Into Something Rich and Slightly Strange

I don't know about y'all, but I had a fantastic weekend. The first notable event came at roughly 5 o'clock on Friday evening when my workday ended. Hopping into my car, I hastily turned on WORT to catch the end of the Hootenanny. Dave Zero plas "Yeah Yeah" by The Revillos before abandoning the mic over to news. It's a good way to rock myself out of the parking ramp and on down Willy Street. A quick gyros at home and I was off to grab Christopher. I got a chance to meet Amber, his roommate, and her noisy bird. I'd thought that I'd met her previously at Mickey's where she tends bar, but I was wrong. Soon enough, we were out the door and on our way to Stoughton. It was a pleasant evening and a nice drive down. We found a spot on the main drag and headed over to the Opera House. Although Chris had been there before, I hadn't. I was in for a real treat. The place looks absotlutely gorgeous. Small and cozy, it has this almost antebellum look to it. We found our seats (front row center!) and began contemplating a reenactment of Lincoln's assassination with Pete starring as John Wilkes Booth. He'd have a wad of Copenhagen in his mouth and his ass crack would be hanging out as is his wont.

How Tempest got booked at the Stoughton Opera House is a bit beyond me. As other folks came in, it became apparent that we were very much on the young side of the crowd. A bunch of old farts filled in some seats on the sides. I presume that they just go down to the Opera House every Friday to take in whatever is there. After conceptualizing our assassination, I tried to convince Chris to join me in yelling out song titles. I figured we'd start off with "Nine Points of Roguery" and then work our way up to "Barrow Man". I wasn't too successful. Then, oddly enough, the show started only slightly later than advertised.

The band walked on stage and I took in the faces new & old. First the stalwarts. Leif Sorbye, founder and frontman, plugged in his double-neck electric mandolin as Adolfo Lazo took his seat behind the drum kit. Michael Mullen, clad in a stylish black Utilikilt unpacked his electric fiddle and checked out his array of effects pedals. There were also two new folks. Firstly, Ronan Carroll on electric guitar. Secondly and more eye-catching was Ariane Cap on bass. She wore a tight pants and an even tighter shirt. They greeted the audience and then went into "Nine Points of Roguery". (Well, I guess I could just skip to "Barrow Man" in my shouting.) It was a spirited performance but we could tell they were just warming up. After another song or two, things really got crazy. Mullen started running around like a chicken with its head cut off during his fiddle solos. Leif began jumping around. Curiously enough, Carroll, the guitarist, barely moved. Normally it's the bassist that stays in one place looking all bored and stoic while the guitar player scoots around with a contorted face. Everyone knows that bassists are supposed to be that way. John Entwhistle and Bill Wyman - they never moved and set the tone for bassists around the world in popular music. But it was Ariane that had that role. She jumped around and wandered to the front of the stage all the while holding down a groove. It didn't take long for Chris and I to notice that she was freeballin'. And that, as Martha Stewart would say, is a good thing.

The show had 2 sets with a brief intermission and went something like this:

Nine Points of Roguery
Jenny Nettles
Ye Jacobites By Name
Catalina Island
Old Man at the Mill
Coalminers
Tamosher
Green Grow the Rashes
The Karfluki Set
Top of the Hill
Bonden Og Kraka (The Farmer and the Crow)
ENCORE:
Masters of War
Dance of the Sand Witches

I have to say that this was one of best shows I've ever been to. It was just fun. There was only one point when the show approached seriousness and that was the first encore of "Masters of war". Otherwise, it was just a lot of good grooves and crazy jiggin' and reelin'. The last time I saw them was in 1996 at The Chamber (which is now the Opus Lounge or something equally yuppie-infested). The stage there was not particularly large but now they had room to roam and they took advantage of it. Mullen hopped and danced in circles around the stage, nearly running over everyone at least a few times. The energy was infectious. It's too bad I was basically stuck in my seat surrounded to sides by people and the foot of the stage in front of me because I really felt like wiggling my bum. In the middle of the first set (just after "Catalina Island", methinks) they performed a couple new songs. One of them was this incredible medley that began with a tune whose beat that was vaguely funky. Then it went into this bit that had the greener roots of Celtic folk. And then another one and another one. The whole bit lasted about 10 minutes. It was just awesome! Fantastic! All those adjectives that Deadheads use for their favorite performance of "Scarlet-->Fire"! When it was done, I got up and gave them a standing ovation because it just rawked!!

During the intermission, the old foggies bailed as it was obviously too loud and too electric for their hearing aids. We ended up oggling a womyn with large breasts on the balcony before starting a conversation with the couple who were sitting directly behind us. They were middle aged but were very impressed by them. The gentleman really remarked on how talented the guitar player was. His comment got me to pay more attention to him during the second set. He didn't move a lot and didn't have nice breasts like Ariane so I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to him. But once I started actively listening to him, I too became very impressed. It really impressed me how his guitar added muscle to the songs without ever being overbearing. There were only two or three instances the whole night in which a person walking in off the street not knowing anything about the band would think that he or she was listening to a hard rock/heavy metal band. His playing was tasteful, kinda sorta restrained yet it really had balls.

The second half was fantastic as well. They played the only song of the night that I knew, "Bonden Og Kraka (The Farmer and the Crow)". I also noticed that the womyn behind us with whom we had spoken was getting fired up as I could hear her clapping. In addition, I could feel the floor shaking from people stomping their feet. At one point, Mullen did his whirling dervish imitation and began spinning in cirlces as he played. His kilt began to creep upwards and the audience collectively held its breath. He stopped and ran off to the other end of the stage just before we could find out if he too were freeballin'. Towards the end, Sorbye had everyone get up so I started shaking my ass. Another 10 or 15 minutes medley of dances closed the set and everyone was into it. Ariane came out front which gave us a chance to see her erect nipple up close and personal while the rest of the band went out into the audience to do some grandstanding. They got a rousing cheer as they left the stage.

The first encore was just Leif on his electric mandolin doing "Masters of War". It was the only moment of the night that approached seriousness but it seemed appropriate as Bobby Z took the melody from an old song called "Nottamun Town". They finished the night off with "Dance of the Sand Witches". Again, everyone was standing and I was doing my best not to hip check Chris or the womyn standing next me while still shaking my ass.

After the band left the stage for the final time, I grabbed a copy of the set list from one of the monitors and we headed to the merchandise room. There, I bought a bumper sticker, t-shirt, and a copy of their most recent studio album, shapeshifter. I also chatted with Leif for a bit before getting his autograph. Then I met Michael and ended up having a lengthy conversation with him. He was very friendly and talkative. We chatted about the set, the life of the muso, Caliban, and various tunes from the set. Soon enough, the fun was over and it was back to Madtown.

On the way home I asked Chris what he'd thought of the show and I was relieved that he'd enjoyed it. In retrospect, how could he not have? I really must see Tempest again soon. Once every 9 years just doesn't cut it. Ideally, it would be outside too or just somewhere that I can stand and boogie.

It'll Be Dawn Soon

Now I know that a joint here in Point has been nominated for America's Best Restroom. Dumb Donald is unsober as he's been drinking Gluek Honey Bock all night and morning. He even came up with a new motto: "The Gluek you take is the love you make."

And let's not forget that the student TV station came to our room to do a little profile of us. We were forced to hide various and sundry substances lest they end up on tape and thusly on television. Kias wore his Moroccan Mole fez while Zeke told the guy that he removed genital warts for a living. For my part, I described all the wonderful flavors of pr0n that I view on the Net. So, in about 4 hours, all of Portage County can see us in all of our glory.

Scalp Tingling

Well, I think the truck driver pills are kicking in as my scalp is tingling. Around 5 tomorrow morning, the trivia folks are coming to interview us and they're bringing a video camera. For now, we'll watch the little hotties on TV manning the trivia central phones.

The Night Continues

I just took a few truck driver pills and now have coffee brewing...

Trivial

What a sad question. What is the favorite vegetable of most 15 month olds? The French fry. We're not kicking ass but I think we're still in the top half. The Brewers are getting their asses stomped by the Cubs. At least the beef jerky is nice and spicy.

...

Now they're expecting us to be eyeing up 16 year olds' butts. Stupid reality TV shows. "In Endurance 3, when they're building boats, what one word is on Nicole's shorts?" Ugh.

