Concerts #4

Just remembered a couple more - these go WAY back.

Rick Nelson and the Stone Canyon Band
I went to this show in 1980, and it was at the Airport Sheraton, which was a shame because Rick and the guys were really good. But this was still in the time when people weren't ready to give up on "little Ricky's music". I think this concert must have been in support of "Garden Party". Anyway, they were an excellent band and, as it turns out, I was lucky to have seen them.

Jan & Dean
I saw Jan & Dean twice - once at the State Fair (probably in the late '60's) and this time at the Auditorium in 1980. This second one was very sad. At the first concert they were so good (I've always loved their music, but that's because I'm old and all of their best stuff came out in the late 60's when I was a teenager). Anyway, the Auditorium concert was after Jan's horrific accident - he wasn't the same, the concert wasn't the same and it was all kind of sad.

The Beach Boys
Ah-ha! Thinking about Jan & Dean made me remember that I saw the Beach Boys - it must have been the mid-80's. It was at the Civic Auditorium, and the unfortunate thing is that I can't remember if Brian Wilson was at this one or not, but I think it was during his "spell". Anyway, don't remember much.....

These are all early concerts, and all now "oldie" music. It wasn't oldie music for me at the time.

Concerts #3 - Neil Diamond

Boy, I think I've already covered all the big ones - except for one. Who is it, you ask?

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NEIL DIAMOND!

When I was younger, I had such a crush on Neil. We're talking the 70's or so when he was a big gun in the music biz and had hit after hit on the radio. I know, he's not been writing new songs for the past couple of decades, but he's been touring like crazy, and if you don't know, his tours are among the highest grossing and highest attended every single year - and it's REALLY hard to get tickets. Now, of course, he has a new album out, produced with Rich Rubins (is that right?) that is getting rave reviews and contains all new music. I'm very happy for him but it's going to make it that much harder to get tickets to a concert.....

Anyway, I saw Neil at the Coliseum in 1986 and it was SO GOOD! Sue, Judy and I all "loved" him, and we tried to get tickets every time he came but it just worked this once. He was high energy, in fabulous voice, and those eyes...those sexy eyes... The man is 64 years old and still has the sexiest eyes, but back then...swoon....

We were so weird - two or three years when he was in town and we didn't have tickets, we met over at my house, got all his pictures out, lit lots of candles like an altar around his pics, and played all his albums for hours. Our own little shrine to Neil Diamond.

It's Been Awhile

Well, it's been awhile since I even thought about this blog.
Thanksgiving was fine, at least it was a a beautiful day. I cooked everything but the turkey - Mom and Dad brought the turkey, and Steve and Ken were both there. Rosie and Jeff stopped by late afternoon on their way back from Whistler - Jeff was too keyed up from driving to eat, Rosie had Thanksgiving leftovers.

Anyway, all is good. Brother Steve planted the crocus and tulip bulbs this weekend. I was getting worried they wouldn't get in the ground this year. 55 tulips and 12 crocus. Then we ordered $65 in Chinese food for 3 people - we were HUNGRY!

Concerts, #2

I'll put them in here as I remember them...here are two more.

Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton
This concert was their "Islands in the Stream" tour and was pretty good. I've always been a sucker for Dolly's music and Kenny was pretty hot at the time. Who did I go with?...good question. I think it was with Mom, maybe Ken and Steve? Family, anyway. They alternated this concert with solo sections by both Dolly and Kenny and then a duo section. In the round, at the Coliseum.
Kenny & Dolly: B, pretty good, this was the best time for both of them.

Ted Nugent
Oh, what can I say? This one brings back a lot of things..... Camille and I wanted to go see Ted, but her boss had asked if she could stay with his daughter for the night. He and his wife were leaving town for a couple of days. His daughter was 14 so it was really more like, "just so someone's there." We were like, "Dude, that's the same night as Nugent!" (except the "dude" part was just in my head) He agreed that we could just go to the house after the concert and both spend the night. His daughter also had a friend staying over so she wasn't alone which was good. The concert was loud, brash, and high energy - we were buzzing when we left the Coliseum. We got to the boss' house - the two kids were asleep (or at least pretending to be) so we thought "we're too buzzed to go right to sleep, let's go in the hot tub!" "Great idea!" And, while we're at it, "look, I have some weed in my purse, let's take that out with us." "Great idea!" "And, look! There's the liquor cabinet. Let's have a drink while we're out there!" "Great idea!" Neither of us had bathing suits, so we went skinny dipping in the hot tub in the middle of the night, smoking weed and drinking Black Velvet. I remember saying, "Camille, don't let me drown!" because I was so high I could barely function. She'd say, "I'll watch out for you, you watch out for me, OK?" "OK." Jeez, were we stupid....we hot-tubbed, drank and smoked for at least two hours, before we crawled our pruny selves out of the tub and found the beds.
Ted Nugent: A, very high energy, made us do stupid stuff. But it was fun! Hello, glad to be alive.

Seems Early for a Fire But....

Baby, it's cold outside!

Had to build a fire last night - it was either that or turn up the furnace.

Sickroom Essentials

Sickroom essentials - cigs, tp-for-kleenex, and cough drops.

Terrible picture, huh? I guess I should have turned on a light.

Alert: just one roll of

Alert: just one roll of TP left! Send supplies! All sick here. fucking colds.

Crawling out of the past

What's up with all the old forgotten singers putting out oldie music? Rod Stewart and old 40's music. Carole King? ugh. And worse of all-Cat Stevens. I thought he gave up music as being too sinful or something.

I thought I'd just send

I thought I'd just send send a short update. Still have a cold. Out of Kleenex-gone thru 6 rolls of tp so far on my runny nose.

Ghostly NOLA

Everyone says that nola is one of the most haunted places in America - along with Savannah and Gettysberg, I guess. When I was in nola I was kind of hoping to see something strange, in fact, I wanted to go on the Haunted History tour but we decided against it. I think that on the nola Haunted History tour they focus on the events that have been described on the Travel Channel's Haunted History series - that's probably only a small part of what's been reported, though.

