The Traditional Christmas Hangover

My Christmas so far: up at 12:30, cup of coffee, orange juice, pain pills and the shakes, plus a couple of phone calls to the family. Out to Manhattan for bumming around (kinda pissed, though, at the fact that there are so many people just like me, folks who have nothing better to do than wader around the Virgin Megastore on X-mas). Noodle soup at Mee’s on 1st Ave and 13th Street, then a stop in at Two Boots Video, where I rented George Washington, Ginger Snaps and The Vertical Ray of the Sun. Back home, there are no messages on my answering machine. Nuts. And now I’m starting to think about beer. And girls. Nuts again.

Two-Lane Blacktop, Baby

Directed by Monte Hellman and starring Dennis Wilson, James Taylor and Warren Oates, Two-Lane Blacktop is one of the finest films ever made, and Richard Linklater, director of Slacker, another one of my most favoritest flicks, gives 16 reasons to agree with me right here. Now git.

Some People are Searching For God...

...but I am searching for the perfect pair of pants and perfect shirt. No lie. Wrangler jeans (black or blue, bought at K-Mart for fifteen bones) are pretty close to perfect, as are Dickies (if they had a slightly narrower cuff, something which I supposed could be fixed by your friendly neighborhood seamstress), but the perfect shirt ... man, that's a tough one. I need to find nice and simple buttoned-shirts, long-sleeved, that don't look too formal, aren't too flashy, don't have a boxed cut, aren't too long, are cheap ... heck, I'm a fussy man. But when I find those perfect shirts, man, I'm gonna have a party. A rock and roll party.

Whiskey River Take My Mind...

Whilst rooting around on yon Internet, I found an entertaining diary written by my buddy Marcellus Hall about a cross-country tour he took with his old band Railroad Jerk. The Jerk were great, and I'm not saying that just because I get a mention in the story. Sadly, they are no longer together, but Marce and Dave (RR Jerk's drummer) are now kicking out the rusty jams in a great combo called White Hassle, so all's well that ends well.

Some People Say "Well," Some People Say "All Right," But I Say "Well All Right!"

Sunday Night: Relaxing, having a cigarette and drinking a lemon-lime refresco, listening to Disc 2 of Physical Graffiti and pondering whether or nor you can truly trust a person who doesn’t like AC/DC, or who prefers Sammy Hagar-era Van Halen to the David Lee Roth years. Can you?

Currently Reading: Hellfire, Nick Tosches badass bio of Ferriday, LA’s favorite son, Jerry Lee Lewis.

Oh Woe is Me

Currently experiencing the fallout from a wicked-bad cold, so I do not even feel like updating this thing right now. Excuses, excuses... Shit, I haven't thought about or experienced anything very extraordinary in the last few days (sad, really), so I won't bore you talking about how I woke up, then went to work, then went home, then watched TV, then went to sleep. Wash. Repeat.

In other news: I've been getting into the high-lonesome mariachi-pop sounds of the Tucson-based band Calexico and I suggest that you do the same. After that, go dig Swinging Addis, Volume 8 in the great collection of Ethiopian musical rarities, Ethiopiques.

People on the Streets. Ba-Da-Dee-Da-Dep.

So we're watching a compilation of Queen videos in the office, and "Under Pressure" comes on. Now, I don't know where y'all stand on the merits of Queen and their place in the rock pantheon, but I'm purely a booster. I think they're fucking great and I'm not ashamed to admit it. But back to "Under Pressure": the song comes on, and by the time it's winding up, I almost wanted to shed a tear. I mean, that's a good song, you know?

Ah, fuck it.

Bicycle Punks Aren't As Funny As They Think They Are

Last night while walking across 5th Street on 1st Avenue in Manhattan's East Village, I was hit in the forehead by a spitball -- a spitball! -- fired at me by one of a group of dirtbike riding teenagers, who laughed at me as I yelled, "Ow!" The friends I was walking with kinda laughed as well.

In other news: I obtained a screening copy of the sci-fi/musical/comedy flick The American Astronaut and have been hypnotized by it all weekend. Not for everyone's taste, but delightful nevertheless.