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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Nation of Tire Sale's LiveJournal:

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    Monday, April 18th, 2005
    4:43 am
    Arts Review: BONS 4/16
    Welcome to the former bustling railroad town of Roanoke, Virginia. nugly snestled twixt boomburgs Blacks an' Lynch, the city continues to attract settlers from Wauseon to Gallipolis (basically anyplace, G_d bl_ss, where people's most recent resource for Valley data comes by way of the 1960 World Book).
    There's a nice performance space downtown. not so posh as the Carrboro Arts Center, but did you really come for the soft seats and architecture? beneath the ubiquitous Algiz runes, the evening host - Mistah Robb Rouse - bounded out and woke us half-nappers the hell up. guy's got presence out th'yin-yang and, if i die before i wake, he's the man i want yelling at my funeral.

    Highlights? i'm going by Friday's order to, you know, jog the memory (or make a frappe of it trying).

    tRistau ("Valentine") - a turn so artful you barely notice. this is the guy you want to parallel-park your 51' Hudson...
    Songs - there were three ladies with guitars at different times. all were enjoyable. one sounded like a Phonograph Record (a good one). whether this was the person listed as mLevitov, i do not know.
    Stories - coffins! West Virginia! Hungarians! do you really require more?
    Songs (on a Larger scale) - i think we file this under "Royal Jones" w/ fine, fine back.up. something to take the audience out of its collective Hed. well done ! ALSO: a name escapes me / shawl, non.tall / yooge, yooge voice and - unlike Mariah Carey's - one you really want to hear. breathtaking !
    sAdkins - although i can't manage to keep track of when he has a beard and when he doesn't (he's like rWilliams that way, ah declare), i enjoyed the Smell-Drama as an expression of a consistent, well-defined aesthetic. i'm also glad he isn't a Scientologist.
    blConspiracy? (...in any case, the THREE THINGS YOU WOULD FIND AT A TRUCK STOP) - audience insistence on "lot lizards" led *this* Observer to wonder whether the term enjoys substantial currency outside its appearance in a popular novel (one i haven't read, btw / worried, i suppose, that'll it'll disappoint [see also: wtVollmann's The Royal Family] / looking for something more in the key of Michelle Tea and Heather Lewis).
    if there's ever a "best of" BONS... - i nominate the FLYING THOUGHT MONKEYS. inspired. ltAnderson(?) capped it off nicely as the Free-Floating Anxiety.

    [end BONS material]

    "Cute" Religious Wars
    Pope died - let's see - April 2nd. business as usual / choose a Pope who'll be good for the Church (i.e., stop losses, make gains). and April 8th? that was the supposed date for the launching of the "Unitarian Jihad" (what next? habanero tofu? [...wait, they prolly sell that at Rusted Root shows]). thing is, people tend to forget that Roman Catholicism is a syncretic mess too. they co-opted Mithraism and countless over rivals, right? those with Celtic fetishes will remember how the god Bran became "St. Brendan." and in Brazil, the Holy Roman Church shakes hands with voodoo, houdon, whatever it is they call it in Foucault's Pendulum. make some strategic compromises, increase your numbers...

    "how do the Unitarians fit in?
    who knows? J. Gordon Melton in his Encyclopedia of American Religions has them in the same category as Ben Klassen's Church of the Creator (comforting to know we have non-theistic racists too!). was an upper-class fad in New England that bridged the gap between Puritanism and that most unexpected reconciliation with the Episcopal church. but by that time it had fanned out (the Tafts of Ohio were Unitarian, as were the Eliots of St. Louis). what's Unitarianism like? perhaps you'll find the liner notes to a WINDHAM HILL recording instructive: The traditional pieces were chosen for their appropriateness as instrumental music for this project. They were not meant to convey any personal religious beliefs (George Winston, December). thanks for clearing that up, George. meanwhile, the late John Fahey continued to record an' rant and rant some more. i don't recall an apology. which isn't to say that he didn't owe somebody one. but a blanket apology to a potentially offended record buyer? a generalization? an abstraction? the UU's have a long history of good intentions, though, and sometimes - following the 2 steps forward, falling over backwards, 1 step diagonal dance - good results.

    so it is with us all.

