So Much Juice You Make the Telephone Ring...

You're A Beacon of Light When the Sun Goes Down

Late at night.

Sitting in a porch in a city I didn't particularly like.

Drinking bad beer with a guy I worked with.

He was lamenting the way the girl he was dating treated him. How she kept him waiting for hours, had no consideration for him, and generally treated him like shit.

"Sounds like you should dump her," I suggested helpfully.

"Nah," he said. "She's got this light in her eyes keeps me coming back."

So we sat there in silence for a bit. And we drank bad beer.

And listened to the radio. And, for some reason I still don't understand, this song came on:


"I need some of that," I said. "I need to meet a woman who's so electric she literally makes the telephone ring. Someone who lights up the universe just be being alive."

And my work buddy stared at me. And took a long drink.

"You do realize that the song is supposed to be sarcastic, don't you?"

And I thought "Oh, fuck. Really?" But all I said was "Of course. I'm not an idiot."

And my work buddy grinned. And I grinned back. And we both started laughing, because we've all been that idiot.

Telling Tales of Drunkenness and Cruelty

The Day After Meeting with the Tax Guy

We met yesterday with our accountant.

If Hogwarts had a tax department, this guy would lead it.

The meeting underscored what I already knew: 2010 was a shitty year financially.



And we're getting a refund.

Which is great.

But it doesn't make up for having a shitty year financially.



It's not that I mind paying taxes.

I'd just like to have more income. Preferably a lot more income.

Then I'd be more than happy to pay more taxes.

Seriously.

In Sorrow Not in Anger

There's 52 Stations on the Northern Line
None of them is yours, one of them is mine...

The very streets themselves are overlayed with memories.

This is the place you went that night when you were drunk.

That's the supermarket where you argued about organic vegetables.

Here's the place you bought her soup when she was sick.

That's the Starbucks where you waited, lost... until you realized you were at the wrong Starbucks.

And the place with the flowers. And the theater where you saw that movie with the actor she liked. The one you can't stand.

And the bar where she kissed you and the street where you fought.

And the corner where she said that horrible thing... that you never got over.

So you stay away from those places, those streets.

But sometimes, late at night, you smell something. And suddenly, you're back there. Many years removed, but still drawn to it.

But you can't participate anymore. You're gone, even though you're still there.

Like a mirror on the wall.

And the silence of the middle of the night lets the memories come rushing in.

Until you can almost see her, smell her hair, reach out to her.

Except she's not there.

She's in your heart. And everywhere you go without her, you carry her memory, you carry her essence.

You carry her still.

Thinking of Egypt

Reportedly fueled by social media posts (on Twitter and Facebook), the Egyptian people seem to be rising up against the government of Hosni Mubarak.

Mubarak, a dictator who's run unopposed for "President" for 3 decades, is refusing (at least for now) to step down.

The U.S. government, which has supported Mubarak for years (and outsourced much of the Bush-era torture to him), is in a difficult position. On the one hand, Mubarak has been "our" friendly dictator. On the other hand, there is that whole "exporting freedom" phrase politicians like to throw around.

From the Bonzo Dog (Doo Dah) Band's 2007 reunion album, here's a very British, very genteel version of the Kaiser Chief's "I Predict A Riot":


But revolutions are rarely neat and painless and genteel.

So (with hopes for the safety and freedoms of all involved) here's the original:

What's the Point?

Villainy! Treason! Public Naughtiness!

Apparently, Harry Nilsson was taking LSD one day and went for a walk. He was struck by how all the trees (and many other things in the neighborhood) literally ended in points.

And then he wondered what it would be like if everything in the world (including the people) had points.

And then he wondered what would happen if a round-headed boy were born into a world in which everything was required by law to have a point.

What would the point of that be? And could not having a point by the real point? At least some of the time?

Nilsson scribbled the outline to a fable, animator Fred Wolf did some drawings, and they sold the idea to ABC, who made The Point the first animated TV movie of the week.

The movie aired twice and featured Dustin Hoffman as a father narrating the story to his son and 7 new Nilsson songs (including "Me and My Arrow").

As was common in those days, the contracts didn't include provisions for video or DVD release (or, in this case, for anything beyond the initial airings). So when the movie reappeared on TV years later (and even later on video and DVD), Dustin Hoffman was replaced variously by Ringo Starr, Alan Thicke, and Alan Barzman.

But now, to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the first broadcast (or maybe because it's just cool), the great For the Love of Harry blog has the original Dustin Hoffman version in glorious 1971-era animation.

Click here to watch.

Video for the Crash Years

Same Song, Official Video

At the worst job I ever had, I had to report to the most boring woman who has ever lived.

I would fantasize about various industrial accidents that could befall her -- each dripping with subtext and irony.

Looking back, that may have been a sign that it wasn't the best job for me.

A week before I finally quit, she called me into her office.

"I'll make this quick," she said. But she didn't know the meaning of the word "quick." So she talked for hours.

After 5 minutes, I stopped listening. After 10, I left her office.

I walked out of the building, across the street to a park, and over to the other side of town.

I bought a round for a group of nuns who wandered into a bar.

I had a cheeseburger at an old diner that would soon be torn down.

I replaced an injured gravedigger in a game of pick-up basketball.

And eventually I made my way back.

Into the building.

Into my boss's office.

And she was still talking.

But eventually she looked up. "So you'll take care of it?"

"Absolutely," I said. I had no idea what she wanted me to take care of.

But I wouldn't have done it even if I'd known.

And when I went home that night, the job started to feel shimmery and fantastical, like something I'd dreamed about... and already had started to forget.

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Wonderfully strange and strangely wonderful video for "Crash Years" by the New Pornographers:

Craigslist Ads and the New Wave Songs That Love Them #7

Boombox Babies

Out on Melrose, Last Saturday

Hey, guy with the giant 70s boombox on your shoulder!

It's me, the girl in the ironic 70s denim overall dress.

Your haircut and b.o. would normally be off-putting, but I'm mad at my parents and need to bring a guy to dinner who'll make my current bass-player boyfriend look good.

Wanna save yourself 6 D-cell batteries, get some free food and help a girl out this Friday?