Refelctions of a Lousy Boyfriend

Whas up wit dat?! This is bullshit, I tell you! Porcupine Tree announced some West Coast tour dates yesterday. Not only that, but they also announced that Bob Fripp will be the opening act for a trio of those dates. While I'm not the biggest fan of Frippertronics on God's green earth, his appearance could lead to joining PT for a song or 2. I mean, he could set off a loop and then crank up his Gibson Les Paul for "Deadwing" or "Strip the Soul". I thought about this yesterday: I'd really love to hear "4 Chords That Made a Million". It's got a catchy geetar and that funky drum loop. It won't happen, but a dork can dream, can't he?

Tonight Christopher and I are going to see Tempest. We've got front row seats and I'm trying to save my voice so I can yell for "Nine Points of Roguery". I'm hoping that it'll be nice'n'loud cuz I want my ears to burst when Leif pulls out his double-neck electric mandolin and puts the hammer down on his fuzz pedal. I saw this morning that The Gourds will coming to town later this month - at the High Noon Saloon. That'll be cool. A buncha goddamn rednecks with their crazy folk-rock grooves. Plus I'd like to see Hanah Jon Taylor again. It's been a few years and I always got into the tunes with the oud or lyre or whatever the hell that thing is. Ooh! I see that Bill Maher will be in town come June. I'll have to grab me a ticket for that.

I went to see Sin City last night with The Dulcinea. The film was OK. While the cinematography and overall style was really cool, the characters and the story were mediocre. Kevin, as played by Elijah Wood, was the neatest of the bunch and he didn't have any dialogue. Most of the characters were just too familiar, too hackneyed. And the voiceover came across as a parody of Dashiell Hammett. I became suspicious when I saw that Quentin Tarentino was "Guest Director". What the fuck is that?! Then I saw Rutger Hauer's name in the credits. So maybe things would balance themselves. On top of Hauer, Powers Boothe's name also appeared. Unfortunately, they had supporting roles and precious little screen time. As I told The Dulcinea, the mise-en-scene was fascinating. But the story was boring and the characters didn't interest me. Oh, the sound was good, though. At first, I thought I was onto something. Some motif about the macho men having medical conditions - but it never went anywhere. I wouldn't be surprised if this and other details were more developed in the graphic novels but, in the film, they just felt like dangling details. It was a highly stylized gore fest. Still, it had its fun bits and the one character has red Chuck Taylors like me!

Seeing The Dulcinea again was nice. I'd been rather randy most of the day so the first thing I noticed about her were her breasts. Hey, she was wearing a new shirt that was tight and she has a nice pair and, well, I just couldn't help myself. We chatted during the pre-show crap and she shared her Raspberry Sour Altoids with me during the flick. I must admit that there were moments in which I really wanted to kiss her. Sitting there in our seats, our lips just a few inches apart. Yeah, the thought crossed my mind but I never acted on it. After the movie had finished, we stood out in the parking lot doing this strange pas de duex with each of us wanting to say something more than we were, each of us wanting to touch the other. Somehow. Physically and, perhaps, otherwise. I guess that I was contented with having seen her and not getting kicked in the cajones. It was odd because, having rediscovered a blog of hers earlier in the day, I went to our rendezvous actually having a lot to say to her. Not to say to her, but rather a lot that I wanted to discuss with her.

Intensify the world
Revolutions from within
Take everything in stride
The storied ghost you share

Reading her litany of complaints, I found that I knew them all by heart. Most of her accusations were true and ones with which I was very familiar. They were the ones that caromed inside my cranium for most of March. As I told her, I'm a terrible boyfriend. When things look like they're going alright, I just set myself on cruise control. But relationships are more like gardens than cars. A relationship needs nurturing. You must water it and make sure it gets enough sunlight. And there's always weed pulling to be done. I'm just too much like a dog. I'm all loyal and playful until something to the side catches my attention and then I'm off straining at my leash. Having a girlfriend is a very scary proposition for me. It means that I assume a role of responsibility for a womyn's happiness and her general welfare. That is a position that I should not be allowed to enter. It's like I have this natural aversion to having things demanded of me. It knocks equilibrium off. What ends up happening is that I devote time & attention to repairing the relationship and let everything else in my life slip. So I jump to the other end of the spectrum and devote my energy to these things only to find the relationship decline again. So I focus on it and get caught in this viscious circle.

There's not point in rambling on about this or that is her fault, blah blah blah. Somewhere along the way, we got into this circle and we never got out of it. I guess what I'd like her to know is that our breakup had nothing to do with her meeting my family or with her divorce becoming finalized. Unlike her, I like the freedom of not being beholden to others' desires. And I really didn't want to deal with her depression. So it can perhaps be rephrased to say that I like the freedom of not being beholden to others' desires and needs. I'm selfish. Which meant that I also did not want to assume a stepfather-esque role with her kids. Nothing against them, mind you, I just don't want any. I don't want to be a father nor a stepfather. At first I thought that I could be a friend to them but then it got to the point where I really didn't want to do so. At some point it just seemed like I was facing this wall of things that would make me beholden to others' desires and needs: a potential paternal role, a girlfriend who was depressed - I just felt like running away. I wanted a girlfriend who was able to go out and have fun and instead I was with someone who was, in certain ways, constrained. And I didn't want those constraints. When I realized this situation, my ability (desire?) to just do the normal things that boyfriends do dissipated as well. Add to this poor communication on both sides and, well, you know what happened.

I know I made the right decision last night. The tension between us was fun. I didn't feel like anything was expected of me. I was able to enjoy talking with her. And, gawk at her body, of course.

A Little Chai With Your Viking Cello?

Let me begin this entry with a tasty recipe. This for chai and was given to me by my favorite (practicing) barista.

Boil 1½ cubes of chopped ginger in 5 cups of water for 15 minutes

Add:
6 cloves
5 peppercorns
½ stick of cinnamon
8 cardamom pods

Boil all for at least 15 minutes – 30 is best

Take off heat. Add 2 heaping tablespoons of black tea. Steep.

Add: Brown sugar to taste & a pinch of saffron

Strain & add milk or cream to taste

I’ve tried this out and the result is mighty tasty. Unfortunately, it makes only a serving or 2 so my next project is to kick it up a notch and make more. I’m thinking a nice big cauldron would do the trick. That way I can stand over it muttering to myself:

Round about the cauldron go
In the ginger cubes throw.
Berries of peppercorn and clove
From the co-op a buck thirty-one
Stick of cinnamon I’ve got
Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot
Fire burn and cauldron bubble!

Last night I attended a lecture by Jim Leary, a professor here at the UW, entitled "Lomax and Wisconsin". It was - how shall I say it? - really fucking cool! (I recorded it so, if I ever get into padcasting, perhaps I'll use it.) Lots of interesting and funny stories plus great music. Lomax only spent a day here in Cheeseland back in 1938 but spent a longer time in the UP. However, people from Wisconsin took the torch and did field recordings here. At one point, Lomax wrote his benefactors in Washington D.C. asking for more beer money. He went to various parties to record and barley pop quickly ate up his cash. Leary recounted growing up in Rice Lake (in northwestern Wisconsin) and all the various folks there playing there own music. He went on to describe an imaginary trek of Lomax's and what he would encounter. Chippewa Indians playing the fiddle, Norwegians with Viking cellos, and blue-faced drunken Finns singing songs trying to persuade lumberjacks to join the IWW. Probably the most contentious thing he said was that, if Lomax had recorded more in the Upper Midwest, then the hegemony of the South as American folk culture would never have been attained. I see where he's coming from but I still think the tendency to equate Southern folk culture with that of America as a whole is due in large part to rock'n'roll. Rock'n'roll would still have happened as it did in the 1950s even if Lomax had recorded extensively up here. Elvis Presley would still have had "Blue Moon of Kentucky" and "That's Alright Mama" on his first single. A bluegrass and a blues song. Southern musical styles. Would the 60s folk revival have been different had Lomax recorded more folk music up here? Possibly. Still, lots of folk/blues tunes that entered rock music were not recorded by Lomax. Take that Harry Smith compilation. Would the Chess Records phenomenon not have happened? I doubt it. I think the ascendance of Southern folk culture to great popularity has to do with popular music and rock'n'roll was destined to be a confluence of Southern cultures.

