Possibly the wierdest earworm yet

Down By the River (I shot my baby) - Neil Young?
Mixed together with the incidental music from Rocky & Bullwinkles Fractured Fairy Tales

Its sort of like this-

Down by the river
I shot my baby
Doodle doo doo
doodle doo doo
doobie doobie doobie doo

What could I possibly have been dreaming?

Edit: I do remember dreaming about BBQ'd rib sammiches like you used to be able to get at DeLong's.

Double edit: This is so extremely cool, stolen from Warren Ellis where much of the excitement in my life derives from, actual footage of Django Rheinhardt, Stephan Grappelli, and the Hot Club of France!!!!!
http://www.dvblog.org/movies/03_2006/django.mov

triple edit: While we're at it lets have frickin' Kittens!!! WTF why not a flamin' kitten!! This ones name is Felicia, poor thing, I wonder what ever happened to her.

Livin’ Large

Ooh, I had a teaspoon of honey on my peanut butter toast today. How exciting is that.

I am currently getting a flunk in math. This is so frustrating. I try really hard. I try to work with the tutors (tutors have bad habits of not showing up a lot, I’ve learned). I do my homework. I show up every day.

Whatever. When I have to take it again I’ll be way ahead of the game. That might carry me through enough to barely pass the next time.

Eatin’ good in the neighborhood

Saturday, Oliver and I recorded demos of all the new material for Quatro Veda, in order to get a new batch of copyrights sent off and get ready for “putting the band back together” in May. We both realized we’ve missed it. When the copyrights are in we’ll be putting up a myspace player for that one as well.

And I cooked up a ton of stuff, man have we been eating some good, quick, meals.
Saturday I cooked a prime rib, served with baked potato and asparagus. That translates into roast beef sandwiches with Au jus. As well as roast beef hash, (which I had with a ton of horseradish, yum). It’s pricey coming out of the gate (28 bucks) but when we get three to four meals for two out of it it really seems worth it.
Then Sunday I made good ol’ spaghetti with both Knight’s ground beef and sausage, Mama Mucci’s Capellini and garlic bread. So both yesterday and today we had the “fried spaghetti” leftovers which I like even better than the first day.
Definitely better than “fried coffee”. But maybe that really shows my age, in these times of home espresso machines probably no one fries coffee anymore.

Group

Earworm radio: Unce, tice, fee times a maidy - Eddie Murphy
Yesterday was odd, uncomfortable, interesting, long and successful.
Math is polynomials and exponents.
Blood sugar is 238.
Sunday paper is still not completely read.
The semester is down to 5 weeks.
Grades should be in from math exam and psych paper.
Bush remains un-impeached.

First, a bit of the Brits, then an afternoon with the Aussies

Ah Sunday. I’ve got my tea and toast and shortly a smitch of Coronation Street. But no day of rest really, as soon I’m off to attend the first day of the rest of my life. I go to a workshop on Gestalt chair work. It’s the first of hopefully, many, in the not so distant future.

In case you are wondering, Friday was (for me) a fricking marvelous day. I’m sad to say not so much for a few others and that is so very odd about life. People go out and people are born at the same, exact moment. People are starving and others are hanging around some samsaric picnic eating stuffed olives, and pink caviar. Confusing.
But for me it was as if the exciting things were just piling up. I remember thinking at one point that I wish they were a little more spread out, since there are some days when I am so depressed or low energy.

In addition to having a REALLY marvelous meeting with Peter Fleming, I got the email informing that not 1 but 2, of my pieces were selected for the foo-foo, shiny, literary review at WCC. This BTW is the one that gets reviewed on the national level and has won awards on that level.
I take it that I didn’t win the prizes offered for this issue, but thats ok. It would have been nice to get a hundred dollars worth of books, or even fifty, but I can do without.

A little bit me, a little bit you

A little bit of new content has occurred over on the myspace site ------->
www.myspace.com/thebottom99
if you’d rather go that route, than hit the link.

Today I’m recommending Outside In. It’s a little bit of a funky take, a couple mistakes and technical issues, but if you overlook that I think it’s a nice piece.

