rumple rumple grundle grouches grontle bundle sturgeon porkwish to a cape a lathe wet with buttery tears, blood

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=nMb-eLJxOao]
sorry I didn’t go camping, bro
As I told you and the ten thousand invisible amanuenses
I am stressed out and trying to pound through some beefy madness, a tear-stained pork bunny
whence
whence
tents
I thought great italian garage rock would help

it did! it is doing the predictable garage rock thing of girding my powerwheel with tank treads so I may plough forth into the sandbox of daith

DAITH

peace

fiction/nonfiction


Just heard this song, liked it. Georgia, 1978. If the download doesn’t work anymore, send me an email or something and I’ll send it to you. Not a big deal, just a mellow download. THINK OF IT AS A SNACK. Also I added the Siltbreeze Records founder’s blog to the blogroll at left because it’s a great source of news related to the shit-smeared dust-covered pop music I like. This post is set to ‘private’

Final shit-smeared nota bene: I’ve received emails like this one before, but only from Americans. I would have preferred a Briton; their vituperative sputter is so much better.

Stressed-out High-School Yearbook Editors!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lately in my office there has been a person who bears the mien of a stressed out high-school yearbook asst. editor. OMG I AM FREAKING OUT THIS DEADLINE IS BIGGER THAN THE 7-11 BIG GULP I TOTALLY JUST BROUGHT INTO THE OFFICE!!!!! LOOK AT ME!!!!! The main quality of this phenomenon is wasting huge amounts of time while nominally working sew hard but actually just flirting or eating or going for stressed-out walks or farting great ghosts of yesteryear into mine atmosphere. It’s the kind of thing where they’re like “OMG I WAS AT THE OFFICE UNTIL 400,000 A.M. LAST NIGHT” and I wonder to myself in the voice of Peter O’Toole how many of those late-night hours were actually spent accomplishing anything.

also there is a lot of need-/endless collaboration with other people with their heads up their own or each others’ asses. OK OK OK GUYS GUYS I GOT IT. WHAT IF THE…. FIRST PAGE…HAD A BUNCH OF, LIKE “ZAPF DINGBATS…. UM… OH MY GOD THIS DEADLINE IS SO UNREASONABLE AND CRAZY!! I’M SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD!!!!!

More grouchville: if you are a copyeditor and copyediting something for someone for the first time DON’T RIP IT TO SHREDS JUST TO PROVE HOW SMART YOU ARE. This is not helpful at all. This is like bringing a vest to be drycleaned and then getting it back and the lady is like I RIPPED ALL THE POCKETS OUT AND DREW PICTURES OF STING’S DICK ALL OVER IT BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO BE DANCING IN THIS VEST AND HAVING THINGS IN YOUR POCKETS WHILST DANCING IS DANGEROUS PLUS STING IS AWESOME. LOOK LADY IF I WANTED THE POCKETS RIPPED OUT I WOULDA TOLD YOU SO!!! GHOSTFART!!!

other things were pissing me off, too, I can’t remember. Some news item about bacteria in your inner elbows. Seriously, whatever, peanut butter straight from the jar. I have switched to drinking only Racer 5, I no longer muse musingly at the bar. I order my beer and pour it into my giant fucking face. I got one or two of those coming at me in an hour or so. Friday. I also got a tattoo of Sting on my dick, see below for details

Capable Beastie

These walls have ears, and these ears have eyes. I mean knives. V.S. Naipaul wanted “to do a narrative only out of simple, direct statements.”

Due to unforeseen circumstances, tonight’s screening of Le Lit de la Vierge will be shown in DVD format, rather than 35mm. This screening will continue free of charge…. a minimalist-psychedelic retelling of the Christ story, shot in Brittany, Morocco, and Rome under the influence of LSD.

The new Oneworld Classics edition of Alain Robbe-Grillet’s novel Jealousy is out in June, with an introduction by Tom McCarthy. The introduction is also appearing in the June issue of Artforum, which is reprinting some diagrams he made years ago when trying to understand Robbe-Grillet’s work

A mangled little heartbeat is filled to the brim with soda. A bench in rural N. Ohio sits empty in the sweltering humidity. One ghost wishes for a swimming pool, the other wishes for the opposite. A third ghost makes an impassioned, silent speech against opacity in any form. “Fuck opacity!!!” rages the silent ghost.
Blonde ghost, foodie ghost, Phish ghost.

Fucking comparisons. There are children present: Let the baby carriage act as a shield. In the afternoon, is it cool if the pram becomes riot gear?? The musician’s boner shall be my dowsing rod. The woman’s licked lips are full of protein; they still sting from salt and are wiped down with carbs.