PT Setlist Ramblings

The news is in! Setlist for the first Porcupine Tree gig this year:

Deadwing
Sound Of Muzak
Lazarus
Halo
A Smart Kid
Hatesong
Shallow
Arriving Somewhere But Not Here
Fadeaway
Burning Sky
Glass Arm Shattering
Blackest Eyes
The Start Of Something Beautiful
Even Less

Encore:
Shesmovedon
Trains

Hopefully "A Smart Kid" will stay in the set. It's interesting that they're doing "Fadeaway-->Burning Sky". That should be neat as they didn't doing anything from Up the Downstair when I saw them previously. "Deadwing" was kind of a given as opener. "Hatesong" was fucking awesome at that gig, though. Who knows. This is from a UK show and I'm sure the setlist for US gigs will change at least a bit. Looking at another setlist, I see that "A Smart Kid" was dropped while "Glass Arm Shattering" was replaced by "Mellotron Scratch". Plus "Futile" and "Strip the Soul" appeared on the list itself but weren't played. Wait! "A Smart Kid" came back the next night! Plenty of time for "The Creator Has a Mastertape" to make in back into the set. Or "Gravity Eyelids". That was really fucking cool too with the psychedelic lights/projections and the roar of the Mellotron. OK, I need something to eat. Tomorrow, ramblings about work and the Lomax lecture.

Fanny Lashings and Divers Commentary

Today was the busiest day I've had at work since I started there in October. I was sitting at my desk being all innocent and closing a case when I overheard my name. Oh fuck - now what? I am called over to Scott's desk where Ed informs me that I'm being put in charge of the 10 new guys starting later in the morning. Can you believe that crap?

*Private Hudson voice*
Why don't you put him in charge?!

Upon meeting them, I introduced myself and warned them that I was going to do my best Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from Full Metal Jacket and proceeded to yell, "You are all equally worthless in my eyes!" Yeah, I had a pretty good caffeine buzz going by then. And so my day consisted of a lot of running around asking if user IDs had been setup and being told they had not and helping the new guys setup their PCs. While not a wholly bad experience, it reinforced my desire to stay the fuck out of management. It must be a family thing. My dad was promoted to manager for a short while until he told a customer the truth one day. Back to being a Field Engineer, which, oddly enough, is my current title.

If anyone cares to watch some Jethro Tull concert footage from 1996 (including "Rare and Precious Chain!!), head over to Laufi's site. While I'm on music, I have to admit that I'm back on a Masters of Reality kick. Head over to their website (Flash required) and listen to "The Voice and the Vision" and tell me that it doesn't have one of the most blatantly catchy choruses ever.

"Who's seen the devil?
Not I, Not I
The voice and the vision
Not I, Not I

I've started listening to their Sunrise on the Sufferbus. "Jody Sings" is just so relentlessly upbeat that you can't help but feel good listening to it. The cello is perfect and the harmonica gives you the feeling of a nice summer day spent lying atop a grassy hill watching the clouds roll by.

I was fairly productive this weekend and got a couple music reviews hammered out in a highly caffeinated haze. First let me get Clannad's latest best-of tragedy out of the way. I hated it. Their post-1982 output is the worst Newage pap. Their fantastic voices are lost amidst a miasma of wishy-washy synthesizers that evokes a nice pastoral landscape but little else. Stephen Kent's Oil & Water, however, was pretty good. Kent is a master didjeridu player and, when he isn't trying to inject pop music into his songs, they're quite good. The throat singing on "Khoomei Song" was really neat and "Edge of Three" featured the Rajasthani flute in contrast to the drone of the didj. And "Lookout" is a rockin' little tune that reminded me of a Sonny Terry/Brownie McGee duet like "Whoopin' Blues".

I saw the second new Doctor Who episode, "The End of the World", over the weekend. It had a lot of pluses and a couple negatives. Firstly, the good things. Billie Piper is still hot. There were several funky aliens and the Doctor was humorous. The negatives were that A) it was too short and B) they give a bad Babel fish explanation for Rose being able to hear the aliens speak English. It was too short in that the mystery wasn't given enough time to be very mysterious. It would have been nice to have had more time for the mystery to unfold and keep us in the dark longer before The Doctor comes along and solves it. As for the Babel fish bit, The Doctor explains to Rose, at one point, that the reason she hears the aliens speaking English is that the TARDIS is able to lock into her brain and do the translating. Presumably then, it does the same for the aliens as they can understand her. But why couldn't Rose comprehend the mini-bellboy types? It felt like that scene in The Phantom Menace when The Force loses its mystery and is explained away as being the result of Midichlorians. Those BBC folks in Wales have to leave us long-time fans some cheesiness! I will say that the next episode looks like a fucking blast! It takes place in 1860 and I think Charles Dickens is involved. The preview tagged onto the last episode was pretty cool. There was one scene when this womyn who is possessed or some such thing walks down a street towards the camera with her face lit brightly blue. She opens her mouth and streams of bright blue light shoot out and she screams - it sent a chill down my right arm. A little piloerection action, lemme tell ya.

For anyone who needs a good laugh, check out the trailer for The Vacation. It's a spanking video and it looks to be quite humorous in addition to having some great scenes of womyn having their fannies lashed.

Fuck iTunes

Go with Global Sound.

Going to Hell in a Handbasket

I got me some new Johnny Cash - Unearthed and am listening to "Banks of the Ohio", a nice little murder ballad. People get all up in arms when someone like Eminem talks about killing his beotches yet they fail to recognize that we Americans have a rich tradition of song about men killing their beotches. Take "Banks of the Ohio":

LOCATION OF MURDER: River bank
METHOD: Stabbing followed by drowning for good measure
NAME OF KILLER/ RELATION TO VICTIM: Willie, fiancée
MOTIVE: Rejected proposal.
METHOD OF BODY DISPOSAL: Water
JUSTICE DONE? YES

I asked my love to take a walk,
To take a walk, just a little way
An' as we walked, then we would talk
About our golden wedding day.

And only say that you'll be mine;
And in no others' arms entwine.
Down beside where the waters flow,
Down by the banks of the Ohio."

I held a knife against her breast
As into my arms she pressed,
Cryin' "Oh Willie, don't you murder me,
I'm not prepared for eternity."

I took her by her pretty white hand,
I led her down to the water's strand.
I picked her up, I pitched her in,
I watched her as she floated down.

Returnin' home between twelve and one,
I cried "My God, what have I done?
I'd killed only woman I loved,
Because she would not be my bride."

The very next day, at half past four,
The sheriff walked right to my door;
He said, "Young man, come on let's go,
Down to the banks of the Ohio"

Remember those clean-cut Kingston Trio boys and their version of "Tom Dooley"? Don't forget Tom Dooley is in the shitter because he killed Laurie Foster. Any kid in this country can go into a CD shop and buy Unearthed or some crappy Kingston Trio best-of album and hear these songs. Or they can get Cash's American Recordings and hear "Delia's Gone" with lines such as:

First time I shot her I shot her in the side
Hard to watch her suffer
But with the second shot she died
Delia's gone, one more round Delia's gone

Or (gasp!) kids, no, mere children can purchase a collection of folk songs by Alan Lomax and hear songs such as "Omie Wise" ("He beat her and he banged her until she hardly could speak/And threw her in the river where the water's 20 ft deep."), "Pretty Polly" ("He stabbed her in the heart and the blood it did flow/And in to the grave pretty Polly did go."), or "Poor Ellen Smith" ("Poor Ellen Smith, how was she found/Shot through the heart lyin' dead on the ground").

And, of course, there's always so much s-e-x in music today, isn't there? But the trouble continues. If your sweet, pure, innocent son or daughter goes to their local purveyor of compact discs, they might stumble upon another collection of folk songs, Deep River of Song: Black Appalachia, and find the song "Poontang Little, Poontang Small" by Jimmie Strothers. Perhaps instead they'd find Risque Rhythm: Nasty 50s R&B with titles such as "Big Ten Inch Record" (you didn't think Aerosmith wrote it, did you?), "Lemon Squeezing Daddy", "Rocket 69", and "Keep on Churnin' (Till the Butter Comes)".

Then there's Hollywood. Oh dear! There's all this sex and violence on television and in films these days. (To completely the unholy trio, you can add video games.) Now let's not forget that in the originalSleeping Beauty she was raped. Back in 1697, Little Red Riding Hood was first put to paper by the Frenchman Charles Perault and was quite naughty. Take the line about "what big legs you have and "the better to run with". In French, it reads, "Que vous avez de grandes jambes!/C'est pour mieux courir." All fine and well until you understand that "jambe" or leg was slang for the "middle leg" or penis. Add in "courir", which normally means "run" was also slang for having sex. That wolf had more in mind than LRRH's piceenic basket, Boo Boo. To top things off, the wolf eats her at the end. And there's all that naughty business in Shakespeare in addition to all the violence. Making the beast with two backs, sweet bottom-grass, the prick of noon, etc.