The rapies

I go at noon to do a thing that I suspect is going to have a major effect on my future. I will be having tea with the Director of The Pellin Institute in Italy in just a few short hours. It’s exciting and intimidating. But I have a funny feeling this is a big deal for me. He has a thing called Contribution Therapy that from what I’ve heard so far is BIZACTLY like what I’ve been visualizing my future practice to be like.
So maybe a few years down the road I’ll spend a summer in Italy at his institute learning/doing this Gestalt like stuff. Hmmm...
edit: I just found out I get to attend one of the Gestalt techniques workshops this weekend thanks to Lizardbreath.

Gahh

One of the ex’s showed up really strong on the dream screen the other night.
Oddly enough it wasn’t the ex-husband I was just discussing with an acquaintance from long, long, ago at a very cool talk I attended Weds. night.
It was also not the ex that I ran into on my bus home on Tues.
And it also wasn’t the ex that I posted a supremely goofy picture of the other day.

So the question is, did he show up just because the subject of ex’s is obviously very front and center, or did he show up because he’s actually going to show up in the near future? Man do I sure hope it’s the former.
It’s a usual story, man was he HOT, but what a lying jerk. The other usual story is man was he HOT but what a drunk, or wife beater, or chronically manic-depressed and unemployed or some other bizarre quirk or yicky defect.
Or the other story which was he’s not that hot and additionally is one or more of the above, or some other freakish issue.

One of the problems is that I have a supreme penchant for broody, sensitive, autistic, I mean, artistic types. Throw in the “are they all brilliant and psychic and kinda crazy?” question and I’m so there.

Brilliance and madness, why can’t they just get a divorce like the rest of America? Cuz man am I a sucker for the brilliance.

George Bush don't like me either

I think this is my favourite song this year, and now there’s a video for it.
Last fall I think I played the song for about a week straight...

For mac:
http://www.gnn.tv/videos/viewer.php?id=40&n=1

For windows
http://www.gnn.tv/videos/40/George_Bush_Don_t_Like_Black_People

edit: Here's another thing
http://www.pixelpress.org/chernobyl/index.html

I live for lust

Earworm radio: April Fools - Rufus Wainright
So loud and strong, immediately upon waking, that I had to bring it downstairs and play it. I remember when I first found it on some modern music collection, I became temporarily obsessed with it and played it, well, a lot. In fact I think I’ll do it at least twice right now. It really lends itself to overindulgence.

I was whistling Cigarettes and Chocolate milk one day at work at the market, and a VERY dapper gent said
“Isn’t that Rufus Wainright?”
I responded by gushing all over his perfect lapel about what a brilliant, blah, blah and culminating with
“and he’s so FOINE!!”
He gave me the whole you are such a freakin’ wierdo look and said
“well, but, isn’t he gay?”
Me,
“Well, Yeah, of course, SO?”
He never came back into the store. What’s that about?
OK, three’s the charm, it’s going to be an OK day.....

Sheesh

Last paper written. I was up till 3:30am. It better get a good grade.

3’s-n-1’s

3 papers and 1 exam - DOWN
1 paper and 3 exams - TO GO

Grrrrh<-aaaah<<-eeeeeeh<<<

De-Clutterization

There is something about the fresh cup of tea. It’s all, like, effervescent and bubbly and shit. Ahh, Sunday morning, tea and toast, and Coronation Street.

I had the perfect “according to Anthony Burgess’ account of the British Army” moment earlier. Probably due to eating a huge meal at Blue Nile with the whole famn damily last night.
Nitro- I swear I’ll finish the books again and return them. It’s just that I had no idea at the time I re-borrowed them, that once school hit I would never have a moments rest to read anything that wasn’t required. I have a housewarming thingy for you guys too. But that's not like a bribe or anything, really.

I suppose that that serves as a reminder that I should get back to the paper on John Nash and all, I am so very behind on the papers. But all I want to do is read my way through this box of late 50’s early 60’s Scholastic Book Services teen novels that I’m trying to price out for sale.

My house is packed so full of things right now. I am having the most gigantopotamous yard sale ever soon. In fact it looks like I’ll be spending a good portion of the spring having/hosting/running, whatever you call it, yard sales.
It might be kind of fun, although I know it’s also bloody hard work, from having tried this wheeze with Largebeat.
But this is the year the basement gets emptied, while we don’t have a house mate and I can get rid of anything I want, it all goes. In fact I may just give up a chunk of things that I’ve been holding onto for no real reason for years.
Yup, it’s to be a major push to make all the money while the Ann Arbourites are still rich.