I remember that there were several incidents reported in the French Quarter, including a house very near our hotel. It was a really creepy one, with a woman who abused, tortured and killed her slaves back in the 1700's. She was a real piece of work, and as I recall the slaves finally rose up and killed her. The creepiest thing was that I think a lot of her neighbors and townsmen knew something horrific was going on but didn't know enough to take action against her.

Oak Alley Plantation is also only an hour or so out of nola and is supposed to be one of the most haunted houses in America. Apparently there's a lady there who was beautiful and vibrant but had an accident of some kind. The doctors had to amputate one of her legs and she spent the rest of her life shut in the house as a recluse. She's called "the grey lady" and still can be seen around her home, but when they showed her she was walking normally so I think in her death she got her leg back. Apparently, she's seen quite often and the house is open for tourists. (I wanna go!)

There's another plantation around nola somewhere, I think, that is called The Myrtles. Apparently, a slave named Chloe had been taken from the fields and allowed to work in the house with the family and the other house slaves. The family was a wealthy one, with two little kids. The master caught Chloe eavesdropping on a conversation with some of his cronies one time, and he had her ear cut off to punish her. After that, Chloe always wore a kerchief over her head that covered her ear. The master then told her that she would be going back to work in the fields and was no longer welcome in the house. She thought, "hell, no" as house life was so much easier than field work, so she hatched a plan that would show her as a hero. One of the kids had a birthday and as Chloe cooked the cake she had the not-so-brilliant idea of putting belladonna or something in it, with the idea that when the kids ate the cake they would get sick and she would give them whatever the antidote was and save them, and the master and mistress would be so happy that she would be welcome to stay in the house. Unfortunately, she didn't measure out the right amount of poison and the kids sickened and died. She was so distraught that it was easy to get the story out of her, and she was hanged. She is a benevolent spirit that is seen around the house still, and is especially fond of children. Some people have taken photos at the house that apparently show a ghost wearing a kerchief....

There's also a ghost at Napoleon House restaurant, but we never got there to eat. Maybe next time. Also, Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, which we saw but didn't go into, is filled with ghosts.

Maybe next time I'm there I'll take the Ghost Tour - as long as it's not cold. Or rainy. And I don't have to walk.

HOWEVER, for us, the absolute creepiest place in nola turned out to be the Reverend Zombie's Voodoo Shop, which is across from Pat O'Briens (hurricanes...yummmm). The first time I was there I had a unmistakable feeling of heaviness on my chest as I walked through it and did not want to hang around. I left very soon after getting there and did not buy anything. Then, a couple of years later, I went in again and the feeling was worse. The heaviness started as soon as I crossed the threshold and got worse the further into the store I walked - in fact, I was just in for a few seconds and had to back up to stand by the door. Aimee walked around some, then came back to stand by me. She said something along the lines of how fake the store was and right then something cold jabbed her in the back. And then a few seconds later a woman came in the door - I glanced at her and thought "that looks like Elly" and then the clerk said "Hi, Elly". Whoa! Freaked me out, because my Elly has been dead for several years - the even creepier thing is that she was the most woo-woo person I have ever met and it would not have surprised to me to see her walk through the door, even though she was several years dead. And, the even creepier thing is that the night before, Poppy, Aimee and I had been to Louie's house - his wife was out but she is a voodoo priestess named Elly....how's that for coincidence? I wonder if the negative presence at Rev. Zombie's was reacting to something good that we picked up at Louie and Elly's. It really did not like us!! And the fact that it poked Aimee??? Creepy!

A Doozy of a Cold

Man. I hate colds. I've been leaking nasty fluids since last Friday and just now feel human again.

Slugs? Gross!

A True Story. The grossest things happen to me sometimes.

I hate bugs. I hate crawly, slithery things.

When I was about 14, I went to the store and bought hyacinth bulbs. I love hyacinths - they smell heavenly, they grow fast and all they need is some dirt and occasional water. So I bought bulbs. I didn't buy pots, I had pots. I didn't buy potting soil, I had lots of dirt right in the backyard. So far so good.

After returning from the store with my precious bulbs, I got the pots, dug some dirt, planted the bulbs and got ready for some lovely hyacinths. I wanted the flowers in my bedroom, so I placed the pots in my windowsill which received nice indirect western sunlight. My mother knew I bought bulbs but I neglected to tell her about my planting technique. The problem came that night after I went to bed.

I'd been asleep for a couple of hours when something woke me. I don't know what made me come awake so soon after falling asleep, it was certainly not my usual pattern. I normally slept through the night and, in a small house with five other people (three of them boys), you get used to noises and adjust to sleeping through them. Anyway, I halfway opened an eye, not sure why I was awake, and found myself facing the wall. In the small room, my twin bed was smack up against the wall and I usually slept facing the wall so nothing unusual had happened yet.

Coming out of deep sleep, it took a few minutes to adjust to the fact that I actually WAS awake and then to wonder WHY was I awake. I opened both eyes. In the dark, I could barely see three faint elongated shapes on the wall inches from my eyes. After a few seconds of staring at these strange shapes, two things happened at once. One, I realized that elongated shapes on my wall were an unusual occurrence. And, two, THEY MOVED.

Have you ever seen someone in the movies whip a tablecloth off a table without disturbing the dinnerware? That was me whipping out of bed. I moved so fast the covers kept my sleeping shape for seconds afterwards before realizing I was no longer there. I slammed on the light switch across the room and, scared as shit, looked at the wall by my recently-sleeping head.

There, on the wall, crawling down from the windowsill, leaving a long trail of slime behind, and just scant inches from reaching the bed itself, were three slugs. Stretched out to about three inches each... Big. Fat. Nasty. Slugs.

I thought "this is it!", I'm going to have a heart attack and die right here in my bedroom. Then I thought of the slugs crawling over my inert dead body and squelched that idea. I thought about yelling for dad. Then I realized (being the responsible kid that I was, and, by the way, WHAT WAS I THINKING?) I couldn't wake him up because I knew he had to get up early for work. I didn't know what to do so I stood there in freeze-frame until the slugs slithered again and that got me moving. I grabbed some notebook paper from my desk, half a dozen sheets for each hand, and scooped the slugs off the wall onto the paper. They kind of plopped onto the paper which freaked me out but it was worse thinking about them plopping onto my bed so I held steady. I carefully ran out of my room with the slug-filled papers, ran through the house, unlocked the back door, and threw paper and all into the flower bed. I then went back to my room and got the hyacinth pots. They, too, went outside but with a bit more care.

