Lately I've been splitting up posts about single trips into multiple posts, each showcasing a different leg. It allows me to have more blog content, stretching a very thin blog out to respectable proportions. However in reality my real reason for doing so is that now that I'm all into HDR photography, I take about a bazillion photos and have a serious issue with being able to cull them properly. Anyway, Salt Lake City! This is the Salt Lake Temple, home lair of the Mormons or Latter Day Saints or whatever they want to call themselves. Silly buggers.
But I will say that in some small way, walking around Temple Square pleasantly reminded me of walking through some small European town, what with the grandiose religious architecture and people walking around speaking gobbledygook. In Europe of course, the gobbledygook is merely another language which I don't understand. Here it was English, but spoken in a freakish religious dialect completely alien for all of that. I had fun telling a couple of pretty young Mormon girls who tried to bother me while I was taking pictures that I'm an atheist, and that their beliefs are based on nil evidence and a thorough brainwashing. This is the Mormon Assembly Hall.
I mean most religion-speak is nonsense, but next to the Church of Scientology, The Latter-Day Saints take the prize for wackiness without even counting the insanity of that whole golden plate thing. Check this out:
I mean, to a sane person, this reads as batshit crazy. But even looking at it within religion's own internal "logic", why did God have to restore the authority of Baptism? Given the baptismal habits of all of the other practicing sects of Christianity, it doesn't seem as though such authority was ever lost from the Earth. This is the statue in full.
Two guys go off in the woods, see John the Baptist, and found a religion. Man, I see stuff in the woods around my house all the time! Just this morning Jesus and I were all like, kicking back on a stump and smoking a bong. He told me to tell everyone that marijuana was the new sacrament of his coming reign, and ye shall recognize your brethren by the sign of "peace-out, man". Of course, you probably don't believe me, but why on Earth did anyone fall for these con-artist's similar bullshit?
Again, nonsense. If the power of God is manifest, shouldn't people be able to uh, notice it? That's kind of what manifest means. I belong to the priesthood of Messybastards. The power of reason is manifest in all my actions and therefore God has chosen me to lead the world in it's fight against the descent into madness. Can't you see the halo of God's atomic logic hovering over my head? Well, you just don't believe strongly enough, so you're going to the fiery nuthouse in the ground.
The main thing about these statues that gets me is the authoritarian motif. You're supposed to trust con artists like Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery because they are getting authority all conferred up on them by the wonky ghosts of ancient spiritual leaders. Says who? Says the con artists. And you know what? Even if any of those Ghosts appeared to me, and tried to confer authority on me, I'd tell them to take their little 2-inch authorities and shove them up their asses. I don't want their permission to tell people how to live their lives; I'd much rather people used their own brains to figure things out than just accepting the say-so of anyone, including mine.
So yeah, I suppose an anti-religious rant was inevitable. But I was pretty jazzed to go to the Mormon Tabernacle. Not that I'm a huge fan, but their music is pretty. Though I'm not sure what Exxon has to do with anything...?
There was a guy playing the organ, so I hung out for a while. Not a very ornate Tabernacle, but giant organs are cool.
The Mormons have the largest Genealogy library in the world. I went in to see if they could find my family roots in Europe, but when I told the confident library docent the story of how my great great great grandfather was a stowaway on a Portuguese ship who changed his name to Williams without ever revealing his real name to his family in the New World, his confidence slipped a bit. When I told them that my other ancestor was a horse-thief who named his oldest son after the judge who didn't hang him during the decade where all the census records burned in a fire, they gave up. Guess I really have to embrace this whole disreputable vagabond thing; seems to be a family heirloom. Here's the Salt Temple at night.
The rest of Salt Lake City was fairly uninspiring. It actually looks like a cool city to live in though. The surrounding mountains are pretty and there's stuff to do. And there are bars so it's not really a dry city, despite my misconceptions. Plus, the Mormons make up only a small portion of the population these days. Anyway like I said, I had a couple of other legs to my SLC trip so there's more to come.
Well it's been a great Honeymoon. We're on the final day or so of it, and we're taking some much deserved down time so I thought I'd get started with the posting and the pictures and the blathering. We landed in Lisbon, Portugal what now seems like a really long time ago. One branch of my family comes from there and I'd always been curious to see it. Above is a shot of what I like to imagine was the last sight of Portugal which my Great-Great etc. grandfather/uncle (however that all works) saw as he left for the New World. And below was Julie's and my first view of Lisbon, Rossio Square. We arrived here at about 6 in the morning, looking for our hotel.
As far as first views go, it was pretty weird. But cool weird, not icky weird. The water in the fountain is actually quite pink, which only added to the weirdness.
But so apparently some people who were protesting NATO had dyed the water, well not blood red but I assume that had been the intent, overnight just in time for our arrival. We thought it was supposed to be that way and were kind of wondering why people were giving us funny looks as we took a bunch of photos. We only realized later, when the cranes arrived to aid in the removal of stickers from off of the statues and people with trucks and hoses came to clean out the fountain, that something was up. Hey, we were slow on the uptake because overseas flights really take a lot out of you. That's a NATO sticker over her mouth there. I guess we thought it was supposed to be that way, or whatever.
As it turned out, after much doorbell ringing at buildings that were not in fact hotels but dwellings of sleepy and angry Portugese residents, our hotel had great view of this square, and the big obligatory European castle on the hill. So, cool.
Lisbon is a really neat city and we had a great, if bleary-eyed and jet-lagged time. There is a lot of tile work there. Most of the older buildings were covered in decorative tile, or tiles with scenes.
It was really pretty. There were a lot of stairs and hills involved, and many scenes like this as well.
Especially in the Alfama district, which is a famous area due to it's charming yet exhausting Moroccan-like medina nature. A warren of stairs, hills, junky shops, cool bars, and welcome bakeries with great espresso and port wine.
There was this elevator tower back near the Rossio disctrict that is some sort of national landmark. I mean it's pretty and everything, and we totally went up in it, but I'm not really sure what the point of it is except to charge unsuspecting tourists 5 Euros to get in when there is a perfectly short and easy set of stairs right around the corner that takes you to the exact same spot. That might seem confusing based on the below photo, but there is a bridge that leads from the rear topside of the elevator right over to the hill, which you also can't see from the front here.
Anyway, at least we got a nice sunrise overview of the city.
The obligatory European castle on the hill wasn't much to look at, being obligatory, but also, being obligatory, we hiked on up there. Got a few shots from the heights. This here is a view of the harbor, and a canon, and that's a submarine out there just passing by. Ah, small countries.