Dead Dogs

After having an excruciating day yesterday, including but not limited to, attending the death of my best dog friend Rodeo, and shelling out $173.00 between the various people working on my kitchen sink, (I ended up having to call the big guns, meaning Rotor-Rooter, because you apparently can’t rent a long enough power snake easily). I settled on a nice batch of nacho’s as the needed comfort food to restore my (completely) depleted tissues.
Between whipping a batch up, and Oliver telling me about the UFO show he had watched earlier, I remembered that I wanted to tell you my theory on aliens.

It’s the nachos.
We’ve got ‘em, they don’t, ergo - visitation.
Think about it, cattle mutilations, crop circles, and all the good tomatoes seem to have disappeared leaving us with nothing but these cardboardy, black mold growing, genetic freaks. Beef, cheese, corn and tomato. You can’t have good nachos without at least two of them.

They are fucking with our future nacho supply people, and the government is helping them. They want to doom us to a nacho-less, soulless, salsa-less, hell realm. A mass of worker drones with not even the prospect of a single cheesy chip to comfort us.

Just what are we going to do about this? I am open to any and all suggestions.

edit: except soy cheese, I'm not open to that, or much of soy anything really. I'll tell you later about being traumatized by my soy wielding Mother,

Another amateur day rolls around

I didn't cop this off the net.
This is one of my ex's with the hat that I should have never let go. Him, I breathe the usual sigh of relief that I extricated myself from the relationship, the hat, I miss terribly.

Earworm radio:

Hit Me With Your Rythym Stick - Ian Drury?
That is all

All twos and at sixes and sevens

Two papers down, two to go and it’s now been snowing. At least the wind died and my two giant trees are safe for the nonce.
Earworm Radio: Funkytown - LippsInc. (or something like that, I'm not bothering to look them up.... crap, this song sucks)

Sprung

Cuz “a young man’s fancy” and all of that.

It must be really here, because we’ve got a 9 county tornado watch happening. If you don’t live in one of the tornado zones like I do, that means keep your eye out, conditions are favourable. “Warning” is to get the hell into the basement.

I spent a lot of the day yesterday out of doors, on the porch. I can drag the laptop out but it’s hard to see the screen in the sun. Dali and Double N, were out yardworking (of course). Radiolady wandered over, with the coffee and the barefoots. All the yupsters were driving or wheeling their broods around. Many packs of lycra'd bikesters humped their way up our hill. Then I treated the neighborhood to 45 minutes of piano practice, I’m sure they were all terribly, terribly glad.

Now I get to wait at the bus stop in a thunderstorm, it's just pouring, in order to go to thrilling math class.
I do basically hate Mondays, because I have scheduled them to the hilt. Add to that the fact that I procrastinated all of my music papers due tomorrow and you just won’t see me for a awhile.

Checkin' out the big Dic

Well I knew about the "wedge" aspect but I couldn’t figure out why it would be a great benefit to have one full of nuts. But if you like squirrels, having a "tree stump" full of nuts would be a nice thing. But "chockfull" apparently derives from cheek-full, which leads back to squirrels or possibly hamsters. If it’s me I hope they’re shelled and anyway I don’t think coffee is a nut, I’m pretty sure it’s a berry.

It's that heavenly coffee.....

Earworm radio: Cigarettes and chocolate milk - Rufus Wainright

So blame it on the blood sugar. I am just not normally that snatchy. I just had a day of supreme frustration. Add a big dose of acute pain into the mix and you apparently get a very cranky friend.

I’m actually quite excited that it’s spring and that I can start taking off some layers. I hate layers. Especially at school where you have to then drag the extra around with you for the rest of the day.

I also cannot wait to turn the furnace off. I hate forced heat and I really hate paying for it. Someday when I’m rich and famous I’ll have enough money to implement some money saving, water based, heating devices.

Well I notice that’s a lot of “hates”. Why? Did you doubt me when I say I’m chock full of hatred and anger?

What is a chock anyway? You’d think a full chock would be better than a empty one. Is the chock half full or half empty?

OK

I won’t say I’m over it but I am a lot less hostile than I was earlier.
Turns out making noise IS good for it.

Oh just piss on everything

Ok that’s it I am in a foul fucking mood. I am sick of being sick. I am sick of fucking pills and needles and stupid non specific pain. I am sick of depression and therapy and fucking around with “try this and try that”.
I hope making loud stupid noise will make me feel better although right now I’m sick of making noise too.
Just give me "cigarettes and chocolate milk" and leave me the fuck alone.