    Current Music: "lovely rita" (w/ Phil Ochs "spiro agnew" intro)
    Saturday, April 16th, 2005
    8:43 am
    The Officer asked did I remember anything
    ...yes, officer, i do. the first place i looked at was a three room on the ground floor of a former hospital. i could've walked across Young Street directly to class. the second, more hopeful, situation was a single off Zeb Hooker Lane (where a local Photographer/Illuminatus would later be charged with providing a lethal dose of morphine and unspecified sodomy to a young model). my neighbor Amy was there from Chicago to study under a world-reknowned Brain Specialist referenced in a popular book about minds and universes.
    It was a long walk to class, though, and you really felt it in the winter. my friend the Earth-Lesbian lived along the way over a hardware store. the entrance was by a treacherous slope at the foot of an alleyway (a previous occupant had spraypainted "DISAPPEAR HERE" by the door).
    Always took a different route on the long walk home. this took me by Violet Lawrence's place. a "player/coach," she was about 40 and had taken to wearing fake glasses to conceal what she insisted were sub-eye lines of age (are these the "crow's feet"?).

    "after you left, did you ever return?"
    briefly. my notes indicate i was reading The Journal of Albion Moonlight. and writing on purple - sometimes pink - paper.

    "who did you meet there?"
    i recall a spirited white girl...and an amusing young gentleman who used to huff varnish and stare at furniture, and - let's see - a faceless dealer with misplaced personality who rented an upper-level room in a victorian mansion.

    "was this dealer a friend of yours?"
    he knew the art student across the hall, herself a friend of a friend. wasn't my scene, really. i was just tickled to live in a town with Watney's Cream Stout.

    "so it was about the Substances"
    sure...if you expand your semantic umbrella to include what i was feeling then, reading Albion Moonlight, charting the brambled path of a world backward-falling.

    "where?"
    on legal pads (purple, sometimes pink).

    Current Music: nineties stuff ("little trouble girl," "stick man waltz")
    Wednesday, April 13th, 2005
    11:32 am
    Take Tiger Mountain (or Alamut, or Altamont) in this !

    ??? ????? ??????????? ??????? ? ????? ????? ??????? ????????
    ?????? ???? !


    3. three el caminos driving away: maroon, metal flake and inconsequential.
    a china watcher snatches vichyssoise from grim republican appliance (STOP),
    listens to "friends of mr. cairo" by shortwave...

    Arts Review: the Ohio Novel
    the political thriller of the season quickly becomes a Romantic Comedy
    ... then a political thriller and ... well, *that* would be telling.
    Shakespearean without being "literary" (i like it).

    ps/ Danny Husk reporting for duty
    i always wanted to be an acrobat at a people circus. i still think i could do it.

    Current Music: "green door" - th'Cramps
    Saturday, April 9th, 2005
    3:10 pm
    Fratboy Sets Hed on Fire (w/ Seymour: an Introduction)

    [from the Robotoboard]

    meanwhile...

    Judee Sill !

    also: stay tuned for updates on J.D. Elder's Loose Cannons of Buckland County, the political thriller of the season !

    *book seems to end on Saturday, April 16, 2005 -- does that make it SF? and if so, what will it be come May?

    Current Music: CAREFUL ... [guy maddin]
    Monday, April 4th, 2005
    5:42 pm
    "if there's a Screen Door in your hedgerow..."
    Michelle G. (from the street of the same name) used to talk about Pastor Cartur Stanhope, the youth minister at her church (at 44 he regarded himself as somewhat an authority on Today's Youth). this was during the "backmasking" craze and, oo.wee, did she ever mystify me with accounts of their retreats (complete with visiting ministers chortling over bearded "Adam an' Steve" punchlines). the thing i couldn't understand is how they manage to play the records backwards. i had a nice Dual 502 at the time and didn't want to risk fugging it up.

    Najbolj znan citat iz obratne pesmi je sigurno:

    "Oh here's to my sweet Satan. The one whose little path would make me sad, whose power is Satan. He'll give you give you 666, and there was a little toolshed where he made us suffer, sad Satan."

    Najbolj verjetno pa je, da je to c�isto nakljuc�je, saj je ustvariti nekaj takega skoraj nemogoc�e.


    anyhoo, three years later somebody saw The Pastor - now an all.ages preacher man - at the home of the Widow Z. guy was paying a visit as Country Pastors will. he was sitting in the corner rolling what seemed to be joints:

    "hey, are those joints you're rolling?"
    "naw, this is tobacco...hand-rolled," he slurred.

    guy lit up and left no doubt (the Widow Z. oblivious). later he tells Al how he gobbles Nimbutals prior to delivering sermons. anyway, it began innocently enough, i guess. guy was at a workshop in the early 80's and told the team-leader afterwards that he just didn't get any sense out of the backward-playing Rock Songs and, with all due respect, he couldn't see how the Kids could either. Teamleader enlightened him, told him that 99% of the Young People listening to these songs were high on glue, grass, angel dust, etc., thereby operating at "Devil frequencies." Teamleader turned him on that evening and they played Sabbath, some Floyd and, of course, The Stonehenge National Anthem (see ab ove). it was all clear / till a few weeks later and the backward stuff started sounding like gibberish again: Pastor Stanhope started to have doubts / doubts that were remedied when he hooked up via a discrete biker name of Thomas: quarter bags, forty dollars a pop.

