Mr Richland Sings The Blues

Harry Nilsson told me. No, not in a dream. Geez.
http://youtu.be/AonhHEheZOg

he said my friend you’re in a dream
and things are never what they seem

No. Things are never what they seem.

Steven Wright once remarked he had a dream where he was born eight months premature. Just sayin’. I don’t think that sounds reasonable. In fact, I don’t think he was being a reasonable man, but stranger thangs’ have happened. Just sayin’.

strike three called!

Hey I’ve sat on 222 posts long enough. I think I need an editor. Determination in my dissolution proceeding kinda made me avoid what is known as talkin’ trash. I am born again in the faith and devotion to my loving companion and hers in me. I always shut up when The Illustrious Lovely throws shade. Look it up, Bartlett.

As is typically the case, when my words become unbearable for people, I think they stop listening. I am ill. I have some semblance of cognition but had lost my willful desire to proceed in life. It is a by-product of intractability. Intractability in my obviously failed marriage, in my career, in the failure I have been in protecting precious Abigail. But when those close to you turn away rather than reach out it’s because they don’t wanna hear what is said. Taking the time to acknowledge this disconnect the disabled feel when the stresses of life long endured have clearly boiled over is the only dignified way for those who care about someone in trouble emotionally to address mental disability. Otherwise, it’s like Scorcese where she says

shut up, you’re always talking

When decorum presented its’ ugly head, I think my family should have simply voice-voted me off The Island, not witnessed my brother’s debacle and scattered truth to the wind. My brother was heeded, held harmless and sat quietly while I murdered all crows.

My state of anxiety has for many months precipitated such recurring and agitated behaviors as to frighten people for my well-being. To me, I just start talking and have a lot to say. Is not the critical element of personal ownership of my own body the right to speak freely? Is not the appropriate cultural and legal responsibility to any gathering or group, private or public, the right to request I absent myself from the social setting, willingly or unwillingly, but under RCW not to proceed to physically lay hands upon me in a protracted assault?

I say that every time simply because I’m a reasonable man

My family’s position, apparently, is that my verbosity many times in family gatherings, deemed belligerence by most all, would not have needed more than voice-vote. I’m gone, it’s expected. I did indeed for some time frighten, concern and eventually anger all parties, in solely my family’s position, to warrant acts of the magnitude Ken engaged in upon my person. All but my mother are held harmless by rule of law, filter it in the fashion they choose: except of course the children. It is true what I wrote. Then and just now. Olivia was alone at the trunk; to me, this was my death.

I’ve many times over the years heard acquaintances describe their loss of family relations. To hear someone casually trail off a sentence abruptly while describing such horror minimizes the awful impact of the words, but it was never lost on me what they were discussing. I always thought to myself, if you have no relationship to those to whom you were born, if you must now make sense of the world and your singular place in it without the people, the only people, to whom you attach yourself, who brought you into this world

How exactly do you go on living? Why?

Why have you forsaken me?

This precusor to destruction of any manageable relationship with any of these people, save my mother, is no less a parallel to and probably holds some validity as a factor, a teetering or tipping point causally, in the manner of end game of Petitioner/Matron in my now-embattled former marriage. I detested the woman to whom I was married; her misery subjected me to a near-constant state of belligerence directed at me as I attempted to recover from the closing of my seven year retail store venture and morph my salvage inventory.

back into the music little ditty from The Smashing Pumpkins http://youtu.be/4aeETEoNfOg eleven million views can’t be wrong.

No apologies ever need be made I know you better than you fake it to see ——-

Harry Nilsson lived and played hard. I don’t think he was a tortured soul; he could lay it out there, though. He felt it. He had an eloquence in his manner of delivery. And was so damn tall. He wistfully pulled at your heartstrings, witness his penning of the mega-Three Dog Night single “One”. The man appealed to the sense of whimsy in fans of all ages, and wrote in several genre. Nilsson suffered a heart attack Valentine’s Day 1993, and spent that year putting together an LP anthology eventually released, but after his passing January 15, 1994.

The time has come the Walrus said,
to call your friends by name.

On May 25, 2012 documents were executed at Lyman, WA that effectively gifted me, for no remuneration, a fifty-year trove of collectible adult magazines, books, 8mm and its’ Super 8 cousin and multiple thousands of hours of rare, out-of-print adult content collected diligently for decades.

It’s worth something.
I say that every time.
Cuz’ I’m a reasonable man.
youtu.be/fs7fbdOdDjs

Besides, Dick wanted me to have it.

Made The Long Journey Home

Dorothy Priscilla (“Patsy”) Bullitt Collins was a Seattle philanthropist. Born in Seattle on September 24, 1920 to the wealthy A. Scott Bullitt and Dorothy Bullitt, she died June 24, 2003.

Yup. That’s it from here.