Then I thought: But wait, what if there are more? Yikes! I carefully checked the windowsill, all of the four walls in my room, under the bed, inside the covers, on top of the covers, in my pillow, in my shoes, in Barbie's playhouse, in the closet (which was closed), every inch of floor space, everywhere they could possibly have gone and then some. And thankfully I did not find any more; the great slug parade was only three strong and they were now outside.

In the morning, I told mom about the creepy thing that had happened to me during the night. She looked at me like I was nuts, obviously not believing me. She probably thought it was all a dream, even with the evidence right outside the back door. Then I realized that it wasn't the event itself that she questioned. It was the fact that I hadn't screamed the house down. Which should have been my first reaction to having slugs in my bedroom. And she knew it. And I knew it. Today, looking back, I think I was just so freaked out that I couldn't think of anything past just getting them out of there.

End of story. Moral: Always buy potting soil for indoor plants. And, if you're not sure how to do something, ask your mother.

But, guess what? Last year I went outside to take the garbage out, didn't put my shoes on, and stepped on a slug in the driveway WITH MY BARE FOOT! I freaked! Duh.

And then, just this past spring, I was in the garage to get some of the patio stuff that had been stored for the winter. Not the furniture, but the lamps, tables, windchimes and stuff. I grabbed the tarp I had covered everything with to help keep it clean, and I grabbed a slug. Of course. With my bare hand.

The old patio stuff is still in the garage covered with a blue tarp. I bought new.

Get a Belt, Dude!

My brother Ken is a pretty big guy. Like a lot of big men, he's heavier in the chest and belly than in the legs. So his pants usually have to be anchored with a belt or suspenders to fit over his belly, but they usually end up riding under it.

He and I own and live in a house together in the Laurelhurst neighborhood in Portland. Anyway, every year I start asking him in mid-November to put up the Christmas lights around the front porch. He used to put it off as long as he could because, at that time, he had to manually string them along the top of the porch, lights in one hand, heavy duty stapler in the other, and he stapled them to the underside of the porch. We now have little plastic clips that work much better, but we were then in the dark ages of Christmas light technology.

About five years ago, around the middle of December, he had finally decided it was time to put up the lights. It was a beautifully clear and sunny early winter day, perfect weather for native Oregonians like Ken to wear cutoff jeans.

He gathered up light strings and stapler, got a fresh batch of staples, and proceeded to do his annual duty. He'd already covered the side of the porch facing the driveway and had worked his way around to the very front, facing the street. Unfortunately, I chose that moment to make a run into the house to get something, and missed what happened next. But I didn't miss the final result, which was seeing a dishevled and big-eyed big man's version of a mad dash into the house. In his underwear.

I asked, "What's wrong?" No answer, heavy breathing only. "What happened?", I said in a louder voice.

After several aborted efforts, he finally was able to tell me what had precipitated his vacating the porch in such a hurry. Apparently, he was stringing lights, and merrily stapling along, his arms lifted above his head. He was lost in the seamless rhythm of manly home-improvement contentment. He'd abandoned the idea of using a stepladder because he wanted to stay on the move without interruption. I should add here that the street along the front of the house is a main thoroughfare for people on bikes, people walking dogs, people taking their kids to the nearby park, and a moderate amount of cars. So there was the potential of having plenty of folks around to see what happened next.

He said he was stapling away, arms loaded and swinging over his head, when all of a sudden he felt his cut-offs start sliding down. They fell to the ground and puddled around his ankles before he could empty his hands and grab them. He admitted there were a few people walking along the sidewalk right about then, which seemed to necessitate the mad dash to the house in his underwear. Holy crap, I was very sorry to have missed it!

When he put up the lights the next year, he wore a belt.

About three years after the Christmas lights incident, Ken's shorts again decided to head south. We had gone to our parents house for a barbecue and, while he was wheeling the grill out of the shed, he noticed there were a few bees buzzing around.

He asked Mom if she had noticed an increase in bees in the backyard. She said, "Yes, we seem to have lots of them." Ken said he thought there might be a hive nearby. He searched one of the sheds and couldn't find any sign. He then opened another shed, and saw several bees. Looking farther along the side of shed, he could see there actually was a hive toward the back of the wall. About this time, Dad and I, both also in the backyard, and, until then, mildly interested in the proceedings, went our separate ways. I dashed into the house behind the screen door (after all, it was bees!), and Dad took off for the far side of the yard for a birds eye view.

Here's where it all starts going wrong. Instead of using any number of accepted methods of destroying an active hive, he decided to poke a stick at it and pull it out of the shed. Only when he started poking, the bees got upset (as bees will) and started streaming out of the small shed opening. Unfortunately for Ken, that's exactly where he was standing. As soon as he realized the precarious situation he'd gotten himself into, it was way too late. The bees were on him by then. He ran from the shed, yelling and hollering, slapping his head, swatting his arms, hitting his body everywhere he could reach. His legs were like pistons, pumping up and down, in a weird parody of dance-like movements. Right in the middle of the slapping, swatting and jumping, I think was when he realized he was losing his shorts. He made one final jump, with a graceful 360 degree turn on his heel, and his shorts were down. On the ground. He'd danced right out of them. And he kept dancing.

I'm sorry to say that between Dad and I, we offered him absolutely no help at all. I was safely ensconced behind the screen door and that was where I was staying. Dad was in the yard, but as far from the action as he could possibly get. And, even more unfortunately for Ken, we were both doubled over with hysterical laughter. Dad was especially bad. He was laughing so hard it was with an effort that he even stayed on his feet. At one point in his dance routine, Ken must have thought Dad could offer him a measure of comfort (or at least another set of swatting hands), but Dad was having none of it. He only backed further away, tears beginning to stream down his face, his arms outstretched as if to say, "don't bring those bees over here!"

