March 30, 2006 at 14:03:06 (EST)
You hoped that they'd die long before
they might see
don't know if I can recommend slogging all the way through
New York Magazine's article "Up
with Grups" (whose title is so dumb they came up
with a mildly better one, "Forever Youngish," for
the cover). But somewhere in its sprawling, somewhat unfocused
rap, it covers some interesting points. Well, interesting
for the 30-something white dude who wonders why there aren't
more people his age present when he's standing in Tommy's
Tavern watching USAISAMONSTER.
The article purports to characterize a 'new' type of a adult,
one who clings to the trappings of 'youth culture' even though
underneath those 'hip' clothes they are responsible adults
with solid careers, children, and, perhaps, a "mild paunch.".
The article sort of wants to stay on the fence, though ultimately
the author seems to show his hand and count himself one of
'them.' I can't help using all the ironic quote marks, but
honestly the whole thing seems made up. There is a school
of thought afoot telling us that the Generation Gap has been
erased, apparently because teenagers and adults alike have
been united by their love of, guh, Bloc
Party and hooded
sweatshirts. I'm comfortably certain that quite a few
kids growing up when I did really loved the Beatles,
and there was a time when it seemed the Izod
Corporation would have us all in those lovely pastel knit
shirts. And yet that parental-offspringal connection continues
to elude us even now.
The article veers into mildly critical territory when it
discuss how these folks are raising their kids. You get the
picture of a nation of toddlers being reared on Sufjan
Stevens records and 'cute' baby-sized Ramones
t-shirts, and for a second you think, "They just wanna
raise clones of themselves!" But then you stop for a
second and realize that's exactly what every parent throughout
human history has pretty much done (with a little help
from Gammy and Dr. Spock). Sure, not everybody turns out perfect,
but most of us take our parents' embarrassingly bad taste
in stride. So shall the wee hipsters. In fact (and the article
does point this out), there's a real fear that the kids will
'rebel' into, guh, conservative Republicanism just to 'get
back' at the parents (otherwise known as "The
Alex P. Keaton Effect"). Yeah, that'll probably happen
too. But again, that's yet another thing that's happened since
society got industrialized enough for sullen teenagers to
sneer, "I'll never be like you, Mom and Dad!"
So adults like contemporary music and their kids will probably
turn out all right, if a little annoyed at having to hear
about the Dark Ages of bulky
As far as society goes, this sounds like business as usual,
if a little dressed up this time around. Just because someone
thinks a 40-year old looks foolish in a pair of Chuck Taylors,
that doesn't mean it will have a profound effect on society.
I think the kids will still find ways to be alienated. In
fact, can you think of anything that would alienate a kid
faster than a parent smugly assuming they're on the same wavelength?
Oh god, that's enough to make me weep for those poor future
Posted By Jimmy Legs
March 29, 2006 at 14:28:29 (EST)
You know you might miss a shot
I've never really thought of New York as a dangerous place
since I've lived here. Sure, when I hear about the city in
previous decades it sounds like it was a lot rougher. But
in this post-Internet Boom land o' hipsters there seems little
to fear. I mean, houses on my block are selling for over a
million dollars! My neighborhood is full of white suburban
transplants who depressingly resemble me in nearly every way.
This doesn't seem like the place that spawned "Crack
Ave" (Grand Ave) and "Murder Ave" (Myrtle Ave)
... especially considering Murder Ave now sports a Connecticut
Even though I and pretty much everyone I know in the neighborhood
has at one time or another been mugged or otherwise roughed
up in the past, it still didn't seem too scary, at least not
compared to the stories we heard about the Real Crime going
on in further hoods like Bushwick or East New York. Last night
Motico performed over at Sputnik, the newish club on the edge
of Clinton Hill/Bed-Stuy. Just before the show started, around
the time when my girlfriend was walking over from her apartment,
somebody started shooting at people on the basketball courts
at Classon and Lafayette. We still don't really know what
happened, but it's definitely got me thinking twice about
being so cavalier about safety in the neighborhood.
