one day...

... I'm going to reach into my magic hat and pull out another rabbit, but not today. Today is grasping and feeling, but not really finding anything.

I don't know the secret to keeping a blog going when the muse isn't visiting. Sometimes that sea of white is a call to arms, a new world to be conquered, something to be twisted and shaped and morphed in any way one pleases. Something to be blasted and pounded, littered with dots and dashes, and splattered with ink until some shape, angel or devil, rises from the swirling chaos, all the while the writer, hands trembling, chants, "Rise, rise!"

And then other times it is an insurmountable wall.

Today I will not fight. Today I will be my avoidant self and immerse myself in R. Stevie Moore instead.

Ah, Stevie.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night (an ode to scissors and gluesticks)

In 1999, at about this time on a Saturday night, I'd be heading up to Kinko's with a bundle of images and anecdotes in hand. There was never a plan. It was just cool to hang out until the wee hours, cutting and pasting and manipulating images, and listening to the always awful music they piped in. If I was lucky, my diligence at the copier would be interwoven with walk-ins from roaming drunks or the overly curious. Nobody had ever seen art created on a copy machine before, and some of the reactions I got were worth a million dollars. And the art, well, sometimes I'd hit on juxtapositions that would work and sometimes I didn't, but it was always a good time.

Ten years later, everybody's older, and I don't even think Kinko's is open that late anymore. Hell, it's not even called Kinko's now. So I sit at home, where nothing interesting ever happens, and play with Photoshop.

Blah. Am I dead yet?

mi gato/mi gator

Last night I dreamt one of my cats was an alligator. I was also living in one of those houses on stilts in a Louisiana swamp or something. Don't ask me how I knew the alligator was my cat; I just intuitively knew. In real life he's been biting me a lot, which may explain it. We're working through some issues.

At any rate, despite his being an alligator, I felt the need to hang out with him. You can't abandon your bud just because he's an alligator, right?

I think you know how it went.

late for the train

A friend of mine recently sent me a list of his favorite albums of '08 and asked if I had anything I could add. Befuddled, I reminded him that it might be years before I could make a solid "favorites of '08" list. Despite constantly keeping on top of new music for work, I'm always late to discover things for myself. Yes, in the last year I've been acquiring music at the same breakneck speed I always have, but only a small chunk of it is new. I'm only now feeling confident that I could give you a definitive list for 1978, let alone 2008.

That said, when I shoot, I shoot to kill. No, I'm not talking about hunting. I mean that when I buy music, including new music, I've researched the hell out of it first. If I'm giving you my money, you'd better be good. You'd better be something I intend to keep.

A few new titles I've picked up this year, off the top of my head and in no particular order:

The Fireman - Electric Arguments
Attic Lights - Friday Night Lights
Glasvegas - Glasvegas
Old 97's - Blame It On Gravity
Future Clouds & Radar - Peoria
Hacienda - Loud Is The Night
The Magnetic Fields - Distortion
Bob Mould - District Line

Wow, that suddenly seems very short. Of course it doesn't include older albums re-issued last year, which wouldn't be fair.

Check back with me again in five years or so.

you are hear

I wanted to kick this off with an awesome road trip story. Something gripping, you know? I was going to see Kevn Kinney, which, in a way, would have been some kind of full circle for me. My first show, some 20 years or so ago, was to see Drivin' n Cryin' at the Boathouse in Norfolk. And just recently I've rediscovered Kevn, but in the new light of his solo career. The Kevn of now is best summed up by that DnC song "Telling Stories." He has a much more quiet approach without all heavy riffing that characterized his earlier work, and, at his core, there's always a good story. We're both 20 years older, Kevn and I, and we no longer need all that posturing to prove a point.

I was also wanting to get out again, which I haven't done in a good long while. In the spirit of Kevn, maybe take some back road, two-lane highway and see some stretches I hadn't been down before. Take pictures, get lost in the moment, and be open to whatever came up.

At any rate, it wasn't meant to be. For that, Kevn, I apologize.

This is my second attempt at a blog. Or maybe third. I'm not sure. Historically, these things never work out and I always feel a need to downplay my attempts. There will be a lot of music, because music is important to me, but I've always struggled when talking about it. I sit with 1000 CDs to my back and still feel uninformed, like I lack the authority. I don't know the phrases or the influences or whatever it is I'm supposed to know. I only know what I like.

And yet, here I am. We'll see how it goes.