And there appears to be a smaller version of Brazil's famous Christ Redeemer statue here, right across the harbor from the obligatory European castle. I didn't bother to try and find anything out about it, let alone try to get to it, but that's why telephoto lenses are great. If you really care, I do know it's called the Cristo-Rei, is probably based on the more famous Brazilian one, (Paris did the same thing; they have a mini Statue of Liberty that I have pictures of somewhere, probably over on my ancient smugmug site) and that there's a wikipedia entry on it. And here's a picture of it.
This here is just one of those photos that, when you see it, you have to try and capture but it never turns out as cool as you'd hoped it would. There were a bunch of kitties hanging around the castle top.
I saw something at the train station that you would never see in the US (as opposed to all of those other things in Europe that you'll never see in the US, like obligatory castles and socialism, apparently) and it makes me sad. But seriously, how awesome is a book vending machine?
On our last night in Lisbon, I decided that we had to hit one of those crazy Fado clubs all the Portugese kids are raving about. Fado is a traditional style of music that involves soulful lamenting, decrepit old guitar players, bluesy-lookin' bass players, and sexy or suave young singers.
Fado apparently literally means 'fate', and they have a bunch of places in the Alfama district where they pile you in for an evening of meals with courses split up by sessions of Fado during which the waiters will shush the hell out of you if you talk or make noise or, seemingly, attempt to eat too loudly. Each session of Fado brings in a different singer, but the band stays the same. It was fairly romantic and scored me some points, which I needed to shore up on for the coming days of relentless night train travel.
So that was Lisbon. I've left out a few details, including a few about Port Wine (Which was invented in Portugal, in the city of Porto) and funny language gaffes, but I don't have photos for those and this is, after all, now pretty much only a photojournal and not a venue for my ranting and longwinded story telling. Ah, evolution.
Currently, Julie and I are still in Germany recovering from a bout of Krampus and sinus infection, but in the most luxurious way possible. More about those obviously interesting topics later. But since I took a crap ton of pictures at Krampus this year, I thought it might be nice to end the posts leading up to it with teaser photos which aren't among the ones I will likely be posting as part of my final analysis. So until next time, here are some of my favorite Krampus mask woodcarver's offerings for this year.
The show went pretty well, thanks for asking. Although I can't personally attest to that really, as the wine and cheese portion of the fun-tivites was completely dominated by me. Julie spent hours toiling the night before to put together a delicious cheese platter, with baked cheese sticks and oatmeal sandwich cookies. And wine. Bottles of wine. I remember chatting with people-shaped objects, spilling some wine, and then a girl with a guitar started playing and she did a great Jolie Holland cover. Nicole Erin Carey was really good, and had I not been so self-involved on this particular evening, I really would have enjoyed her stuff. Go listen to her. I stole this picture from someone on myspace.
Mostly it was my family and Julie's family that came, but there were a few interesting Stroudsburg specimens as well. Old friends, new ones... I think. They were people shaped, anyway. Michael's eye view:
Julie got that one. I'm having loads of fun learning how to use Photoshop Elements, so the patent-pending Michael's eye view adjustment is mine. Then she got one of me and Dad.
Tom LeFevre took this one. That's me in the corner, spot-light, guarding all my wine...
He caught the eternal dilemma nicely; "Hmm, to shop for cds like I came here to do, or to pretend to be interested in the stuff which that creepy drunk guy standing in the corner over there watching me has hung on the wall..."
And so that's that. It was fun, in a terrifying sort of way. I even sold a picture or two, which was nice. I'll end with a nice picture that Julie took of me getting ready for the opening.
...And by Meh I mean interesting enough to shoot a dull photo of, but not interesting enough to have blogged about before. I hope that the dullness of these photos has more to do with the meh-ness of the subject material and my inexperience with a fancy new camera than it does with my overall picture taking ability. Though the fancy new camera excuse can only hold so long... I just got done taking a digital photography class at the local night school / Vocational Tech institute. And surprisingly, the Vo-Tech school uniform is NOT actually jeans, Metallica T-shirt, jean jacket and tan workboots. Which really surprised me because I wound up being the only one in class who was prepared for that eventuality.
ANYway, I learned some good stuff in the class, but I still have a lot of practicing to do. None of these pictures display any sort of new knowledge, however. I think I've gone backwards, if anything. One of my Meh trips was to Colonial Beach, VA a few months back. I know, I know KC, I should've called. But I was only there for a night, I had to work, and I just had time to make a quick run to GW's birthplace before heading home.
GW is a hero of mine, by the way. I got all teary eyed while walking around his family's estates and read stuff about him and everything. He could have been King of America, you know. The people were madly in love with him, and they didn't really understand this newfangled business of elections and Democracy and all that rubbish. Had he wanted, he could have retained power easily after his 2nd term, and the people would have cheered. But, he willingly stepped aside, as the political geniuses of the time had seen was a necessary step in not having power rest for too long in the hands of any one man, and set the stage for a Democratic political experiment that appears to have succeded until the 1950's when J. Edgar Hoover ruled the world with a gay iron fist. Just because Democracy has finally failed in the end doesn't mean that our Founding Fathers weren't awesome, and GW had the manliness required to turn his back on power; hence the teary eyes.
Also, I went to Cleveland the other week. Cleveland seemed to have a nice vibe, however the only cool thing there that I got to do was of course the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame.
Cleveland may very well be the birthplace of Rock-n-Roll, or at least, birthplace of the term Rock-n-Roll, but Cleveland overall does not, in fact, rock. And the Hall of Fame? Check this crap out!
I'm sorry, but "no photography" is not very rock-n-roll. I wanted in the worst way to get a shot of John Lennon's Sgt. Pepper uniform, Bootsy Collin's crazy shoes, and Elvis' purple cadillac. And Janis Joplin's painted porsche. And that wack wardrobe Hendix liked to sport.
Actually, there was a lot that was not very rock-n-roll about the place. Run-D.M.C. is getting inaugerated this year. Why? Because they did a song with Aerosmith? Nirvana hasn't even been included in that prestigious list yet. But Nirvana does have a signifigant presence in the museum, however. They pop up in videos and exibits here and there, but this is also very un-rock-n-roll because I didn't see one single mention of the Pixies, whom Kurt Cobain freely and reverently admitted to ripping off. If the Pixies don't wind up in the Hall, that place is a joke. But The Velvet Underground and The Ramones were there, so that's good. But perhaps the most un-rock-n-roll thing about the whole place was the presence of several Guitar Hero kiosks. Guitar Hero is the Anti-Christ of Rock-n-Roll. (I did not take this picture. I lifted it from the interwebs. "the interwebs", as a term, is beginning to irritate me. So that is officially the last time I will ever say it.)
Also, I just got back from Detroit. I drove through Grosse Pointe and other suburbs of Detroit on the way to the airport. I didn't get any pictures, mostly because I was too scared to get out of my car. And I used to live in Baghdad, folks.