A half hour before the shooting I had been on the phone with
her, telling her to come over and meet me at the club. I even
told her to walk alongside the police precinct, which is literally
right next to the basketball courts. So now I feel pretty
shitty, as it would have taken me all of 10 minutes to go
and walk her over. Of course, my presence may not have stopped
a stray bullet from splitting open anybody's head (thanks
to my mother I am blessed with an ability to immediately imagine
the Worst Case Scenario, over and over). But the incident
does put things in a discomfiting perspective. Added to that
was our little run-in at the Alibi with the crazed window-bustin'
drug dealer. I'd like to somehow tie in my recent blackout
thing, but I am not sure how much that had to do with the
reality of the local crime rates.
thanks to everyone who risked their life to come out to the
show! The shooting put a bit of a pall over the show, but
things ended up coming off pretty nicely. This is of course
ignoring the fact that my new amp caught on fire even before
we started. Buzz noted smoke pouring off the top off the amp
as it sat warming up before our set. I feared using it, but
had brought his amp along, which is not dissimilar from mine.
As usual, I then didn't have much time to familiarize myself
with the many knobs of the new amp, but we managed to get
through our set without breaking anything else significant.
We also managed not to charge a cover price; I'm not sure
whose fault that was, but if I had known we could get away
with it, I would have publicized the event as a free show.
Physics of Meaning went on after us, that's the band with
the Polyphonic Spree guy in it. Though not totally my cuppa
tea, they were really really good at what they do, a sort
of alt-country in the vein of Magnolia Electric Co. (which
I say only because they're one of the few bands like that
I've seen live). Also they had a dude playing a sitar! Plus
an oboist (when's the last time you saw an oboe?). They got
a pretty good sized crowd to come out (actually we had a good
turnout too, but nobody was paying at that point).
Bracket rounded out the night, laying down some heavy-rock
improv on the unsuspecting audience. And the people loved
it! But then, who couldn't? Afterwards, Daniel from Physics
of Meaning mentioned how good they were, and when I told him
how most of their set was done totally on the fly, his eyes
widened and he said, "Now I'm even more blown away."
Is it just me, or are we all wasting away in obscurity?
the evening ended on an up-note. We got to see some people
we haven't seen in a while, we had a couple of drinks (but
not enough to knock me out, I assure you, Doc). I momentarily
forgot about the windows smashings, and the shootings, and
the no-doubt enormous repair bill I will face when I take
the Mark III into the shop. Then when I was wedging myself
between the bass cabinet and the inner roof of the Band Van
for the 3 block ride home, I tore the shell of my big parka
on a metal corner, just yanked the fabric all to hell. Alas.
Then I remembered, when I ordered the jacket, the company
shipped me two by accident. I have a brand new parka hanging
in my closet. Everything's coming up parkas.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
28, 2006 at 14:01:33 (EST)
The man who never was
I've made it a week without collapsing on the street! The
further I get from the incident, the more I start to believe
it was all a big set-up. Vampire aliens, conspiring with the
NSA and the BSA, targeted me for subdermal GPS tagging, thus
appropriating the 'seizure' and accompanying hospital stay
to cover their nefarious actions. It's the oldest trick in
Now I've just got to find out exactly where the tag is.
Maybe I'll find it tonight at Sputnik.
Watch me squirm!
Posted By Jimmy Legs
24, 2006 at 15:30:05 (EST)
He says it's your turn in the barrel
Thanks for the advice and insight, folks. We may never know
what happened to yours truly on the cold streets of New York
(Zack's latest theory involves alien abduction which makes
as much sense as anything). But it's a reminder that our lives
are short, confusing, and either involves too many or too
few jelly beans. One minute you're on top of the world; the
next you're tipping over onto the 3rd rail. So to celebrate
my near-resurrection, MOTICO
takes the local stage with some
guy who played violin in The
Polyphonic Spree, plus local fixed-gear cultists BOTTOM
BRACKET. This show is at Sputnik,
literally 3 blocks from my house, so I'm very excited to perform
there finally. It's a nice bar, good crowd, I dunno what the
cover price is but I'm gonna ask it to remain nominal. If
you're in Clinton Hill this Tuesday, you could do worse than
stop by and absorb some culture!