We did finally came to our senses and go to Ken's aid. I grabbed a can of Raid and went out armed and wildly spraying. Between us all, we got the bees off his skin, Dad grabbed his shorts, and we all ran inside the house to the bathroom where he could douse himself with medicine. He actually was stung about thirty times, but luckily he suffered no ill effects from the ordeal. But, man oh man, to this day, I would have given anything to have that on tape - Ken yelling and stomping around the backyard in his underwear, and Dad laughing so hard the tears were running, backing away from Ken like he had the plague.

HAHAHAHA!!! Oh, Boo Hoo.

Hee!

This is a great send-up on those stupid tug-at-your-heart emails we all get:

Late last week, I was rushing around trying to get some last minute shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the Christmas season right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading my car up with gifts that I felt obligated to buy. I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the mall entrance.

As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill. Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand.

Thinking that he had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong. He told me his sad story. He said that he came from a large family. He was the eldest of three brothers and four sisters. His father had died when he was nine years old. His mother was poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She very little money to support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save two hundred dollars to buy her children Christmas presents.

The young boy had been dropped off by his mother, on her way to her second job. He was to use the money to buy presents for all his siblings and save just enough to take the bus home. He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of the hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night.

"Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.
The boy said, "I did."
"And nobody came to help you?" I inquired.

The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head.

"How loud did you scream?" I asked. The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered,

"Help me!"

I realized that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy’s cry for help.

So I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car.

Music at My Desk

Right now, November 8th, here's a list of the cd's I have at my desk. I didn't realize I had so many at work till I started listing them - I guess I should haul some home, huh?

Where it seemed appropriate, I added a little personal note. Damn, I hate Word - indenting and tabbing drives me nuts. Word Perfect definitely had Word beat in these areas, hands down!

The Killers
Love 'em. I'm interested to see what the next cd will be like, because this first one is so impossibly good.

The Strokes, Is This It
Wow, this album just rocks. Julian has a very sexy new voice, and the songs are very melodic and fast, kind of rock/pop tunes - very cool. I love it.

Pavarotti and Friends, for the Children of Bosnia
The best song here is Bono, the Edge, and Brian Eno doing "One". God, I love that song! This is about the best version of it that they've done. Interesting tidbit here is that Michael Bolton, whom I don't normally like, has a nice operatic voice. Who would have guessed?

World Leader Pretend
A band I found on an Amazon list; they're OK, they may get better. Cool name though - it's got to be from REM.

Guns & Roses, Use Your Illusion II
I LOVE "Estranged" - the best track from this album. Also, Civil War isn't bad. "We got the wall of D.C. to remind us all that you can't trust freedom when it's not in your hands". Powerful stuff.
Rod Stewart, Sing It Again Rod
Some of the Rod-man's best hits. My faves are "Reason to Believe" (I've always liked that song), "Maggie May", and "I'm Losing You" They're all good songs though.

Guns & Roses, Spaghetti Incident
Not as good as "Appetite" or Illusion" but some good songs here.

The Kings of Leon
Two albums - the first and Aha Shake Heartbreak. These guys are young, they're kind of unhip and they are GOOD. I particularly like the first album - it's raw and so full of energy it bites your head off. The second has better production values and is good, but if you like the rawness of the first you'll not like it as well.

Scissor Sisters
These guys are GREAT - I hope they continue putting out music as good as this self-titled album.

Gorillaz, Demon Days
Some of this I like a lot, some I don't. Overall, I do recommend it.

The Caesars, 39 Minutes of Bliss
I bought this on the strength of the iPod commercial featuring "Jerk It out" - still like the song, most of the others are OK, but that was definitely the best song.

Ultimate Trance, 6 cd's
Excellent, excellent dance/house/forget yourself/block out annoying cube neighbors music.

The Frames
I have, like, three of their albums here - the best is the live album. These guys are pretty good.

Social Distortion
Two albums at my desk - Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, and Social Distortion. These guys are about the hardest rocking band in the world - love them.

The Dandy Warhols, 13 Tales from Urban Bohemia
Still love it - sort of their break through album, particularly on the strength of "Bohemian Like You" which I LOVE.

The Bravery
These guys are OK, but not riveting.

Guns & Roses, Appetite for Destruction
This is good. "Sweet Child of Mine" , "Paradise City" and several others that were eye-opening when they first broke through. Axl was a sexy, lithe, snake-dancer back then. He's gotten older now like the rest of us. Too bad.

The Start, Shakedown
I like the Start - I don't generally like female singers though this is OK.

The Stone Roses, self-titled album
OMG, these guys were the BEST! I wish they had received more attention in the US so I can talk about them with people - they were HUGE in the UK and this album is still consistently in the top ten of all time when they do UK music lists.

Primal Scream, Screamadelica
Primal Scream is one of my favorites…and this is my favorite Primal Scream album. It's also the most pop-oriented, which may be why I like it best…who knows. Again, always makes the Top 10 of all time lists.

Supergrass, Supergrass
Supergrass is so good…This is the best of them. They have the most fascinating song hooks and melodies, which always attract me.

Poe, Haunted
Aimee turned me on to Poe - there are a few songs of hers I like but for the most part I find her a bit self-involved and a teeny bit angsty.

Bruce Springsteen, Greatest Hits
What can I say? It's Bruuuuce!

Metallica, Garage Inc
"Whiskey In A Jar" is my favorite here, but this is pretty good.

Supergrass, In It For the Money
Another Supergrass, not as good as Supergrass, but pretty good.

The Verve, Urban Hymns
Of course, the big hit here is "Bittersweet Symphony" which is excellent. But it certainly lived up to its name when the Rolling Stones got through with them - bittersweet hit, broke up the band.

Placebo, Placebo
Fast, fast

Pulp, Different Class
Love "I Spy" and "Common People" - these guys were much bigger in the UK then they ever got here.

U2, Best of 1980-1990
Bono and The Edge, that's enough.

Blur, Parklife
Blur's OK - this is probably one of their most accessible albums

Curtis Salgado, Soul Activated
Home town boy does good….Curtis is one of the best blues and soul singers around.

U2, Achtung Baby
Sometimes I like to put this one in.

