before I'd go on, I'd mosey down to The Ship and hang with Sean long enough to drink a Guinness, on the house. That drink always made me feel just loved enough to go put on a great show.
I'm not writing this in the hopes that you will find someone from whom you can get free shit. I would just like to think that you have people in your life who care, who know when you could use a free drink, and who love art enough to fortify it on their dime, even if they have to work while you are playing.
This one goes out to the boys of Leather Cobre—Matts, Bens, and Stentzy. I miss the hell outta youse guys.
Now, I'm not condoning befriending someone who tends bar at a pub simply to reap the benefits, but I would suggest becoming the kind of person who draws only the cream of the crop of humanity to his or herself. The bartender of a local pub has a very good chance of being in this group.
An important point—find an English pub as opposed to an Irish one. I'm just trying to keep you from spending any unnecessary time in a sports bar, mired in Lucky Charms paraphernalia. There's even a groovy little Scottish bar in the valley.
Several years ago, when I lived in the sleepy little town of Fullerton, California, I became pretty tight with a guy named Sean Stentz. Stentzy was my local English pub (The Old Ship) keep, though I'm pretty sure we became pals before he worked there, and The Ship was a few doors down from a coffeehouse at which I had a weekly band gig. Every week, just before I'd go on, I'd mosey down to The Ship and hang with Sean long enough to drink a Guinness, on the house. That drink always made me feel just loved enough to go put on a great show.
I'm not writing this in the hopes that you will find someone from whom you can get free shit. I would just like to think that you have people in your life who care, who know when you could use a free drink, and who love art enough to fortify it on their dime, even if they have to work while you are playing.
This one goes out to the boys of Leather Cobre—Matts, Bens, and Stentzy. I miss the hell outta youse guys.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Page Seven
Do Yourself a Favor And...
Get all tanked and watch Billy Joel's performance of "Travelin' Prayer" from Burt Sugarman's Midnight Special.
I was grateful, seriously grateful, to get turned onto this show by our dear friends Lindsay and Sarah, the Aguilar Sisters, and Sarah's fiance Mark and Lindsay's then-boyfriend, Rob Douglas. We were visiting home for a week and were hanging out at Sarah and Mark's place in Silverlake.
I'm really thankful for the different take on certain bands and acts that this show has given me the chance to see. For example, Billy Joel's "Travelin' Prayer," an uptempo, ragtimey (banjo, of course) sort of saxophone-heavy song. It made me really feel what he was capable of before over-produced feel-good anthems like "We Didn't Start the Fire" were standard. Don't get me wrong; I love the vocal fineries achieved by Joel and Company on songs like "Uptown Girl" and especially "For the Longest Time," but there was something raw and unpolished and decidedly '70s about "Travelin' Prayer."
I had been prepared some for this, a bit tenderized, even, by my friend comedian Kyle Cease (10 Things I Hate About You, Not Another Teen Movie), who could play a lot of Billy Joel songs on his keyboard at his often-enough, plenty-of-booze-to-go-round parties, and who made me dig Joel a bit more than I had in the past. At any rate, these are just a bunch of seriously talented dudes with a serious level of professionalism, and they really, really love playing music. The lyrics are really quite touching, and the energy level is just stellar.
Seriously, check it out.
Get all tanked and watch Billy Joel's performance of "Travelin' Prayer" from Burt Sugarman's Midnight Special.
I was grateful, seriously grateful, to get turned onto this show by our dear friends Lindsay and Sarah, the Aguilar Sisters, and Sarah's fiance Mark and Lindsay's then-boyfriend, Rob Douglas. We were visiting home for a week and were hanging out at Sarah and Mark's place in Silverlake.
I'm really thankful for the different take on certain bands and acts that this show has given me the chance to see. For example, Billy Joel's "Travelin' Prayer," an uptempo, ragtimey (banjo, of course) sort of saxophone-heavy song. It made me really feel what he was capable of before over-produced feel-good anthems like "We Didn't Start the Fire" were standard. Don't get me wrong; I love the vocal fineries achieved by Joel and Company on songs like "Uptown Girl" and especially "For the Longest Time," but there was something raw and unpolished and decidedly '70s about "Travelin' Prayer."
I had been prepared some for this, a bit tenderized, even, by my friend comedian Kyle Cease (10 Things I Hate About You, Not Another Teen Movie), who could play a lot of Billy Joel songs on his keyboard at his often-enough, plenty-of-booze-to-go-round parties, and who made me dig Joel a bit more than I had in the past. At any rate, these are just a bunch of seriously talented dudes with a serious level of professionalism, and they really, really love playing music. The lyrics are really quite touching, and the energy level is just stellar.
Seriously, check it out.
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