Happy Neu Jahr! So far so good. My friends Steph & Bill, Julie & I went up to Montclair New Jersey last night to see Vivian Girls, The Feelies, & Yo La Tengo. For Indie aficionados, a rather legendary lineup. The Feelies (the band's name is taken from a fictional entertainment device described in Brave New World by Aldous Huxley) in particular kicked mojo derrière. It was somewhat of a revelation to see them live... they broke up in 1992 and promptly became the best legendary rock band you never heard of. They got together for the first time since then this past summer and played a few shows, and last night they sounded like they'd never been apart. They reminded me of old dogs teaching younger puppies how to rock out.
Yo La Tengo is a great band. [From wikipedia: Their name comes from a baseball anecdote.
During the 1962 season, New York Metscenter fielderRichie Ashburn and VenezuelanshortstopElio Chacón
found themselves colliding in the outfield. When Ashburn went for a
catch, he would scream, "I got it! I got it!" only to run into the
160-pound Chacón, who spoke only Spanish.
Ashburn learned to yell, "¡Yo la tengo! ¡Yo la tengo!" which is "I
have it" in Spanish. In a later game, Ashburn happily saw Chacón
backing off. He relaxed, positioned himself to catch the ball, and was
instead run over by 200-pound (90.7 kilograms) left fielder Frank Thomas,
who understood no Spanish and had missed a team meeting that proposed
using the words "¡Yo la tengo!" as a way to avoid outfield collisions.
After getting up, Thomas asked Ashburn, "What the heck is a Yellow Tango?"]
Their set last night was a bit disappointing though. I'd seen them live in Munich once on their Summer Sun tour, and they were really awesome; they'd played a cover of Sun Ra's Nuclear war which changed my brain. Last night they stuck to their noisier, less compelling fare. Maybe they didn't want to upstage the Feelies, idols of theirs. They of course all got up on stage together at the end of the show (well after midnight) as a happy 2009 present and did a Velvet Underground cover.
So that was awesome. Things I'm looking forward to in 2009:
1. OBAMA! 2. LOST season 5 (How did they DO that?!) 3. A healthier diet and more excercise. I'm joining a local vegetable co-op. 4. More fun work trips, hopefully. 5. Building an addition on my house. 6. Building a sweat lodge on my property. Or maybe a Bat Cave. 7. ... surprises. Nice ones. 8. Trying to find ways in which the desire for these things doesn't make me an old fuddy duddy. 9. Realizing that saying old fuddy duddy makes me one. 10. Going to more ROCK shows to make me feel young again. 11. Giving up, going home, drinking my Metamucil, and jestingly referring to it as my good 'ol poop glue.
I haven't been around much lately, I know. My question is, have any of us? For myself, I've been consumed with fear and paranoia over the state of the economy. My 401k has less money in it now than what was put into it out of my original paychecks. My stocks... well, as I've said before; when in 2050 they are teaching schoolchildren in the most powerful Nation in the world (my prediction: Eurasia) about the great world stock market crash of '08, my picture will be in the book as the poster child for those who bought in at exactly the worst moment in history. Maybe. I'm sticking it out in case my fears are incorrect.
Also, I've been consumed with the fear that no matter how many nonsensical utterings of bullshit come out of Sarah Palin's mouth, we still might be forced to look at her pasty vapid psycho doll eyed face for the next four years. If that happens, it'll be the final nail in the coffin of our country. She's deeply stupid (yet thinks she's smarter than everyone and that no one can see through to her motivations) and masks it poorly with down-home stylings meant to fool the common man into thinking she's like one of them. She's playing on the irrational blue collar disdain of elitists, which is scary because apparently the present down-home version of an elitist is someone with an education who speaks with knowledge and authority on a given subject. Apparently, the people with whom Palin is trying to connect would rather the officials in charge of their government not understand how to answer basic questions and mask their ignorance with folksy exclamations which make no sense. I CAN NOT believe that people are being taken in by her and McCain, especially after realizing finally that they've been taken in by Bush for the last 8 years.
It's embarrassing to have these people on the world stage representing us, and if you're voting for Palin (to hell with McCain; he's irrelevant and will keel over soon) shame on you, dupe. Well, the polls do currently favor Obama of course, but not by a wide enough margin to quell my disbelief.
Another thing I'm afraid of lately is this Creation Museum in Kentucky. It's a museum. Dedicated to Creationism. And people are visiting it in droves. Creationism is the belief that the world was created by God around this time of the year on a Monday morning in 4004 BC. Dinosaur bones and all. Now, the belief in God, the Bible, and its literal truth, is a Faith. Faith, not Science. The line between the two concepts is under attack. Science is the search for truth, based on verifiable fact. Faith is the belief in something for which you have no proof. I have no problem with people of Faith going to Church and learning about what they believe in. I just wish they'd stop trying to force their beliefs into the schoolroom. It's dangerous and useless. Education in America is already severely limited these days. I met a Gas Station attendant in Germany who studied math for fun and spoke four languages. Most European students can talk intelligently and at great length about world politics, and know where Eritrea is on a map. There are people like that in the States, to be sure, but they get made fun of and called geeks. Something that modern day religious Americans seem to forget is that part of the reason why America is such a great place to live is that we once valued a secular education, and our prosperity comes from the application of our knowledge AND hard work. And on Sundays and at mealtimes, God was valued and thanked in many homes, sure, but at the end of the work day, God helps those who help themselves. Deceiving ourselves into thinking that faith needs to compete with science is not going to help anybody, because it's false. When it comes to science, religion tends to breed rather a hostile attitude of indifference because what difference does science make when Jesus is coming back to turn the Earth into blood soup and all the people who are looking forward to this disaster get to skip it and go to Heaven for candy and unicorns? They tend to forget that, even according to the Bible, we are Stewards of the Earth, and as such will be held responsible for it one day, one way or another.
Granted, science has caused a lot of problems on this Earth. Next to all the good things like medicine and movie theaters. But at this point, Science is also the only tool we have to save ourselves, and subverting it with Bible stories is NOT the way to go.
So now I come to the thing I'm actually afraid of this morning, the real reason behind this post. I get up and begin my routine as usual; perform the daily miracle of turning tap water into coffee. Eat breakfast. Drink some pre-miracled water, gulp down my daily plethora of vitamins with a big glass of more tap water, brush my teeth with tap water from the bathroom sink. I go sit down at my computer for my daily stock torture, notice I have a message on my phone. It's my landlord, Frank, telling me they put out a warning last night not to drink the tap water, not even after boiling it, and that it might not be safe to even bathe in until further notice; I listen to this as I'm taking another long sip of coffee. SO, I call Frank back to see if I need to go to the hospital, and he says he doesn't know; he's on his way up to the borough office to find out what's going on. Meanwhile, I wait here, typing out my ranty fears in this post, wondering how sick I can expect to be at any moment. I continue drinking my coffee because, what the hell, what's done is done.
