"Let the credulous and the vulgar continue to believe that all mental woes can be cured by a daily application of old Greek myths to their private parts."
Here's a link to one of my favorite Wikipedia pages:
Not only do I like the topic, which hits my sense of absurdity and the surreal just so, but it also includes a couple of descriptive photographs that are completely unnecessary yet utterly sublime.
That is all.
I don't do frustration well, which is something I inherited from my father, and tonight pushed me to the limit. I have this OCD-related, ah, interest in doing the laundry each week. It's, frankly, a miracle that I feel okay when The Mrs. takes the task upon herself, seeing how her methods are so different from my chemically-imbalanced notions. Nonetheless, whenever she does, I feel a combination of "weight taken off of shoulders" and "utter horror" and just try my best to go with the flow.
For the last two days The Mrs. has been trying her darndest to do said laundry. Time is of the essence, seeing how she and Boo will be heading off to Texas on Friday as the advance team for my late-month arrival. Tonight, after waiting for one of our less-than-considerate neighbors to finish their 18,000,000 loads, I went down to get the laundry started. Tragically, and typically, I was confronted with a coin receptacle that was jammed. This happens when the machine gets full, and there ain't nothing no one, except for the property management company, can do to fix the situation. This means I get to spend my Wednesday evening after work at the dreaded Washateria on Belmont, site of my clothes-washing endeavors circa 1999 (when I lived a block away).
The inconvenience of being away from my family notwithstanding, the Washteria tends to cost 2x+ the amount it costs to do a similar number of loads at home. As we are a new family, that extra several bucks means a great deal. I'm not so stereotypical that I'd ask the landlord for compensation (well, maybe for the quarters I lost in the machine), but the runaround is just enough to drive me batty. Hence, the three beers I had over the last 90 minutes.
I was saddened to learn about Karlheinz Stockhausen's death last week and have been working on drafts of an obituary post for the past couple of days. Difficult, to say the least. Just when I was about to throw in the towel, the All Music Blog does my job for me (and with sound samples).
I've been on a nostalgia kick lately. Must be related to the fact that my age is soon to be equal with my waist size. This doesn't mean that I've been buying old G.I. Joe action figures on eBay or even rocking some fresh Cross Colours gear on casual Fridays. I've mainly been listening to a bunch of music (natch) that was really big for me in '96-'97 and that I've not really touched since. Once I "discovered" R&B (circa 2000, thanks Kenny) indie rock lost some of its charm. That might have been a bit hasty, however.
Some titles I've been enjoying on their own merits, regardless of nostalgia:
The Lonesome Crowded West - Holds up really well. Who knew they'd be a #1-selling band 10 years later?
Perfect From Now On - The production is a bit dated, but this is some fine Neil Young-esque rock right here.
Dots and Loops - Probably their best album, definitely their last great one.
TNT - Right at the tipping point of good vs. boring in the whole post-rock scene.
Either/Or - Beyond the mythmaking, I'd say this is the best album he released.
Supa Dupa Fly - Blew me away then, blows me away now.
Some titles that have not stood up to the test of time:
Bad Timing - Total snooze fest.
Homework - Back when I was open to techno enough to even want to listen to something so brazenly house-y.
Wu-Tang Forever - So much hype ruined in such a looong record.
F#A#∞ - Forewarning of the dark days ahead.
Selenography - Arty.
Or, how we celebrated Chanukah and the first half of December, 2007.
Naturally, there will be more to come....
For the three or four of you who care/read this, here's the latest in Boo-world:
that is all....
Inspired, yet again, by Metafilter, here's a clip of my boy Richard Thompson performing an excellent song from his early '90s renaissance. If you've never had the fortune of seeing RT live I suggest you check out an acoustic performance, followed by one with a full band.
Be sure to dig Richard's work with the Fairport Convention, his ex-wife Linda, and the dance-tastic stylings of Morris On.
Years ago I read about this word/concept which discussed how inanimate objects are actually out to get us. For the life of me I couldn't remember the term. Then, out of the ether, it came to me:
Resistentialism
Remember this next time your computer crashes before you've hit ctl+s.
