26 July 2013

Panic in Detroit!! (or blogland)

BDR has been evicted. Google hosting has banished him from the internets. He's in some sort of Catch-22 limbo. He has to log in to the Goggle, but it doesn't recognize either his email or his password. He's sought tech help, but it's been ineffectual.

I bet the poor bastard's panicking. Dude scours the interwebs daily and posts more-than-generous links to any number of shitty blogs like this one: Politics, Maryland/DC, Soccer, Literature, Poetry, Music. He posts his poetry and notebooks and aaarghocolyptic (sp?) musings for our delight and derision.

And, irony or irony, he loses his digital home on the same day his beloved (despised?) DC United ink a $300 million deal for a new home in Buzzard Point in SW DC. Do metaphors indeed abound? Is this some sort of digital performance art? If so, then bravo, my friend. BRAVO!

If not, I hope you get your place in the digitarium back. And your archives and links reader. And soon!

Good luck JMP!

[Dude, contact me if you want a place to post while you're trying to sort it all out. I might be able to figure out in Blooger how to anoint you as a guest poster here.]

UPDATE: You can get updates on his struggle here. Vanity's Graveyard. Yep, that sounds about right.

24 July 2013

Face the Bird

Favorite new song (which has nothing to do with my previous post—you'd think):


The Mantles performs "Marbled Birds" at Cakeshop, NYC from BlearyEyedBrooklyn.com on Vimeo.
[belated h/t to BDR for turning me on to The Mantles]

[not The Who's version, or Pearl Jam's, or Motorhead's]

[It shouldn't need to be said, but anyone lighting a lighter and screaming "Freebird" will be ushered hence.]

23 July 2013

Faye Hunter, RIP

I house-sat for Mitch and Faye in Chapel Hill back in the mid '70s on occasion when they played a gig or wanted to go out. Their house had been broken into and some of Mitch's fabulous sound equipment and musical instruments had been pilfered. She was sweet and kind and offered to pay me. I was just happy to be able to listen to their great stereo system and unbelievable record collection (mine were for shit), read, write some poetry, and get wasted—free beer and other stuff graciously offered in trade.

Her death by apparent suicide has hit the companions of my youth in Winston-Salem and Chapel Hill pretty hard. I've lost touch with that tight-knit crowd over the ensuing years, but I'm feeling the grief from there.

This comes on the heels of having seen the documentary Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me this weekend on On Demand TV. My college roommate and other friends from HS and UNC feature prominently, as do HS friends from Wisdoc's Memphis past.

As a matter of character, I try to resist waves of nostalgia. Yet the past seems so insistent. Maybe it's a Southern thing—that inescapable past. Maybe it's a human thing. When I do give in to nostalgia, it's often to music I turn. And always at the top of the list are these two songs:

10 July 2013

"And I expect that you're never returning to the USA..."

Another themed playlist (and not just that they're kickass, mostly unheard toons):

(4194 views as of publication)







(36 views - are you f'in kidding?)

(don't even ask)

You're welcome.