    ...so he went down the Path of Ruin, so what? guy had a big heart and the best intentions. when St. Peter asks (following a pre-entry urinalysis), "dude, what were you thinking?" Pastor Cartur S. Stanhope can say with spotless conscience, "i did it for the kids..."

    Current Music: "it's a big old goofy world" - John Prine
    Sunday, April 3rd, 2005
    1:29 am
    "all we are say-ing..."


    [g-d i'm hungry / why don't they deliver up in the hills?]

    Celebrity Death Pool ! (thanks to zatara2000)

    ...plenty of housekeeping issues to attend to: need to edit a chapter of HR's book (he's setting himself up as, i dunno, some kinda Appalachian Ouspensky) and finish Burroughs' The Wild Boys (gee whiz, i keep getting interrupted...) and c&p - and print.out - pieces of the Green Board: "teach us to care, etc," "silence, exile and exile" (p. 6). and my grandmother's in the hospital for what we are assured are "routine tests."

    Sports
    Tell me about your uncle: "Cardinal Arinze, frequently mentioned as a possible successor to Pope John Paul II, is president of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, the Vatican's office for promoting mutual understanding, respect and collaboration between Catholics and followers of other religions. Born in Nigeria, Arinze was made a cardinal by Pope John Paul II in 1985."

    You can bet on it, the odds in Vegas are 6-1! It might be getting closer with the Pope not being well. I�m not a practising Catholic, it�s just something we've lived with for years now, that my uncle is the Cardinal for Nigeria and may be the next Pope. We�re a big family and I hope everyone is as proud of me playing basketball.

    http://www.london-towers.co.uk/MeetNikkiArinze.html

    Current Music: "who found a lost rose in the warship" - Ghost
    Friday, April 1st, 2005
    10:08 am
    Who should be the next Pope?
    i'm thinking Chelsea Clinton would make a lovely Pope. a Methodist, sure, but wasn't John XXIII rumored t'be a Freemason? for her, the benefits are several. foremost would be getting out from under her parents' shadow, establishing an independent identity (Popes do, after all, relinquish their surname). i doubt whether these self-described "Cardinals" ask her, though. it'll be somebody mediocre, i'm sure, and the next morning the World will say, "typical," "not surprised" and "this is worse than the time Christopher Cross swept the Grammys."



    let's say it's 1976 and i'm eight years old or something: i dream of heaven. wasn't never religious, neither were my parents or grandparents. anyway, there i was in the dream, same age as the Dreamer. it was a not too different world, i guess, except for the elevator. every citizen was given a ticket, a ticket to use when they chose, a ticket for the elevator, an elevator that went up. and once you went on it, you Never Came Back. i would walk past it and look wonderingly upon its chrome doors. one day i gave the man my ticket / and as the doors closed, my mother and sister were looking in and i knew i'd never see them again and it was the saddest day of my life.

    the end? naw, i wouldn't do that to you (y'all?). the elevator opened into a medium sized, wood panelled room with an octagonal ceiling covered with one continuous panel of Light / not glorioius, heavenly light, mind you, but a not particularly bright or inviting fluorescence. and the floor was filled mainly with a short platform on which stood human shaped statues (i *guess* they were statues) draped in White (the color of terror, according to Robert Graves).

    the end? of that episode, i guess, but it *did* continue. next thing i knew i was an adult crouched in a ditch near a gas station, both firing and being fired at. this was not some childish "cowboy an' indians" fantasy and i've never met an 8 yr old who was a big Steve McQueen fan. it was some kinda loose information that took a ride through my sleeping head.

    Next Week: Shut up, Jeff Tweedy!

    Current Music: "i forgot more than you'll ever know" - Skeeter Davis
    Thursday, March 31st, 2005
    9:58 am
    radiates quiet elegance !