The Dust Blows Forward…

Cresting the corner of Market and Sanchez yesterday, I came upon a man unloading records from his suitcase. He had a loaf of cheap-looking bread (white, french) and some records sitting on an electrical box on the corner. He was laying out a blanket and haphazardly arranging records on it. “Lotsa reggae, insane record sale,” he said to me. I couldn’t get a read on him at first. He was definitely high, coke or speed or something along those lines. He immediately, twitchily started hand-selling records to me: an old blues record that had Buddy Guy on it (but wasn’t a Buddy Guy record), someone who was someone’s “favorite guitar player,” reggae and dub that I’d never heard of. He apologized for pushing stuff on me, and even muttered something like “I’m really high.” Jah Wobble, the first two Police albums. He said he was being evicted from his apartment and needed cash fast, hated to see these records go but needed the money. A guy with dreads came up and immediately grabbed the not-Buddy Guy record and coveted it. The record dude was like “see, he knows, he knows” and they exchanged pleasant words about reggae and dreadlocks. Dreadlock guy asked how long he’d lived in the place he was getting evicted from; I think record dude said 17 years, munching on his loaf, frantically rearranging records on the blanket. He’d tried to sell them at Streetlight across the st. but they weren’t offering enough. “They’d give me $3 or $4 for these and then turn around and sell them to you for $12 or $15.”There was a fair amount of postpunk and rock, which is what I ended up buying. I should’ve grabbed the reggae and blues stuff I’d never of; it was probably much more valuable and great, but I stuck with what I knew. These are the records I ended up buying (all original issues, and in great condition):

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Captain Beefheart, Trout Mask Replica (1975, two LPs!)

(Just realized looking at this that the first cut is “Frownland,” from which Ronald Bronstein’s painfully awesome 2007 film must’ve taken its name.)

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[Keith’s horrible roommate in Frownland (2007)]

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John Lennon, Plastic Ono Band (“produced by John and Yoko and Phil Spector”)

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Ry Cooder, Paradise and Lunch (I remember R.P. had this on vinyl in high school; Jim Keltner plays drums; my record player’s busted at the moment so I can’t even listen to these right now anyway.)

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(Looks like a Dutch pressing of this album. “Made in Holland” on the record and a torn-off “GRAMMOFOONPLA– / Frans Sell— / Be—-xstraat 20-22—- / Den —“. Did record dude buy this in Amsterdam???)

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Young Marble Giants, Colossal Youth

The Pedro Costa film for which this album is named is playing at Berkeley’s PFA on April 12. SEE YOU THERE?

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(Juventude em marcha)

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I am being willfully, hungoverly nerdy I know but nota to your bene: of course the record doesn’t have the yellow band in the corner. I’ve never seen this record cover, only heard/seen this album packaged with the sister circle photo. This is a 1985 reissue. Interesting (to me) to note that Howard Wuelfing wrote a back-cover text for this record. I have run across him as the manager/publicist/whatever of Howlin’ Wuelf media. This is an exciting blog post for you, reader! I am who I am and that is a person who wonders how Howard ended up writing the back-cover text for this 1985 re-issue of Big Star’s 3rd. Halp me I’m boring myself all the way to the taqueria

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Scientist v Prince Jammy, Big Showdown 1980

The one reggae record I “took a chance on”; like I said, I should’ve bought more; he had so much, it’s probably all worth way more than the $5 or whatever he was selling em for. The back of the record says that the “Big Showdown” happened “at King Tubby’s”. There are 10 “rounds”, with Scientist and Prince Jammy alternating mixing. I can’t wait to listen to this. Greensleeves records. Every member of the “Roots Radics Band” has a middle-nickname:

  • Flabba
  • Santa
  • Gladdie
  • oh actually Ansel Collins and Bo Peep don’t have middle nicknames
  • Chinna
  • Sky Juice

Those are the nicknames.

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Record dude also had a ton of Tom Verlaine solo records, but I only had so much cash. I did a rough, generous calculation in my head, and offered him $40. My good fortune was painful to enjoy because it was coming at the price of this guy’s pain. But at the same time, by buying the records, I was helping him. When I offered him $40, he went through them all, then we he got to Marquee Moon he said “let’s call it $45, because this is such an all-time classic” or something to that effect. I was more than happy to pay $45, even though the logic wasn’t there — just b/c it’s a great record doesn’t mean it’s worth more, right? I was paying for his own emotional attachment to the record. ” The title track (last song on the first side) is one of the few songs I regularly feel a physical need to hear. It’s a great song to buy on a jukebox, too — 10 minutes of joy. He had a copy of Rubber Soul that was the only album going for more than $5 — it was the original Parlophone pressing or some such.

I haven’t bothered to look these records up to see how much they go for, but even if in order to have gotten a truly great deal I needed to’ve paid $30, I honestly feel happy paying extra on top of that to help this guy out. Whether he spends it on bread or drugs. I came upon the sale on my way to buy a new mattress for my new apt. Just that morning I had been considering getting rid of all my records to streamline the move, but I kept seeing my dad’s old records that he gave me — John Lennon, John Coltrane, et al — so I decided to hang on a little longer. I wished the dude good luck with his eviction as I paid him, and he said “Thanks man. Enjoy the records. And I know you will.” And I know he knows I will! It was the most bittersweet music-purchasing experience of my life. As long as I have records, I will treasure these.

Pseu Braun

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One of my favorite shows on WFMU is Pseu’s Thing with a Hook. Last year’s marathon I pledged and got her premium CD, brit fedex’d your playlist – pseu’s thing with a hook – sharp hooks vol 2, which was fantastic. Jim Noir — Key of C — stuck in my head since I heard it.

I’ll prolly pledge her again this year. Hell I listen to WFMU all day long, every day, least I can do is etc. She’s talking on the air right now, I had the auld classic radio thought of Well God I wonder what she really Does Look Like though, don’t I, and and I found the above picture, and stopped looking. This isn’t her (it’s “Katie Sue Braun, an freshman accounting major from Spearfish” — they’re at Black Hills State University) but it mysteriously satisfied my curiosity anyway. Anyway!!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-JbH6GcxYc&rel=1]