“Turn that goddamned record off,” my father said. He was standing in my bedroom doorway. Pete Townshend’s Empty Glass spun round and round at thirty-three and a third, clicking and popping. I […]
74. Gonna Get Inside Your Bitter Mind
Why Music Matters
I think we’re done here. There’s not much to add on the topic of why music matters after this. Last one out turn off the lights.
From The Stacks: Lou Cicchetti’s “Bronx Classics” “The Bronx”
This doo-wop “compilation” demonstrates that some “people” know as little about proper usage of “quotation marks” as I know about “algebra.” It also points out that during the Jurassic Guido era gold chains, […]
Countdown To Patti Smith
The truly legendary Patti Smith is coming to UC Davis’s Mondavi Center on May 9, 2012. According to the intergooglewebtubes I have been an admirer of Patti Smith since April 17, 1976, […]
Deep Cuts: Math Songs
“Where’s the music?” was the most commonly asked question after my last piece. “Are you really that stupid?” was a close second, followed by “Can you walk and talk without falling down?” […]
73. I’d Like It If They Like Us, But I Don’t Think They Like Us
Algebra class was a bit of an awkward situation. Both my current girlfriend, Sherri, and my ex-girlfriend, Melody, shared the class with me. This shouldn’t have been too uncomfortable as Melody had […]
From The Stacks: Little Baggariddim “Picture Disc”
Special pressing have always appealed to me. Just last week I posted a clear vinyl album, and I’m sure I’ll be posting lots more colored vinyl. So why a boring old black […]
72. But I Swear It Was In Self-Defense
Hardee’s loved me, and I don’t know why. Sure I worked hard, but I fucked off hard, too — especially if Matt and I were working together. He would climb up on […]
From The Stacks: Force Majeure (Clear Cut)
“Man, this place is really nice.” My new buddy wrote copy for a graphic design firm located in a loft in a former warehouse. The firm was small: the owner, a couple […]
71. Surrender My Good Life Or Bad
Today is my birthday. For those of you playing the home version of our game that makes forty-five of the little bastards — halfway to ninety. My optometrist noted my advancing age. […]