Posted By Jimmy Legs
March 23, 2006 at 16:15:32 (EST)
Tied to machines that makes me be
used to scoff at people who carried health insurance, feeling
it wasn't a good deal. Even when you get it through your job,
it ends up costing you some money, which you may never use
unless you get really sick. And hey, by that time you might
have paid into coverage for so long you might as well pay
for the treatment outright. This logic still applies to vision
coverage for the most part, but for the big stuff I'm a true
believer. I don't know what the total bill for my hospital
jaunt will be yet, but it touches on some classic big-ticket
items: ambulance ride, emergency room visit, 2-night stay
in semi-private room, tested via CT Scan, EEG and MRI. Oh,
and let's not forget all that fine hospital chow!
I think St. Vincents' is gonna charge me plenty for this,
so I pray the good folks at Empire Blue-Cross/Blue-Sheild
have me well-covered. I guess I could look it up on the web
site and see what is and what is not covered, but I fear it
will prematurely depress me. Still, even though this experience
has convinced it's always a good idea to carry medical insurance
(but only if they pay all my bills), I don't particularly
care for the manner in which my treatment was handled.
I awoke in the emergency room to a bunch of doctors running
around, asking me if I knew where I was. My head was killing
me and I couldn't remember anything before I left work earlier
in the day. As I laid there for a while, as much as possible
came back to me. I still had no explanation for the loss of
consciousness, but I felt only like I had a hangover now.
Nothing I haven't dealt with before.
But they wouldn't let me leave. As if to justify their existence,
the hospital kept me there in order to run a bunch of tests
on me, hoping to find some obvious internal flaw. But surprise,
they couldn't find anything. Now if I had no insurance, would
they have been so quick to try out everything but the kitchen
sink on me? I hope they would have given me the option to
bail before they started racking up the major charges. And
yes, I know, I know, it's for my own damn good ... better
safe than sorry. It's hard to think of that when I was so
darned healthy compared to most of the other people in my
wing of the hospital. Their steadfast refusal to listen to
my "Caffeine & Jelly Beans" theory only further
proves that they were not really so much interested in curing
me as trying out a lot of fun and scary equipment on me.
you people ever had an MRI before? It's scary! But once you
get over the notion that you are basically a human torpedo
loaded into a beige cannon that makes loud buzzing sounds
that, after a while, start to sound like "Tainted Love"
over and over again.
Ultimately, the good news is my brain, believe it or not,
appears to be free of defect whatsoever. Plus it makes its
Posted By Jimmy Legs
March 23, 2006 at 11:46:51 (EST)
Mountain of a man is he
The last few days have been among the strangest of my life,
yet in retrospect nothing much happened. Monday afternoon
I left work to go up to B&H Video to pick up a pair of
studio monitor speakers. I recall exiting the subway and getting
to the corner of 34th Street and 9th Ave. Then the next thing
I remember is coming to on an Emergency Room gurney, my head
pounding and a bunch of people trying to get me to answer
questions to which I did not know the answer.
I couldn't tell them what day it was, or how I had arrived
at the E/R. I knew who I was, and that aside from my aching
head, I felt all right. So I didn't panic or anything. But
it certainly was a wonder! Thus began my tenure at St. Vincent's
Midtown Hospital, where I stayed from Monday afternoon until
Wednesday afternoon.It was an experience somewhere between
summer camp and a stint in the County Jail.
Sadly, I don't have enough time to go through all the boring
details but suffice it to say that they couldn't figure out
why I had passed out (some say seized) on the street and did
not wake up again for several hours. They kept me prisoner
there while they ran various expensive tests on my noggin.
All the tests revealed nothing (zing!), which I found both
comforting and distressing. If there was no cause for my ailment,
how could it be controlled or cured?