I finally get a call back from Frank. Apparently, someone who lives next to the town Water Tower saw three guys hanging around the tower. Climbing it and other shady behavior. Neighbors called it in, water's being checked to see if terrorists poisoned it. I live in a very small town; that water tower probably supplies about 5 or 6 hundred people.
I make more coffee and drink a big fat glass of tap water. Laugh and shake my head. More disbelief, more wonderment at how afraid people are, and how much America is being ruled by their fears. I laugh as my stocks tumble. Screw it. It's only money. President Palin? Ha! Good joke! She'll only hasten the downfall of this abominable government we're stuck with! The terrorists have already won anyway. They've shown us how weak and vulnerable we've become, all on our own. Thank God I got to see Stereolab at the Fillmore in NYC before I died. Miss Luongo and I went up to see them last week with my friends Jeff and Steph. Pure aural pleasure.
“One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years” - Thomas Wolfe
I live about one hour to the west of NYC, and I haven't been there in like fifteen years. I've still never even been up to see the Statue of Liberty except one time when I was too young to remember; apparently my Pop Pop, who used to work in the City, took me there once. It's one of those traveling oddities. Germans that I knew from Bavaria had never been to Italy, which is only a few hours away by train, yet had been to the Statue of Liberty. I've been to Venice, Baghdad, and Moscow even, but it's been fifteen years since I spent any time in the greatest city in the world. I'd seen online that one of my favorite bands was playing the final show on their tour there on Saturday night, so Miss Luongo and I drove over there yesterday to have a perfect New York day.
Miss Luongo doesn't particularly enjoy concerts, so in order to bribe her into attending one with me, I had to promise that we'd see a Broadway show which is one of her favorite things to do in the City. We hit TKTS which sells discounted day-of-show tickets, and scored a sweet deal on Equus. I'd never seen it before, but it's one of Miss Luongo's favorite plays and she credits it with being an important force in her decision to become a writer. And, to top it all off, the cast consisted of Daniel Radcliff (Harry Potter), Richard Griffiths (Uncle Vernon Dursley), and Kate Mulgrew (Captain Janeway from Star Trek: Voyager)! I really enjoyed it. It's a very 70's sort of sexual psychodrama, but it holds up and I think having British leads really helped make it work. If you've ever seen it or heard about it, you know that the role of the boy calls for some nudity, so yes, we got to see Harry Potter's penis. But other than that tense moment it was quite enjoyable and it's nice to see a child actor grow up into a good actor and not yet another screwed up tabloid case. I was able to sneak a blurry picture of the set before the show got started, which I was reprimanded for. Sometimes getting in trouble for pictures is worth it, but on this one I'll have to say, eh. Those silver things are the horse heads which were donned by actors portraying some scary-ass horses during the show.
After the play we hit Little Italy for the street festival of San Genaro and got some awsome Italian food and Pinkberry, which is some sort of Asian frozen yogurt and awesome. Then we hit the Angelika, an independent movie theater and saw some wacky Woody Allen movie about love and it's myriad disappointments. And threesomes. Vicki Christina Barcelona. Go see it. Or not. Afterwards it was time to hit the concert at the Zipper Factory on 37th and 9th.
It was Dean & Britta again, and Spectrum opened for them. Spectrum is a band formed by Sonic Boom, singer from another legendary band that I love, Spacemen 3. My friend Scott turned me on to them a ways back and he used to say that they don't play their instruments better than anyone. This was definitely the case last night... Sonic Boom does this sort of trance-rock thing and he opened with a Spacemen 3 bit called 'Transparent Radiation' which made me very happy. Then he did a bunch of loud sonic-y things which weren't really songs and got progressively weirder until the final number which prompted Miss Luongo to uncork her ears long enough to tell me angrily that she thought he was basically saying "screw you" to the audience because nobody was even playing instruments by this point, he was just utilizing foot pedals and amps to produce massive amounts of feedback. Again, Spacemen 3 used to do this better than anybody, and Sonic Boom was in top form. I guess you have to know what you're getting into here otherwise it pretty much is just noise, but I really enjoyed it.
Dean & Britta were of course awesome. I don't need to go into how awesome they are all over again... I saw them in DC not too long ago and you can go read that one again if you want to know how awesome they still are. I did grab a copy of Dean
Wareham's book after the show and had him autograph it. My friend Steph had originally wanted to join us to go see the show, but she had already read Dean's book and said that it sort of disappointed her to see what one of her favorite musicians was really like. She still might have gone, but she'd have had to take off work and her heart wasn't in it. I can't wait to read it. It sounds like it's going to be honest.
I got a nice shot of Britta grinning at me. We had the best seats! It was a terraced u-shaped theater going up, and the seats were all old discarded minivan seats. A very nice and comfortable way to enjoy New York shoegazer Rock.
And here they are, singing 'You Turn My Head Around' again. I love taking pictures of them during that song.
Here's four shots of their shoes that I cobbled together.
So yes, it was a perfect New York day. A broadway show, an Italian streetfest, a Woody Allen film, and quintessential New York shoegazer icons. Some things are just worth saving up for. We didn't make it to the Statue of Liberty, but that's really ok. I'll make it there one day and then I'll be like, "Huh. I wonder what the people who declared that this gift of friendship to us from the French should symbolize Liberty and Freedom would think of how far we've come from those heady days of hope."
I just got back from another exciting week in Virginia. Obviously I was there for work again, and I had several days of free time this time around, so I got to go into D.C. a couple of times. I didn't really do much though; I spent some time in the Georgetown area, which is always nice, and ate a delicious meal at Martin's Tavern, which is where JFK proposed to Jackie O, and where loads of other big high politicos have always hung out apparently. So that was interesting. I kept my eye out for Obama, but no luck. I really want to ask him what his definition of "change" is, because he often says it's time for it, but rarely spells out exactly what kind of change it's time for.
On Wednesday though, I got to see Dean & Britta in concert! I'd checked concert listings for the DC area for this past week and was extremely pleased to see that they were going to be playing at The Black Cat club. Dean & Britta are Dean Wareham & Britta Phillips, formerly of the band Luna, who I'm a huge fan of. And Luna was composed of members from Dean's previous legendary underground band (underground is what they used to call what we now use the blanket label indie music for) Galaxie 500 (also the original shoegazer band), and another seminal NYC band, The Feelies. Anyway, I got to see Luna in concert about five years ago in Munich when I was living there... It was a small club and a small crowd, so it was really awesome. See that T-Shirt Dean is wearing?