Ever read any ancient literature? Greek tragedy? Remember the Oedipus guy? He fucked his own mother and killed his father! HOLY SHIT! How can we keep this stuff on bookstore shelves?! We teach this as "great literature" to our kids! And then there's the genesis of Western literature, The Iliad. Do you want your kids reading about Odysseus putting a spear into some guy's genitalia? Solomon had, what?, like 700 wives plus concubines. Adam and Eve's kids fucked each other. Cain and Abel didn't exactly promote family values with their sibling relationship. Moses commits genocide. In Ezekiel, God makes his children eat their own shit. Rape, slavery, subjugation of womyn – the list goes on.

People complain about the lack of morals in our media today. I'm not sure our media through the ages ever had them.

Watching the Storm

I spent lunch yesterday over at Ancora reading the Chicago Reader. I hate it when I do that because there's just so much cool shite happening down there that I can't attend. Some bar shows flicks via DVD projection and a couple of them really caught my eye including A Clockwork Orange. Plus there's was a kabuki theater presentation that sounded really neat in addition to various plays. And Neil Gaiman was going to be speaking. And the Art Institute had a few neat presentations going on as well. I looked at the schedule for the Old Town School of Folk Music and they've got tons of cool shit going down. I wish I had a banjo because Danny Barnes will be giving lessons there in a couple months! That'd be so hoopy! Herr Barnes, for those of you unfamiliar with him, used to be with the Bad Livers. Yeah, I'm sure most of you have no idea who they were either. Think bluegrass + Captain Beefheart. While I've seen recordings of performances from OTSoFM for trade and figured they provided instruction but didn't know the breadth of what they offer. Dancing and singing in addition to teaching how to play various instruments. If I wanna learn how to play the didgeridoo, I could head on over there. Imagine that. If I learn the didgeridoo, I could put together a band and play endless solos just like the Greatful Dead.

Whereas yesterday was pretty busy, today is dead slow. I think one (1) case has come down the pipe in an hour and I easily dispatched with it. No meeting today, no documentation to write, and I've given my usual websites a look-see. I am to meet The Dulcinea this evening so we can talk or so she can chew me a new asshole or something. We'll see how it goes. I await an email from her giving me the time and location of our meeting. Perhaps we can come up with a secret phrase too. "The crow flies at midnight..."

I've been trading emails quite frequently with Geno, a friend of mine in Chicago. He recently got back from Rio de Janeiro. Sounds like he had a good time and I look forward to reading his online account of the trip. He and I have known one another since 1977, when we were in kindergarten. Holy fuck shit! That's 28 years! Sheesh. Where does the time go? In a similar vein, Miss Pamela recently returned from N'awlins. She threw some of her photos from the trek up on the Net and it looks like she and Bill had fun down there. I'm presuming that many a hurricane was consumed. With this nice weather we've had the past few days, I've been itching to do some camping. (Of course, now that I look at the long range forecast, I see that temps are going to be dropping into a more normal range for this time of year. Bye-bye highs in the 70s.) Unfortunately, Dogger & Mel are probably not gonna be doing much camping this year. Mel certainly won't be in a canoe for a long time. Perhaps a babysitter can be found so Dog can take a trip this summer. And, since Marv is nearly impossible to get a hold of lately, I'm presuming his relationship with this Jill chickie is going well. Of course she's invited on most of our trips but I dunno if she's the outdoor type or not.

I am wondering what The Dulcinea has to say to me. Still no email regarding our meeting tonight and I'm getting anxious. I suppose she's in a fragile state right now, though, as her divorce becomes final tomorrow. But I'm sure she's also hopeful somewhere inside. I mean, her marriage will be over and she can move forward. She's planning on returning to school, which makes me a bit jealous. She is also planning on having her oldest son, Desmond, go live with his father in New York City. While I don't have a complete picture of her motivations here, I have this feeling that, at least in part, she's doing this more out of guilt than anything else. Guilt she feels for, in her mind, being a bad mother. I also suspect that she just wants more of a life outside of parenthood. I'm not being critical of her, mind you, because I never got the impression that she's a bad mom. I know that she loves her kids immensely. I did, however, get the impression that she wasn't too keen on motherhood. By this I mean that she always seemed more keen on pursuing a different kind of life other than being a parent. Her pregnancies were not planned and she always made them out to be like missteps along the way. Basically, I get the impression that she really didn't want to be a mother but accepts it and finds the good in it despite wanting to indulge her carefree, artistic nature.

I've been thinking about this stuff a bit lately. Plus The Dulcinea told me that the miasma in her mind began dissipating when she stopped using the birth control patch. Because of all this, I've begun considering getting a vasectomy. When I get my arse in gear and get my insurance paperwork in order, I'll find out if it's a covered procedure. You'd think so. I mean, kids must cost insurance companies gobs and gobs of cashola. Pre-natal care, birth, and, when they're out of the womb, they get sick constantly so getting a vasectomy means that they can significantly decrease the odds of me coming along one day asking to insure a child. Then I'd be left to worry only about disease. Speaking of which, check out Mistress Lola's tale of her wounds from 28 March.

I see that we're in for some severe thunderstorms this evening. Oh, that'll be the perfect backdrop for my conversation with The Dulcinea.

Comin' Around

Early this mornin’ I was washin’ my face
Thinkin’ ‘bout goin’ to town
Sick and tired of hangin’ around this place
Waitin’ on the blues to track me down
Bless my soul maybe I’m comin’ around
Been lyin’ low but maybe I’m comin’ around

I’ve been runnin’ nearly all of my life
Far and as fast as I can
It may sound funny but I’m thinkin’ this might
Be about right where I came in
Well I don’t know maybe I’m comin’ around
Got a ways to go but maybe I’m comin’ around
Finally layin’ my burden down

