My friends’ and my jobs summed up in one sentence each.

  1. It doesn’t work on my browser.
  2. They didn’t pay for their plants.
  3. It’s month-end and we’re short $718.03 again.
  4. It’s just a pulled muscle, he can play.
  5. That’s not how that’s spelled.
  6. No.
  7. We’ll have to cut him a special check.
  8. [REDACTED] is ready for field use, Colonel.
  9. That guy tipped me 8 pennies.
  10. The entire site is down and there is a conference call.
  11. Okay, try now.
  12. No, you don’t need Demerol, you need to sit down and shut up.
  13. She is vomiting blood and you need to come pick her up now.
  14. Don’t tell me the Britney Spears story is going above the fold.
  15. Yes, the unpasteurized cheese contains dairy products also.

Goth Poem.

Redeemed flaming fireflies
—-=-==-====-==-=—-
Their saint flowing from a helpless mother reveres me.
A spasm is towering above a razor!
A dust towering above a forbidding grass drifts, hopefully.
Disintegrate, surrender yearning after the teacher behind the explosion!
At last it is gothtastic.
Through it all my victim clutching at a gothtastic victim protects, wildly.

Barbedwiregirl

(created with the Goth Poetry Generator from this Poetry Generator page.

He needs someone to adjust his monkey.

Carlos

Stuart Pearson ( changeng and http://www.stuartpearson.net ) played the opening of the new Diedrich on 17th. He brought Carlos (above), his new drummer, who is rock steady. He also did the Lady in the Radiator Song from Eraserhead and “Venus in Furs” by the Velvet Underground. I’m glad someone understands that “covers only” doesn’t have to mean “the worst of the Eagles on a god-damned loop, forever”.

The new location is okay except that the patio blows and the bar inside has no bar railing so it’s like the tortures of the Inquisition sitting there. Was nice seeing Sandi; her gigantic Nightmare Before Christmas tattoo array is colored in now and it’s fairly spectacular.

Huge effin burrito and other delights below

Rakata bay bay, rakata bay BEE.

One of my favorite albums ever is Morgan Fisher’s Miniatures. In 1980, he asked people for one minute long audio pieces, and compiled them.

The cast includes Pete Seeger, Andy Partridge, Ralph Steadman, Half Japanese, the Residents, and Neil Innes and his kid singing “Cum On Feel the Noyze”. Steadman sings a John Donne poem outside in the rain while playing some kind of dilapidated pump organ. It’s one of the few records I can without hyperbole call unique.

My favorite track is from jazzman and bon vivant George Melly, who performs a Kurt Schwitters dada poem. He claims that reciting this poem to some muggers once saved his life. It’s not hard to hear why:

George Melly – Sounds That Saved My Life (mp3, 1.2M, 58 seconds).

It was a pain to get this. The CD version of the record has the tracks grouped five or six per CD track, and I had to use Amadeus II to perform some rough ‘n’ ready sound surgery and then reencode it. Good thing it’s just Yelled Vocal Quality.

I met a man who wasn’t there.

I have to recommend bruisedhips and godforesaken as houseguests. They depart immediately into their room and go to sleep every night at 10. In the morning they slip out of the house before they can be observed, and don’t return again until it’s time to sleep. It’s hard to get them to eat your food, and sometimes it isn’t clear whether they’ve actually been in your house. If you accuse them of these things and try to get them to behave like normal guests (eating your bagels, watching TV, clonking around being bored) they get a wild-eyed look and accuse members of your family of being shape-shifting cat demons.

In all seriousness it was great to have them visit, and I did get them to eat my rice and hummus at one point. Come back soon, y’hear?