    Current Music: John Fahey - "when the springtime comes again"
    Wednesday, March 30th, 2005
    9:24 am
    Arts Review (Cartur Stanhope, that tin bell rings for you)
    from an interview conducted by telephone on the old David Lee & Melissa Show [they will be missed]:

    So why did you leave the Valley? What were you running from?
    I wasn't running from anything, it's just that I realized - felt, rather - that staying could prove ... counterproductive.
    How so?
    How should I put it? Continuing to live there would've ruined the Valley for me.
    Ruined?
    Ruined it as a future tourist destination.
    Um, right. You can't be a tourist unless you're no longer a native.
    Exactly.

    'Medicine' needs dose of pacing and acting
    (by Mark Lowry, Star-Telegram Staff Writer)

    Jeffrey Stanley's Medicine, Man is one of those plays that hints at a lot of big ideas -- superstition, religious zeal, euthanasia, reincarnation -- but never delves into them. That's fine, as long as there's one overriding theme.

    Herein lies the problem of Medicine, Man, being given its regional premiere at Theatre Three in Dallas. Is it about family, medical ethics, ambition, reconciling the past? There's a lot going on and not much to propel it.

    Each of these southwestern Virginia characters has something he or she selfishly wants, but it's all about surface. Ditto the performances, with the exception of Scott Latham, who turns in a funny and real portrait of Calvin, a NASCAR fan whose life takes spiritual and emotional turns after his mother is hospitalized. R Bruce Elliot also does fine work as Swimmer, Calvin's Cherokee spiritual guide, but it's an easy, presentational role.

    The rest of director Terry Dobson's cast -- Kerry Cole as doctor Sue, Leslie Patrick as Calvin's ditzy girlfriend Alabama, Diane Worman as Calvin's filmmaker sister Tracy, and especially Dan Nolen Jr. as evangelical preacher Bobby -- turns in performances that are either overly investing in indicating or overlapping into caricature, or both.

    To be fair, the occasionally funny script doesn't give them much to work with. More excruciating than the Theatre Three production's slow pace are Swimmer's clich� pearls of wisdom that might have come from a deep thoughts calendar with pictures of butterflies and dandelions.

    When one character says "this has to be the longest hour in history" -- it's a point that can't be argued with.

    GRADE: C-

    [ a tad harsh probably. hell, if i saw it, i'd likely give it three tires. why? 'cause i look out for my friends... ]

    Morris On (with Northrop Frye)
    To attach culture to the centralizing movements of politics and economics produces a cultural totalitarianism, an empty, pompous, officially certified pseudoart. To attach a political and economic movement to a decentralizing cultural one produces a kind of neofascist separatism.

    Current Music: "girls talk" - Dave Edmunds
    Monday, March 28th, 2005
    6:39 am
    [ nxt.up: Nightmares on Wax / NME / Vollmann ] p. 6
    3) i was reading russian history and spending a week not drinking. dreamed of doing dyslexic shots: bit lime (oops), salt, tequila, exhausted lime. all in a metal kitchen (late 50's i'm thinking).

    in the kitchen with Liza
    Obvious physical similarities like romantic curls and defined jaws aside, Sandra Bullock's onetime leading men have another feature in common: both give off conflicting power messages. Tate Donovan's asymmetrical expression shows equivocation while Matthew McConaughey mixes an otherwise manly image with almost feminine body language - notice his coy head tilt. The meaning? Sandra prefers a man who will keep her guessing !

    fragments from the post
    I have great dirt on Tabitha Soren, hee hee. In '86 she was Freshman roommates with a friend of mine at NYU, who said she was a total foofed out poodle metal chick at the time, and a 'ho to boot (well, wasn't everyone freshman year). So one night she was going out with Rick Rubin (yep, that one) and my friend Lynne noted a big stain on Tabitha's favorite suede short skirt she was wearing. Lynne pointed it out to her and she sort of idly scratched at it and said, "Oh, that must be the cum stain from the other night," shrugs and goes out the door without changing.
    Ewwwww! Tabitha you dirty, dirty girl.

