Welcome, Winter

From Mark Tonra's James

A strange fall. Chock full o' transitions. The fickle weather thwarted my usual April to October sandals / October to April boots pattern. The Merry Ho Ho toes saw sandals this past week.

Happily, a few days of brr Nellie cold will lend themselves to fires and hot cocoa ho-ness. Send some of your winter wonderland stuff down here, Sheena and MontanaMan.

"Feeling tired
By the fire
The long day is over

The wind is gone
Asleep at dawn
The embers burn on

With no reprise
The sun will rise
The long day is over"

Norah Jones, "The Long Day is Over"

Tunage. Shows. Youth. Memories.

Cap'n Noise posted recently on concert attendance for a band from his past. Have not had the same reaction to seeing live music from youthful influences or enthusiasms. For me, these events incur positive nostalgia.

CarolinaMom and I saw Johnny Mathis at Chastain Amphitheater a couple o'years back here in Atlanta. Wow. That man's voice is still buttah: late in "Misty" when he sings "On my own" an octave higher than the rest of the melody gave me goose bumps. I cried a bit with "The Twelfth of Never," as it's one of my Mom's favorites. We sat next to two women my Mom's age, and the 3 of them waxed on about their teenage crushes, other popular music at the time, etc.

I've seen James Taylor many, many times. His music framed my childhood, and I shoved countless quarters into the jukebox at Anna's Pizzeria in Hampton to play "Handyman".

But these music tastes were my parents' and became mine by osmosis. The ones I sought out myself as Noise did, in 'tween and teen years, and seen recently? Many still bring it. But they weren't as frantic or punk or alternative as Noise's B52s. My sister and I saw Peter Frampton, and I heard no tales from her about feelin' old 'n'stuff, or that Frampton was any less intense as a balding older white dood. He still showed the way (just watch Almost Famous - he and Nancy Wilson wrote the original music, and the movie brings that time's feel back in spades.)

Crowded House last fall at The Tabernacle was one of my top 5 concerts, ever, and their musical chops had only improved with time. More subtlety and complexity. Neil Finn's age couldn't have shown more, what with his son opening the show and all. But it didn't have me finding Neil an old fart, nor did it make me feel similarly old-farted with being closer to Neil's age than his son's.

How much NEW live music do you witness, Cap'n? Vampire Weekend at Variety Playhouse in June drew a multi-generational audience vividly engaged to each of the 75 minutes played. Why only 75? Well, they've only the one album, dontcha know. Fans from age 10 to age 60 in the demographic spread, with density in the college-age. Plenty of boozing and dancing in the crowd. I was transported to 1983 and Coyote having me listen to the Violent Femmes.

Feist at Masquerade this Spring blew me away. No Kate or Cindy or alt punk feel, but I felt no age distance between myself and the teenage urchins I chaperoned. Neither did my concert consort, Kimplicated. The sound harkened be effortelessly back to Boone introducing me to "new" chick music during college: The Cocteau Twins, The Sundays, The Innocence Mission, Sarah McLachlan.

Sheena baptized me with The Legendary Shack Shakers in Tallahassee in 2005, and Cap'n, they done did bring zany. And let's not forget my aforementioned serendipitous newish crush.

Speaking of Kimplicated, another of my top 5 concerts is seeing 311 with her at Lakewood Amphitheater. They brung it hard, but my fondness for the event was witnessing Kimplicated's unmitigated joy and thrash dancing so hard that her specs went flying a few rows in front of us (rescued with a mad dash forward). The dancing was contagious. I bounced up and down and happily remembered the ghosts of shows past: A Flock of Seagulls, R.E.M., Oingo Boingo, The Cure, U2.

And then there's Eddie From Ohio. My passion for their music fully integrates my parent's osmossissing, my teenage discoveries, and my adult acoustic penchants. In their harmonies I'm back on a long trip in the station wagon, the 8-track player booming Peter Paul & Mary, The Kingston Trio, John Denver, and my folks and us urchins singing 5 part harmony. In their joy for entertaining I'm transported to meeting Robbie Schaefer in high school at a variety show audition, and seeing his band Knightly Jest whip teenagers into frenzied (albeit mostly sober) dancing to The Stray Cats and The Who. In their wit I'm hanging out with Robbie in college at JMU, meeting Michael Clem, and am in the thick of late night banter and Jellyfish Blues Band gigs. In their soulfulness and Julie's passionate voice, I'm back in Mr. Boren's choir at Cocoa Beach High School, singing 8 part a capella harmony with my brother and Otter and Coyote. And then I'm in The Swede's kitchen after an EFO gig at Variety Playhouse, drinking beers with the band and reading our names on the back of a high school regional chorus competition album: me, Robbie, Julie, Chad of Knightly Jest, and Robbie's peep Vern.