One fine day
I’ll be free
‘Til it comes
I’ll go on

My heart’s a little ragged but it’s all that I got
So I’m gonna give it a try
look out world I’m comin’ ready or not
I don’t wanna let you pass me by
Here I go maybe I’m comin’ around
I’m a little bit slow but maybe I’m comin’ around
Finally layin’ my burden down

~~~Steve Earle

Songs for the Dumper

It feels weird to be back at work. For a Monday, it's a bit slow. Nothing we can't handle, though. I'm in a mixed mind today. I had a good time in Chicago over the weekend and have some tasty Indian sweets here with me in addition to some kabli chana and a couple bars of Scharffen Berger that my mom gave me. When I got home last night, I grabbed the mail and found a heavy envelope addressed to me from The Dulcinea. Was it a letter bomb? Anthrax? No, it was a CD and the last song on it was "Song for the Dumped" by Ben Folds. I had this weird feeling that we were going to continue our communications via mix CDs. I guess that's how we nerdy types do it. After having sat around a bit with Stevie and Becca, I called The Dulcinea to see if she wanted me to drop off the sweets I'd bought for her. When I spoke to her, she was a bit terse. Not really malicious but more in a let's-get-this-over-with kind of way. We agreed for the drop-off to take place immediately. So I grabbed the box of treats and headed over. Instead of walking as I was accustomed to, I rang the doorbell. She answered and I stepped inside. Again rather tersely, she asked if I could stay for a few minutes. We sat down on the couch and I read off the names of the candies as I had written them down at the store. I could see she was holding back the tears which only forced me to do the same. Once she had surveyed the edibles, she showed me her new beaded necklaces.

And she fidgeted.

And there was silence.

And I felt uncomfortable.

More silence.

She wanted to tell me a few things but couldn't bring herself to do it so there was more silence. I just wanted to her to tell me what a jerk I was and curse me out and hit me or whatever it was that she wanted to do. Her silence was probably worse than whatever she had to say. So I took my leave. I was genuinely tired and figured that, if she wants to chew me a new asshole, she knows where to find me. As I sat in my car, I looked up at the windows of her living room. I pictured her sitting there on the couch - alone. The image just tore me up inside and the tears started flowing. I wish it were a few months down the road. Maybe then I could enjoy being single again more instead of just feeling bad over having ended the relationship. You know - there's supposed to be a plus side to this whole deal. I care for The Dulcinea a great deal and like her very much but I just can't be her boyfriend. And I'm worried about her. Here I am needing to be away from her only to have this nagging feeling that her situation will only decline further. That audio blog entry made me sad, angry, and worrisome. I don't know if she'll try to follow through on that fantasy or not. Sad but true.

I had dinner on Sunday at my aunt's place out in Arlington Heights. Various and sundry family members were there as well as a friend of my grandmother. (Estelle?) I've met her a few times previously and she's a super-nice womyn. At one point, she looked to me and said something to the effect of "You know, your grandmother is waiting for you to get married and she doesn't have that much longer." I really can't recall how she phrased it. She also said that her grandson had wait until he was almost 32 to get married. I informed her that I am 32 and that, if I was ever to get married, it would be some time in the distant future and that it was my cousin Sue's responsibility to get married and have kids. I know my brother will never get married nor have children and I have no such intentions either so it really is up to Sue.

After dinner, I went for a walk with my mom, her cousin John, and her cousin Ted's wife, Susanna. (What does that make them? Second cousin a few times removed?) We walked around Lake Arlington, a stretch of about 2 miles. It was rather nice out. The breeze was just a bit chilly but the sun shone brightly. I really should hang out with my family more often. Many of them are even nerdier than myself which makes conversation with them a hoot. Once we returned, I fixed my aunt's computer and then hit the high road. Traffic was brisk but not bad, especially when compared to the drive there. Fuck, it took me over half an hour to get from Irving Park to the end of the Kennedy Expressway at Cumberland.



I just laugh at people here who complain about the Beltline. Bubba, it ain't nuthin' so stop whining. Try taking I90 south to Chicago on a Sunday evening most of the year. It's backed up to the Wisconsin-Illinois border with people returning to Chicago from Wisconsin as well as the normal year-round traffic. 70 miles or so of interstate packed bumper-to-bumper.

The Ozrics show on Saturday night was quite good. The opening band, Lotus, sucked big time. Their set dragged on for what seemed like years. Every song was 10 minutes of boring guitar work backed up by a generic techno beat. It complete escapes me how they got all the raves that appear on their website. And they're here in Madison tonight at The Annex. But when the Ozrics came on, it was all better. My brother came to the show with me but we couldn't convince Andrew to do so. Carl was completely unfamiliar with their music while I know one of their albums by heart plus the odd song here and there. From what I could tell, their newer material featured less acoustic drums, which was disappointing to me when I sampled the tunes so I was a bit worried that the setlist would favor that material and be a bit too much like techno for my taste. Well, I needn't have worried. Ed Wynne went crazy ape bonkers in his Steve Hillage-esque kind of way on just about every song. And drum machines were kept to a minimum allowing their drummer, Metro, do do his thing. On keyboards was Brandi Wynne, presumably related to Ed in some capacity. She was easy on the eyes and was smiling and dancing a lot of time during the show. I guess you could say she gave off a good vibe, to use hippie parlance. The light show was typically psychedelic but not overdone. And the band just rocked. Even though I recognized only 1 song, it was easy to get into the rest of the set. That one song was "Sploosh!" from Strangeitude and it was the encore. They prefaced it with a slow, moody tune that I wasn't familiar with but, when I heard the gurgling noise, I knew what was about to happen. I shook my booty to the groove, man. It was, like, way out there, man. Carl spotted a guy taping the show on the floor. He had a big mic duct taped to his hat and you could tell that he was trying to stay still amidst the crowd of dancing folk on the floor. I shall have to keep an eye out for a copy of the show. Too bad yesterday was Easter otherwise I would have been sorely tempted to see them again at Shank Hall. Except for their flautist, John Egan who had mic/monitor problems for most of the show, the band was bouncy and in a good mood the whole time. Ed would thank the crowed after songs and introduce the next one. He sounded like a little kid - just smiling and joking. The second great performance in as many days.

And so a good time was had this weekend. It's always fun to chill with Andrew and my bro. Next time I go down there, I'm to bring some New Glarus brew. In exchange for my promise, Andrew lent me his copy of The Axemaker's Gift. Not that I really need more reading material at the moment, but it's sure to be interesting and have it on loan for a while.

Well, I think I'm off to get a cuppa tea for lunch.

I Got Me Some Barfi

I'm at my brother's currently. The Illinois-Arizona game is one so we're huddled around the tele. All I really care is that the Badgers won last night and I don't even care all that much. I spent the afternoon with my mom but more on that later.

Firstly, the Steve Earle gig was incredible last night. Most of the set was uptempo and there was a tangible energy in the air that was for the most part an extension of the music but was also a reaction to Earle's lyrics and tirades against Dubya. Going in the Barrymore, I was really keen on hearing "Home to Houston" but I'm not sure why. It's a blatanty catchy tune, to be sure, but so is "Billy and Bonnie". I guess hearing a song about the predicament of Haliburton workers in Iraq instead of a love song was what the doctor ordered. The lights went down and Gil Scott-Heron's "Revolution Will Not Be Televised" started blasting through the PA. To say that revolution was a motif for the show is a bit of an understatement. The band came out and Earle started the guitar riff for "The Revolution Starts..." And, just as on the album, "Home to Houston" immediately followed. While I know anything about driving a rig much less driving one in a warzone, but I still love it and sang along. Over the course of the night, he played The Revolution Starts...Now in its entirety. This was cool as it meant that he played "Condi, Condi" but it but it also meant that he played "Comin' Around". I must be an old softy because tears welled up in my eyes while they played it. It got more intense when he did "Goodbye". Not only did it speak to the end of my relationship with The Dulcinea the night before but it also reminded me of my dad. As I wrote last year about this time, it was the song that would not leave my head as I drove away from the funeral home with my dad's ashes. I felt like I was reliving that moment at the Dick Thompson show in '96 when she played "She Cut Off Her Long Silken Hair". Earle did a great job with the setlist. Most of it consisted of faster, heavier lefty songs but it was punctuated with slower, more tender moments such as "Goodbye". It was also cool that Earle's girlfriend, Allison Moorer, came out and sang on few songs as well having opened the gig. She is a hottie in addition to having a great set of pipes.

As I said, the show was chock full of heavy, angry tunes interspersed with Earle's tirades against the Bush administration. The show was really loud, which I liked, and this gave mid-tempo songs like "Transcendental Blues" extra energy. I didn't recognize many of the songs but they didn't take long to grow on me. "Harlan Man" was great and he did a rippin' version of "Copperhead Road". "F the FCC" was killer and they closed the show with a cover of The Beatles' "Revoltuion" and "The Revolution Starts...Now". They ended up playing 4 or 5 encores to boot including a cover of "Sweet Virginia" by The Rolling Stones. When he comes back I will definitely see him again. It was a great show full of energy and emotion. Before walking off the stage for the final time, Earle told the crowd, "Madison - get out in the streets!"