Maybe I'm getting epileptic in my old age, or maybe I was
touched with a cattle prod, or maybe it was a result of my
diet: that day I had only Flavia coffee and Jelly Bellys to
eat (I had a lot of both). Rushing for the subway caused my
body to freak out and shut itself down involuntarily. At least
it had the foresight to knock me out before I was walking
the streets with a pair of expensive monitor speakers on my
When I'm caught up with my work, I'll share more boring adventures
of spending time in one of this country's premier health facilities.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
20, 2006 at 11:45:41 (EST)
First thing you learn is you always
Just when I've been feeling that the
neighborhood has been getting too gentrified, something happens
to remind perhaps things aren't really that sterile after
all. We visited the Alibi
for the first time in a long while on Saturday. We avoided
it on Friday, fearing the drunken crowds of the wannabe-Irish.
But Saturday we had been at an oddly abbreviated show at Tommy's
Tavern so we stopped over at the Alibi on our way home.
Things were going swimmingly, although the place seemed especially
well-lit, but maybe that's because we've been hiding out at
which may or may not have electric lights at all.
Anyway, there's this thug doofus, apparently named James,
who hangs out in front of the bar trying to sell coke. He
was banned years ago form actually coming into the bar, but
they can't do anything to keep him away from the sidewalk.
It seems like he's hanging around trying to sell drugs to
the Pratt kids, but Kevin2 pointed out that they're too scared
of the guy to buy anything off him. this is probably true,
and few of the Alibi regulars seem like the type to cop from
a guy like this, who seems as likely to kick you in the face
as sell you an eight ball.
why does he hang around? It's like he's so angered by the
fact that he was banned from entering the bar, every time
he's nearby, he has to try to enter and make a fuss. One of
the last times we were at the Alibi, he showed up and got
into it with one of the barbacks. They got him out on the
street before much violence ensued, whereupon some drunk college
girl tried to give the thug a hug, to which he replied "No
hugs! No hugs!" so as to maintain his ferocity in yelling
at anyone and everyone about how we'd all better respect him,
etc. That night he eventually left without incident.
Saturday, however, was a different story. He showed up outside
and after rapping a while to Ralph (who remained unimpressed),
tried to give me a spiel about the quality of his merchandise.
I wanted to decline, but the guy never stops talking so, I
had to just sort of lean away and head back into the bar.
Next thing you know, James is inside the bar proper. Now,
of course, he can't just try to slip in and head to the back
and keep a low profile. He's immediately yelling at the barback
guy and making a big show of entering the bar. So of course,
they try to get him to leave, and he just goes apeshit. He
and the barback (anybody know his name? tall guy with long
dreads) start fighting, punches are thrown, bodies are slammed.
The beefier bar patrons (not all of whom were male) rush to
the scene to try to lend a hand. After a minute or two of
wrangling, the barback gets him to the door and outside again.
Normally, once he's thrown out again he yells a bit and then
leaves. But this time he's angrier than usual, possibly because
of his assumed lost face from getting beaten by a bunch of
people in the bar. So he's yelling and banging on the door,
I have no idea what he's hollering, but he's super pissed.
He keeps banging on the (now locked) door, storming off, then
coming back to bang on the door and yell some more. Oh, I
should point out that a police car rolled by right when the
guy was first tossed out on the street, but they apparently
didn't notice a crazed man pounding the wall as a group of
stunned bar goers stared out at him.The barback guy gets on
his cell phone to retrieve the cops, as James continues his
tirade. He punches the glass in the door, cracking it (again),
but not breaking it. Some whiny drunk starts shouting, "Somebody
call the cops!" which really pisses bartender Tommy off,
since the cops were obviously already being called. So he's
yelling at the drunks, James is pounding and stalking in front
of the bar, people are trying to figure out how to sneak out
the backyard, and no cops are arriving. James, after walking
off for a second, comes back and slams the front window of
the bar, which consists of 2 big plexiglass panels. The panels
crack and fly out of their frame, debris goes everywhere,
neon beer signs fall all askew. Lucky it wasn't regular glass
(although those may have been sturdier), as people were still
sitting in the window area. They rapidly retreat. James is
sticking his head through the hole in the window, shouting
something about how he was assaulted and how everybody in
the bar was going to jail because we were party to his assault.