It's a Deutsche Bahn logo! Deutsche Bahn is the awesome German train system, and if you ever travel in Germany, you will come to love Deutsche Bahn more than you ever thought you could or should love a train.
Dean & Britta... get it?!
Anyway, the show was beautiful. I really love Dean's voice; it's one of the most tonal and interesting I've ever heard. I made my way up real close to the front by the stage so that I could get a couple of band shots, but I wasn't going to stay there because I had a beer waiting for me in back where I'd planned on chilling out and enjoying the music, but once I got up front I found myself mesmerized and unable to move. They sound so good, and Britta is so pretty. Especially when she's singing You Turn My Head Around off of their latest album, here:
So so nice. Dean & Britta are recently married, and are obviously in love, and it's clear who she's singing to.
Anyway, I experienced a moment of outrage when they finished playing, because I realized that this legendary musician, Dean Wareham, was the opening act! I couldn't believe it; I'd assumed that they were the main show, but nope. They opened for some young newcomer named Keren Ann. Her band actually wound up being very good and I quickly realized that a lot of people at the show were there to see her rather than Dean & Britta, and I felt old. I understand though, because Dean & Britta are not Galaxie 500, nor are they even Luna, and Keren Ann is young, hot, from Israel, sings many of her songs in French and is a rising star. Dean & Britta are a swan song, still magnificent, but older generation. Ah well.
When the show was over and many people had left, D & B were on the floor hanging out and talking to people. At the merchandise kiosk they were selling a CD titled Dean & Britta Variations, which is a concert only EP, meaning it's not going to be sold in stores. So I bought one and worked up my courage to go say hey to them. I said hello and he sort of took the CD in my hand without me even having to say anything and he signed it and passed it over to Britta to sign. I told him I really enjoyed the show and that I'd had the chance to see Luna in Munich a few years back and he went off on this tangent about which club that must have been at. I said it was probably the Orange Cafe but he insisted that it was at the Atomic Cafe. I told him I was pretty sure it was the Orange Cafe, but he wasn't familiar with that name and kept blabbing on about the Atomic Cafe. It took forever to get away from him, but you know how those chatty annoying rock stars can be. It's like I mean come on, who's a fan of whom, here?
Right. So anyway I'm going to leave three YouTubes of the Dean Wareham bands in case you're curious. The first one is 'Fourth of July' by Galaxie 500, 2nd is "Lovedust' by Luna, and last is 'Knives From Bavaria' by Dean & Britta, the remix version by Sonic Boom from Spacemen 3.
I haven't actually read this book yet, but I've started it and I'm very excited about it. It's an old Rudy Rucker novel that I picked up used from Amazon. I love this guy.
But my point isn't about Rudy this time. My point is that you should always buy used books when you can. Because they're cheaper. And because they need a home. And because they've already got that nice older book smell, no waiting!
And also because, old books are like a box of chocolates... never mind. I got Spacetime Donuts in the mail a couple of weeks ago, and I never got around to reading it until last night. I'd brought it with me on the last couple of trips I've been on for work, including a two-day trip to Virginia I just got back from, (Traffic was hell on the way back; other than that I have little to report on that one.) but I never got the chance to get to it until now, and when I opened it, a snapshot fell out which I assume was being used as a bookmark. I love when that happens. I mean, it probably sucks to be the guy that sold his old books and then can't figure out what happened to his picture, but bonus for me! So here's the snapshot: (Of course I've scanned it already. All pictures must be scanned. I'm like the photo police.)
Crazy right?! It was someone's personal snapshot of the Dalai Lama! Looks like he took a couple of shots to the arm there. Fight Club Dalai Lama?
I wonder where this was taken? Everybody is Asian, except for the cops... so it could be some American Chinatown somewhere, or it could actually be in Asia, because of the pagoda and the Asians, and maybe the Dalai Lama likes to cart Western-lookin' cops around with him? There's no date stamp on it unfortunately, but it looks at least relatively recent, because he's all old. Still, that dude travels a lot, so there's no knowing.
So what, you really think I'm going to let this post pass without gushing about how awesome Rudy Rucker is? Fat chance! I mean really, he's so cool that even the Dalai Lama hangs around his books all the time, trying to be half as cool. His newest book was recently released, and I'll be bringing it with me to gorge on on my next job, which is likely to be in Atlanta Georgia. A good place for reading, I think. God I love this guy. Seriously, if you still haven't visited Mr. Rucker's work, get 'White Light' now. Right now.
Aw hell, while I'm at it, Gun Club rules the most too. Still.
In the interview, this guy says that when he was growing up, they taught "Values Clarification" and played this game in his school. I want to know what kind of scary ass school he went to, and was it in Nazi Germany?
While I'm waiting for inspiration on the eternally boring question of what to do next with my life to strike, as it has been so kind to do in the past, I am always on the lookout for new things to blog about. It helps keep my sanity, you see. In that rather pitiable spirit, here is something I woke up thinking about this morning; the why and wherefore of religion. So yes, if you are not in the mood for another rant on messiestobjects' tired, banal views on religion and why it's bad for you, feel free to bail now.
I often worry about publicly talking about my views on religion, because I know that my family, who are devout Christians, care about me and therefore worry that my soul is condemned to a fiery eternity for saying such brash things as I tend to do. The problem is that I know that no amount of discourse will ever bridge the gap between what they believe and what I believe, and so I tend to keep my mouth shut and avoid the topic. The fact of the matter is that people, once they reach a certain stage in their lives, and have given the matter serious thought and/or credence in their lives, are almost never capable of changing their minds. There's actually scientific evidence somewhere out there about the hardening of our minds as we get older, although don't look to me for details as it's something I read a long time ago. Something about our neural pathways being wide open when we're babies, gradually becoming more solidified or defined as we apply words to objects, and later becoming downright jungle elephant paths in our brains as we ascribe our beliefs to ideas. In other words, the more times you tread a path, the easier it is to follow that same path the next time you go that way. It's very hard for even the most open minded person keeping pre-set personal beliefs or perceived truths out of our rational observations as we get older. But that's really not the point of this.
I thought that this time, rather than expounding on why I think religion (Not God! I think I've been rather clear on the difference in my mind in the past.) is not only false but unhealthy, I would rather explain how I came to these ideas in the first place. Not that I'm special in regards to my beliefs; lots of people share them. I just feel I have a unique perspective, being a reformed religious type rather than the offspring of godless academics.