I NEVER UNDERSTOOD this whole celebrity deaths come in 3′s thing. It takes a presumption to deem someone a celebrity to begin with; some people are legend in their innovation. Others it is thrust upon for unknown serendipity. As a kid, experience taught me there are better things to be known as than what’s called infamous. Celebrity? cause celebre maybe. parlez vous?

The Fate of another Patsy Collins

He was a bodyguard and roadie for Deep Purple. He died December 4, 1975 in Jakarta, Indonesia. He reportedly fell down six floors of an elevator shaft after an argument with local promoters because of money owed the band. Deep Purple blogger I.S. Harahap tells us of the literal nightmare the man endured.

Chaville RT.porte.de.Mare.Adam,arche

Chaville porte de Mare Adam arche

SOME THINGS should die; but not innocents. Besides, it is more mutual surrender once aware of dysfunction, in relations personal OR professional. A coming to the table, admittance even, of shortcomings must be made. Shortcomings of spirit, of commitment and effort, followed by honesty with others of those truths evidenced empirically. At a minimum.

I’m a patsy in this whole thing, people.

——-

The Death of Amy Winehouse

ORIGINAL POST 7/23/11
=======
In other news across the globe, from LONDON, early morning reports of a celebrity death. Some people live comparatively short lives despite (or due to) what would seem to those unknowing, great successes.

Who knew there were so many languid,
tortured ways to say “black…”

You sang, “I died a hundred times.”

No, once.

Maybe it’s a case of hardness of heart
But I’m down for the count
And there’s got to be someway
To clear out whatever keeps us apart

I’ll do this
and I’ll do that
I’ll be burning canyons for you

Michael Penn

Waves Crashing On The Beach

ABSOLUTELY ONE OF MY FAVORITES
600px-DSC00355_-_Orfeo_(epoca_romana)_-_Foto_G._Dall'Orto-1

Orpheus’ efforts to save Eurydice is one of the great tales of ancient Greek mythology. Eurydice was an oak nymph, one of the daughters of Apollo (the god of light). She was the wife of Orpheus, who loved her dearly; on their wedding day, he played joyful songs as she danced through the meadow. Caught up in dancing with naiads and the satyr they apparition, Eurydice steps on a venomous snake, dying instantly. Distraught, Orpheus played and sang so mournfully that all the gods wept and told him to travel to the Underworld and retrieve her, which he gladly did.

Is it all an apparition?

His music softened the hearts below,
of HADES, and of PERSEPHONE;
he began the task of returning his betrothed
back to the world of the living.

=======
STUDENTS MAY RECALL A VERSION whereby Orpheus lyre puts the dog CERBERUS, HADES’ guardian, to sleep after which Eurydice was allowed to return with Orpheus to the world of the living. Essential to any working of the fable is the condition attached that he must walk in front of her and not look back until both reach the upper world. Of course he doubts she is truly there; possibly HADES had deceived him. Just as they reach the portals of daylight, he turns to gaze upon her face. Eurydice vanishes back into the Underworld.

As Orpheus had feared
and HADES had said,
his promised drowned back
to the world of the dead.

Waves of anguish and despair engulfed him. Shuddered with grief, he approached the Underworld again but this time, he was denied entry, the gates hard shut, GOD HERMES sent by ZEUS standing guard. From then on, the heartbroken musician wandered in total despair. He could find no consolation in anything. His misfortune tormented him, forcing him to abstain from contact with any other woman and slowly but surely he found himself shunning devotion completely. His songs were no longer joyful. His only comfort was to lay on a huge rock and feel the caress of the breeze, his only visions were the open skies. There he floundered. And so it was that a group of irate women, furious for his scorn towards them, chanced upon him. The sirens cut his body into pieces and threw them and his lyre into a river.

The world’s first rock critics.

It is said that his head and his lyre floated downriver to the island of Lesvos. There the Muses found them and gave Orpheus a proper burial ceremony. People believed that his grave emanated music, plaintive yet beautiful. His soul descended down to Hades where he was finally reunited with his beloved Eurydice.

============
from wiki, shmoop greekisle et al
DONT TURN AROUND

Duly Noted.


her bedroom eyes were like a button she was pushing

costello always demands a thick listen.
THAT’S BRUCE THOMAS’ BASSLINE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH

In 1977, Elvis Costello formed his own permanent backing band, The Attractions; Steve Nieve, born Steve Nason, keyboards; Bruce Thomas, bass guitar, and Pete Thomas on drums, unrelated to Bruce. These guys go back a long way, man. Bruce Thomas was the oldest group member (29 when he joined), with the most professional experience prior to being an Attraction. He had previously been a member of the band Quiver, who had released two albums on their own in 1971/72. Thomas was also a member of Moonrider for their lone album in 1975, and recorded as a session musician for Al Stewart in the mid-seventies. Pete Thomas had minimal experience. Nason, who had classical training, was just 19, a newcomer to rock. The Royal College of Music student also joined The Attractions in 1977.

