A big pile of.....

I’ve been spending the early mornings out in the yard. It’s good before it gets too hot. The cats get to hang, I occasionally get some yard work done, a good time was had by all. I even fertilized my gardens yesterday. I figure “let’s get this party started”.
I have this crazy collection of seeds that I have gathered and been given over the years. I am trying to get things in shape for a good planting next year. I’ll be adding a lot of humus and peat, as well as garden soil for the top eventually. Continued adding of the nitrogen/phosphorous etc. Then a nice fallow winter season and we should be ready for spring. I am hoping to lure some of the Devas from next door by my attention and efforts.

Good Old Boy

I dreamed of Tom Mott. He hasn’t been seen (by me anyway) for twenty years or more.
Basically his story was you take a big, fairly handsome football player type and put him in a severe car accident in his late teens. The body is fine but the Traumatic Brain Injury basically turns him into one bigass kid, with a mans appetites. He had a penchant for reciting incredibly goofy, hippie inspired, doggerel, quarts of Miller beer and young girls. We used to hang out with him and his best buddy “Sylvia Superdog” quite a bit when we ourselves were kids. He was always good for a couple bucks if you cut him in on the fun. He had a souped up Catalina and he could buy liquor. The basic theory was, put the cute girls up front with him and he’d drive you and your crew anywhere.

I remember going to his house a few times. I can’t see his Mother’s face in my memory but I can see a little, wispy woman in a house frock and apron wringing her hands and sort of moaning as Tom would gleefully and with great, grinning, enthusiasm tell her what the demented plan of the day was. This sad, old, very worried, widow woman with the 6’5, 280 lb. 10 year old couldn’t do shit about stopping whatever we had cooked up. And we ourselves were not much different than Tom, we had little comprehension of the impact that acting on our desires had on the world around us.

I have dreamed of him before but it’s been a long time. In that dream I was trying to find out where Sylvia Superdog was but I couldn’t get any sense out of the huge, blubbering, man child.

AM Earworm

Punk Rock Girl - The Dead Milkmen

And I was doing so well.

Yep I was having a good, non-phone-ophobic, day. Made 8 important calls and got through them all fine. Now I am having an anxiety attack with 3 still on the to-do list.
I can always tell when I start searching the ‘net for random, meaningless people and things and getting frustrated because I can’t find them or am not feeling fulfilled somehow. Next thing you now the heart is starting to race and I get REALLY antsy and don’t know what to do with myself. Time for Atavan or something similar.

Again? But that trick never works....

Had another, last thing before waking, dream of a close friend dying. It was a very peaceful and auspicious death. Many flowers and gardens involved. Everyone behaving in a calm and serene manner. Things being dealt with in a respectful, equitable fashion. The one very odd note was that they died sleeping in a car on a trip and the person who had been driving brought the car round so I could look at the corpse. They hadn’t moved it even though it was several days later. That was a little strange.

AM Earworm

6060-842 - The B-52’s

Kudos

To Mr. Nigel Patel for bravely choosing a new adventure, not letting the bastards grind him down and especially for fixing my links section yesterday. We had nice chat, hangin’ out in the yard with cat world and a little stroll around the block in search of the huge, silver truant.

Road trip Radio

Dee-Lite - World Clique
Black Sabbath - Paranoid
Weezer - The blue 1st one
Smashing Pumpkins - Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
The B-52’s - 1st one
The Pixies - Doolittle

Driving every week or so to the a**hole of Michigan. (It is just down the road from Colon and I don’t think it’s the other naughty bits, nothing particularly sexy about Sturgis.) It’s an odd trip. Load the car and turn around and come back. Past the Amish farms, wave to the Zobians trim little homestead each time. There’s the trailer leaning at that impossible angle, and the “You’re home in Homer” sign. The entire trip has the back hum of constant saying of “Om Mani Padme Hum” for all the small, dead folk on the road. Eating road food, lighting Oliver’s cigarettes and making sure his coffee cup is filled. Finally home to the cats who just yawn and say “where’s dinner?”

Gigantor

I am the garden destructor. I do not plant the garden (yet) but I ream and reap the wild weeds. So far this year I have filled 3 compost trash cans and 10 compost bags with yankings and prunings. I am in opposition to the evil invasive honeysuckle. I have encroached upon the neighboring lands in my quest to limit it’s domain. Even the gorgeous but insane forsythia has felt the brunt of my curtailment. Soon, very soon I will spread the lovely lilac, the inimitable iris and plant the peony of destiny in all their destined places. I am slating all around the fire pit, (oops, I mean euphemism BBQ). I am pleased to relate that it is lily world yet again.

Livin’ on toast, vitamin B and honey

All that a friend could say is, “that ain’t so bad”.

Is that a piso in yer pocket or....

I put on a clean skirt from the hanger, reached my hand in the pocket and there was a Pilipinas 1 piso piece.

“Gamin’ On Ya”

So does anyone know what the deal is with this “Blog Shares” game? I find it really odd. It’s both gratifying and nerve-wracking to be included. (Really dumb, as it’s completely meaningless). I think it feels like a judgment issue. Like strangers are looking and evaluating. Which of course is stupid because that is exactly what happens all the time when someone comes in looking for Diana Rigg, or why keflex smells, or funklips, or self abuse which are the most common searches. Most people are here 0 seconds. Why doesn’t that make me feel judged? And even though you are valued not by content but by incoming links. I have done the “what are you worth” meme/quiz thing and it turns out my blog is worth more than I am. So in the spirit of being both weirded out and titillated by this phenomena please feel free to link me if you haven’t already, it increases my value.