I was born and raised a Christian, and generally speaking I think that in some ways it did me good. Or at least, I believe I have a highly sensitive view of Good Vs. Evil, and I think that's a good thing. I also don't believe it's unhealthy to walk around with the constant feeling that somebody is looking over my shoulder, whether it's true or not. It can be a valuable mental trick. The first time I started doubting was at a Christian rock concert I went to with a church youth group. The performer was a guy that went by the name of Carmen, whose stuff I actually liked. I had a tape of his; I was probably 13 or 14 years old at the time. Anyway, we were at this concert and he had been singing his tunes, with no band... lip synching. But whatever; at the time I didn't know that was cheesy and nobody seemed to care anyway. But he would stop every once in a while and preach a little bit, and there were two things in particular that he said at one point that just kind of made me go, "ummm, really?"
The first was minor, as indicators often are, but it made me think a little bit. Apparently The Grateful Dead were playing that same night at another venue up the street, and Carmen was all like "Let me tell you, The Grateful Dead may be sinners who think it's cool to be dead, but tonight we here are grateful to be alive in Jesus!!" Much cheering ensued. But I was kind of like, and I didn't even know all that much about them, but I knew enough to know that they didn't actually want to be dead, at least not in the sense that Carmen was saying. He was saying it like they were willful emissaries of Satan or something. In their Wikipedia entry, it says that they chose the name in this manner:
The name "Grateful Dead" was chosen from a dictionary. Some claim it was a Funk & Wagnalls, others, the Bardo Thodol (Tibetan Book Of the Dead), but according to Phil Lesh, in his biography (pp. 62), "...Jer (Garcia) picked up an old Britannica World Language Dictionary...(and)...In that silvery elf-voice he said to me, 'Hey, man, how about the Grateful Dead?'" The definition there was "A song meant to show a lost soul to the other side."
So, it was really pure hippie bullshit, but hardly Satanic. This statement of Carmen's, when I thought about it later, made me begin paying attention to preachers and to begin the realization that most of what they say is off the cuff and full of assumptions. They often, especially at that time in the 80s, called things Satanic which they merely didn't understand or was associated with things which they found personally distasteful. It made me realize that they often didn't really know what they were talking about, which is a shattering blow to a religion that claims to have knowledge of the truth of the way of things. If you can't back up simple statements of fact, why should I take it on faith that you know what you're doing in other areas? Faith belongs to God anyway, supposedly, not preachers.
The second thing he said, later that night, was a larger issue for me. Towards the end of the show, when he'd just played his biggest hit to a crowd of young screaming christian rock idolators, (And I admit, I was one of them. I loved that song.) he bellowed out, "I can feel the spirit of Jesus here with us tonight! Can you feel the holy spirit in the room? He's speaking to all of us, can you feel his love, right here right now!!?" And, as my fist was in the air and everyone around me, tears of joy in their eyes and answering with a heartfelt "Yes! I feel him! I feel Jesus!", and I, about to join in and add my agreeing sentiment, had an odd sensation. I was still for a moment, and kind of quietly thought to myself, (and I'm paraphrasing, of course; it was a long time ago in a mindset far, far away. But I remember very well what was going through my head in spirit. Snicker.) "Jesus? Huh. Actually, what I'm feeling is awe for the rock star that just lip synched that awesome song and got my fist pumping and adrenaline rushing, and has even made me feel good about being a Christian since I'm in a large group of people that feels the same way and we're all cheering for Jesus, but one thing I don't feel, and have never felt, actually, is anything spiritual. It actually feels a lot like that time I got all excited and heart-full when Luke Skywalker blew up the Death Star. That made me SO happy, and that's the kind of elation I'm feeling right now, so, unless Jesus had something to do with the destruction of the Death Star, and said destruction was a spiritual event, I don't think that what I'm feeling right now is him in the room."
Now that I'm slightly wiser, I can add even more significance to that event. It was a rally, pure and simple. The theatrics and speeches that those guys use is no different than, say, Hitler's Nazi rallies. Or the Republican party rallies. It's a leader taking advantage of the psychology of mob mentality, and getting the crowd all worked up into a frenzy, and directing that energy in a desired direction. Jesus is not actually in the room, folks. The emperor is wearing no clothes. This doesn't in and of itself mean that what is being preached is bunk, (The Reverend Horton Heat, Martin Luther King Jr., John Lennon, The actual message of love preached by Jesus himself, (which you can hear if you you read closely between the lines) for some examples) but I think it's important to be aware when age-old crowd control techniques are being used on you. In other words, if the leader is being honest with his agenda in such a rally, he's trying to passionately convince you of the logic of his argument, not passionately trying to beat you over the head with a scary dogma.
Anyway, for some reason, that night my mind opened up a little bit to more rational thought and always afterwards I applied a much more critical eye to what was going on around me. It's not like all of a sudden I ceased being a Christian. In some ways I always will be; you can't really escape your roots, and anyway I have never confused the sins of men, even self-proclaimed spiritual men, with a failing on God's part. One of the facts of nature that I will always hold dear, in my slowly hardening neural pathways, is that men are quite capable of committing acts of good and decency without invoking God, and men are capable of choosing to commit the most heinous evils without needing Satan as a scapegoat. People make their own choices, plain and simple. Blaming Satan or thanking God, or vice versa, is a cheap and easy way of avoiding responsibility.
I remember, one time in church, I was listening to the pastor give his sunday sermon; He was addressing a germaine issue: "Some people say that the Bible contradicts itself. They say that the Bible was written by men, and is not the true word of God. Well folks, I'm here today to tell you that those people have been misled by Satan, and that they are liars! The Bible does not contradict itself! It is God's word, handed down to us by his prophets, and it is the truth!" I kept waiting for him to expand his argument, but that was all he had; a bald statement containing bold word stresses. I kept thinking to myself, That's it!?That's Christianity's argument for itself?! And for the record, there was no paraphrasing there. I remember very clearly that day, and what he said. It felt like an extremely disingenuous thing to say... basically he was saying, believe that the Bible is the literal truth and word of God, because I say so, AND so does the Bible itself. So there. Which struck me as rather circular and unproductive logic... That's pretty much what all the religious leaders are saying, all the time.
Another extremely revealing experience I had, I've already blogged about here.
Anyway, this is a conversation I've been having with myself for a very long time now, and I could go on and on, but those are a few of the more important moments which made me switch gears a little bit. Basically, I've come to the conclusion that in order to come to grips with God, the Universe, and Everything, one has to distance oneself from the religions of men, because they are a framework for misdirection, power, and corruption. If there is a God, then love and understanding come from him, not religion, and not men's inane preachings. If there is not a God, then love and understanding come from chemicals and neural pathways. If there is a God, then there is only one thing which he gave me in order to understand him. Not the Bible, not Pat Robertson, not even Jesus. Men took control of those things, and handed them down to me the way they wanted me to see them. No, what He gave me is my mind. We have this amazing tool which is capable of rational thought, and the application of that tool has yielded more knowledge about the nature of the Universe than any preacher or prophet ever has. If there is no God, well, thank evolutionfor my mind. If there is a God, He invented evolution. Either way, it's all good.