Lore states Nason received his musical moniker “Nieve” (pronounced as “naïve”) while on the Attractions’ first tour for Stiff Records: it was bestowed by fellow tourmate Ian Dury who had been astonished by Nason’s innocent query, “What’s a groupie?”

Elvis Costello and the Attractions made their recording debut with the March, 1978 single (I Don’t Want To Go To) Chelsea“. From there, the Attractions would back Costello on all of his albums and singles through 1984. On 1984′s Goodbye Cruel World and its associated tour, The Attractions’ keyboardist was billed as “Maurice Worm”; this is yet another pseudonym for Nason/Nieve. In late 1986, Costello hooked up with The Attractions to record the album Blood & Chocolate, but this would prove to be the final Attractions release for several years. Growing antipathy between Costello and Bruce Thomas contributed to the Attractions’ first split in 1986, and the rift was exacerbated by what Costello felt was his unflattering portrayal in Thomas’ 1990 book The Big Wheel. Despite this, the original group reunited for several tracks on Costello’s 1994 album Brutal Youth and toured together over the next two years. They recorded one further album as a group (1996′s All This Useless Beauty) but split for good in 1996.

Nieve and Pete Thomas continued to back Costello through various touring and recording lineups and as of 2011 are still members of his current backing group The Imposters. The split between Costello and Bruce Thomas appears permanent, however; Bruce made a brief appearance with his former bandmates when the group was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2003, but when Costello was asked why Bruce did not play with them at the event, he reportedly replied, “I only work with professional musicians.”

prima donna

Doubt Thomas’ bassline no more.

=======
so there it is.

Thirty-five plus years of listening I finally figured out Costello. Fucking PRIMA DONNA. He hates. He uses gentle tones and rhythms to mask his pain, but it’s there. Always has been, frankly, ever since ALLISON bolted and the Waiting For The End of the World began. circa 1977. Mysterious lyrics once unraveled point to a chauvinist mentality of small-brained female the lesser.

MOTHERSISTER deserves respect. If not now, then when she steps up. Cuz she will. Women are the glue of this society. Mistreatment of the holiest of holies is a crime against humanity, even if it’s just dropping quarters and ping pong on the boys (self-inflicted). MEN ARE WEAK. Certainly Costello has proved it with his behavior over the years, evidenced here and in his wiki; again, it may be a cultural thang’ over there. Men long emasculated of esteem AT THEIR OWN HAND by their own weaknesses and fears certainly can’t be resolved by such castigation.

I dunno if he thinks he’s entitled, HAVING HAD BAD experiences exacerbated by his mania. Certainly the underlying current of open hatred towards those formerly professed loved by the protagonist, well if that’s the final word from McManus (Costello revealed)

he’s a punk

this side of the water we respect

Was a Miner Fifty Niner

20130528_212558

The City of Emerald Awaits

oh those pioneers…

EXCEPT MY ANCIENTS
came west to
the fabulous
Pacific Northwest,
about a thousand miles
and a thousand years
removed from

cal -if or ni-ay

c’mon, get in my car…

cuando conduzco más rápido

============

harken back, if you will

1! 2! 3! 4!

Well I’m going out west
where I belong
Where the days are short
and the nights are long

…well, we’re out there having fun
in that warm California sun

Brilliant

The Ramones

When the Ramones ventured to CALI,
the plane, the limo, hotel security
and their vampirism protected them
from any pesky sunlight, I’m sure…
====

that’s a snack. back to work
no wait
===

ahhh, here it is

The Rivieras were a rock group active from 1962-66, made up of teenagers from South Bend (IN) Central High School. Originally The Playmates, they opted out upon notice there was already a group of that name. In simpler days, they renamed themselves after the Buick Riviera. The first incarnation of the group found success in 1964 with “California Sun”, nearly reaching the top of the U.S. pop chart. In fact, these kids, teenagers at the time, really, were one of the last pure American rock-and-roll songs on the Billboard Hot 100 chart before the onslaught of the “British Invasion”. Founding members Marty “Bo” Fortson and Joe Pennell left the band shortly after recording the single, joining the United States Marine Corps.

casey kasem reminds us

Here’s “California Sun” at
its’ peak chart position of
#5 the same week
The Beatles landed the first of
nine consecutive chart toppers with

“I Want to Hold Your Hand”

and off we went!

but before we all walked away,
we had sumthin’ here

THE MARKETTS

THE VENTURES

that sound was uniquely American but…

it wasn’t like the beach boys invented it…

what good is the dawn
that grows into day
the sunset at night
or livin’ this way…

that stuff was contemplative, man.
BW is a deep thinker.

just like you

Mama Don’t Let Yer Babies

This post has a date of May 17, 2013 on it, but a cursory perusal of the history revealed the original writing to be 12/28/12, which pegs it just post-holiday. This was the beginning of estrangement from those dear to me.