The Chemical Brothers, Come With Us
When I feel the need for some techno dance music - usually around budget development time.

Joey Ramone, Don't Worry About Me
Joey has written some really good tunes here - I hope he lived long enough to see this come out, I don't remember. I really like most of this.

Train, Drops of Jupiter
Train came on really big over the last 3 years or so - I like them, but they don't have the melody/hooks that I especially like (like the Strokes and Supergrass)

Oasis, What's the Story, Morning Glory?
Another one everybody has - this is still good and has held up over the years.

Richard Ashcroft, Alone with Everybody
Richard post-Verve, most of this is pretty good. I don't know if he can carry a solo career, though.

Poe, Hey Pretty (single)
The best song from the Haunted CD. And this one has Mark doing voice-over - this is the "fast, slow, fast, fast, slow" version that became a pretty big hit.

I'm taking some of these home, and I'll bring new ones in to work. I'll have to see what strikes my interest. Some of these I barely listen to, others I listen to everyday. I tend to buy new ones and listen to those till I'm sick of them, then I put them away for a while.

Concerts, #1

The other day Aimee and I were talking about concerts - who had we seen, who did we like, who didn't we like? Since there's a generational gap between us it's always interesting to talk music and see how similar we are and/or how far apart we are in our musical tastes. Anyway, it got me to thinking. What concerts do I remember the most? Why? So I'm listing a few here - some I liked, some I didn't, and I'll try to add to the list as I remember other ones.

Bread
The first major concert I ever went to was (cringe) Bread. My friend,Susan, was a big fan and convinced me that we should go. The concert was in the Memorial Coliseum and it was my first trip to the Coliseum for a strictly musical event. I wasn't impressed - the acoustics were horrific. But I think it was the band -I never liked Bread's music so this was not a concert by which to judge the Coliseum's acoustics, however, they never did improve much, even for bands I actually liked.
Bread: D, but only because I don't like them; Susan had a great time.

Bruce Springsteen
I saw the Boss twice, once in Portland and once in Tacoma. The Portland concert was a shade better only because we didn't have to travel so far. The Boss is the Boss for a reason: He had, and probably still has, the best touring band in the world with the E Street Band. And he puts his heart and soul into his concerts, and a lot of sweat. The best thing about the Boss is that he doesn't want to quit singing and playing any more than the audience wants him to stop - he takes the energy from the audience and sends it back two-fold and as long as it keeps coming to him he won't quit. Both of these concerts were between 4 and 5 hours long, which ought to put most other bands to shame when they deign to give 90 minutes of their time for their concerts. Bruce is like the Everready bunny, he just goes and goes and goes...and never fails to give his audience the thrill of seeing a master at work.
The Boss: A+, Both concerts, exhausting and exhilerating for both the audience and the performers

George Thorogood
George at the Euphoria, how much better could it get? He and the band were absolutely fabulous in the small-ish setting, very high energy and infectious and BADASS. The Euphoria was cool because when you were moved by the music you could just shove all the tables and chairs out of the way (keeping the beer pitchers handy though) and make a big dance floor. George was born to play in bars. I saw George again at the Intermediate Theater after the opening of the Schnitz complex. In the more formal setting of a regular auditorium he lost a lot of his immediacy to the audience - how do you compare dancing at your seat to half-drunken flying and wildness with 300 of your newest, closest friends at the club?
George: A, pure energy, and good and nasty at the Euphoria, B-, lost a lot of energy in the auditorium

ZZ Top
Unfortunatley, the ZZ Top concert will always be remembered as the one where some asshole drunk kid threw up in Camille's hair. The band was great, I always have loved their bluesy, driving music and their cool band persona. So, the concert was great but the vomit was distracting. Damn kid.
ZZ Top: A, for music, C-, for overall experience (of course, this would be an F if the kid had thrown up in MY hair!)

Heart
I saw Heart at their heyday, just before they started playing arenas and lost the magic in the too-big space. My friend Forrest and I went to the Paramount (back when it was a really cool theater and music arena, and before the suits renamed and revamped it). Ann's voice was electrifying and the band was on fire. We were in the first row, first balcony so we had what I've always thoought were the best seats in the house.
Heart: A-, Ann's voice gave us goosebumps it was so on that night

Icehouse
Again, at the pre-remodeled Paramount. Icehouse was great - their "fame"was pretty short-lived but they were a pretty good band. Worth the trip downtown.
Icehouse: B, they were never more than a B band but definitely worth the $2.92 I paid for my ticket.

The Motels
The Motels at the Starry Night - very cool and seedy venue, very cool band. This band was better than their short run near the top would indicate. And in the intimate setting of the Starry Night Club they were outstanding.
The Motels: B

Triumph
Camille and I wanted to see Angel City and they were opening for Triumph. So we thought, hell, two for one let's do it. Wrong. Triumph stunk up the house (or more accurately, the Coliseum). Angel City, however (see below), rocked the house. We stayed for just a couple of Triumph songs and then left - the only time I ever left a concert before the last note had been played.
Triumph: D-, they were off-key, and terrible. Peeeyyyooouuu!

Angel City (aka Angels or something because of some dispute)
Angel City has always been one of very favorite bands. They opened forTriumph at the Coliseum and Camille and I just had to go. Fortunately, Angel City was in great form, sang all the best songs, and totally rocked the house. Unfortunately, Triumph was either having a very bad night or else they just stank in general. Yay, Angel City!
Angel City: A, fantastic! Would have been an A+ with any other band in the world (except Bread...)