Although I didn't get to bed until around 1, I ended up awaking before 7. I spent part of the morning watching a Zatoichi flick on IFC and chatting with Stevie, who now has a bug up his ass to be a social butterfly. We perused the Isthmus for events going on for him to attend. Then I did laundry, caught up on e-mail, and prepared to head here to Chicago. I got to my mom's place about 2:30. She greeted me with a couple bars of Scharfen Berger chocolate. Soon we were out the door and headed out for lunch. We decided on German cuisine and went to Lincoln Square to eat at the Chicago Brauhaus. I had sauerbraten while my mom got wiener schnitzel. Mmmm...sauerbraten...vinegary, clovey, beefy goodness! For dessert, we split a piece of German chocolate cake. With bellies full, we went to Merz Apothecary. For Madisonians, Merz is a bit like Community Pharmacy but with more of an old-time general store kind of look. Lots of skin care products as well as dental stuff and just lots of stuff to make one smell nice. And it seemed like most of the products were from Europe. For my part, I bought some Bath Tub Gin shower gel, a new toothbrush with "natural" bristles, and some German toothpaste. The last one was a tough decision as they had German, American, and Italian toothpastes. (None from England, not surprisingly.) The Italian stuff came in funky flavors and was the clear winner in the best-looking tube category, but I thought $8.50 was a bit steep so I opted for some that was more reasonably priced. The area used to be heavily populated with German folk, unsurprisingly, and is now becoming a yuppie haven.

From there, we walked down the street a bit so my mom could do some window shopping at a clothing store. Then it was off to Devon Avenue and to Ambala. It's by Devon and California smack dab in the middle of a large Indian neighborhood. Walking into the store, we found that we were the only ones there. It was a large place with a long semi-circular counter littered with trays of treats. Wandering to one side, we encountered barfi, barfi everywhere. Plain, pista, chocolate...The guy behind the counter approached and handed us a sample of this delectable, warm sweet which was kind of like one of those fried Italian cookie hoolies that look like a round pretzel and begins with an R, the name of which escapes me at the moment. Well, it was like that except it was drenched in a honey glaze instead of being sprinkled with powedered sugar. Oh my fuck, was that good! I knew immediately that I'd be spending some major ching. The guy brought out a box and prepared to fill it with some Habshi Halwa but I said I needed something bigger. So he reached underneath the counter and got a larger box. "Do you have anything bigger?" So he pulled out the mega-box. "Great! I'll need 3 of those." And they got filled with, not only Halwa, but also Pera, Pista Barfi, Chocolate Barfi, Ladoo Motichoor Badam Barfi, and other stuff whose names I cannot recall but contain tons and tons of pistachio and cardomon. The guy also gave me a spoonful of this pasty carrot stuff that was on a tray - oh mama! Just sooo fucking good! As I was paying a small fortune to the owner, we chatted a bit. My mom told him that she'd heard of the store via the Sun-Times and I relayed that I was from Wisconsin. He replied that his brother lives in Janesville and used to live in Eau Claire. I wanted to tell him to have his brother move to Madison and befriend me so I can get free consignments of these pukka sweets.

It seems like every time I come here to ChiTown, I see a billion wonderful culinary opportunities. I really must take advantage of them more. Next time I'm going to that Swedish bakery my mom raves about. And the Swedish restaurant we drove by on Paterson. Life is too short for fast food. Not only will is shorten your life but it also deprives you of the opportunity of experiencing the wonderful cuisines of the world. One grocery store we drove by had a sign in the window for young goat - only $3.29/pound. Eating should not be viewed as something you do when you have time or as something that just makes you fat. It should be seen as a sensual experience, something to relish and enjoy.

OK, the Illinois game is nearing an end and the Ozrics show nears. Hopefully they'll play something from Strangeitude as that's the only album of theirs with which I am familiar. "Sploosh!", perhaps? Maybe "The Throbbe". We'll see.

Here Comes the IMAX

We are getting an IMAX!

Comin' Around

Things would be a whole lot better if I could get "Comin' Around" out of my head. But it is a Steve Earle song and I'm going to see him tonight at the Barrymore so the chances of it going away are pretty small. At least it's not "Goodbye". That song came into my head too last night as The Dulcinea and I were parting ways. At least we did it on friendly terms and I didn't inform her via an email as I did for our first break-up last year. (Let us hope that this will not become an annual event.) Aside from being sad, I do feel a bit of relief. I can go off and be as dumb as I want without regard to a significant other. As she pointed out last night with examples of my failings in our relationship, I was not a particularly good boyfriend. There were definitely some wonderful things between us but not enough to sustain a committed relationship. I shall definitely miss doing stuff with her. (Beyond sex.) I've never maintained a friendship with an ex-girlfriend before beyond a couple months. I'd like to remain friends with her. In a way, our relationship was more like a friendship with benefits than a dating scenario. And now we have these knots to untie. Speaking of which, she's got my copy of Knots - d'oh! We had planned to go to a chocolate tasting at A Woman's Touch together but now that has to be dealt with. I told her that she should find someone else to go with and I'd replace my name on the list with his/hers. Ah well, it'll all come out in the wash.

So while she officially becomes a divorcee and prepares to return to school next week, I'll be off flying solo. But the adventure begins tonight. I have this weird feeling that the Steve Earle gig is going to be eerily remeniscent of the Dick Thompson show at the Barrymore back in 1996 which I went to not too long after having broken up with another girlfriend. We'll see. This weekend I am off to Chicago. Tomorrow night I'll be having a nice bowl of Ozric Tentacles for a late-night snack.



Plus I'll hang out with my brother and Andrew. But, before that, I''m going to have lunch with my mom and then head over to Ambala to fetch some sweets. I'll spend Sunday afternoon with family as they're getting together for Easter dinner at my aunt's place. Next week brings the Wisconsin Film Festival. Plus there's trivia in Stevens Point to look forward to as well as the Tempest show in Stoughton. It'll be odd seeing the Ozrics and Tempest sans The Dulcinea since we had planned to see them together. Oddly enough, when I first saw Tempest in 1996, I went with the aforementioned ex-girlfriend. Funny how things repeat themselves.

I got the new issue of The Progressive last night. In it was a letter from a reader which said that we progressives ought to rescue Jesus and his message from conservatives. The writer went on to say something like, "As long as we're at it, let's rescue Mohammed, Moses, and Buddha." Holy fuck it did that piss me off! Bubba, the last thing we need is to get into a pissing match over religious dogma. And rescue Moses? Mohammed? Yes, we should align ourselves with Joey Midianite Killer.

Moses:
"Have you allowed all the women to live?" he asked them. "They were the ones who followed Balaam's advice and were the means of turning the Israelites away from the LORD in what happened at Peor, so that a plague struck the LORD's people. Now kill all the boys. And kill every woman who has slept with a man, but save for yourselves every girl who has never slept with a man."

Yes, this is exactly the kind of asshole whom we should make our ally. Mohommed? Joey Let's-Kill-All-the-Infidels is right up there on my list of people with whom we can have a great working relationship, lemme tell ya. The last fucking thing we need is to align ourselves with mythical figures and nutcases from the past who claim to have heard a voice telling them things which are usually about killing people who are somehow different. We lock those kinds of people up today so why in the name of fuck would we want to "rescue" them?

Sidestepping religion again, I see that Porcupine Tree will be stopping in Milwaukee come May. I must get me a ticket for that! Still now news on Son Volt passing by here. Though I do see here that their retrospective CD, which will be released in May, will feature a version of Woody Guthrie's "I've Got to Know". I've never heard that before. Hopefully it will also include “Ain't No More Cane” (With Kelly Willis), “Old Dutch” (Vocal Dave Boquist), and “Seven To A Room” (Vocal Jim Boquist). We'll see if they include any tunes from their various radio performances like the old Stanley Brothers' ditty "She's More to Be Pitied".

OK - I'm off to buy a PT ticket!

Deadwing

OK, I just couldn’t wait. I saw Porcupine Tree’s new album, Deadwing, available for download and I snagged it. I swear I will buy it when it is released but I just couldn’t pass up a sneak-peak.