Mayhap it's my frequency of live music worship, but Cap'n my Cap'n, I'm not taken where you go. I lose myself in appreciation of the sound, the shared enjoyment, and a bevvie or two. The experience connects me philotically to youthful show going joy. It's a communion. It's part mind-, part heartf*ck. It's social object enthusiasm enjoyed best when shared, not solo'd, and always connects me with my peep music influencers.

Getting old does not *completely* suck, Cap'n Noise. It may *mostly* suck. But it does not *completely* suck.

Earworms

Rumor has it my folks took us urchins to see John Denver at the Hampton Coliseum. His tunage was part of my childhood's soundtrack, so I don't mind these earworms.

If you don't like him, just be happy you weren't RickRolled.

From Stephan Pastis' Pearls Before Swine

From one tropical location to the next

Took a red eye from Honolulu to Orlando by way of Atlanta, and managed to not sleep a wink. Might have had something to do with sitting in the exit row and freezing my ucking *ss off. My feet were warm, tho.

Tip: even tho' you're visiting a tropical clime in summer, remember to bring socks to don on the plane. Feet properly stockinged, stick 'em inside the plastic bags from the blankets that you're still lucky enough to get on overnight flights. Wrap a blanket around your plasticated feet, and you're set!

Was a tad surreal to arrive at FloridaDad's and bask in the warmth and beauty of his home with his fine bride SWEJudy. A nap soon ensued.

All relaxed 'n' stuff from these pretty Islands in the Sun (Weezer YouTube vid).

April 19th is Record Store Day

recordstoreday.com

Get your slackass out and support your local record store. Word!

Papers In Order

A shout out, to the Georgia Peach:

The Old Ceremony, Papers In Order

May just have to catch them when they next come to town!

High School Musical

Heading tonight to catch Nougat in her high school musical. Hoping for great snaps to post later.

Coincidence that Darby Conley is referencing musicals this week?


From Darby Conley's Get Fuzzy

As previously described, Cheek loves her some Ikea!

October, and Scorpio Horrorscope

So a Cheek ritual on the first and last days in the month of October is to sing U2's song of the same name:

October
And the trees are stripped bare
Of all they wear
What do I care

October
And kingdoms rise
And kingdoms fall
But you go on...and on...


U2's October, Live from Red Rocks

The tune starts mournfully, but picks up energy. Hope, even. It's the perfect welcoming musical salewt to Autumn.

The Scorpio Horrorscope is late, but just in before October's end. Urchins celebrating include Cheyenne, MacRae, and Adira. Order peeps include SeattleTroy and my stepmom cusper. Happy horse's arse day to each of you!

Ottawa Fireworks

Had my first Canadian rail experience last week in making my mosey from Toronto to Ottawa. Bidness delayed my intended departure, so I copped a free wired internet phone booth squat in Royal York hotel's business centre at Sheena's suggestion. Later upgraded my journey's accommodations, and didn't regret it. Nice ride. Nice meal.

Arrived in Ottawa and needed a place to lurk whilst waiting for my host's availability. Sheena to the rescue again, recommending the bar at the Westin. Last visit during Canada Day found me surrounded in the glow of many fireworks. Strange that my return should be heralded by them again. In the form of newly installed lobby light fixtures that look like fireworks. Spied 'em as I sipped what purported to be a mai tai, but failed.

Became a Repeat Offender at The Laff on the requisite Saturday afternoon to catch the Lucky Ron show. He didn't disappoint - and is an unsuck listen.

Fireworks as an Ottawa theme continued Saturday night spying Spain's efforts in the Casino du Lac-Leamy's Sound of Light competition from Gatineau / Hull. My last night in Ottawa found the sky with its own natural fireworks.

The Sheenada Day host was my chariot to the airport and return to things domestic, but not before a lovely repast at Mexicali Rosa's at Dow's Lake. Lovely sunshine and water, but the windy ass-day got interesting when an "I Am Canadian" umbrella took off flying across the patio, narrowly missing impaling fellow diners.

Stayed too long away. While the respite from Atlanta's heat was much enjoyed, it's good to be home. Now if I can just get these Canadians from haunting me everywhere I turn, I'd be set.


Tegan and Sara, Back In Your Head.

Scott Adams: Jeanyus

From Scott Adam's Dilbert

It's not just Scott Adam's cartoons that have me going "Yes!". It's his blag too. And I know that just cuz I link to it n' stuff over on the NutRoll, you prolly haven't taken your slackass over there and read much of it.

To quote a song from Sunday night's concert: Shame On You!