David Bowie/Peter Frampton/Duran Duran
Glass Spider tour, played at the Civic Auditorium downtown, outside. I went with Bruce, Judy, Delyn, Nick and JudyJ. We sat in great seats - in one of the boxes right on the edge of the field. Peter Frampton was on this tour also, as part of the band. Duran Duran was there, this was when they were on top of the world. Frampton soloed a couple of times and was great. Overall, a wonderful experience, there's something about listening to music outside under the stars that just brings everything closer.
David Bowie: B, pretty good musical period for Bowie, plus the added benefit of Frampton and Duran Duran

The Who
Laura, Jill and I went to Vancouver BC for this one, because it was as close as they were coming to Portland where we could still get seats. The concert was great, it was the Tommy concert (saw Quadraphenia later in Portland), and Laura and I were totally rocked by Roger Daltry and Pete Townsend. The only downer to the trip, and it was a big one, were 3 friends of Jill's that crashed with us - the room was WAY too small for 6 and the car was packed whenever we went anywhere, because, of course, they had NO MONEY!!! They couldn't afford to buy gas. Why the hell didn't they just stay home? Sorry to say that her friends were just plain too weird for me, and not weird in a good way. More like freeloaders and hanger-ons. That part was not good - I felt like screaming most of the time. They didn't have tickets to the concert, though, which was GOOD. Why the hell had they even come? And I got in a bad mood on the last day and kind of moped most of the way home - I remember crying when we left because I was so pissed at how rotten the weekend had turned out after I had looked forward to it so much. Bummer.
The Who: B+, for the concert, because it was all recycled material after all D, for my one and only trip to Vancouver because of all the other crap that went on.

Van Halen
I saw Van Halen at the Jantzen Beach Arena, which before that had been a skating rink, and years before that was the site of the Jantzen Beach Amusement Park, which was kind of like Coney Island in Portland (they tore it all down when I wasn't much more than a kid, but I remember it was SO MUCH FUN, but that's another story). The concert was great - it was in support of their first album, some say their best album, and they were just fresh kids trying to make it big in the music biz. Went with Camille, Mike and what-was-that-guy's-name? We had fun - the arena was set up kind of like a school assembly, with bleachers on the sides and standing room in the middle. We were on the bleachers, up front.
Van Halen: B+, they were young, they were fresh and so were we.

Eddie Money
Along with Van Halen, Eddie Money was at the start of his career when I saw him. He never rose very high on the public's awareness meter, but he had a few cool songs.
Eddie Money: B, he was never more than a B, I'm afraid

Dire Straits
OMG, Mark Knopfler rocked my world! He was so good, the band he'd put together was top-notch, and these guys couldn't hit a bad note if they wanted to. They were smooth and professional, and at the same time, they were just raucaus enough and loud enough to give the audience everything we wanted. Musically, these guys were the best. This was shortly after"Sultans of Swing" hit it big so they were riding a big wave of positive reviews and magic.
Dire Straits: B+, a missed note or two once in a while is refreshing

The Moody Blues
Ooohh, what can I say? Justin Hayward.......Justin Hayward....... OK, I wiped the drool. I saw The Moody Blues at least a dozen times over the years. Some combination of Judy, Sue and I and whoever else wanted to go went each year they toured. Love 'em.
The Moody Blues: There is no grade high enough.

I'll have to think about this some more and you'll probably see Concerts, part 2, soon.

NOLA is my friend

I hate Hurricane Katrina. It not only ruined the physical NOLA but it also crapped on the cultural NOLA. One of my favorite cities. I've been there twice, January 2002 and June/July 2004.
Just for the heck of it I thought I'd blog just a bit about it. Here's a synopsis of the trip that I took to NOLA in January 02 with Luke and Aimee: Eat, Drink, Eat, Drink, Eat, Drink, Sleep, Eat, Drink, Shop for trinkets, Eat Drink, Eat Drink, Shop some more, and Sleep. That's about it. And we met Poppy and ate a fabulous dinner at Marisol, and stayed up drinking practically all night. And, oh, the seduction of Bourbon Street. On that trip, we stayed one block from Bourbon. We really wanted to stay in the French Quarter because we knew we'd love it there, and we did, but next time? No way. In fact, next trip Aimee and I stayed on St. Charles - not nearly as distracting.

One advantage I thought I would have when I went the second time was that I wouldn't have to buy beads or souveniers. WRONG. I am a huge sucker for the sparklies. I even bought extra luggage in the French Market in order to get all my crap home - both times.

And what about the hotel? Let me tell you about the hotel we stayed at on our first trip. It's called the Rue Royal Inn, right on Royal Street. It's the most crazy-assed building you ever saw, I found out later that it was actually two old buildings connected into one. In order to get to our room we had to go up or down 7 staircases. Sounds wrong. doesn't it? But we had to go through the courtyard, up one staircase, up another, along a landing, down a short staircase, up another staircase, down another, and up two more. We'd get up and out by 10 or 11 in the morning, shop, eat and drink all day, and come in at 10 or 11. Luke and Aimee sometimes went out late but not me - NO WAY was I going back down and then back up those crazy staircases to get back to the room. Once I was in for the night they were on their own. (Although we did find a shortcut later. THANK GOD.)

The most memorable thing about nola is the music. There is music everywhere; I'd never heard or seen anything like it. Especially in Jackson Square and anywhere along Bourbon. It was the coolest thing in the world to have music everywhere you went. The city is alive with music and people, and the smell of the city itself just exacerbates that aliveness. The smell hits you as soon as you leave the plane, and at first I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay there it smelled so bad. In fact, Aimee and I looked at each other and peewed our noses at the sametime. The smell is a living thing. It's also a dead thing. It's a mixture of decay, mud, industry, mold, and more decay. I guess it's just the smell of the old city kind of rotting from within and mixed with the living essence of the Mississippi River. All I know is that after the first hour or so I got used to it, in fact, when we got to our room, we opened the windows and never closed them again for five days. Which is a joke in itself, because one of the windows in the living room was broken out and open to the city. Never did figure out why they hadn't fixed it, but when we told the hotel clerk, he acted like he had never heard it was broken, so who knows? After a short time, the smell just blended in with the experience, and we seldom noticed it again, just at times when it wafted in extra strong for some reason. This was also the first time I'd ever seen slate roofs. The house across the way, visible from the bathroom, was getting a new roof during our stay. The guys were just over on the roof scraping the slates off with some kind of tool and letting them hit the ground. I was like, hey, I want one of those! They're pretty cool. I did end up picking a painted one up from an artist in Jackson Square. Still have it, it's pretty cool.

Bagdad Memories

One thing I want to do with this blog is just write about crap - like little vignettes. So you'll see these here and there.