My very first impression was that it was bleak just like In Absentia and, like that album, had a song or two that hit me immediately but it would take repeated listenings to appreciate the work as a whole. Having heard it a few times, I can say that I like it very much. I can also say that I’m a bit disappointed with it. Not in way that would prevent me from listening to the album constantly or from enjoying it but rather I’m disappointed that it’s not different enough from their earlier work. But perhaps it is a case of having unreasonable expectations. Lightbulb Sun built on Stupid Dream but was not a great departure from it like Stupid Dream was from Signify. Unlike some PT fans, I rather like Steve Wilson’s appropriation of heavy metal which replaced the more Floydian meanderings of the early PT albums. It’s just that I’ve become accustomed to Wilson taking bits of this and that and throwing them together so as to come up with something new. The first 3 PT albums were very much like mid-70s Pink Floyd. Then Signify came along which threw minimalism and electronica into the mix. Stupid Dream and Lightbulb Sun are like peas in a pod but they collectively brought new things to PT’s sound - heavier guitar, sax, strings. Wilson even brought in banjo, a blatantly odd instrument for a progressive rock album. The song, “Last Chance to Evacuate Planet Earth Before It Is Recycled”, is just great. The first part has the banjo and the vocals while the second is a more familiar PT bit of psychedelia. It’s that kind of juxtaposition that lent the music an air of freshness and made it exciting. Plus Wilson started doing harmony vocals. While not the most talented singer ever, he does have a good voice and the harmonies were, in my opinion, great. In Absentia brought in even heavier guitars. Wilson really detuned that E-string but this shouldn’t be surprising since he had produced an album by the Swedish death metal band, Opeth. IA isn’t death metal – Wilson just added another hoolie to his palette. There were still bits of psychedelia, keyboards, and acoustic bits but the emphasis was definitely on slashing chords.

Perhaps the biggest difference here is the number of shorter, “poppier” tracks. While there’s little that would be considered typical Top 40 fare, there are a few songs that are short and very direct. I’m sure that some long-time fans are gonna jump on the shorter tracks and cry “sell out!” but I think that would be unfair. “Shallow” has a riff that is vaguely Load-era Metallica but has some nice piano in the slower parts in addition to organ beneath Wilson’s riffing. “Lazarus” is, dare I say, a very beautiful, melodic song. No heavy chords and lots of wafting piano. It’s easy to see it as a continuation of “Stranger by the Minute” and “The Rest Will Flow”. What these songs lack are the usual twists and turns and the little touches of color that we’ve come to expect. Most of the elements from the past few albums are present on Deadwing but nothing really new seems to have been added. Like IA heavy guitar is prominent. Curiously enough, amidst all the guitar, oddly enough, keyboards are more prominent than they were on IA, which I don’t mind one bit. Things here just sound more straightforward than they have on past PT albums – there’s no real leaps into unknown territory. I miss the curveballs like the Middle Eastern drum loop from “Four Chords That Made a Million” or the sax on “Tinto Brass”. I thought “Gravity Eyelids” from IA was a great example of how Wilson took the old and mixed it with the new. Take the droning choir sound of the Mellotron normally associated with 1970s progressive rock and put a modern drum machine behind it. Then add some heavy guitar riffing. It all made for a great, moody song.

I suppose the more I listen to it, the more things I’ll hear in it. There are a couple things that may have had a bearing on the music: 1) the songs are based on a film script that Wilson co-wrote. Ergo some of the elements may be quite appropriate for the storyline. And 2) this is the second album for a major record label, Lava Records, a subsidiary of Atlantic. From what I recall, it was a 2-album deal so there may have been some pressure from an A&R guy and/or from the band themselves to create an album that would have more of a chance at commercial success. Personally, I’m disinclined to believe that #2 was much of a factor. While I certainly don’t know, I don’t think Deadwing is a particularly “commercial” album. It is, perhaps, more “commercial” than their previous albums, there’s nothing here for which you can’t find antecedents in their catalogue. It’s easy to see the songs here as extensions or rehashes of previous ones.

I will mention that I also snagged the non-LP(?!) tracks from the “Lazarus” single, “So Called Friend” and “Half Light”. The former is based around a heavy guitar riff while the latter is a typical slow burning bit of PT psychedelia. I should also note that Mikael Akerfeldt of Opeth and Adrian Belew of King Crimson guest on the album. I’m not familiar enough with Akerfeldt and Opeth to be able to pick put his playing but I assume he’s got his E-string in there somewhere. Belew, on the other hand, should be fairly obvious but I admit that I have no idea on what song or songs he plays. There no evidence of the Twang Bar King nor of elephantosity to be found.

I guess that, at the end of the day, what matters is that Deadwing is a very good album – one that I like more each time I listen to it. I have favorite albums that I didn’t care for much initially and only became favorites years after I first heard them. My taste in music is constantly evolving so all I have now is a snapshot in time. We’ll see how Deadwing fares in the months and years to come.

Beware Three Days After the Ides of March

Since we haven’t been able to play D&D recently due to people’s schedules, Marv, Dogger, Chris, and I took it upon ourselves to continue our adventure via email. You may recall in our last cliffhanger that our intrepid adventurers were in media res of a dungeon crawl. Mystina had wandered ahead of the rest of us only to have a 5’ thick stone wall drop down and separate her from the rest of the party. Here’s what happened next:

Cave Troll from around the next corner: Me smells elf down here somewhere...

*Severus casts Calvin Klein's Obsession on himself.*

Mystina: Oh, wow, seeing you really takes me back to when I was a volunteer at the cave troll orphanage. Boy, how I loved those little guys. I hope they all turned out well. I sure did do my best to raise them like they were my own.

Cave Troll: Hmmrmph?? Oooahh! I bemember do little elf girly! Herm usem me like puncher dummy. Practices, she says! No fun like she say. ME pratice now!

Banshee materializing from wall to Severus' right: Mmmmm... Obsessive.

severus: D'oh!

Speaking of D&D, methinks that Marv needs to get us one of these.

I got home last night and heated me up some Gaston Beef Stew which prompted Stevie to give me the old “There’s only a little bit left – you don’t want it, right?” spiel so I let him polish it off. I then proceeded to hash out a couple music reviews to appease Kim, my editor. First was The Roots of Robert Johnson which is a killer album. Good liner notes about Johnson’s influence and the author argues that he was the first blues musician of note to learn most of his tricks from records as opposed to a mentor. It’s really cool to hear songs that Johnson appropriated as his own. For instance, “Old Original Kokomo Blues” by Kokomo Arnold became “Sweet Home Chicago”. The second album I reviewed was by Kroke. They’re from Krakow, Poland (“Kroke” is Yiddish for Krakow) and play a weird hybrid of klezmer, jazz, and minimalism. Quartet is a really good album with its ethereal viola and moody songs that build over the course of several minutes. The only dud was a 16+ minutes epic that went nowhere. All in all, a good night spent listening to some great music. Next up is going to be Clannad best of album and it’s going to be a downer because I really don’t like them. Too little Celtic and too much newage. (prnounced like “sewage”)

When I get home tonight, I should find that a couple more Genesis shows have downloaded. I think the one from ’75 finished last night and the gig from ’98 has to be done by now as there was only about 10 megs left on the last song. But I won’t be home til late as I’ve got tutoring right after work and then I’m off to meetup with some godless heathens such as myself. When I got home last night, I found that the latest episode of Clayborne, “Bad Call”, had been posted. Now that the characters’ backgrounds have been explored a bit and their relationships to one another have been delineated, a lot of the excitement I felt listening to the first several episodes is gone. But I have to admit that I like the more recent confrontational bits and that I got a quite a shock last night when Frank got a phone call from his dead lover, Helen. Her ghostly voice was spooky but, when she shrieked, I almost jumped out of my seat! You may have noticed that I’ve started a new Doctor Who audio drama - Winter for the Adept. It’s the second or third in a row that takes place either during the winter or in a very cold setting. It really sucks lying there in bed trying to snuggle up with myself only to hear howling winds and envision The Doctor and Nyssa struggling through the snow. You’d think I’d be listening to an adventure that takes place in the desert under the baking heat of the sun instead. But no. I choose the stories set in the coldest places.



Winter for the Adept is quite good so far. In involves Nyssa being stranded in a Swiss all-girls school in the dead of winter. And the school just happens to be inhabited by a poltergeist. (But aren’t all girl schools?) It’s creepy and snowy and it gives me chills in addition to scaring me.

I spent some time yesterday at Ancora reading Why I am Not a Muslim, Ibn Warraq’s polemic against Islam. It’s quite a good book but is a bit slow-going as there’s a quite a bit of history with which I’m unfamiliar. The first chapter was inspired by the fatwa against Salmon Rushdie and it briefly describes the general intolerance of Islam before delving into an attack on its Western apologists. Chapter 2 continues the screed’s assault on Islam by exposing its earthly origins and the unoriginal elements of Mohammed’s creed. It’s been a very interesting read so far. I’m learning some history and adding to my knowledge of the Qur’an which, before I started the book, was close to nil. A reader directed me to a complementary website, Apostates of Islam. I knew it would be interesting immediately as the front page boasts video footage of a guy having his hands and feet cut off. Presumably he was caught thieving but you never know.

To the best of my knowledge, I don’t know anyone who is a Muslim. I used to work with an African fellow who was one, though. He had a hard time finding a secluded spot in which to pray, lemme tell ya. I walked in on him while he was praying in the tiny changing room we had which doubled as the super soda syrup repository. We ran out of Coke and I couldn’t let the spoiled brats from Long Island go without so I accidentally barged in on his prayer session. It’s not so much that I can reasonably have anything against any particular Muslims that I’m likely to meet but I find myself weary of anyone who subscribes to such a barbaric religion. Granted, Christianity is probably equally barbaric by its nature but it has been tempered by hundreds of years of secularism here in the West.