Abby never left my side. By Valentine’s Day the Precious One had queried me, “hey, Dad? If gramma doesn’t tell the truth to the police she’s gonna haf’ta be arrested…”

Never left my side. In the aftermath of Petitioner silliness and judicial manipulations, my Mom embraced me without a word. We have gone forward earnestly, but when sad histories mercifully melt away, the last thing one would seek is discussion of them. That other crap is ‘tween brothers. I dunno how justification is found over there, across the proverbial table, but he ain’t no punk. Maybe his advisors are confused.

So in an odd way common to the Calandra family I greatly admire that young Abigail sits in support of her mother through the tumult, not that I share in any way the empathy she has for that from which she sprung.

I never thought my impending divorce, something I acknowledged and was cool with by way of social media and open statements known to all, I never imagined it would be anything but amicable. The manipulations of justice in dissolutions are legion and de riguer but baseball bats, metaphoric or literal, solve nothing. Such cruelties are like the cacophony of Best Buy and the like; sure, adults can filter it and shield their souls and hearts and heads, but children?

Man, what I wouldn’t give fer one go-around. One At Bat. I ain’t no dragbunt man, neither. I slam first pitches into the gap in left center; I go the other way. Like Cusack. Ruthless non-flag loyalties exposed. Sure, the rep for being an assh*le being equally legion, my words are like Peter Murphy’s rare chart offering.

Take what you need and leave the rest, I told her. But she never should have taken the very best. She was the one, not The MrSr, who in the end drove Ol’ Dixie down. I’m just tellin’ the real.

=======

OVER THE LINE!!! (h/t Joel Coen)

ok ok ok it’s not like, y’know, like
The Greatest Movie of All Time

=========

In December 2010, CITY LIMITS DVD windows had long been redone as ABBYTOWN courtesy a local artist, Terri Swier. Beginning in November 2009 an open flouting of convention, a fact well-known to Petitioner and achieved in desperation prolonged the operation despite the downturn of the video biz in general. My acts remain plainly rooted in simple but not moral bankruptcy for me but untenable to Petitioner as a long-term parallel lifestyle choice, clearly.

During that time frame I received a brief phone call at my place of business nearly seven years, at 216 Westlake Ave N in Seattle, WA. The discussion began the process by which the 60-year old building has now been demised. Today it stands GRID IRON READY to become the newest jewel in the South Lake Union redux that marks the downtown Westlake corridor that brought so much joy into the Calandra household. So it can finally be revealed that in late DEC 2010 I knew my business would be closing. We knew we had somehow ‘outlasted’ the landlord and that it had somewhat been determined:

I would not have to suffer any of the ignominy foisted upon the shoulders of those businessmen unable to put their affairs in order. So I began. It was a commencement.

You know, the beginning of the end.

SIDEBAR YOUR HONOR

Every TUESDAY (designated movie release day) for the seven years I operated the store I made difficult balancing acts happen, where the real money is in longevity, in having those titles people want when they want them. Y’know, customers. The coupon crowd ain’t my thing. They want, hell they expect MOVIES at near zero net after gross expenses or SEX IN THE CITY box sets at 15% markup + delivery in a critical time window; in later years SOPRANOS or ENTOURAGE more like a 22-25% — people need and want to be

That Jones Guy To Keep Up With

It’s Called The Walmart Mentality.
You’re a Member Of Sam’s Club.
Knock Yerself Out.

Businessmen such as myself, struggling in a rigged game, engaged in a 70% mix of pornography and 30% mainstream, with 15% hard-fought achievement of front-end legit actual movie TV rentals sales candy and ice cream bodega style, we try to get by with few exposures, it’s all relationships based in trust and confidence, that on that day at opening I have something for them they can stick in their pants like its the biggest in the room. Girls like that stuff. Men who preen. Not.

No one is immune. My sole caveat to honesty and Cusack being I love my mother. This transcends the desire for acceptance of me by matrons, grey-haired or otherwise. Which is all Abby’s birth mother will ever be to me.