AM Earworm

(You’d Better) Go Now - The Moody Blues (I’m pretty sure anyway)

Nitro did it again

“We’re coming to your town, we’ll help you party it down... ”

• Earworm - “Lollipop” morphing into “My Boy Lollipop” which is sometimes “My GIRL Lollipop” depending on the version. The ska version is male though and that’s the one I’m hearing. This despite Oliver trying to poison me with GFR’s “American Band”.

• I don’t feel human in the morning at all until I’ve brushed and done something with my hair.

• Second time this week I’ve had distinct psychic TV. First my earworm was playing the “Peter Griffin Can’t Touch Me” version, (do the Peter Griffin bump). And that was the episode that aired last night. Last Sunday I said “Dash Riprock” (with no real provocation) and those were the two Beverly Hillbillies episodes today.
If this is the main affect of these abilities then they just become evolutionary blips.

• Speaking of The Beverly Hillbillies - Julie Newmar as a guest star, in a bathing suit no less. Mmmm Mmmm Good. 2nd only to Diana Rigg.

• Speaking of Diana Rigg we’re very excited about our new album cover by Sebastian.
A mod portrait of HERSELF for our latest (not finished due to the floating bass player debacle) album “The Woman” by The Bottom 99.

• After being interrupted in our LP, recent acquisitions, playing, orgy by the dying, moans of the turntable, our most recent trip to the asshole of Michigan (it’s very near Colon), yielded not one but two potential replacements at least while my Technics is in the shop. The one that is working is odd. It’s a ”linear arm” little thing, I’ve never seen this before but it’s kinda cool. The second (which is not working - yet) is a big, expensive Swedish/ Danish? Bangen/olfssonn something or other, Quadraphonic - Whoot! Now I could potentially play my “Night At The Opera” album and get all freaked out by “The Prophet’s Song” just like in 7th grade when for the first time I actually got stoned. (As opposed to smoking pot in 6th grade and thinkin’ “Man, cigarettes are a much better buzz”).

• I think I’ve given up on the idea that I have to be funny/clever in the blog. Perhaps this will allow me more spaciousness to actually blog. If you think you’re neglected you should see the double secret blog, it’s a veritable desolate, wasteland at the moment.

• I’m still doing daily squatter watch. Nothing particularly sinister has happened recently besides them temporarily picking up, and bringing home some of the more obnoxious street people around here. Luckily there appears to have been a rapid falling out between them and they (the annoying little brunette street woman and entourage) moved along to greener pastures albeit somewhere else farther up into the neighborhood.

• Porch sale happened. I did OK. Never enough to make up for the amount of effort put in though...... We’ll try again later towards fall. We now have so many electronic gizmos as to make it potentially quite profitable for Mon Oliver as it’s his dad’s estate stuff.

Yusef

Dreamed this morning that one of my close friends committed suicide for no clear reason. We watched a video tape of the whole thing. It was surreal. And the earworm was that Cat Steven’s song from “Harold & Maude” (I don’t know the actual title but it’s basically the main theme) “If you want to sing out sing out.” Something to that extent.
I find it really strange to dream that and I hope it’s not some portent of something really shocking coming my way.

Rockin’ the Mock

Last year Dali planted a mock orange bush for me. He kept asking what I wanted in the yard and most of my desires can’t be met in this climate. I suppose I could resort to an indoor lemon tree, but I’m betting I’d kill it. I’d also like an almond tree, I don’t think that’s do-able either. And the weeping plum in my imagination? Well I’m not sure it actually exists on this plane.
So this year the mock is bigger and covered with flowers. They’re dropping now but man oh man was it bliss and de-lish for the last 3 or 4 days. We used to have a big ass one in Ithaca. At least it looked so to my small child self. The scent is amazing. Subtle but oh so incredible. They’re somewhat old fashioned so you won’t have the opportunity often but if you ever run across one in bloom sit yourself down and just bathe in it awhile.

All day earworm -

Raped and Freezing - Alice Cooper, which constantly blends into Jump - Van Halen.
It’s something about when he says “I think I’ve got a live one” which sounds like “I might as well jump”.
Oddly, another song off (I think) the same Cooper album, “Be My Lover” always blends in my head (and at parties where you can jam) with “Sweet Jane”. I have pissed off (in a friendly way) Art Tendler more times than I can count when he’ll start playing interminable “Sweet Jane” and I get bored and turn it into Cooper.

P.S. I am also going to hereby boldly admit that dammit, I like Van Halen. Real Van Halen that is.

Hey hey

AM earworm - Both “The Porpoise Song” and “Going Down” - The Monkees
No surprise here as we watched “Head” on TCM cult/underground movies last night.
I was pleasantly surprised at how much it amused Oliver. He laughed all the way through or at least until I fell asleep. Why do they have to start them at 2 AM? Why not midnight?
Anyway this is actually a pretty cool flick. Cameos by pretty much everybody. My favourite being Frank Zappa. Who encourages Davey Jones to stop focusing so much on his dancing, concentrate more on his music, because “ the kids of America are counting on you to show them the way”. Yes, please David Jones, I relied on you and where did that get me? I love Terri Garr and she shows up to be kicked repeatedly by Mickey Dolenz. Good stuff.
I love the Monkees. There I said it and I don’t care who knows it. They had the masters of the pop song craft writing for them and that’s that. Carole King, Don Kirshner, Neil Diamond, and of course, my absolute favourites, Boyce and Hart (among others). Songs like Valeri, Pleasant Valley Sunday, Words, Shades of Grey, lie snuggled at the bottom of my song writing soul oozing their schmoozy influence into my writing on a regular basis. I wish I could write such brilliantly crafted pop. I hear nothing comparable going on in the pop scene today.
I also have a fondness for Mike Nesmith and his writing. I would love to get my hands on a bunch of the stuff he did after “The Monkees”. So far I haven’t run across it casually. Someday I’ll have to make a concentrated effort to gather it unto me.