Now that I'm done preaching, for the moment, I'll leave you with a YouLube that I found of that Carmen song I used to love so much, as performed via Lipsynch by some church kids. I'm kind of cringing about the fact that I used to like this song... I remembered it as being much cooler. I can only offer extreme brainwashing as an excuse. Anyway, in this video, God is a bearded girl, so, enjoy! ... or not. I myself had to stop it just a few minutes in, or I was going to cringe myself into a fetal position.
I can see I can see I can see! But, whatever anyone tells you, getting your eggwhites sliced open, and then being forced to stare at a tiny red dot which keeps slipping out of focus while your heart is palpitating, quite naturally given the situation, and a mad mad Thai opthamologist is yelling at you the entire time to "look at the dot look at the dot LOOK AT THE DOT DON'T LOOK AWAY DON'T LOOK AWAY DON'T LOOK AWAY! Just relax don't try to help I don't need your help I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!!!! is not, in fact, painless and over before you know it. In retrospect, of course, it didn't actually take all that long, but the waiting and surgery prep that goes on beforehand takes forever, and the quick 30 minute procedure itself is a hundred years. It didn't help that one of my first thoughts, right before he cut my first eye open while he was prepping it with eyedrops and plastic covering, was of that 'Friends' episode where Rachel has to get eye drops, but she has this freakishly weird thing about things getting anywhere near her eyes, and after many amusing hijinks all 5 of her friends finally have to tackle her in order to squirt the drops in her eyes. So at first I was chuckling to myself because I was handling the whole situation so much better than Rachel would have, but then of course once he started cutting, and then during the actual laser reshaping part, (which smells like burning hair, by the way) all I could think about was "Don't freak out and turn your head like Rachel did, Don't freak out and turn your head like Rachel did, DON'T FREAK OUT AND TURN YOUR HEAD LIKE RACHEL DID!!!" And then of course, once it's all finished the hippity hoppity mad Thai eye guy tells you, after putting shields over your eyes and you can't see anything and everything is very disorientating, "Whatever you do, don't squint. That's the worst thing you could possibly do, ESPECIALLY tonight, so don't squint. DON'T SQUINT!" Okay, my eyes are feeling really strained, because they've just been traumatized, I can barely see, and what I can see is blurry, and I've just been told that squinting could ruin the whole procedure. Okay, you try it, with the good eyes you're reading this with right now. Don't squint. I mean it, don't squint. Okay maybe it's easy for some, but all I could think about was don't squint don't squint don't squint oh crap did I just squint? No, that wasn't a squint, I don't think, so okay don't squint don't squint don't squint. Crap, what if I squint in my sleep? Oh god oh god oh god. Once I finally made it back to my room, I ordered a victory calzone from room service (they have an italian restaraunt downstairs, and a McDonalds. How messed up is it that a world famous hospital and health care outpatient clinic has an on-premises McDonalds? What were they thinking? It's a good thing I gave up fast food for New Years), and then spent the rest of the night trying not to squint. Incidentally, for anyone who gets Lasik in the future, I highly recommend the following "Long Dark Night of the Non-Squinting Soul" music: Lush - Spooky, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins - Rabbit Fur Coat (super fantastic album, by the way), Jolie Holland - Escondida (also super fantastic), The Cure - Disintegration, and I was getting ready to hit The Gun Club - Fire of Love (for the twentieth time in two weeks; I frikken love that album) but I figured it might ruin the estrogen high I'd gotten off the previous stuff I'd been listening to, and anyway I wanted to sleep. Another thought I had, while trying to sleep with bug-eye shields on my face, not to mention burning, itching, the deathly fear of squinting, and wondering whether I was going to be able to see in the morning, and of course also the excitement that I would be able to see in the morning, if I didn't squint, was who in the hell was the first guy that ever underwent this procedure, and what kind of insane thrill-seeker was he? I mean come on, of all the risks you run from Lasik, even as small a chance as you have now of going blind or whatever, that first guy, man, he had no statistics to go by! He (or she, sorry) knew nothing about possible side effects! I don't know man, I don't think I could've gone into it blind like that. Oh wait... Anyway, my two hours are just about up, so later. I can see!
... these are a few of my favorite things. Rudy Rucker is all nines, baby. If you are the type that often stays awake in bed far too late at night trying to wrap your head around infinity, but then get sidetracked and start thinking about who your favorite muppet is (DR. Teeth), (or wait, Zoot.) (No no, Beaker, definitely Beaker.) then Rudy Rucker is your future favorite author, I guarantee it. (Damn it! I forgot about Animal. This is hard.) Start with White Light.
While waiting for it to arrive, go to Rudy's site and try to wrap your head around whatever the hell he's talking about. Other awesome mind-exploding books by him are Frek & The Elixir, and he also wrote a sort of sequel to Edwin A. Abbott's classic Flatland, called Spaceland: A Novel of the Fourth Dimension, which was my first experience with Rudy. He is a mathematics professor and he writes this weird sort of mathematical/mescalin induced sci-fi, which, because it's not like any other sci-fi anywhere, has been given the label of Transreal. I just received his latest book in the mail and I can't wait to devour it. I swear, he may be my favorite author ever... actually my favorites kind of go on swing shift. Next time I start thinking about John Steinbeck, he'll be my favorite. And then Herman Hesse. And then Vernor Vinge. As for music, for those of you who don't know about The Gun Club, go find a copy of Fire of Love.
Honestly, I love it more than anything (today), but the first time I heard it, I got really, really, really angry. They sound aLOT like the Pixies, or a certain very distinctive aspect of them, anyway. Then I found out that The Gun Club was around way before the Pixies, realized that Francis apparently didn't totally come up with that sound all on his own, and I got even angrier... I'm over it now. But damn. Getting older is all about having your deepest illusions shattered. But it's probably becoming one of my favorite albums ever, so at least I've got that going for me. My Dad plays the dulcimer, and is all into the Pocono Dulcimer Club. They put on a concert earlier tonight and I got to see Don Pedi, a master of the Mountain Dulcimer from North Carolina, play. He apparently was in that movie 'Songcatcher' with Aidan Quinn, which I've never seen, as the white-bearded Appalacian dude playing the dulcimer, which is appropriate because that seems to be exactly who he is. But the dulcimer is a really pretty instrument, and it was actually really fun. Tomorrow, I'm going to Philly with Creepy and her boyfriend's band, who are opening for Murphy's Law. So I'm getting the whole spectrum this week. Hoo-ray for spectrum. It looks as though I won't be going to D.C. to give my deposition, after all of that nonsense... I'm not really sure why. I got paid, and emailed GBG to tell them I got it and that I was ready to go... but then they never got back to me! So, I don't know what's going on there, but I'm leaving for Thailand this friday, so it sucks for them!