=======

WIDE ANGLE

FREEWAY TRAFFIC
conditions clear
sound of ringing phone
(interrupted by man’s voice)

OH, HI MOM.

audio of other end of line
KEITH DO YOU HAVE THAT redacted
THAT CAME OUT TODAY

OH GOOD MORNING MOM

four seconds DEAD AIR

DEAD AIR

man’s voice repeating
perspective of freeway continues
GOOD MORNING MOM

audio in phone female voice
I CAN’T HEAR YOU
HELLO

I CAN HEAR YOU MOM

audio in phone female voice
OH THERE YOU ARE
DO YOU HAVE THAT redacted

YOU KNOW
THE TOM CRUISE

GOOD MORNING MOM
I’M NOT GOING TO SPEAK
UNTIL YOU SAY GOOD MORNING
I’M DRIVING
I’M GOOD
THANKS FOR ASKING

two seconds dead air

SO MOM I HAVE SEVEN COPIES
FOUR PREPAID
THREE FOR MY PEEPS
WHY YOU ONLY CALL ME NOW

ITS TWENTY
THAT’S BUCKS MOM

audio in phone
DOES IT HAVE THAT T SHIRT THE THING

man’s voice freeway perspective
MOM MOM MOM
WHATS UP DO YA NEED SOMETHING
YOU SOUND LIKE A JUNKIE
WHY YOU CALLING ME?
OF ALL PEOPLE…

DON’T YOU HAVE, LIKE,
A PHARMACIST FOR WHEN
YOU GET LIKE THIS?

audio in phone
KEITH LOOK

EXT CLOSEUP
profile of man driving
face accompanies voice
NO HERE’S THE DEAL MOM

THEY ALL HAVE T-SHIRTS. I SEPARATE AND
SELL THE SHIRTS IN A MONTH OR WHATEVER
BUT MY BEST PEEPS PRE-PAYS SOLIDS AND
MEN I FEEL SOME NEED TO PLEASE OR
WOMEN I WANNA GET NEAR — SURE –

THEY GET THE PROMO ITEM –

BUT I HAVE A COUPLE UNSPOKEN…

DID YA SEE A COMMERCIAL MOM?

audio in phone female voice (dejected)
OH YOU CAN’T DO IT?

MOM ARE YOU LISTENING? YES DESPITE YOUR LACK OF DECORUM HERE I’LL GIVE YOU ONE OF THE T-SHIRTS. YOU’RE COSTING ME ABOUT TWENTY BUCKS ON TOP OF THE MOVIE THOUGH MOM. ALSO IT’S TWENTY BUCKS. THE MOVIE. THIS IS WHERE YOU SAY BUT ITS 1499 AT WALMART. I’LL BRING IT BY THE HOUSE BY ABOUT 5pm ABBY HAS BALLET AND DADDY NEEDS WORK ON HIS PIRHOUETTES… uhhh, MOMMY SAYS SO

audio in phone
BUT IT IS 1499 AT SAM’S CLUB…

FREEWAY PERSPECTIVE
tone of frustration rising in man’s voice
MOM I GOTTA GO SORRY YOU WEREN’T ABLE TO ACCEPT MY OFFER. THE PROMO ITEMS ARE GONE BY 11am OR SO AT PRETTY MUCH EVERYWHERE AND ALREADY ITS NEAR NOON. GOOD LUCK. I HAVE A COUPLE OPPORTUNITIES TO BOUNCE YOU A T-SHIRT BUT…

YOU KNOW MOM ORDINARILY IF ANYONE MENTIONED WALMART OR ANYTHING I WOULD HANG UP ABRUPTLY AND CLAIM THE PHONE DID IT. OR IT HE WAS AN ACTUAL PEEP AND RECOGNIZED THE ERROR OF HIS REASONING AND LACK OF LOVING COMPASSION, EVEN IF I DID TALK TO HIM, THE MOVIE WOULD BE THIRTY. IN TWO DAYS NO ONE HAS A COPY. BUY A JUNKED USED COPY. DOESNT LOOK LIKE AS BIG IN YER PANTS BUT——

LOOK MOM I GOTTA GO
=======

Tantamount to any blog post I write here is some sense of honest alignment of those things we profess and what we do. As I announced to Abby the other day, now on the cusp of nine years aged, adults sometimes have small windows by which a process known as reconciliation can occur. I told her reconciliation doesn’t necessarily mean agreement…

It means whatever adults say it means. At that point.

Well, we’re there. people.
Off the train.
Watch your step.
I do. Carefully.

My affairs are in order.

=======
This portion was written 12/23/10.

hat/tip Abby.

Breakfast by Campbell’s.
Art by Buena Vista.

Up early this AM with junior partner Abby in tow; we traipsed down 167 to Jovita Blvd, then up the hill to Edgewood, where Milton Way meets the Enchanted Parkway. Quarter-mile south of the county line, I noted. They call it Surprise Lake up there

…you could look it up.

I explained to Abby this nice lady, a gray-haired matron of the supposed film arts, had encountered my store in the middle of summer, months earlier. Although she didn’t live here, she thought the store something worth remembering at the holidays, and after a few days of back and forth on the telephone, her and daddy had brokered a deal whereby daddy acquired a small collection of items. She had already mailed a check (truly old school!) and we were bringing these items to her. We had a tight window, logistically, being so close to the holiday. She lived in Redwood City, CA and outside Anchorage, AL most of the year, and she comes through in the summer to see her son and grandchildren and again at Christmas, but it would be a rare day indeed if she ventured into the Big City.