    Max Remembers
    Fahey was a DC guy who went to school at St. John's College in Annapolis when I was at Johns Hopkins. As I was "into" bluegrass, and authentic folk-music (The Harry Smith collection) at the time I heard about Fahey, or Firk as we sometimes called him (one of his noms de lute was "Backward Shuffling Blind Boy Firk" back then), and we sometimes went to the same parties around the Balt-Wash-Annap area. He was a far out dude, even for those times when there were lots of far out dudes around. Firk was ahead of most of the crowd as far as musical forms were concerned. He'd start doodlin' around on a riff at a party in a corner of the room, on the guitar, by himself, and he'd doodle it one way and then another and before you'd noticed some twenty minutes would tick by. He would just play a series of things off this one riff, and maybe conduct conversations while he played some of it (maybe set pieces he didn't have to think about while playing), but then he'd concentrate and play something he'd make up on the spot. My banjo playing friends were amazed that he could do that and sustain it for so long. The best they'd been able to do, or were called upon to do, was maybe one or two chorus variations on a simple (three chord) blue grass song. So they had some number of those up their sleeves. Firk had The Goldberg Variations, or the equivalent, up his.

    Current Music: Slim Whitman - "una paloma blanca"
    Thursday, March 24th, 2005
    10:27 am
    DeLorean buys Farm; Harry Potter buys DeLorean
    Rodney McCoy says Kevin's in the market for a DeLorean. i told him my uncle saw one over by the tire fortress on Hardy Road. turns out it's the same car: upside is it has only 18,000 miles, downside is it mechanically went to shit at 18,000 and was never repaired. Kevin's pleased it's only $5000. barely able to contain his central Ohio glee, he tells me, "it's worth twice that!" i told him if he's keen on the Exotic, there's a Czech motorcar called the Tatra:



    he said, "not interested!" [sheesh]

    ...and speaking of Racial/Ethnic (whatever) Loyalty:

    Who Makes the Nazis?
    before leaving work, i watched some NBC morning news on a wall-mounted screen. you know the kid in Minnesota? the 16 year old killer of his own people? the 16 year old whose photograph must've been taken when he was only 12 and rilly, rilly constipated? they say he was a visitor of Nazi websites and, as Exhibit A, they showed the "hi, how are you?" page at overthrow.com. that's William "call me Bill" White here in Roanoke, Va. but, Hey, don't judge us / he's not from around here. story goes, he and his girlfriend came down from Maryland to our Sleepy Burg, then had an ugly split-up, she decided that she didn't wanna be Nazi no more and, these days, they sit around in separate houses (in the same neighborhood) figuring out what kind of legal action to take against the other. we in the Valley weren't even aware there was a genuine MARYLAND NAZI in our midst until she made up a bunch of flyers titled "Meet Your Local Monger of HATE." on one hand it's SURREAL, on the other it's a typical Lover's Spat. only with Nazis.

    Rumors Behind the Headlines
    the popular story is that Hunter Thompson was murdered owing to a 9/11 piece he was working on. but don't believe it, people. his wife insists that what he was *really* working on involved a call-dude ring operating out of the White House. like all good rumors, this one has VAST EXPLANATORY POWER. it also makes me want to go back to The Job, re.read Burroughs' "Playback: from Eden to Watergate."

    this is the part where i wanted to talk about the time Matt and Ben came back from the Jon Spencer concert complaining about all the Frat Boys there, there to see Jon, there to see Jon Spencer of Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. i tried to empathize, thinking how disgusted i'd be at, say, a Rusted Root show surrounded by a pack of sorry-ass, upper middle class hacky-sackers. but, then again, i wouldn't be surprised. and i *certainly* would never see Rusted Root...

    Current Music: Rachel's / Matmos - "the precise temperature of darkness"
    Tuesday, March 22nd, 2005
    11:15 am
    Various Times
    it's early August i guess and Ben and Matt are in the back bedroom watching a biker film (a documentary, perhaps?). Matt's a little bit Depeche Mode...and Ben? he's all about Celtic Frost. either way, there's nothing that passes for recognition as the end credits roll:

    Wintertime's coming,
    Window's filled with frost...


    you're sayin HEY, it's that kid from Hibbing, but, No, it's an ex-folkie turned (sorta) rocker / West Coast (his fans call him "Jerry") doin th'singin, singing the other guy's song like he believes it. the other guy was a rocker turned folkie, prolly at University, possibly to impress chicks, but let's not be complete cynical dicks here. they're back there watching a movie, giving it their complete attention. i'm lying on an absurd inch of foam rolled out on a hardwood floor in a room down the hall (whatever it was i used to sleep on is in a paint truck heading south).

    "Christ, Tim, why didn't you tell this stuff when it was new? why now?"

