what can you do when things go bump in the electronic night? when strange spirits creep out of the network? when emails writ with poison pen dip into your mailbox, you should realize that there are options out there. it is a crime, after all. but don’t take my word, see what the state of georgia has to say. or the federal government. it is a big deal to me and to many others.
save the hauntings for the houses. we all know that the polite kiddies get the most candy on nights like these.
His name is Jay to see him play will make you say:
“Goddamn, that DJ made my day!”
- Peter Piper, Run-DMC
another of my junior high heroes is gone. jammaster jay, the one-man rhythm section for run-dmc. one of the elder statesmen of a genre that seems to have forgotten it’s groundbreaking roots. i must’ve listened to that first cassette every single day for months in 1984. an extracurricular education for a white kid growing up in northeast georgia that was much appreciated then and still appreciated now. funny thing is… i’m not sure how i ended up with that tape. i know i didn’t buy it, i just had it somehow, so somebody must’ve handed it to me, told me to borrow it. whoever it was, thanks. and thanks, jay.
it’s been over two weeks since i watched the ring, but finding this hanging in my living room still kind of freaked me out.
if you’ve seen the film, you know what i’m talking about. if you’ve not seen the film, you’re missing out on some of the best psychological horror since the original a nightmare on elm street. for further suggestions of horrific film fare for the holiday, go see the zipman or read this recent post on mefi.
recent past. saw the new p.t. anderson film this evening. when i first heard about it, probably on aint it cool or something, the idea struck me as just bad. who would put adam “happy gilmore” sandler in a serious role, or even a well-meaning romantic comedy? yes, i saw the wedding singer and i thought it was actually charming in an odd way, but the man hams more than hormel and mugs more than corningware. but here’s this film. punch-drunk love. a small film, no more than an hour and a half. and it’s just so incredibly genuine and … well … sweet. not an easy film to watch, as sandler plays barry egan, a man beset by his job, his sisters and most of all himself. a walking nerve ending, there is a vulnerability to egan that you cannot help but share. the score by jon brion offers no solace, as it agitates and percusses in tempo to egan’s own frustrations. then he meets lena, played by emily watson, and something starts to come into focus. something real. the story also involves novelty plungers, phone sex, a discarded harmonium and lots of pudding, but to say more would give it away. but giving is what you need to do, as in a chance, because this film might not stick around very long. like other anderson films, this one either gets you or dismays you. me? i got it and i felt it.
present. i’m tired. packing for the move continues, but things seem less organized now than the chaos where i started. thankfully, jury duty left my realm of possibility two mornings ago. i don’t think two whole weeks of a medical malpractice suit would sit very well with me right now.
near future. i’ve another job interview in the morning. late morning. 11am. if you feel like crossing a finger or sending a good vibe around that time, i’d appreciate it.
goodnight.
i’ve posted some new photos on the site, and maybe a few of them need a bit of explanation.
savannah. these are actually a continuation of the roadtrip that made up this set. the first half is from epworth-by-the-sea, a united methodist retreat on saint simon’s island. i spent a couple of youth group summers there. from there we went up the coast to savannah, a city now overshadowed by a new hollywood image. a good city, but nothing compared to charleston. (debate if you wish… it’s just my humble opinion.)
ketner’s mill. every fall, the folks living near ketner’s mill in the shadow of lookout mountain have a country fair. my parents love this kind of thing, so i went with them this past weekend while i was home for a visit. the crafts are interesting, to say the least. but the fresh apple fritters were excellent. and the boiled peanuts too.
joyland. just in time for hallowe’en. struck by a notion on the way home, i decided to go investigate a piece of my childhood. i had to stay at this daycare for only a couple of weeks, but i hated it. the place was just… well… it never felt right. joyland moved to a new location some years ago. and now the original location is abandoned and condemned. and damned creepy.
i am getting ready for another move. and rather than packing everything as it lies, this presents a perfect time to sort and organize and discard and reduce. for i am a pack rat. i will not deny it. personally, i think it is entirely genetic, as my father is just as much of a hoarder as i.
so today i started into the boxes of letters and photographs that have been stacked in my closet, atop my chest o’ drawers. out of so many packs of photos, i’ve brought it down to a manageable stack about five inches thick, ready for some industrious soul to album-ize. many of them surprised me, doing what photos are meant to do, to crystalize a moment for later viewing.
here are two.
dead sexy. but if you don’t want to wait (and you live in the UK), you could always win one.
some say that it is triggered by registering to vote. others claim that a renewed driver’s license will draw attention. the system claims randomness, though this randomness is dictated by a computer and computers always follow a pattern, even when selecting seemingly random numbers. regardless of the mechanics, i’ve been called up and might be selected.
after parking in the shadow of turner field, a shuttle bus shows up to take us over to the courthouse. i could walk, but i decided to take advantage of one of the few amenities of the day. we’re met by a line leading to a bank of metal detectors. signs are tacked around the lobby stating that handguns, knives and mace will not be allowed in the courthouse, and that is probably a good idea. then we are filed down the hall and up the elevator to the seventh floor, where we find another long line of people who have come before us. the newspaper man sits in a chair about halfway up the row, doing a brisk business as everyone begins to realize just how long we might all be here. in another stroke of commercial genius, a seattle’s best coffee stand sits right at the far end of the line, just after we sign in and get our official juror badge. and then we go sit in an area that closely resembles every single gate at hartfield international airport, only without the giant plate glass windows, the accompanying sunlight and the anticipation of maybe going somewhere fun. the entertainment? a brief video on due process hosted by a local news anchor, brenda wood. strangely enough, a look around at my fellow summonees does reveal a certain sense of diversity. people of all different walks of life are in the juror “holding pen” – different races, various nationalities, collars both white and blue. but one thing is certain: none of us want to be here.
i’ve not been selected. i’ve not been dismissed. i am in the limbo of voir dire, currently on a lunch break. a blessedly long one. and either i will return to endure just another day or so of attorney questioning, or a possible two weeks of actual trial. i’m wondering if it would help my situation to come back to court with my clothes on backwards and the cat sitting on my head … or would they even notice?
set the dials for two days ago… and go wish this guy a happy little birthday:
i’ll make this quick. basically, fortune magazine thinks you’re a failure. and i’m a failure. and all the rest of us stuck with the “generation x” label are destined for a mighty financial fall, if we haven’t fallen already. now, i will agree that the dot-com boom filled us all with a misplaced sense of work, a feeling that promising stock options, an in-office masseuse and foosball tables in the breakroom were the watermarks of a successful business. but can we be expected to meet standards like this?
“Age 32 and piercing-free, Karen Doss … has just $5,000 in a 401(k) and $20,000 in home equity. Ideally, someone her age should have at least $100,000 stashed away.”
one. hundred. thousand. is that the least bit realistic?!?
