blogger is slow. or maybe it is just me.
i had one of those slightly humiliating moments of shifted self this morning. okay, perhaps it is not as maslovian as all that, but it was embarrassing, or at least as uncomfortable as an experience can be when you are the only one immediately present to bear witness. am i making sense here? it is about taste, musical taste. i think that everyone can look back through their musical history and pick out a double handful of artists and songs that at one time we loved and now we hate. or if we don’t exactly hate, we certainly refuse to admit any admiration. for example, i will place my standing in the hall of musical good taste in jeopardy right here by admitting that i used to rock the 8-track in my mom’s kitchen with barry manilow’s “jump shout boogie” — something i just don’t see myself doing ever again, at least not without a substantial promise of cash. but we all have them, those ghostly tunes that we thought we just the best thing at the time, but now we just deny their existence or influence. get thee behind me, new kids! turn back, o’ paula abdul! martika, take your toy soldiers and go! yet they were there and they must’ve supplied some service to us at the time. but then i get up this morning, and i have some time between brushing my teeth and walking to the car, so i look through the CDs and pull out what i thought was a classic.
i was wrong. the CD is less than 5 years old, yet its welcome is worn out and the sound is stale. i really liked it too. played it over and over. played it for other people and they told me they liked it, though perhaps they were just humouring me. billy ray martin. yeah, she was a little too techno for the time, and it is true that electronica rarely has any dependable shelf-life, but … what an odd thing. i’m listening in the car and i keep skipping, track to track, hoping there will be something that survived.
our tastes change, but they change in pieces and in parts. i loved tori amos in 1991 and i can listen to that same album now with no reservations and no less admiration. we undergo a kind of cultural evolution. it is fascinating, but when it catches you by surprise, it can be enough to ruin your morning commute. almost makes one afraid to delve deeper into the CD archives…
(sorry. this post makes less sense now than it did when i started typing. i need more coffee.)
what is wotapalava? i can find nothing definitive about it online, but it is listed on pollstar. whatever it is, it will be bringing rufus wainwright to lakewood hifi buys amphitheatre on july 15. excellent.
back and visible (albeit plagued by one annoying banner ad), may i represent to you: extrospect. if you want to contribute, let me know and i will send you the means to pitch into the fray.
i bring you industrial double entendre humor from the pages of magazine.
the extrospect section of my site has been AWOL for months now, but i think i have found a solution. it will involve employing blogger’s free blogspot service (which is down for a couple of days for maintenance). so stay tuned, true believers, and your outlet for occasional rant and discussion will be returned to you.
it appears that blogvoices, the add-on that allows me to get witty feedback and commentary from all you lucky people (you lucky, lucky people) is taking a (hopefully) temporary dirtnap. so i have removed the functionality for the time being, as it was dragging the load time for my page down to an embarrassing standstill.
what sucketh truly is that i actually have a decent line of questions to cast today, so let’s try this: think about heroes, think about superheroes. now think about you, then think about you as a superhero. what would your superhero power be? would you have a superhero name? and what about that costume?
email me, and i will post (anonymously) the most interesting responses.
“who am i?!? why i’m your worst nightmare… i’m a jawa with a badge.”
(with apologies to reggie hammond.)
lunchtime. go to the mall-that-time-forgot. in need of cash, i circle around the joyless food court carousel to the nationsbank bank of america ATM. while standing in the one-body deep line, i notice that the carousel is serving as amusement to two smallish girls, one middle-aged female, and one tired-of-life male. one of the smallish girls must belong to the tired-of-life male, as she is riding the ponyish form closest to the male. she seems blandly happy. the male rides nothing, just stands there holding on to one of the stationary poles, praying silently that the carousel will either slow to a halt or accelerate to hyperspeed and blink him into another dimension. the other smallish girl, though not as small as the other, rides one of the outer horses, this one actually resembling something passably equine. she is about five forms behind the middle-aged female. this is when i notice the black leather belt that straps the riders to the pole of their silent steed. the two smallish girls are wearing theirs, no doubt due to the insistence of the drowsy ballcapped carousel operator sucking on a great wraps cup near the complex control panel. one button, one knob. how does he remember?!? but then i see the middle-aged female on the next spin, and she too is strapped in for good measure. this gives her the unflattering appearance that she is slumped into the pole, that if the pole wasn’t there she would plant her face between the ears of her fiberglass pony. just as i attempt to make out the design and intent of the tattoo on her fleshy upper arm, i notice the ATM’s availability and step right up. i suspect something is awry when just before i slide my ATM card into the slot. did i see the words “nestles” and “frito-lay” just now? a colorful screen asks politely for my PIN, asks from where i would like to squeeze this money, asks how much, then (what?!?) launches into a commercial. with sound and voiceover. a commercial for new nestles brand graham flipz. with animation. the ATM then snaps back into sensible behavior and asks if i want to pay the $2 penalty for not belonging to nationsbank bank of america, and my “yes” fires off (huh?!?) another commercial. frito-lay chili and chips this time. then another for some playskool device that amuses infants when they kick like some cheerful skinner box. once i get my cash, my card, my receipt, i walk off in a daze, shuddering at what this means and what has begun.
purchases made today at the used book shop at highland and virginia:
- tom stoppard,
- paul schmidt,
- timothy ferris,