    ...t'be honest, i wasn't thinking clearly. it was hot. i'd tossed back a gang of Mickey's, string of green grenades, with little aplomb, with too much care, yet not enough...

    never sleeping, never coming close, i got up. now Ben and Matt were out front holding cigars in the dark. Nothing will come of this. downstairs the Minnesotans were either fighting or fornicating, i have no clew. later that night, on the same bed, Michelle was at her sketching, an activity she pursued with Vigor and Purpose for some 20 minutes. soonafter, she set her pencil aside, tranced out, imagined a hand cupping her left breast. This is not enough, she thought. giving her consciousness a quick shake like an Etch-a-Sketch, she went under again. this time a pair of hands embraced her white feet, holding them tight like flotsam from a blasted afterdeck on the open sea. she gasped.

    Wintertime's coming,
    Window's filled with frost.
    I tried to tell everybody, but I
    Could not get across...


    Current Music: "dim lights, thick smoke" - Flying Burrito Brothers
    Sunday, March 20th, 2005
    11:24 pm
    Frye (N) on Morris (W)
    There are several reasons why Morris thinks that the art of design could become the focus of revolutionary social developments. For one thing, people are often willing to put up with badly designed furniture, textiles, and ceramics because they are "merely material" things that ought not to take up the time and energy we devote to the "higher" aspects of life. This phony idealism is an exact counterpart of a class structure in which the ascendant class withdraws from work. On the contrary, being dissatisfied with our "merely material" surroundings soon leads to a vivid perception of, not merely the shoddieness and ugliness of the designs presented to us, but the social conditions that find shoddiness and ugliness cheaper to produce and easier to sell. If we find the attack on the cultivating of the mind in News from Nowhere rather hard to take, it is worth remembering that society enforces compulsory education of the young because it wants docile and obedient citizens. One must read to obey the traffic signals; one must learn arithmetic to make out one's income tax. If we assume that the mind is naturally active, education becomes that activity of the mind and not an externally imposed and alien structure standing for what some anonymous authority wants us to do.

    [ meanwhile ]

    Love Me Tender
    fill my bong...

    Current Music: "for the good times" - Willie Nelson
    8:49 am
    Logic King / wait a minute... [S]eve[n]
    You did not "learn" anything of the kind. You learned that an Amy Phillips (of the Village Voice) did not like the album.

    Oddly, your symptoms are nearly opposite those of the aforementioned lesionnaires disease. Far from being dissociative, your are superassociative, think abstractly only via metaphor, and confuse declarations with information. But it's all good. So carry on.

    (I like "Murray Street" very much, by the way, though I can understand why some would not.)

    Robert U Newton / cabmanessence
    - There was lice in that bunk in Bridgwater, he remarked, sure as nuts. I must get a wash tomorrow or next day. It's them black lads I objects to. I hate those buggers. Suck your blood dry, they does.
    Seeing they were all looking at his chest he accommodatingly dragged his shirt more open so that on top of the timehonoured symbol of the mariner's hope and rest they had a full view of the figure 16 and a young man's sideface looking frowningly rather.
    - Tattoo, the exhibitor explained. That was done when we were lying becalmed off Odessa in the Black Sea under Captain Dalton. Fellow, the name of Antonio, done that. There he is himself, a Greek.
    - Did it hurt much doing it? one asked the sailor.

    ps/ Aurora, no cug proprietress while crafting an irresistible mix of jeep-thumpers, is giving up on the french gathers (gawn like the morrow's jeeps thumped to garbled tin).

    Current Music: "she bought a hat like princess marina" - Kinks
    Thursday, March 17th, 2005
    12:25 pm
    wolfowitz@kagan.ru, Charles Krauthammer action figures, etc
    Yona Kit

    "Millihardened by Wretchedness" [EIGHT]
    1) Learn to say "no" (temptation), The Cow.
    2)"Finding the Center of Life" - "As we have seen, Saul never found it. Ultimately he went down in disaster because he failed to find that center. The last we see of him, he was visiting a witch for gui.dance, and then commiting suicide in desperation.
    3) "The Garden Battle (Race for the Cup)" - "Stay here and watch with me" (purchasing end of fragments).
    4) "The Tragedy of a Father's Neglect"
    5) "Spir. Growth & Devel. in Christ" ("still wading" / "When I was at Campbell" ["The Monstrosities"]).
    6) "Spir. Devel. & Growth (Falling Out of the Bed)"
    7) "O Wrethched Man: A Frustacian of Blessing" - "I am like a locust, for I leap about here and there and make a great buzzing." That is all many people ever find in their lives and they therefore spend their days in discontent. They feel incomplete. They feel ineffective. They feel inade.quate.

    How It Happened



    ...and Happy Pretty-Well Secularized Semi-Ethnic Holiday !