Here's my July digest of favorite Dilbert Blog entries:

- How To Be Creative
- Writing Funny
- Career Advice (Read this one if you'll only read one, you slackassbastard!)
- And my favorite for the month: Immigration

Nope. Scott Adams doesn't completely suck.

The Indigo Girls, Shame On You

Today's What Is Sexy BIt (W.I.S.B.):
People who can mindf*ck you.

And I don't mean dirty talk. Rather, another's ability to engage you, turn you on with their words, their language (written or verbal), reflecting the path their pointy head takes in observation, thought, and expression. Adams does it for me frequently.

More Boxes and Nets

James, by Mark Tonra.

No Net Below lyrics, by Jonatha Brooke

It's that I leap and then I look
At all the chances that I took
Feel the air, miss the catch
Then I have to swing back
My timing's all wrong
And the ladder is gone
And all I can do, is
Swing 'til it's all net below
All I can do, is
Swing 'til it's all net below

And I can let go
I am not faint of heart
But I get weak in the knees
I am tired for the world
For the wind in the trees
But we'll still find the song
Though the ladder is gone
It's all we can do, is
Swing 'til it's all net below
Swing 'til it's all net below

And we can let go
And I'll still look you in the eye
It's the longest goodbye
I'll feel the air, make the catch
But I won't swing back
My timing is clear
And I'll never fear
I'll swing 'til there's no net below
Yeah, I'll swing 'til there's no net below

Gooder Vibrations

With apologies to WhiteNoise, I must confess that I very much enjoyed the season finale of Lost. Sure, it was a tease. But it was a good tease. Anticipation can be a good thing. (Spoiler alert! Stop reading now if you haven't seen it!) The secret to the code to turn off the jamming signal being the notes for The Beach Boy's "Good Vibrations" ... very cheeky, given the double entendre for show history.

It got me thinking. What. is. up. with all the things that vibrate today? Sure, there are *those* kinds. Not that there's anything wrong with them! (and apologies to Erin for *almost* stealing a title from one of her posts)

Cheek recently joined the ranks of mechanized toothbrush abusers. Um, users. Shopping for a new toothbrush delivered thwartation by how large all the brush heads were. Kidding aside about how big my mouth is, structurally it's actually quite small. The big ass-brushes make me wanna heave. The smallest I could find was from Oral B with funky bristles and bonus vibration built in, no batt'r'y required. Day-um! But this baby could give *those* kinds a run for their money!

Thanks to a blog that shall remain nameless, I'm now a happy schmoozer of the Gillette M3 Power Razor, which also vibrates. I sh*t you not, there has been much less blood shed as evidenced previously (that scar is *still* effing prominent). And it delivers a much closer shave for pits, legs and sundries.

It does, however, use a batt'r'y, which one really must remember to remove before checking the razor with other toiletries. That humming noise trumpets as an unintended heralder that your luggage has arrived on the baggage carousel, turning heads, eliciting illicit snickers, and making you rip into your bag to turn the l'il sucker off. Boldly make eye contact with a snickerer and say, "How YOU doin'?".

One of the gifts under the tree last year came from CarolinaKat in the form of a vibrating footrest / head massager.

Recent scapular concerns found me face down on the table in my crack dealer / podiatrist's office for twenty minutes of e-Stim before he cracked me.

NPR reported today on the new "Shuttle Experience" at Kennedy Space Center, built to stimulate - er, simulate - what it's like to be in the shuttle during a launch. 17,500 MPH of vibration simulation, babeeeee! (Wired article here.)

The song was #6 in Rolling Stone Magazine's Greatest Songs of All Time list. It was the only tune of the aforementioned 500 Songs for Kids benefit that was not performed by a musician - lacking anyone to play it, they had Butch Walker paint a canvas while the song played. YouTube yields Brian Wilson's inspiration for the tune:


Vibrations, vibrations everywhere. Good, good, good, good vibrations. Lying in bed just like Brian Wilson did?

M.Y.S.K.A.: Lonely? Bat It Down!

There are songs, and then there are tunes. You know the ones. That you hear for the first time, and then have to listen to them again. And again. The lyrics are poetically compelling. The music grabs you, knocks you down, makes you happy, makes you sad, makes you THINK.

And then you can't get it out of your pointy head.

This is one of those: Mike Doughty's Looking at the World from the Bottom of a Well. It's been in my pointy head since last summer from his Haughty Melodic release of unsuck listen list fame. The song's message is powerfully poignant but not realizable when first heard - maybe that's why it stuck. Work still to be done.

Here's to fewer "uncool ways of decathecting".



Lonely
And the only way to beat it is to bat it down
And the only way to beat it is to bat it down
And the only way to beat it is to bat it down, down

Upon further thought ... perhaps it's because it takes me back to The Police and So Lonely. You?