What a lineup.
Yes, I’m back safely after connecting through Houston which, by all accounts, had some problems last week. I almost had to spend the night in the airport. More details soon.
What a lineup.
Yes, I’m back safely after connecting through Houston which, by all accounts, had some problems last week. I almost had to spend the night in the airport. More details soon.
I’m typing from my cousin David’s Mac G4 laptop at his apartment. I have a lot of email backed up, so my apologies if anyone still hasn’t heard from me. So far the trip has been stellar. Erika and her friend Amy took me to Sacramento, which was a surprising delight. I have walked across San Francisco (from the Ferry Building to Golden Gate Park) and I should have a great many pictures to post when I get back. I have eaten some spectacular meals with amazing wines, and I’ve already bought far too many records and CDs. Yesterday I drove Highway 1 and 101 to Los Angeles; it was such a beautiful trip, I’ll defer my thousand words to each of the dozens of pictures I’ve taken. Today David and I did the guitar shops on Sunset and took in the scenery at Venice Beach. In a few hours, we’ll head to the Baked Potato. Tomorrow I’m off to the OC to see my friend Tracy. I’ll be driving my enormous rental Buick. Avis was out of compacts, so I got a free upgrade to a land yacht. It has XM Satellite Radio, which was new to me, so I can’t complain. On the trip yesterday I mostly switched between MusicLab and the Loft. Good stuff. That’s all for now. Maybe I’ll update before Sunday, but probably not.
I leave tomorrow for my California vacation. I’m flying Delta, so pray for me. Erika is picking me up at the airport and she’s going to show me around town and the winery she works at in Santa Rosa. Wednesday I’ll rent a car and drive to LA to stay with my rockstar cousin David. I’ll try to send updates during the trip.
Also, Arkansas Times reviewed my new next-door neighbors. Passing grade. They probably didn’t have the refried beans. I’m kidding, the food is good, and the article explains the strange feeling I had about them. They’re originally from the somewhat dilapidated area of east North Little Rock; someone at the Times described the food as ‘truck stop Mexican,” which is perfect. It will make an interesting addition to the standard Hillcrest fare.
The cover story of this week’s Arkansas Times is a piece by Mara Leveritt about her efforts to write a book detailing the vulnerability of New Orleans to natural disaster. Mara saw it coming, and she had spent much of the last year gathering information and attempting to convince her editor that the story merited development and publication. Numerous sources all saw the impending doom, and they all seemed to breathe unanimous sighs of frustrated resignation at the lack of prevention for the inevitable. Mara’s editor even said that the only way the book would sell is if the disaster actually happened. I wonder how that editor feels now. I can’t imagine what a nightmare these last few weeks have been for Mara (the author of the blogging article that featured me some months ago), who saw it all and predicted much of the details of what we’re seeing on TV. A true 21st Century Cassandra.
Speaking of tragedy, this is the 4th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. It’s also Chris‘s birthday. He had a party last night at his mom’s house. In the five minutes following my arrival I sustained about 5 rather nasty mosquito bites on my feet. I stayed indoors for awhile until Chris offered to let me borrow some jeans and shoes (I was wearing shorts and sandals as usual) and a can of Off. A friend suggested that mosquitoes like sweet blood and I reflected on the fact that my intake of cookies and M&M’s is probably greater than most people’s.
Saturday was a pleasant day; I ran my errands and picked up some strings at Millsap Music, some CDs at Arkansas Record/CD Exchange (promo copy of Ok Go‘s new album for $2.50!), and went to the River Market for lunch. I figured I’d just bump into somebody and figure out the rest of my day from there. Sure enough I found the Kennedys and Jamie and Charles. I was about to introduce them when they greeted each other as old classmates at UCA Honors College. Funny. So we had lunch and Jamie and Charles and I decided to run down to Bryant to visit New Day Junktiques, the coolest junk shop in the world.
I should also mention that Pancho’s Villa is now open, next door to my house on Tyler. The cuisine is predominantly Mexican, but also with American South standards like catfish and burgers. It’s the only Mexican restaurant I think I’ve seen that appears to employ no Mexicans. Instead it is operated by, and its clientele mostly consisting of, senior citizens. I can only conclude one of two things here: these are the regulars from their previous location, or I have a lot more old folks in my neighborhood than I had initially estimated. There’s a down-home funky feel to it; more like a rural roadside diner than a mid-town city eatery. It reminds me of Big Daddy G’s in Harrison [1]. It’s small, with lots of plants and figurines, there’s a color-impaired TV in the corner which seems to always be playing Wheel of Fortune [2], and smoking is allowed, so that gives you some idea of the atmosphere. So far the eats have been splendid, with the exception that the first time I went, Katherine had the refried beans, and they tasted oddly of Robitussin. As of right now I’m eating Kathy‘s leftover cheeseburger from last night, and it remains delicious.
Today I don’t know what I’m going to do.
1.) I realize that description helps very few people, but cut me some slack, I’m struggling here. You should be able to intuit some vague impressions of the establishment based purely on the name.
2.) I’ve only been there twice now, but each time countless vowels were purchased and puzzles solved, all to the familiar clicking sound of the Wheel, and the smooth delivery of Mr. Pat Sajak.