    Current Music: John Kelly's, Merrily Kiss the Quaker, Denis Murphy's
    Wednesday, March 16th, 2005
    1:34 am
    What a Friend We Have in PANCAKES
    Captor and captive talked, and he untied her. He looked at her family photos, she read to him from the Bible and "The Purpose-Driven Life," and cooked him a breakfast of pancakes and eggs."

    "Wow," he said, "real butter!"

    Current Music: "charlton heston" - Stump
    Monday, March 14th, 2005
    11:45 am
    Mr Gold Resin (@ the corner of Lost & Solsdawn)
    the dreams began in an ornate, but stupid museum. on display were things woven and made by Old Ladies and it was only Old Ladies looking at the stuff. came out to another part where i was with someone forgotten. Jeff Stanley, Playwright, appeared (with an unusual set of hair). i wasn't sure whether we were supposed to ignore each other, but i touched his shoulder anyway. he turned to me with a smile and indicated - in what sounded like Sanskrit (probably no longer a spoken language) - a story i'd written. and he wasn't being ironic. foolishly, i apologized - the sort of behavior that used to tick frances off in the Early Days (something i overcame, btw) - then i wanted to apologize for the apology / "this is not getting off on the good foot," i thought. Jeff may've been put at ease by this "typical" behavior / how could i tell him that it was no longer typical?

    we're *still* in a museum, but it's taken on the aspect of the Hotel Roanoke (a old.timey, yet Hot number that probably served a purpose in more monied times / when R was the HQ of N&W Railway). it's not such a leap, as there've been art exhibitions there before. but the featured exhibit today focuses not on paintings, but LIGHT. yeah, there are various types and representations of bulbs, etc. and, psychologically, frances can't be very far away: she told me about this light bulb movie (B&W) she'd seen in Richmond ages ago / and one time when she visited Roanoke in '89, we ate in the upstairs of the City Market Building, fascinated by the blue neon tubing. but the Museum has assumed an aspect of danger: it's now, in part, a Library. what if frances is here?

    now i'm in a house / it's Summer and, based on Circumstance, it must belong to frances, yet i walk around as if it were my own. it looks to be off Bandy Road in the Mount Pleasant area, a place she'd never live, and the decor features *none* of the Aurora Aesthetic. no, this can't be her house, yet there are vehicles outside belonging to persons associated with her. Ben Bruton, Librarian, arrives. as with jStanley, there is no hostility or suspicion. he wants to talk: i clear off the kitchen table and he puts on a Henry Mancini record. it's Summer. we see a car drive up, it's a splendid '67 Mustang, black with white accents. Ben tells me it's Chris, a queer kid who's fallen in love with frances. and when he sees her vehicle isn't there, he turns around and drives away.

    conclusions (tentative): within the dream, there is a layer of loss, but it's offset by the hatchet-burying with Jeff, with Ben. and waking up? why it's all loss (welcome to steenkeen reality, bub).

    Current Music: "cruiser's creek" - the Fall
    Saturday, March 12th, 2005
    3:25 pm
    Anxiety of the Displaced Anus
    Television News claims that Brian Nichols has been apprehended. one envisions a Waldenbooks in a suburban mall, the slayer of judges (etc) perusing a copy of Common Mistakes of Escaped Crazy Dudes. it's just as well, i guess. i mean, the Justice System looks after its own. which is to say if he had managed to hijack a Space Shuttle and escape the jurisdiction of Earth's nation-states, another shuttle would've been built (brought out of mothballs, whatever) for the pursuit...

    oi was strook today
    ...by Young Krinn's lack, sans �charpe magique, of resemblance to Harrypotter. he is, rawther, th'spit, th'very image, of Avital Ronell, authress of The Telephone Book. a resemblance i cannot account for, by the way, as Krinn is a Czech born in Ohio and Ronell, an Israeli born in Prague. we need to look scientifically into this, methinks. i mean, how Czech are they (really)? Matt Ferris claims to have seen Our Boy fixing to take a leak in the company sink: "um, Kevin, the toilet's unoccupied and i'm finished with the urinal."
    "that's okay, i don't mind"
    Matt then told Mr. Altizer:
    "i caught your boy pissing in the sink...that's gonna have to stop."
    Altizer stared at Matt, shook his head, and promised to speak to Krinn *soon*. Karen, overhearing, brought up the possibility of legal action, that he might claim that one of his cultural practices was being discouraged. whatever the case, the story got around to Sam Arthur - who routinely brushes his teeth in the company washroom - and the usually unflappable Sam went outside to vomit.

    ps/ the Poet Laureate of Tire Sale?