"Come on, let's go see a movie."
My friend, Camille, and I used to go to a lot of movies. We liked all the movie houses, the multi-plexes, the drive-ins - didn't matter. We liked movies and went a lot. Somehow, though, most of my best memories, our funniest times (she's argue with this because most of these are at her
expense) were at the Bagdad Theater. The Bagdad was an older movie theater in the Hawthorne neighborhood of Portland. It's now been re-furbished by a theater/bar/restaurant local conglomerate so it's not the same as it was years ago when it was privately owned and a bit dowdy and tired. But it always had at least second-run moves, and sometimes first-run, so the fare was current, even if the theater itself was not.

Here's what I mean: In its heyday the theater's chairs were probably the latest thing in seating, with lovely, brown, leather-clad seats and backs. I presume the seats were padded originally; by the time my butt got to sit in them decades later, they were pretty thin and flat, the leather was worn, and some of the seats were broken. You had to arrive early for your movie so you had time to try out the seats to find good ones that either wouldn't pinch your bottom, or propel you backwards into the knees of the poor person sitting behind you if it turned out your seat back was broken.

The floor was usually sticky, and it had lost its carpet eons ago. This provided good traction, which'll come in handy later. You'll see.

The bathrooms were downstairs which was awkward if you waited too long to pee. Who wants to get up in the middle of a good movie to pee until you absolutely have to wet your pants? So I'd always wait, and then run downstairs and down the hallway as fast as I could. But that's not even the worse. Half of the stalls didn't work. So, you a) had to allow enough time to get downstairs and to the toilet, and b) desperately pray all the way down there that nobody else was in the bathroom ("please be empty, please be empty, please be empty"), and c) find a working empty stall. Another person making the same dash could throw this schedule off completely.

That was the Bagdad. It was beautiful in his prime, but by the time we arrived it was just past middle age and was starting to show gray hair, sagging chins, and faded velvet.

Now back to Camille. Camille is one of those people that funny things happen to. You know them - the people who are always involved in a dramatic or comedic moment. The person you call on the phone and ask "what's up?" and there are actually several interesting things happening,
usually all at once. As opposed to people like me, who respond "oh, nothing."

The Seat That Farted
Camille, our friend Bob, and I went to the Bagdad one Saturday afternoon to see a movie.
Remember that the seats are leather? It seems that one of the properties of leather seats is that they trap air in them if there's any space available, like worn down and flattened foam. Camille, Bob and I stopped at the snackbar on our way in to get the absolutely essential soda and popcorn (large-size, of course, in the case of each). We trooped into the half full theater, with our hands full, went to our favorite spot (towards the front, middle of the row), and sat down. Or, at least Bob and I sat down. Camille, on the other hand, fell into her seat with a great big "PHHOOFF!!" The sound reverberated throughout the theater. And, unfortunately, it sounded exactly like a huge explosive fart. The theater went silent. Then, out of the stunned silence, I could hear faint giggles coming from my side where Camille was sitting. Well, that was too much for Bob and me. We both started giggling - giggles which soon grew to muffled laughter. The three of us were shaking in our seats and laughing like loons. I don't know if the other people ever figured out what the noise was, but I know without a doubt what they all THOUGHT it was. It still makes us laugh whenever we think about the farting seat.

Sticky Floor
The carpet had obviously been removed years before because there was a sticky buildup of spilled soda and popcorn grease in the aisles that Mr. Clean couldn't have budged. Camillee and I had made our snack bar stop, and were headed down the aisle to the seats we'd scoped out from the top of the room. I confidently walked in front, no problem. Camille was right behind me. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of someone hitting the ground, accompanied by the sounds of spilling pop and dropped popcorn. I looked back and she was sprawled all over the aisle behind me. She had popcorn all over her but luckily the Coke had run off to the side so she wasn't sitting in it. I ran back to her and helped her up - fortunately she wasn't hurt. I asked her what happened and she said her tennis shoe had stuck in the aisle muck and she was thrown off her feet. Then she started giggling, thenI did, and we struggled to our seats. When she pulled herself together she, of course, went back to the snack bar to replenish her supplies.

Butt Sticker

Camille liked to sit in her seat with her legs over or against the seat in front of her. This worked well if the seat was empty, not so well if it was occupied because you'd end up accidently kicking someone in the head.

On this occasion, Camille, Bob and I were watching a movie as usual. Camille was in the middle, Bob was sitting on the aisle. She put her feet up and happily munched away on her popcorn. Towards the end of the movie she needed to change position and started to draw her legs back to extricate them from the seat in front. She must not have been paying enough attention because the next thing I knew she had slid forward, but her legs were still up. I looked over at her and here's what I saw - she had slid too far forward on her seat and her butt had slipped down into the aisle. Her feet were sticking straight up in the air…and she was wearing waffle-stompers, which I hadn't even noticed until they were waving at me at face-level. She was completely stuck in that little aisle space. Between the three of us we were laughing so hard and she was just getting wedged in tighter with every movement. All you could see of Camille were two legs sticking straight up in the air, feet topped with waffle-stompers, and the very top of her head. As the movie ended, and the credits started to roll she came to her senses enough to realize that two things were going to happen: 1) the lights were coming on, and 2) other people in our aisle would need to get out. So, she did the only thing she could possibly do in that situation - she threw her coat over her head.

Which made Bob and me just laugh all the harder. It was obviously apparent to the others in our aisle that, whether they could see her or not through her coat of invisibility, they were not going to be able to get past Bob and me, so they all went the other way. Camille wouldn't come out of her shelter to let us help her extricate herself, and wouldn't even acknowledge us until the theater was completely empty. I don't know how much help we'd of been anyway right then because every time we looked at her we'd burst into laughter. Eventually the manager came down to see what the hell was going on in his theater, and between the three of us, we got poor Camille unwedged from between the seats. She kept her coat flung over her head as we left the theater, just in case someone from the movie was still in the lobby.

Watching "Alien"

I've probably ratted on Camille enough by now, but here's one last short one. She hates scary movies. They always give her nightmares and she's learned to just avoid scary, horror-filled, or gory movies altogether. I think she must have not had a clue what the movie "Alien" was all about, because she wanted to go. This was one of the Bagdad's first run movies - the theater was packed and we were wedged in the middle of a row with people on all sides of us. In other words, we were stuck for the duration.

