behold!

once

glen hansards guitar

signs

boy o boy we are crazy for signs. we love 'em

next time you're out driving allow yourself to be hypersensitive to the number of signs you pass. stop. stop ahead. speed. no parking. yield.

tonight i went to go pick up some chinese food (egg drop soup and cold sesame noodles) and i started counting the signs. i lost count.

what started this was as i was driving up my street (the street my family has lived on for nearly 50 years) i came upon a stop sign. there was never a sign there before.

now there is

the thing

a few months ago i had 45 minutes to kill before a rehearsal, i was near the south shore mall so i decided i'll stop by the record store and browse.

i arrive- no store -gone- closed. a major shopping mall and there is no place to buy a cd!

during the christmas season while shopping i notice a very subtle change in the cd and dvd department of my local borders. they both are shrinking, what used to be six display cases is now four. of course what helps these departments shrink is that the stock shrinks. the catalog shrinks, so maybe you'll be able to buy a bands latest album and their greatest hits but good luck finding that first album or god forbid the second album.

"hey" you say "you can get it on line" but online i have to wait (ok maybe two days) but to me, and i imagine to most people buying music is an impulse buy. now! i want to listen, now.

"hey, dummy, you can listen online!"... not the same . I want to listen (now) and as i listen i want to hold "the thing" the case, cover, whatever. I want to read the liner notes, i want to know who played the bass on that tune.

i like the art, the photo, the words, i like the object.

now we seem to be going back to the early days of recordings when the particular song was what the public wanted. you could buy a 45 of just the song you wanted, just like when you download a song. but! when you bought a 45 you got the tune you wanted and the b side! sometimes the b side became your prize. (i remember that odd beatle b side-you know my name, look up the number. i don't remember the a side)

when i was a kid (60's) the album was really coming into it's own. bands would work on a whole album not just a few singles and some filler. lots of pretentious junk but every once in a while, gold!

tower records- gone. one of the last stores to "go deep" in their stock. want a copy of david peel and the lower east side orchestra playing "up against the wall, motherf--ker"? good luck.

(when i was in 8th grade we had an art teacher who would play that album during class, try that today. but that's a different story)

so tonight allow me the luxury of being an old coot and let me bemoan the fact that the world ain't the way it was, and that when i was a kid everything was better.

tonight i celebrate "the thing"

behold!

maria - the dave brubeck quartet plays west side story. paul desmonds first solo

shhh

in the daily news sports section there is a page called americas line. it gives the odds for every and all type of sporting events. you name it, it's there.

on monday they had the odds on the presidential race.

sunday i was visiting my brother in connecticut. it was a lazy morning, breakfast, the paper, and the sunday morning political shows. still a month away from anyone casting a vote.

every word, every move, every hesitation of the "front runners" campaigns are reported on. not only reported on but then analyzed and spun and dissected. any word on any day can spell victory or defeat.

or so we are told- constantly

every expert will tell you that they know what it all means. their insight is all powerful. but when they are proven wrong the next week (or the next day-or five minutes later) they have the perfect defense, they never acknowledge a mistake. move on (as in continue, not the .org) don't look back.

i'm a big boy ,i'll make my own choice thanks. I don't need an expert to cut my meat for me.
i can do it.

so do me a favor and shut up. better yet ,I'll do me a favor and turn you off.

bye-bye*



* with no apologies to john mclaughlin

retale

there is a target store near me , that has a young fella with tourettes who works as a cashier.he doesn't scream or curse- he just occasionally lets out a whoop or a yelp. there are times when i will enjoy a popcorn combo (a bag of popcorn and a soda for 99 cents) and sit and peruse the current issue of star or ok and watch how people deal with the yelps.

most people are self consciously blase about the whole thing. casual, nonchalant-"what ? the yelps? i honestly didn't notice" i love the kids who sit in the cart, a captive audience, three feet away who just stare at him in awe. they don't know what to make of him but they are transfixed by his otherness.

i was shopping at another store the other day (alright, it was a bookstore) and the older gentleman behind the counter ringing me up was not feeling well. he was under the weather, ill, sick. he was typhoid larry. sweaty, runny nose, coughing, watery eyes. what was this guy doing at work? stay home for gods sake! the world will still turn if you stay at home. books will be bought and sold if you stay home.

these stories are connected only by commerce

behold!