I did something today which I haven't done in years: I listened to the Pixies. I. Totally. Love. The. Pixies. If I'm ever told to pick my favorite band of all time, it will be them. The first time I ever heard them was sometime in the autumn of 1990. I was living in the Benjamin Franklin House in Philadelphia with about 7 other roomates in a small 2 bedroom apartment on the 25th floor. See, two friends of mine and I had just graduated from high school and had also just turned 18, and we were like, way dumber even than now. So we did the big exciting move to the big exciting city thing. Man we were stupid. I mean, Philadelphia? What were we thinking!? Anyway, I won't get into it too much, but that was probably the most miserable time I've ever known, a definite failed experiment in life's freakshow laboratory. We had so many roomates because none of us had any money and we figured we could spread the rent between us. Only, if 8 people have $0.25 each, you still can't pay rent. Math has never been my strong point. And, my roomates were mostly Art School students (OF DOOM!), who also were probably not very wise about all that crazy junk, either. Well, long story short; due to a nifty little aspect of Pennsylvania law, we stayed there for like five or six months rent free, because it's illegal to evict people in the cold months of winter. You gotta wait until it gets warm enough out for your deadbeat tenants to sleep in the street. Ka-ching. Anyway, the first time I ever heard the Pixies, their video for 'Head-On' came on that alternative music show, 120 Minutes on Mtv, and I was sort of like, huh, that's a crazy little ditty. One of the roomates, a total art school goth/industrial Tim Burton character-lookin' twig of a poser, whom I was completely awestruck by at the time, was all like "Gawd... I hate the Pixies. I'm going to go back into the room I share with 3 other people, and kick the guy who has been sleeping in our walk-in closet out so I can shut myself in there for some privacy and sink into my Skinny Puppy cassette on my headphones, where the earphone with the 'L' on it stands for 'life' and the earphone with the 'R' on it stands for sucks!" I sort of paraphrased and amalgamized that last bit, but I think that it stays true to the mood. But the part about her hating the Pixies really stuck with me, because she was soooo cool, (and pretty. and smart. and funny. tee hee.) and I was so dumb and impressionable. So it was years before I ever picked up a Pixies CD and actually listened to it. But when I did... I was living on Main St. in Stroudsburg, PA, with a roomate who, it turns out, is an evil judge-mental ostrich and shall remain unnamed forevermore. (Rawwwk!) But he liked the Pixies, and I was bored with everything else that life had to offer, and I was beginning to wonder if I had been wrong to base my opinion of a band on an offhand comment made by some chick whose name I couldn't even remember. So I chose out the one with the most interesting cover, 'Trompe Le Monde', and my only regret after listening to it was MY GOD HOW MUCH OF MY LIFE HAVE I WASTED NOT LISTENING TO THE PIXIES ALL DAY EVERY DAY!!! Alot of people don't like that album, saying it's too hard compared to their classic 'Doolittle' or 'Surfer Rosa', but I'll tell you, I think it just might be their best. Although it's really hard to judge. I fanatically love every single song they've ever written. So, I listened to them a lot. And nowadays, years will go by with no Pixies. But unlike other bands that have fallen into my back catalogue, they always manage to nudge at my subconscious sooner or later, and remind me that it's about time for some Vitamin-Pixies. And for all you poo-pooers out there, if it wasn't for the Pixies, there would be no Breeders. There would be no Nirvana. - Man I'm old! It used to really piss me off when dunderheads would say stuff like "Bro! Without Led Zeppelin, man, there would BE no Poison!" To which I'd reply, "But I hate Poison." "Well ok man, but without Led Zeppelin there would be no rock and roll, man!" "Whatever. Go finish smokin' that crack and leave me alone, would you?"
So I was, once again, going back through my past entries, and I noticed that I seem to frequently state that I will be leaving Baghdad shortly. Only it never seems to pan out that way. Way back when my boss was first arrested (over 5 months ago!) I was all like, dude. Bummer. Guess I gotta pack up. Then when we lost the contract in March I was all like, dude. Bummer. Guess I gotta pack up. And here it is, May 1st, and I'm jammin' out to my newest mostest favouritest band, 'The Eagles of Death Metal', in my cozy caravan, and I haven't packed a dang thing yet. In fact, we may continue in this sort of limbo indefinitely, as there seems to be no shortage of people for us to rent this camp out to. Or, as the property our camp is built on is Iraqi Government property, and they've been making noise about wanting it back, perhaps we'll be evicted and I'll be all like, dude. Bummer. Guess I gotta pack up. It all just made me think about how ever since my second month here, when I got into an argument with a spook, I've felt like I was going to be booted out of Iraq the next day. And almost 3 years later, that feeling hasn't left. Maybe that's how they get you. The more insecure you feel, the more you'll worry about being forced to leave, and never actually consider that, having been around for far too long, it might be time to leave of your own accord! Lordy how I been duped. But that still doesn't mean I'm capable of actually choosing to leave. What can I say? I gave up an addiction to tobacco for an addiction to Iraq! I wonder which one could kill me faster? I wonder if, given the opportunity, I might someday look back and say, "Holy crap. I've been here for 10 years!" I mean, that's what normal people do, right? They get a job at some office somewhere, and never look up except on payday, until ten years have passed, and they've saved up for that killer family vacation to Disneyland and isn't it time to refinance the mortgage? I mean, what difference does it make if I do it in Iraq as opposed to Stroudsburg? Except on my family vacation we do an Earth Orbit, 'cause Earth Orbiting is way cooler than a roller coaster. Anyway, I've been reading a book called "Holy Blood, Holy Grail". It's all about how a secret society has been hiding the decendants of Christ for over a thousand years, incited the First Crusade, and got up to a bunch of all-around sneakiness. I was really enjoying it, because secret societies are neat-o, but then I went online and read in a million different places that it was all a big fat hoax. It's the same secret society that Dan Brown based "The Da Vinci Code" on; The Priory of Sion. So that's my great disappointment for this week, and I heave a great sigh. It's a far cry from threatening to junkie suicide it, ain't it though?
While waiting for it to arrive, go to 
Honestly, I love it more than anything (today), but the first time I heard it, I got really, really, really angry. They sound aLOT like the Pixies, or a certain very distinctive aspect of them, anyway. Then I found out that The Gun Club was around way before the Pixies, realized that Francis apparently didn't totally come up with that sound all on his own, and I got even angrier... I'm over it now. But damn. Getting older is all about having your deepest illusions shattered. But it's probably becoming one of my favorite albums ever, so at least I've got that going for me. 
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