“Abbytown was coming to her,” daddy told her.

“Yup.” Ahh, the sweet sound of assent from a child.

----- brandy alexandre a notorious gateway

—– brandy alexandre a notorious gateway

In our discussions, my client admitted not being close to her son, but fond enough despite vast distance and differences that she wanted to please him at the holidays. Movies being about all they shared, we had aggressively acquired this film she recalled enjoying, our solution being this rip from VHS of Who’s Killing the Great Chefs of Europe; these Jack Lemmon items were films she knew he could also enjoy. Bases covered.

The Apartment and Days of Wine and Roses.

“Oh, he’ll enjoy them.” I laughed with Abby.

When I dialed the number, they had been up late, she said, and it would be about half an hour ’til she could meet us. So Abby and I sat talking quietly, she eating her apples, cheese and Goldfish brand snack crackers by the Pepperidge Farm division of Campbell’s Soup and playing with her puzzle book. Stickers, I think. We stood outside just a brief moment, greeted her and gave her the package, and we were off.

“See how she didn’t have to pay daddy,” I told her.

No answer. The junior partner was already fast back at the sticker book, matching up the color of each of the world famous Disney Buena Vista all rights reserved characters to the corresponding circle.

“So, yeah, she doesn’t have to pay.” My voice trailed off.

“She doesn’t have to pay, sweetie,” I repeatedly, more earnestly than before. “She doesn’t have to pay; why is that, sweetie?” I queried.

She had already begun to tell me. “She already paid, daddy, you told me already!” She was emphatic.

“So the money wasn’t the only thing here going on, was it sweetie. She needed something and daddy sure needs something, customers! Huh, sweetie? Know what I mean, darlin’?”

“Uhh-huh. “Whoa, without customers daddy wouldn’t even have a store, sweetie.”

“Gotta eat. Gotta make that money. Gonna get me that money. Just enough!”

She wasn’t really with me on this. I had to take it further.

“Because in the end, darlin’, commerce? When the lady buys something and daddy sells it to her? that’s commerce, sweetie. So she needs something and see, I go get it, sometimes I even have to figure out how to even get it, or what a fair price is for it, and how she and i can get together and get her this stuff she wants, huh sweetie?”

I GUESS AT SOME POINT I stopped talking about business. But commerce is a personal exchange. Sure, Chinamen put merchants at the bottom of the chaste, woops, check that caste, but we’re not discussing ironical spelling errors, my SLA issues or even my inherent racism here, we are engaging in dialogue. Oh NEVERMIND. Suffice it to say it means a lot to daddy that the nice, gray-haired matron realizes she has a source such as myself, no not such as myself
====

…actually me, someone willing to engage in commerce and more than willing to go the extra mile to see that someone’s wants and concerns are satisfied.

“All it takes is a phone call. But…”

Daddy builds in big drama.

“Here it comes sweetie, get ready…”

Daddy made volcano noises.

Big Booming Voice
“It’s not about PRICE, it’s about NICE!”

Daddy is adamant.

“Yup.”

Sweet.

weepin’ don’t start ’til 15:59

Fastbacks Exit Sleater-Kinney

This post matured in July 2013
It was the depths of
sad realisation.
Bitterest -

W Goldsmith’s Overhead Projector

I couldn’t find my Sunny Day Real Estate

Sleater and Kinney and of course, flirty

Sleater and Kinney and of course, flirty

IT’S A NW BAND SQUARE-OFF… girls against girls… proceed due north from Thurston County it’s a quick pit stop jumpin’ off at exit 108 that’s Sleater-Keeney territory.

Sleater-Kinney was formed

in early 1994 in Olympia, Washington, by the eager, driven, passionately lyrical riot grrls Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein. Also pictured is Janet Weiss, cited as most prolific of Sleaters’ yeoman  percussionists. From formation, Sleater-Kinney had no bass player, both Tucker and Brownstein tuning their guitars one and a half steps down (“C# tuning”), and Tucker’s tone and style enabling her to fill the same role as a bass guitar. They switched up a lot, too. They balanced their poetry with lightning. Brillance? just felt right…

THEN WE WITNESS what Conrad Uno was onto at Egg Studios when he produced with Kurt and the girls. Circa 1980-buhbuh buhbuh… and how was it Kurt Bloch was surrounded by so many women of such great talent? yeah, whoa, I know. Join with The Fastbacks: Lulu, Kim Warnick, Kurt Bloch but there’s a dozen drummers over the years. Mike Musberger claims top billing among the many on the skins.

they don’t move an inch
they don’t have to
abby june 2013

abby june 2013

I’m coming, Abby

=============
can’t be friends
we can’t be enemies

some things you lose
some things you give away

the hardest part is…

=================
FASTBACKS

plus, they’re just down the street


everything you need you have…
but you will look long

On K Street

After all the troubles come and gone
They were here for so long
Now I’ve got this sinking feeling
Everyone seems to be leaving
And I can’t believe how lonely it is here on k street
There’s no one like me here on k street
How lonely it is here on k street today
Has it all changed so much or is it all in me?