He ran off for the last time. Mind you, from the moment that
the cop car had rolled by unawares, it must have been at least
5 minutes, and still no police. People are shaken up, and
everybody's trying to decide if it's safe to leave the bar.
We decide to stay inside, but others thought it better to
leave the scene. This one guy, big and tough on the outside,
was clearly spooked and was trying to get his girlfriend to
leave. He keeps saying,"Let's GET OUT of here!"
still trying to sound tough, but not really convincing anyone.
In retrospect, he had a point. We were all lucky James spent
his drug money on bling and not guns or the story might not
have peaked with the smashing of the window. The people anxious
to leave may have rightly felt that he'd be back with firearms,
but he didn't turn up again that night.
Cops eventually showed up, long after they could have done
any good. I guess they could pick him up at a later time,
it's like like he's unknown to local law enforcement. According
to Tommy, the guy's already been in and out of jail a few
times, and was convicted for rape among his other crimes.
So he's not exactly garnering anybody's sympathy. The funny
thing is that as a punchline for the evening, this older,
really drunk guy started talking to us. He didn't really seem
to be aware that a fight had happened (he did say he dove
under a table, but I'm not sure why). He was stumbling and
falling all over, asking us if we wanted to go back to his
place and 'party.' He said he was impressed that I could get
myself a 'lover' (as he put it) even though I'm 'bald' (at
48, he was clearly proud of his full head). Sweet talk was
not his strong suit. He tried a few more awkward advances
before calling it a night, as did we. But we opted out of
the party back at his place (which is in the same building
where those two women were murdered
recently), and went home where it was marginally safer. Bring
on the yuppies.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
17, 2006 at 16:28:49 (EST)
So where were the spiders while the
fly tried to break our balls
show last night, although I must say, I'm disappointed in
you people! Our turnout consisted of maybe 3 people
we knew, and one
of 'em was pals with the other band so he sort of had
to show up. Then again, it's possible that a lot of the people
we know personally don't particularly care for our music.
I can live with that. In fact, there are times I wonder if
anybody but us likes our music at all. But then we play shows
Disco and last night's show and the strangers in attendance
seem to like what they hear. So the trick is, how to get the
folks that like the music to find out about the band and then
show up for these gigs.
guess lots of bands have this problem; it doesn't help that
the 169 Bar no longer has a web site nor do they do any kind
of promotion whatsoever (outside of DJ
Mojo's footwork). This town is still a little too big
for bands to made any headway in joints like this. Our only
savior: the other bands. Last night, folks from the other
bands stuck it out through our set, and even got adequately
jiggy with it. We met a lot of cool folks from said bands,
so it's in no way a total loss.
whole night was really friendly and fun. Buzz met his doppleganger
in the form of Phil from The
Batterie. They're both drummer and bear more than passing
similarity to each other (plus he's from Youngstown). Of course,
Buzz still has yet to meet the guitarist from Big
Bear, who looks like he shares a gene or two with him.
all three will get together and form a supergroup of tall
swarthy guys. A friend of his band (didn't get the stranger's
name) brought his funny dog who enjoys dressing up like David
Bowie. Then the guy was suddenly making balloon hats for the
kids (Zack). Buzz got to use his new drum set at a live show
for the first time; in fact, all the bands used his kit, which
gave us an opportunity to hear it 3rd party-style. It kicks
ass. And I got to use my new Mesa/Boogie Mark III. That thing
is so loud, but what was even louder was the SWR bass rig
Zack borrowed from The Batterie. Those things are damn good
the bands (Telenovela
Mistress, the aforementioned Batterie)
kicked ass, the vibe was all very laid-back: no door-guys
bitching at us for not bringing in more people, no soundguys
constantly telling us to turn down just because his ears are
bleeding, people who were into the music. Odd this is such
a rare thing. The only downside was that bottled beer is 6
dollars. at least Stella Artois was. That is no good, and
probably explains why more people don't hang out there. The
whiskey was also 6 dollars, which sadly, is pretty standard
for that area. But suddenly, Jamesons is the best deal in
the house. Since I was gonna drink that anyhow, I got a good
deal out of it.
next gig is at Sputnik,
our first show at this newish club in our own neighborhood.