(picnic, lightning)


the greatest parenthetical aside of all time, from lolita- the entire description of a mothers death

ban humbug

familiarity breeds contempt. if not contempt it certainly breeds indifference.

those things that are always there fade into the background, become part of the general "static" that surrounds us.

every once in a while let's rescue something from the fog of the familiar.

here goes ( i guarantee this selection will be met with groans, rolling of the eyes, and all things dismissive) white christmas by irving berlin

that's right , you heard me- that song! that song you hear a dozen times a day during december. that song that has been recorded hundreds of times by geniuses and dim wits alike.

but next time you hear it, try to listen as if for the first time. that melody is inviting and comfortable and familiar the first time you hear it. every one can sing it and convince themselves they sound great.

the lyrics are nostalgic and perfectly direct. the images are simple and accessible , everyone can relate. i can even detect (or perhaps project) a wry sort of humor in the idea that the winters were always perfect back then. that is without question a feeling we all share-"when i was younger, the snow was deeper, and whiter and lasted longer and on and on"

do i need to add- bing crosby? curt gowdy, the sportscaster and host of the old weekend afternoon show "the american sportsman" was asked his favorite memory of working on that show for 20 odd years and he said driving with bing crosby on their way to go fishing and listening to crosby sing along with all the songs on the radio. not performing, just singing.

i'm done-you can finish rolling your eyes now

they all find me

how long to you think it takes someone to get over a relationship? my friend has been dating this guy for four and a half years- he's married and he keeps telling my friend that the time isn't right, that he needs to stay with his wife until they get a number of issues settled and then my friend and he can be together. so she's decided to break up with him. so, how long do you think it takes for someone to get over a relationship?

an interesting dilemma, something dr. phil might like to handle. the above was a question put to me by young lady who worked behind the counter at a hess station. i do not know this girl. the full extent of our relationship was me buying a diet lipton green tea (citrus) and the daily news. I got my change and that question. the five people in front of me did not get the question. i suspect the people behind me did not get the question. i did.

in a crowded theater if the comedian or magician needs someone from the audience.......me. doesn't matter where i am sitting....it's me.

standing in line at stop and shop i have been told the most personal details about surgery, family squabbles, sexual misconduct........and on and on.

the couch .by the cook books in borders. a desert storm vet. me. 45 minutes to read a few chapters of a new dortmunder novel by donald westlake. a simple hello leads to him telling me about his time in iraq, his alcohol and drug abuse, the upcoming race war and his plan to murder his wife.

years ago i met brian wilson at a book signing-he signed my book. I shook his hand and he looked me right in the eye and said "good vibes" is there any higher compliment than that?

is that it? is that why they all find me? do i have a warm welcoming demeanor? am i an obviously caring person? do i communicate compassion without judgement? am i a dope?

so next time you see me at the bookstore, show me some love and let me finish a few more chapters

behold!

confederacy of dunces by john kennedy toole

norman

i have been reading "on god" by norman mailer. thought provoking and extravagantly entertaining. mailer, always the contrarian, writes a book about the existence of god while all the rest of the world is busy writing books about the lack of said deity. (well a couple of guys anyway)

of course i don't know that any organized religion would recognize mailers vision of god as artist and very, very, fallible. to god ,mankind is a work in progress, and there are still lots of kinks that need to be worked out.

as sure as there is a god mailer is convinced there is a devil, who is just as active and busy messing with man. the devil is found, in mailers cosmology, in technology.

today i saw proof of the devil. as always the devil is in the details. i painted the living room ( a lovely merlot) primer and two coats. the basic coat on the wall , no problem, 1,2,3-done in no time. but then.......... the trim! the molding! where the wall and the ceiling meet! and on and on!

they say if you want to make god laugh tell him your plans. if you want to make satan laugh , paint the living room