Please lift me up and let me see

I Am I Am I Am Superman

ORIGINAL DATE OF POST 5/30/12

Real courage was embodied in the many years of life Christopher Reeve endured, enjoyed and celebrated every day after being involved in a spinal cord injury while in dressage with his equine endeavors. He fell off a horse.


this whole things a dream

Life changing events sometimes are the result of stupidity. Accident or more succinctly, happenstance, is the more likely manner by which the hand of fate swats at each of us. There is no fault; the horse simply refused at gate three. For most that would have been the end of the story.

He was of course the true Superman of his era, and although it has been a long time now, these words he speaks are so thoroughly real that I seek to revisit them.

When a guy says “this stuff is bugged, man,” but continues a long struggle to twilight, physically so sadly incapacitated, but trending toward recovery to the end, mentally sharp and clearly here spiritually with a handle on the patience, compassion and joy each of us needs and can offer in return, he’s made the grade. When he praised doctors, it was a personal event for the too soon-expiring Mr Reeve.

HERO.

…had a good father (Brando in trailer)

==============================================

I’ve spoken of the need to rise to the occasion.

Here’s a great interview with the iconic Reeve as a young man. Try to remember he didn’t know the truer implication of his words, none of us did; he is tender, young and somewhat unknowing that once Superman

always Superman

this is why great people are influential in the lives of others they touch.

Scavullo on Men 1977
Random House

Mr. Reeve: I have to make one apology for myself – I’m afraid I’m not much of a dresser. I wear very strange sizes. I’m thin, and yet broad-shouldered, so nothing fits. I have to have everything tailor-made for me, every jacket cut. Frankly, however, clothes have never been that important to me. I go around in jeans, in sweaters. I’ve had this sweater since I was fourteen. I’ve just been cast as Superman, and one of the PR guys said they wanted me to make one of the Ten Best Dressed next year. I said, “You’re going to have to do a lot of work.”

As far as I’m concerned there is Superman and then there’s Christopher Reeve, and I’m not interested in having them merge. What I’m interested in is acting. I’m twenty-four; I’ve been working since I was fourteen; I studied at Juilliard. I wasn’t Superman before and I don’t plan to be Superman after.

Were there any feats you had to accomplish as Superman in your screen test?

No. Didn’t have to knock anybody down or leap over any buildings. The hardest thing I had to do was jump off a balcony at about four feet while keeping my hair in place and speaking at the same time. But in the film there will be an enormous amount of stunt work – flying and fighting especially – much of which I will do myself.

Do you like to drink?

I don’t really care about drinking, though I will have a couple of drinks. Now, last night I really tied one on; that’s rare for me, but it was somebody special.

To relax I play the piano. I’ve played for about ten or twelve years. I can do an hour every night, and sort of drain away the day. I also find that a nap in the afternoon is essential. I come home every day – I don’t care what happens. If I have to be at the theater at seven-thirty, I take the phone off the hook and I sleep from four-thirty to six. I need to recharge my battery. I want to go to the theater feeling that it’s the beginning rather than the end of the day. I get to the theater very early, and basically I do an Alexander technique, which I studied with Judy Liebowitz at Juilliard. It is a way of releasing tension in the body, through the joints. If you think of the body as a well-oiled machine that runs on very precise ball bearings, it gets them functioning smoothly. It gives you a kind of liquid freedom from muscle tension. What tension does is restrict the joints from moving naturally; you can see it in the way people sit sometimes with their neck jammed down or stand with their knees locked.

What I do every day before the performance is lie down on the floor, widen the back and length: you know, the head gets back up on the shoulders, the shoulders drop down into place, the voice settles, and you get ready to go! The first time I did Alexander I stretched out about an inch and a half. I used to have a psychological thing about being tall; I was sort of apologizing for my height. I’ve gotten over that.

But other than that, for my head, I fly glider planes to relax. I also have my own airplane. I simply drop out of life, seven or eight thousand feet up in the sky. I go wherever I want to go. I usually take friends, though when I’m really down and out I go up solo. Otherwise I like to share it with people. I usually take a friend and a thermos full of chicken noodle soup. There are little tiny airports all over the country, where you can just drop in. I flew back from California this summer, just puddle-jumping from place to place.

I find the same release in sailing. I’ve sailed all my life; I’m very grateful to my father for teaching me to sail from the time I was four or five. I grew up racing in international competitions. I’m very lucky – you see many people who don’t have ways to get out – I’ve always had the means, I’ve always known people, there always has been a way out for me.

Are your parents rich?