    Current Music: Dusty in Memphis
    Wednesday, March 9th, 2005
    2:41 pm
    drowning, not diving...
    it was Bad Education meets the Poseidon Adventure and i was stuck there (Billy Bob Thornton starred).

    Danger!!! DO NOT HUFF GLADE!!!
    Because most of my information about Boston came from schoolbooks, I did not know, until Philip McAllister told me, that Unitarianism had been out of style for more than half a century. Most of its present-day supporters remained in the fold because that was the environment to which they had been, as the psychologists say, "conditioned." The Admiral, who was by nature a sensualist, would far rather have gone on Sunday to the Episcopal Church, the higher, the better. But an atavistic conscience held him in check and he made only a minor concession to his idiosyncrasy: he attended services at King's Chapel where, despite its dedication to that doctrine indigenous to Boston, retained still a Royalist flavor, and old Lincoln Nephews could listen without shame to the organ, choice of Handel for King George, and fancy himself in the presence of ecclesiastical pomp.

    My Baby Thinks She's a Train
    By changing our symbols, we change our lives. I shall relate a true story that makes this point. During the late 1980�s I served as the clinical coordinator for a readjustment counseling center for the U.S. Department of Veteran�s Affairs. Most of my clients were Vietnam combat veterans. During a group therapy session, I posed a question. I asked each participant to choose an inanimate object with which he identified. I offered a few examples. One veteran stated that he frequently thought of himself as being like a nuclear submarine. He related that he was isolative and that he lived his life in mostly silence. He stated that he had lived for long periods of time without contact with the outside world and compared this with the submarine�s ability to stay underwater for extended periods of time. Further, he stated that he could be very volatile and that he had an arsenal of weapons. Thus he spoke of the power of the missiles carried by the submarine. The group pursued this topic with supportive questioning. They learned that this veteran had built a model of a nuclear submarine and that he displayed this model in his den.

    Current Music: "ghost galaxies" - Pelt
    Friday, March 4th, 2005
    11:24 am
    The Wind Cries Harry
    ...nothing new to report (really). OTHER THAN his wound doesn't seem to be healing (cleaning it occasionally would probably help...):

    "your hand, it's still bandaged up."
    "yeah."
    "if it doesn't heal up soon, that can mean only one thing."
    "yeah, i'll have to go back to the doctor..."
    "no, you fool!"
    "what?"
    "STIGMATA."
    "..."
    "it's a priest you'll be needing, if anything, not a doctor..."
    "you're scaring me, i'm going to pee now, excuse me..."
    "THE LORD'S GOT A PLAN FOR YOU, HARRY POTTER, AND HE'S WORKING ON YOU *NOW*."

    [yep, the 1 Stigmata of Potter Eldritch, y'all...]

    Rust Machine: Adventures in Stupid Lutheran Art
    naturally i rented a car for a day to leave feckin' Roanoke (Home of the BETH MACY BOOK CLUB) Virginia for - how should i say? - greener pastures. the center court theater in Harrisonburg, i mean.



    ...first up was a Singer/Songwriter (we'll call him DJ Bowling Shoes). sung an ominous number about his cat. last year he was at the Mt. Eerie program (a success) responding to Calvin Johnson's petulant goads (whatever band he was fronting also a success [excepting the petulant goads]). no longer a Keebler Elf on steroids with shattered dreams of becoming an Emo Boy, Mr Shoes wound things down (of course) with "death of a clown."

    2) some boss chamber shit from Nu.Yawk (Invert?). Ed Grimes stepped up to thumpdadadump on "tomorrow never knows."

    3) Rachel's. back row l-r: piano, usually unattended vibes, drums. front row (r-l): a figment of bass and guitar, viola (stage center), a cello player who puts me in the mind of Michelle Goins back when she was crowned "Miss Tire Sale 1994" ('cept with better hair and skin) and, leftwardsmost, a SCREEN. yeah, those who weren't pulled *completely in* by all that Hot String Action were encouraged to watch FILM, part of which included the DE-ICING OF AN AIRCRAFT and i'm thinking shit, can't i *ever* get away from work?

    but those of you who're wondering why i craphound the Valley endlessly can keep in mind Roanoke's Next Big Event: a Journey tribute band appearing at the unfortunately named Shaftman Performance Hall.

    Current Music: "cuckoo's nest" - ashley hutchings (Morris On dot org...)
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