Oh Lordy

What has the world come to when Axl is suing Slash? And when The Academy is afraid of hot gay men? Oh yeah and that little, teeny, thing about when Texas frickin’ elects Tom DeLay in the primary.
I have to say I understand why people bridle when called stupid, but it’s either that or you dig corruption. Just which of these people do want to be?

Ok this is just really weird, I started being really bugged by the new glasses. So I finally realized that I now see better without them than with them. This is weird has anyone ever heard of this?

Yep, yep, yep...

I know, I know, I know...
Blogspots been down all day for new posting...

I am all up in the Koolaid of midterms. I’m writing three and a half papers as well as needing to start prepping for the most evil of math tests ever, until finals anyway...
Right out of the fat and into the fire. This week - first midterm exam on Thursday kicks the whole thing into high gear and it’s off and frenzied running from there...

Shot another 4 pieces into the black hole of magazine submission. Still waiting to hear from the fancy one...

I kinda like that little Detroit piece below anyway so it can stay close to the top as I suspect the posts will be a little lacking, though some of you may think that in general anyway...

Earworm Radio: Don’t Stop Believing. Ewww - it’s Journey. Evil, devil, putrid, brain, change the station please...

PROOF

Taken Weds. March 1st, 2006

Strange Days

I was cruisin down 94 yesterday. It was a gorgeous March day. Lizardbreath and I had Marvin Gaye Trouble Man and my super soul collection on the stereo and I had that feeling I get about Detroit SO STRONG, the hairs on my neck kept rising and falling, rising and falling.

Detroit is some kind of symbol and pain in my heart. Ever since I was a kid every time I would ride down that stretch of 94 I would get the same feeling in various intensities depending on how open or closed I was at the time.

I remember back in the day, driving down there in an old dark blue and orange Thunderbird with Seychelle. We’d be listening to WJZZ and as I started seeing those backsides of the burnt, huddled houses mixed with the urban, lonely jazz I would just feel so funny, like an ache and a yearn and a dread in my heart, until we would get down to the Cass Corridor which at the the time was still alive and teeming, albeit with mostly the weird, the motley and the dangerous swarms of predators and parasites. Now it’s pretty much picked clean and it seems like only the very last descendants of the most diehard scarabs are left searching for sustenance and crouched in the doorways.

And always I keep wondering what that weird feeling is, and why and where it comes from. Today I think it’s about an extraordinary death. The people, they come and go and live and die, but they live under social goals, dreams and visions that shape the centuries around them.
I’m starting to think, that the slow death of Detroit for the last 40 years, has sent it’s ghost tentacling out ahead of it, reaching down 94 and 696 and 275 year by year and that it’s the hungry ghost of those dying dreams that’s always nuzzling at the nape of my neck begging for “just that little corner, just a little taste” of still living flesh.

Pay attention Jenny

Man this state is in the toilet. Another family lost and is selling everything they own and fleeing back down south where there is work and some kind of hope.
Since they’re friends I got to go to the sale the night before and scoop up some of the best things. On the one hand I’m helping them out with cash, on the other hand I feel like a pirate.

I got some absolutely beautiful things, and it’s a damn shame. But pictures to follow. Tomorrow I take them soup so that they don’t have to fuck around with trying to make a lunch and feed the kids, while selling their treasures to strangers.

Spring, now, thankyou

Do I really have to come up with another title?

Earworm radio: A convoluted mixture of the song Stewie sings when his dance partner quits and he’s going solo- “I got my top hat and a pocket full of miracles” and that old hippie song about “I’m o-o-on my wa-a-ay back home, I’m goin’ home, I’m on my way home”


I’m guessing now that it was perhaps a February thing, because 4 of those blog people who disappeared popped back up again, even though several of them claimed it’ll be just for a moment.
I can’t blame them, February can be the very toughest month, but now it’s March and that means it’s spring. Fuck all those purists who say not until solstice. Those of us who suffer from the evil S.A.D. are entitled to claim spring right now, this very minute.

Of course it’s a bit of a ways till May, which is my favourite, alongside September. But then again it’s only 2 months as opposed to the view from November.

I thought of something odd yesterday, that if Mark Twain was writing on a word processor, he would have to teach spell check like, 500 new words.

Oh, and I did eat a "POONCHKEY" yesterday, one just has to, even though it was raspberry, blecch. We like custard thankyou very much. And bloodsugar be damned.