News You Can't Use

While none of you may give a crap, I am delighted to hear that Porcupine Tree's new album is due in January. I've been into them since 1998 or so meaning that I've been a fan before they signed to a major label. While this means absolutely nothing, it makes me feel good as I'm surrounded by people in this town who pride themselves on enjoying music that virtually no one else listens to and brag about how they listened to so-and-so before they made it big. It's sometimes frustrating to listen to WORT because there are those DJs who think that anything on an indie label must be good. While I grant you that there is something inherently neat and democratic about a few people picking up instruments and just playing, this does not equate to worthwhile music. Well, to each her own.

While I'm on the subject of music, I'm elated because I snagged a really pukka Pavement show. It was one of those rare moments when I stumble upon a show I'm really keen on adding to my collection and connect to some übergeek whose has a T1 line at his house. My download speed was around 60kb/sec. I say "his" in this case not to be sexist but realizing that most people with T1 lines running into their homes have penises. Currently a New Orleans Klezmer All-Stars show as well as a Richard Thompson gig from 1996 are downloading. The RT recording is audience-sourced but shows from the You? Me? Us? tour are rare in the places I frequent. I want to be able to crank up some wailing geetar on "Bank Vault in Heaven".

I spent some lucre online today buying t-shirts. It's the worst in me come to the fore. While I'm generally pretty reserved, I do have this attention-loving part inside. I figure, rather than streaking down the avenue, I'd just wear an attention-grabbing t-shirt. If the cover of In the Court of the Crimson King doesn't do the trick, I dunno what will.

I'm supposed to do something tomorrow night but don't know what. Shit, I'll figure it out tomorrow. Wednesday Pete and I are to go to the sinny and see that Sky Captain and blah blah. I'm sure it's quite generic but the novelty aspect of it intrigues me. Sunday I am to be a representative, along with Jimmy Downtown, for Toad Hill at some java thingy that benefits a rape crisis center or another equally worthy cause. I don't mean to sound so blase about the whole affair but I saw something today that irritated me. It was a fund raiser for an organization that did research for cures to diseases of the female body. I'm probably fucking up the group's purpose completely but it gets my point across. Exactly how many groups do we need to look for a cure to cancer? Don't get me wrong, I'm no belittling the search for a cure - my father, stepmother, and aunt all had cancer. But how productive is it to have a separate group researching a cure for cancer of each bit of the body? Do these folks share info? There's a bunch of folks wanting my money to find a cure for breast cancer. Another for ovarian cancer. Prostate cancer, kidney cancer, finger cancer, eyelid cancer - ad infinitum. Cancer doesn't discriminate by gender - why should the folks looking to defeat it? They're all good causes so how the fuck is someone supposed to figure out which one to give money to? Why can't they pool their resources and come up with a few groups? Maybe I'm just too cynical.

Anyway, I'll be able to feed my caffeine addiction and hit on some frauleins. Or would that be in poor taste? I'm not gonna force myself on a womyn but, if there's a nice piece of ass from Ground Zero there, I'm certainly gonna wanna trade notes on the best beans.

There's a new fraulein at TH - Sonya or Sonia or something and she's got some nice ink. I dunno what it is but the older I get, the more I dig illustrated chickies. She seems like a nice lass and puts up with me when I'm there so she's got that going for her. There's a new hottie up at SG with a country ton of ink on her skin. Not only does she have an ass so fine it'd make your eyes water, but her right cheek has this viney illustration on it. I hate to come off as some misogynist here by talking about womyn as objects of my desire but I can't help it. It feels like May as I'm frisky nearly all the time. I almost rear-ended a couple cars last week because I was checking out some chick's ass. There was one gal in particular that caught my and Marv's attention as we were driving to the hospital to see Mel. When she walked, she shook like a willow tree - she had this skirt on sans underwear. This issue is on my mind because The Dulcinea mentioned the dreaded B word this weekend - "boyfriend". I dodged the issue in only the most highly unskilled way. Right now I don't want to be anybody's boyfriend. Except maybe Uma Thurman's. But that's besides the point. Right now I claim committed commitmentphobe status. This even surprises me a bit. I'm 32 and single. But I don't have any desire to settle down, get married, and have youngins. I thought this attitude would have taken a fatal blow after what happened to Mel. Having a loving and dedicated spouse in my gravest time of need sounds pretty goddamned neat to me. But I didn't budge. Not that it firmed up what I already felt either, mind you. I was not inculcated with any fear of losing a wife and thusly retreating further from the idea of commitment. Hell, I saw that shit when my stepmom died a few years ago - nothing new to me.

There was something else I wanted to address with my stultiloquence but cannot recall what the hell it is. Maybe it had to do with the impending election as various politicos were in town last week. But maybe not.