I loved the movie. For Camille, it was a total waste of money because she missed almost the entire thing. And she wanted to leave but we were trapped and she didn't want to make a scene. So, what did she do instead? At the onset of the first scary scene she flung her coat over her head. The coat stayed securely perched on head for the rest of the movie, except for a very few times when, listening to the dialogue, she felt she could watch the scene. Sometimes that worked, sometimes it didn't. She still tells people that she "watched" Alien in the theater, but I would have to beg to differ.

Ding! Dong! The Witch is Dead!

Well, not dead really, but FUCKIN' GONE!!!!!
The "Artist" in residence has left the building. Hallelujah! The lobby is mine again!

And she's dead to me.

It is with a much lighter heart that I go about my business. YAHOO!

Oooohhh, That's Gross!

In the area of too much information, I'm just logging on to say that I'm having the stinkiest, juiciest farts in the western hemisphere today. I think it was last night's spaghetti - I have to check with my brother to see what he put in it.

Good god, fuckin' a.

Don't. Get. Near. Me. Today.

On a lighter note, I don't think anyone has tracked them back to me.

Clickety-clack clack

Here's an annoying thing: Listening to someone across the cube wall wailing on their keyboard. clack clack clack, some keyboards are really annoying and have a distinctly clacky sound. This one is particularly bad and annoys everyone within reach - I know it's not her fault she has an annoying keyboard but it makes several of us really tense when she's clacking away for awhile. Her boss came up to me the other day and rolled her eyes - "what is she DOING?" I said she probably doesn't even know it sounds like that to other people and is oblivious. I guess we just have to put up with it - personally I have music on. Today? So far, The Killers and The Kings of Leon. I'll switch to some trance later because it helps keep me awake in the afternoons.

When is Art a Pain in the Ass?

I haven't said anything here about a month-long art project that's been going on in the lobby of my office building. It's winding down now (Thank God!) but here's the premise: There's a woman (oh, excuse me, an "artist") who has been crocheting a giant plastic blanket in the lobby for the past four weeks. Interesting, huh? It's actually turned out pretty, in a old-fashioned granny-square, lacy kind of way. It's now about 30 feet long and about 15 feet wide, and is visually kind of cool. But, is it Art? Who the hell knows? I guess so, as it's an act of creating something from something else, in this case taking a giant roll of 4" wide plastic and making a giant crochet hook, and using them together to make a giantic, virtually useless blanket. I was indifferent to this project for the first couple of weeks, and glanced at her as I walked by on my way to break or lunch or the ATM but, except for smiling and saying "hi", I did not stop and chat like many folks did. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I discovered she was blogging the progress of this project so I went to check it out. What a bunch of rot! She made some lame coorelation between the false sense of security given to us by our jobs with the false security of a cold plastic blanket. Then she went on to blog about the people she's talked with, basically asking them what they do, what they want to do, what they would do if they had a year/24 hours left. THEN, she summed it up, saying most people here are not happy, they do not like their jobs, they work only for security, are not doing what they want to do, don't know how to live, are living sham lives, are fat (she watches people walk about the lobby) (how ruuude!), infers we are generally stupid for working here if we don't really want to, calls the people who don't stop and talk with her (like, WHO HAS TIME?) "Frequent Travelers", makes fun of a man with a combover (one of the Travelers) and calls him Freeway Man because of his white scalp that shows under the combover, and other smarmy stuff, while she's inferring how wonderful and fulfilled SHE is and is smiling her smile - she even has a name for her "Fake" Smile (I'll look back and see if I can find out what she calls the face she puts on for us). The more I read the more pissed off I became - and I am SO HAPPY that this her last fucking day in our lobby. The last few days it's been difficult to walk past her to get to the ATM or to go out for a smoke at breaktime, because I have to pass her TWICE each time, since after 9/11 we have only one entrance to the building and I'm sure that since I don't talk to her and now, barely look at her, and she sees me twice each time I go downstairs, I'm one of her Frequent Travelers, and she can just BITE MY HUGE ASS. I'll be so happy to no longer have to see her. And so many people are like "oh, I'll miss you so much!" which is exactly what she wants to hear because she's equating her project with an Office Assistant - someone in the office who knows a lot and offers comfort and security to the office because they know the ins and outs of procedures, then when they leave people miss that "cold" comfort and false security. Or something. The premise being that she has made herself a part of our lives in the building - always smiling, always available to talk to, and we'll miss her when she's gone, blah blah. I'll throw a party when she finally gets her skanky ass out of here.

Mom, I'm booorrrred.

I am so bored - 1/2 hr left of work and it's so quiet around here I feel I'm alone. I just made a general comment in the air, "can this day possibly get any longer?" and did anyone answer? No. I can see two people from my desk and can hear another one typing, but they're all in their own worlds. So I'm blogging. There's really nothing I can start this late in the day and everything else is done.

pause

OK, I just put on Aimee's scarf cause it's a little cold in here. The thermometer says 72, and that's way cooler than the 78 or so it's been all week. This scarf is so pretty - she recently took up knitting and took to it like the old proverbial fish to water. I crocheted a couple I thought she might like this weekend but so far she's not interested - maybe she has too many already? Not sure...doesn't matter, I'll use them for Christmas presents.

NaNoWriMo what?

Well, it's two days into November now, and I haven't started writing my great American NaNoWriMo masterpiece yet. I'm still thinking about it - I heard some people are going to blog and then count that toward their word count. That might work - that means I'm at, what, 40 words now?

As bad as I am about keeping this blog going that idea's a lost cause for me. I know of lots of folks who have started NaNoWriMo every year for the past four or five years and haven't finished it yet. I am proud to say that, in the year 2003, I actually put together over 50,000 words and submitted it - AND received a lovely certificate of accomplshment for my efforts. It was hell, though, because, I couldn't keep a plot in my head for 30 whole days and I kept skittering around to different ideas and subjects. And, every year, including this one, I tell myself to outline a plot ahead of time and see what happens. And, every year, I don't do it.

Oh hell. I may have to count my blog after all.