Well the latest issue of Nightflying features a small shout-out to me from radio diva Carole Kramer in her column. She was talking about the recent Eric Johnson show and she recounted the Duracell story and credited me as the source. Legend has it that Eric Johnson can hear the difference between Duracell and Energizer batteries when they’re in his footpedals. Even more amazing is the story that Eric once requested that only all-original screws be in place on a vintage Fender amp that he bought from Johnny Adams at Atomic Guitars years ago. Johnny had to cannibalize some vintage screws from another amp of the same era. Eric is one tone-obsessed freak; and it certainly shows in his playing.
Anyway, I’ve now been referenced in Nightflying, Arkansas Times, and Localist, so I have only the Little Rock Free Press to conquer before I can consider myself the king of all freebie Arkansas media.
Somewhat sad to note (but who knows what the future will bring), Localist as a print publication has ceased to be. Word from head honcho TJ Deeter is that it will move into becoming an entirely web-based magazine. Sounds exciting; I just hope that it will come together soon to replace their current, and very lame, website.
New plog is up, with pictures from the Harrison photographic excursion, and other randomness. Also, because I have some strange affinity for distressed signage, some more Katrina bits at Flickr here and here.
Those were the words of my nephew Austin to a friend of his as I walked by them and into my grandmother’s house in Harrison yesterday. With nothing planned for my Labor Day weekend I figured I’d drive home for a day or two. I left Sunday monring around 10 and soon realized…I’m a dog owner now[1]. I can’t just leave for a couple days without making arrangements for her care. Cats are easy; give them a pile of food and a litter box and they’re good for 2, maybe 3 days. The dog is not so easy. DeLaine called me on the road and reminded me of that. So I came back early this morning, praying that Zoe had not left an enormous puddle of urine on the kitchen floor. She hadn’t; the house was absent of any vengeful reprisal for my 24-hour absence. My short trip was enjoyable, however, as I had lunch with my friend Becky and we wandered aimlessly around the area in search of unusual photographic subjects (new plog soon). We also went to see “Red Eye,” which was surprisingly good. I had dinner with the family and hung out on my sister’s porch with my mom. As a combined Christmas and birthday gift to the two of them, I’m taking them to see The Rolling Stones in March.
Saturday was enjoyable as well. Kathy accompanied me to my gig in Hot Springs, which went swimmingly.
I learned an important lesson driving home this morning. If you’re going to drive south during the mid-morning hours for a couple hundred miles, wear sunscreen on the left side of your face, neck and arm. On a clear day you’re essentially getting blasted with sunlight. I wore a shirt on my head for the last half hour of the trip. Bleah.
1.) Technically “dog guardian,” as Matt will be back for Zoe sometime; I just don’t know when.
Here’s something funny to take your mind off the worst natural disaster in US history. About a year ago I bought Death Cab for Cutie’s “Transatlanticism” for $3 in a pawn shop in Hot Springs. I listened to the first few tracks and thought, “this doesn’t even sound like a band, this is electro-dance insanity with drum machines and synthesizers everywhere – this is the band everyone’s been talking about?”
So I put it away, thinking maybe it was their experimental freak-out record or something. It stayed on the shelf until last week when I saw a video from that record on my Comcast “On Demand” service. It did NOT sound like the CD I heard, so I put the disc back in my car for a second listen. I turned it on today and heard something very familiar. The Faint. In the intervening months since I bought the CD, Jamie had turned me on to some tunes by the Faint, so I knew what they sounded like. I pulled the disc out of the player, and it’s one of those damned discs that record companies just decorate and don’t tell you the title or artist. I did notice the label was Astralwerks. I did a Google search on some of the lyrics just to be sure, and it turns out I did indeed buy a copy of Danse Macabre by the Faint. That’s what I get for buying $3 CDs at Boll Weevil Pawn in Hot Springs.
For anyone who knows them, Adnan and Kelly are OK. They weren’t in New Orleans last weekend at all, they were in Tulsa for a wedding. They’re at Adnan’s parents’ house in West Little Rock. Reports are that their place near Tulane isn’t waterlogged, but there’s likely treefall damage and the possibility of looting.
Even the constant network news coverage of the damage doesn’t convey the devastation like this video does. And this video only covers Gulfport and Biloxi.
I had a marvelous time Saturday running errands with Katherine. We went to Target and Barnes & Noble and bought more than we probably should have. I went to Target to get a portable CD player, but Katherine got hooked on a quest for some elusive, magical pants. Ordinarily the women’s department is not the kind of place I generally enjoy visiting, but Target makes the job so much more amusing by virtue of its wide selection of cartoon-emblazoned underwear. Am I the only person that thinks putting Bert and Ernie on panties is just a little disturbing?
At Barnes & Noble I picked up the new Steve Martin paperback, The Pleasure of My Company. I finished his last book, Shopgirl, recently and I highly recommend it. The movie will be out soon, starring Martin, Claire Danes and Jason Schwartzman. Hopefully it will do the book justice. It would seem a fairly unfilmable story given that there’s only the slightest quantity of dialogue to be found in the book. Perhaps it will be tone-poem-esque in its delivery. That would rock. It would make a great silent film.
Superflux played a gig that night at Arkansas Blast, a car stereo competition. It’s amazing to me how many people will put more money into their cars than their residences; and it’s doubly amazing to me what people consider fashionable and attractive in their modes of dress. I don’t say that to be snotty; God knows my fashion sense is just a couple rungs above Bob from Tom the Dancing Bug, but some people truly believe that Def Leppard are paragons of fashion.