No. My father’s a professor, a novelist and a translator. My mother’s a newspaper reporter. My stepfather’s a stockbroker, which is not exactly the most secure business these days. It probably sounds like I play with a lot of toys, but I don’t spend a lot of money. I have a tiny apartment. I live like a squirrel, because sailing and flying mean more to me. The two years I spent in the soaps has pretty much given me the means to do what I want to do.

Do you have a girl friend?

I’ll pass on all that. There’s something going on, but it’s very private.

Do you agree with the statement of Truman Capote that actors are stupid people?

I think that you can’t be a good actor and be stupid; to be an actor is to understand enough about other people so that you can represent them.

Do you want to be a star?

Not a star. I’m sure you’ve heard this eight million times, but I want to be an actor first. If I become a star, terrific. But that hasn’t entered my head yet. In a year I might be sitting here with a mohair jacket and cigarette holder and a driver waiting outside – talk to me now before I turn into a complete schmuck.

Could you?

No, though the last year it might have been possible. Last year I was really a pretty insecure person. If life is a roller coaster, I was on the downgrade. But this break came very early in my life. I’ve always secretly thought that I would get a break, but I didn’t think it would hit until I was around thirty. I really feel ready for it.

Does anything worry you?

No. The only thing I’m afraid of is . . . I would hate to be a really old man. I would hate to have my second childhood. I don’t want to be reduced to eating Gerber’s Baby Food, attended by a nurse around the clock. My grandfather is in that state. He’s in a nursing home, just hanging on. All he can remember is World War I. As far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t exist anymore. It may sound callous, but I don’t want to see that person. When I see very old people I get a very uneasy feeling in my stomach. I’m also afraid of anything that has to do with blood, and dissection, and medical things like that.

I want to really make sure that my professional life and my personal life meet in a happy place. I don’t want to be a successful person who has to compensate because he can’t keep his personal life together, and at the same time I wouldn’t give up what’s going for me now for somebody else. I’m going to have to find out how to put those together. That’s one major, central anxiety – how’s it going to work out? I used to think that in a few years I’d get married, and I’d want a little place in the country. Now the whole possibilities of my life are different. So I wonder, how am I going to keep it together? Am I going to believe in different things? I would rather look forward and think positively and accept the experience than back into it. I’ve got a choice to dive in find out how the water is, or to stand at the end of the pool, dipping my foot in, backing into it. I’ve backed into a lot of situations in my life. I backed into the soap opera. I backed into the play–A Matter of Gravity–wriggling and squirming all the time. I could have backed into Superman, too, but I feel better just to say, “Here we go!”

Do you fear death?

I do. It’s funny, when I was a kid, around eleven or twelve, I was so afraid of dying that I wanted to die so I wouldn’t have to die. It hits me every now and again – I’m buying cookies in the grocery store or I’m talking on the phone or looking out the window, and suddenly a little voice inside says, “You’re going to go away one day, you’re not going to be here, so take a good look.” And I just shut him up, and he goes away.

Are there any men or woman you admire?

One of the things that’s had the most to do with my life is a tremendous respect for my father, with whom I’ve gone through the whole gamut of feelings. Starting from intense hate and competitiveness – he used to treat me as if absolutely nothing I could do was right, whereas my mother treated me like everything I did was right. I knew they were both wrong. You know, I’m between two families; I have a Princeton family and a Connecticut family, and it’s great. When the water gets too hot in one tub I’ll go to the other, back and forth. My father’s my best friend in the world. He’s like my brother; we are just yin and yang.

Also, I respect Richard Chamberlain for what’s he’s done with his career, for getting out of Dr. Kildare and going to work on himself as an actor.

Do you have any secret desire for a particular role?

I think the world can be spared my Hamlet. The first thing I’m going to do after Superman will be totally nonheroic, nonwonderful, not larger-than-life, because I’ve always been allowed to play those parts before. In the theater in New York I played a very frail, introverted, shy grandson of Katharine Hepburn; the leader of Hitler’s personal bodyguard in a play about Hitler; and a young farmer from Wisconsin. In the same year, in the same city.

Do you ever take drugs?

Absolutely never. There’s a psychological connection there; of three very important people in my life one died and two were very, very badly messed up because of what they went through with drugs when we were growing up together. I’m pretty much a balanced person, anyway; I don’t tend to be sucked into what other people are trying.

Do you have a lot of friends?

Yes. I used not to – not their fault, my fault – because I couldn’t accept them. A lot of people offered me friendship, and my reaction was, “What’s it going to cost me?” And I realized that what I was doing was saying, “I like who I am, so I’m going to hold on to it. I’m not going to give any away.” And what happens is, friendship dies; it dries up and dies. I’ve since realized that the more you give away, the more you have.

so there ya go

You said that irony was the shackles of youth…
You wore a shirt of violent green oh ho
I never understood the fre-quen-cy oh ho