The place is like 3 blocks from the house, I can't believe
it took us so long to book a show there. And we didn't even
book it, a band from out of town asked us to sign on. So if
you live in Clinton Hill or have access to a G train, you
could do worse than spend your evening with us. What else
you go to do on a Tuesday night? Yeah, Tuesday. I know, I
All the big pics are on Flickr.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
17, 2006 at 10:30:21 (EST)
Let's face it pal, you didn't need
that eye surgery
know, I had been thinking of passing a lovely evening at The
Alibi, a watering-hole to which I have not been in some
time (I know it's not the same, but Sputnik
is way closer to my house). Then it dawned on me that today
is St. Patrick's Day. Now, there's nothing wrong with this
holiday in of itself; I've spent many St Pattys Days in the
Alibi, as well as many other bars of course. But for the first
time since I've lived here that it falls on a Friday. To the
novice reveler that means no consequences. They won't have
to get up to go to work tomorrow, so they're gonna go hog
wild tonight. It'll be Amateur Hour all over the city, as
the same annoying crowd that descends on otherwise tolerable
neighborhoods will be out in force. But they'll also be puking
green beer on the sidewalks, screaming at each other, and
(if we're lucky) beating the shit out of each other (and not
of course, I can't stay in either, right? I was thinking of
going to Cake
Shop to see Archaeopteryx
and some band with the amusing name Hand-Fed
Babies (that's an exotic bird reference right?), but I
just saw Archaeopteryx on Tuesday and I've maybe had enough
for a while. So perhaps Sputnik will be safe tonight, if any
place is safe tonight. I'd love to visit the Alibi, but even
though it's not technically an Irish Pub, its staff is nearly
all Irish or Irish-American, so people are bound to flock
there and Get Their Irritating On.
will be another story altogether. Whereas tonight, there seems
to be a dearth of good shows, tomorrow there's like 3 shows
I wanna see. USAUSAMONSTER
is playing Tommy's,
and I'd love to see them even though I just saw them last
week. Their new music is amazing, but the crowd at the last
show sucked big balls. It was really only 3 or 4 MegaDoofuses
who were 'moshing' (or more precisely, flailing around and
falling on people left and right). Ever since slam dancing
was invented, people have been getting worse and worse at
it. Maybe these guys thought they were rousing the crowd,
but what they were really doing was trying to make themselves
the Show. Let's face it pal, you can't really mosh to USAISAMONSTER,
the music is too start/stop to do it right. And then they
kept picking each other up and trying to crowd-surf, which
was totally not happening. So innocent bystanders kept getting
feet jammed into their faces. Eventually one of the doofuses
was dropped on his face (people said they heard his nose crack).
He tried to keep dancing around, holding his nose gingerly.
Then he left for a while (his friends seemed oddly unconcerned
at his injury). Then he was back with a plastic bag full of
ice on his face. I couldn't believe that breaking his nose
wasn't enough to put him out of commission. He went right
back to being a total dick; he poked a hole in the bag and
swung it around, spraying ice cubes all over the floor. I
gotta hand it to him, he was a Dedicated Dick.
So to make a long story short, I think I'd like to check
out the band again without that element (actually that's the
same element I want to avoid tonight as well). Meanwhile,
Fucked is playing over the Glasshouse
Gallery. I really want to see these guys while they're
still sort of under people's radar (it's only a matter of
time). But Orthrelm
are playing at Tonic
as well. I've never seen these bands but Orthrelm is putting
out a record with Behold
... the Arctopus and everybody keeps saying Growing is
a good band. So I dunno. I have 24 hours to decide.
UPDATE: Orthrelm had to cancel
the rest of their tour due to RSI injury! Wow. Folks, remember
to stretch before rocking out! Well, that winnows things down
Posted By Jimmy Legs
14, 2006 at 14:57:40 (EST)
Manhattan keep on makin it, Brooklyn
keep on takin it
Ah, I've just received my name
plate for my cubicle. Sadly, they neglected to order a thing
to actually hold the name plate in place so it's sitting on
my desk now, which is of limited use to those who do not know
my name. I keep thinking I should dress up my cubicle somehow,
but what would I put up? Photos of my cats? A ficus? A mug
with a humorous slogan like "Is it Friday yet?"
I kinda thought it would just sort of happen after a while,
I would accumulate some kind of homey design in here. But
in my first office incarnation at 7 WTC, in over a year of
working there, I never put in any personal touches. And then
the building got knocked down (or was it controlled
demolition?). So now I'm glad I didn't have any objects
of potential sentimental value there. But what are the odds
that my current building will be destroyed? I can surely take
the chance, no?
this weekend my friends through me a surprise "Going
Back into the Office" party. I guess. I was rather mystified
by both the occasion and the execution of said party, but
a good time was had by all. I guess things hit a snag when
Jeannie and I got back from seeing Block
Party (sweet!) too early, where we found Buzz, Zack
and Janice sitting around wearing businesswear while trying
to deflect my attention from the table full of food. I must
say, their powers of improv perhaps leave something to be
desired, but eventually they let me in on the secret. What
a bunch of goofballs! Super props go to the Abbster
for once again slaving away on a whole mess of chow (which
I'm pretty sure she also did for Kevin's party the night before).
I'm telling ya, could a professional catering business be
that much more work? Hmmm, is the storefront on Myrtle still
available? You know, the one that used to be Sprinkles? As
has been the case of late, I totally forgot to take any pictures,
but perhaps this old photo of an artist's rendition of zack
in a cornflower blue shirt will suffice.
It had already been a busy day for yours truly. I got up
'early' and oiled up the folding bike to run up to the bank,
where I withdrew the maximum amount. Then I waited for approximately
50 hours at Bergen
Bagels in a line so long that it doubled over itself and
still spilled out the door onto the street. Am I the only
person who buys bagels by the dozen? Everybody else was just
getting complicated single bagel orders, which didn't seem
worth the wait. Then I had to go to a bodega ATM to withdraw
even more money.
Why was I taking cash out all over town? Cuz I was about
to blow a wad on yet another device that would speed me into
total deafness: a new amp. some guy on Craigslist was selling
Mark III, a device I had long been wanted to acquire.
He was selling it more cheaply than nearly any other listing
I had found, and since it's tax refund season I figured why
not. This thing is super heavy, I think it's heavier than
amp, even though it seems to be like half the size. I'm
having to spend a lot of time figuring it out since it has
a million knobs on it, but I think I have it down enough to
use it live.
If you'd like to see the amp in action, Motico
is playing this Thursday at the 169
Bar. Most of you missed the last 169 Bar show due to the
transit strike (and thanks to the folks that did make it),
so now's your chance to see us at what is perhaps the most
subway-friendly bar we might ever play at. The East Broadway
F train station is like right outside the door of this bar,
it's so easy to get to this place, it's almost criminal.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
07, 2006 at 16:01:50 (EST)
Whatever people say I am, that's what
My home away from home
I'm almost positive I've mentioned this before, but now that
I'm going into an office every day, these mundane things ring
with all the irritation of nails on a blackboard.
- Why is it that no matter what time I leave for work, I
get here at the exact time? I have varied my commute by
as much as 25 minutes, yet somehow I have been getting here
at nearly the same minute every day. Is there then any point
in EVER trying to go in early to work?
- I hope to christ they implement that PayPass metrocard
system, because after all these years, a majority of subway
riders are still mystified by the card format. People, you
don't have to wait for the guy in front of you to get all
the way through the turnstile and his merry way BEFORE you
ever-so-gingerly swipe your own metrocard. I guess people
think if they swipe too soon or something their fare will
get tacked onto the person in front of them, getting lost
forever. Ugh, even typing that is making me lose IQ points.
- I have to take this rudimentary overpass to cross West
Street to get to my building. there is an escalator at each
end. I despise the people who 'ride' the escalators (I know,
I've totally bitched about this before). And I know, I'm
sure the day the escalator was invented people immediately
started riding it instead of using it to enhance walking
up the stairs. But because I am invariably running a little
late (see #1) I just want to get my ass into the office
in the mornings. On my way out, I just want to get the hell
away from this place. therefore, I practically sprint up
the escalators. The 'standees' represent everything that
is evil in this world. Their only saving grace is most of
them know how to stand on the right side of the steps, so
people can walk on the left.
Yeah, this stuff isn't exactly groundbreaking in the world
of office observation, but I still have to get this out of
my system. Eventually, my spirit will be totally crushed and
you'll see me glumly riding the escalator and fearfully pausing
at the subway turnstile. I'm gonna be just like you!
Posted By Jimmy Legs
March 02, 2006 at 13:42:46 (EST)
well, this sucks
i'm now taking suggestions of methods to circumvent my company's
firewall so i can edit my site directly to avoid problems like
the one below. should i setup Remote Desktop or is there something
more nefarious I can work up?
Posted By Jimmy Legs
March 02, 2006 at 13:15:11 (EST)
Stuck in the middle with Dü
Should we call our album "Erdnussbutterschlampe?"
I'm not even sure how to pronounce it. I just made it up from
a couple of German words in a comic from the new issue of NY
Press (don't forget to vote JoshB
Loathsome New Yorker!)
The German language apparently encourages its speakers to
create compound words at will, so there will probably never
be a definitive "Longest Word in German," but the
front contender is:
(81 characters, though spelling varies) which means "the
club for subordinate officials of the head office management
of the Danube steamboat electrical services (name of a pre-war
club in Vienna)." What I didn't know was that other
languages also have extremely long compounds, such as Sweden's
(130 characters) meaning "preparatory work on the
contribution to the discussion on the maintaining system of
support of the material of the aviation survey simulator device
within the north-east part of the coast artillery of the Baltic."
But I think my favorite long word is this Finnish term:
It's only 43 characters, but it means "even with
its quality of not being possible to be made irrational,"
which as far as I'm concerned pretty much sums up our album's
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Does anybody like Erdnussbutterschlampe?
It means "Peanut Butter Slut."
Posted By Jimmy Legs
March 01, 2006 at 16:20:31 (EST)
your number, don't wait by the phone
Until I can
come up with some highly illegal method of circumventing my
companies annoying web proxies, I cannot update my band's
web site, not can I do much in the way of management of this
site. Not that it matters, but now that I can't do
it ... I want to do it, really bad. Ah, that predictable
human condition. See how universal the blogworld experience
is? And not just because 95% of you are sitting in similarly
beige cubicles, getting fidgety from too much free coffee
and too little intellectual stimulation.
Web limitations notwithstanding, I am slowly adapting to
this Boring New World. It's probably my vestigial fight-or-flight
response, but I haven't had any trouble getting up hours earlier
than I have in years. However, going to sleep is still problematic,
as my thoughts are wont to drift to obsessive thoughts about
what shoe will drop tomorrow at the office, what fresh horror
awaits me. And what's worse, I can't get the cat hair off
any of my clothes. I look like an extra in that Nepalese bar
scene in Raiders.
Anyway, I did have time to throw together this half-assed
flyer for our FREE show next Wednesday. Yes, Motico
is back and returning to the very
stage that was the site of my spiritual de-pantsing way
back in September. Will I make a fool of myself again? Only
one way to find out!
Posted By Jimmy Legs