Oh, Happy St. Urho’s Day!

Loser?

Perhaps I’m a loser for staying at home on a Friday night but I don’t mind. Call me what you will. I have a nice cup of Ethiopian java by my side (earlier I had me a bottle of Lakefront’s barley wine…mmm…) and a pot of gumbo simmers as I type. Earlier, I cranked up some Steve Earle and started chopping. By the time, “Condi, Condi” started playing, I was hovering over the pot stirring the roux. I listened to the album 3 times getting the gumbo to the simmering stage and while cleaning up. Luckily Stevie and Becca are gone so I could really crank up the volume and even “dance” as I put away the clean dishes. Now I’m listening to some Son Volt with the aforementioned coffee. It’s a show from Chicago back in 1999 that was broadcast by WXRT. There’s just something about the Wide Swing Tremelo stuff right now – hard to describe.

I’ve got a trio of bananas that are going to become banana bread and I’ve decided to make Kapusta z Wieprzowina this weekend. That’s Polish for Sauerkraut with Pork. Notice it’s not the other way around. I’ve got a few pounds of spareribs thawing right now. I brought some Black Velvet cheesecake into work today that I made earlier this week and it went over well. I even got a marriage proposition but, unfortunately, it was from Ed. Nothing against him, mind you, as he’s a stand up guy, but he is a guy. Ya know, I had this moment earlier when I realized that the majority of my cooking implements were my dad’s. Both with the gumbo and the cheesecake. It’s his cast iron kettle I’m cooking the gumbo in and his springform pan that held the cheesecake. I used his food processor to make the crust and his sifter to top the cheesecake with cocoa powder. OK, it was the sifter we had when I was a kid and lived in Chicago but…You know what a turtle is? Same thing.

I thought about him a lot today. For some reason, I was really cognizant of the things about me that were also things about him. Little things like mannerisms. And, when I got home, I found that my brain decided to engage in a conversation with itself about how my father would curse the darkness instead of light a candle. It made me feel sad and angry at the same time. But now, after having done a spot of cooking – one of his favorite activities – I feel more relaxed. Tears even began to well in my eyes during “Tear-Stained Eye”. There are days when I think about him quite often and days when he rarely pops into my mind. The Dulcinea and a blogger or two that I read have troubled relationships with their fathers. It saddens me to hear of their tales. While there are certainly differences between their relationships and the one I had with my dad, there’s so much in common. At times I want to tell them to make peace with their fathers, be brave and be the one to reach out. Say what’s on your mind because, when he’s gone, you won’t ever get to do it. While it may not repair a broken relationship, you can at least say your piece and live knowing that you tried. My dad and I never really had a good relationship but I still miss him. I tried to have one but it just didn’t happen. My father could never reach out and I was never able to reach out far enough. Like I said, he spent the last few years of his life doing virtually nothing but cursing the darkness. I sometimes think that maybe I held out a candle but no matches. While my father is now just a memory and a box of ashes, I still think about our relationship. It’s not that I struggle vainly to mend a relationship that is no more but rather to make sure current and future relationships don’t suffer the same fate. At least I’d like to think so. I’m hesitant to actually give advice to The Dulcinea when she tells me about her father. I’ve never met him so I’m loathe to judge him but he sure sounds an awful lot like my old man. I feel comfortable only telling her about my experiences, about what I did and not with laying down a course of action for her. For my part, I’m comfortable with how things stood between my dad and I when he died. They were far from perfect but he knew I loved him despite his imperfections and my own. There was no unfinished business between us, no words and feelings ready to bubble to the surface. Just business that would never be finished. We both knew that we loved one another but we also had this mutual understanding that filial affection would remain in check forever.

I see that some Muslims in Spain have issue a fatwa against Osama bin Laden. Well, thanks for getting with the program. Where were those jackasses on September 12th, 2001? Or how about on March 12th of last year? Well, they are a bit quicker than The Vatican. I wonder if a pontiff will ever excommunicate Adolph Hitler. I find myself less tolerant of religion these days. It started with reading Richard Dawkins’ tirade in the wake of 9/11 and really got boiling while reading The End of Faith. Most of my ire is directed towards Islam but perhaps that’s not fair. After all, Xtianity is similarly stupid and catalytic. But, after reading page after page of quotes from The Koran about killing infidels it really got in my craw. It makes me question anyone who is devoted to The Koran. How does one pick and choose like that? I do want to learn more about Islam because, to me, it looks to be a religion of violence and conquest. You can’t say that it is all true, the word of Allah, etc. while you only adhere to passages about devotion and peace and ignore all those about killing non-Muslims. If you believe it to be the true word of Allah, then you believe in smiting most Americans. The idea that anyone would find it their duty to their fairy tale deity to choke the Yahara River with the bodies of infidels is disgusting. When a fatwa was issued against Salmon Rushie calling for his death, why did we not hear Muslims rise up and say that it was bullshit? Was it merely our media not reporting it? Personally, I am glad that Yusuf Islam, a.k.a. – Cat Stevens, was denied permission to enter this country. Instead of watching an effigy of Rushdie burning at a demonstration, he said, "I would have hoped that it'd be the real thing.” If you support immolation for apostates, this country does not need nor want you. Your beliefs are antithetical to the ideas that made America possible and poison to the maintenance of a republic. Keep him and all similar barbaric fucks out of my country.

No Apology Needed, No Regret Necessary

The next day, Pam sent me an email apologizing for having been the ring leader in our adventures.:

i am soooo sorry for my behaviour last night. It was really uncalled for. i'm just realizing now how drunk i was. i never would have let things go to that point otherwise. it's a wonder i even made it back here. i can only hope my car is in one piece when i go out to the garage. it was bound to happen eventually it's just a little awkward now that it was jennifer. tell her i'm sorry about that -- i hope when we meet again things won't be bizarre. and the next time i see YOU for that matter. god, bill can never find out about this. he'd never let me do stuff with you again.

anyways, i did have a good time as always. i hope we can overlook this little lapse in my good judgement.

xoxo pam

I felt saddened that she should feel this way so I replied:

What in the name of Jehovah are you talking about?!

There's no need to apologize for anything. The Dulcinea and I had a great time. She couldn't stop talking about it yesterday. You made her feel really, really wonderful! She's been really stressed out with her divorce and life generally as of late and she was incredibly happy to not only to have so much physical pleasure but also so much attention given to her. She was aglow all day yesterday so don't feel bad at all.

The only problem I foresee is when I tell her that you're coming to visit again that she'll demand a repeat performance. ;) Again, there's nothing to apologize for so don't feel bad. Our friendship has survived the stupidity of high school and drunken nights in college. I'm thinking this ain't nuthin'. :D I told The Dulcinea this yesterday: I was kind of worried about you 2 meeting. What if you didn't get along? I needn't have worried. Hehe

So, did you get to yoga class OK? I've got one of your ropes, BTW. I presume that not all of those boxes of chocolate were for you - have you tasted any of it?

Whew! I didn’t want anyone to feel bad about that night as I thought it was wonderful. She wrote back:

well, your email made me feel a lot better. i was obsessing yesterday that i'd maybe pushed her into something... i mean, i didn't remember her trying to resist but i wasn't sure. i never in my wildest dreams would have imagined that happening. in a way i wish i could tell bill but in reality i know he wouldn't take it well. maybe years down the road it'll come out and he'll be fine with it. i've mentioned it to him before in a joking way that he should bring a girl home -- he didn't take me seriously and frankly, i didn't take me seriously either... this has all given me a different perspective on myself for sure.

anyway, i'm glad The Dulcinea enjoyed herself. I enjoyed myself too as much as i'm trying to convince myself otherwise. that's funny about you being worried... i liked her from first meeting her. I remember later on i just kept telling her how beautiful she was. it's true. she's very attractive and sexy... obviously. guess this is what happens when two randy thirty year old women and a length of rope get together. i'm still in shock. i know you and i will be fine ... i guess I was just concerned more about you and jennifer and me and jennifer going forward. i'm really thinking too much about this. that's me tho. so, when I left did i basically just run from the house like cinderella??? cuz i don't remember giving a proper farewell.

Looking back, I have to say that it was one of most exciting as well as most sensual experiences I’ve ever had. The whole time I felt very close to Pam and The Dulcinea. It didn’t feel like we were doing things to each other but rather a sense of the 3 of us all going to the same place with a common purpose. We were all helping one another this wonderful feeling of unity and of togetherness. It was almost like there had to be 3 of us to get where we were going, wherever that may have been. Several years ago, I wrote an essay which contrasted pornography and erotica. I argued that pr0n was purely prurient, i.e. –was directed solely at sexual arousal. Erotica, on the other hand, had a prurient element but also entailed more. That extra stuff is almost ineffable but I described as attainment of a sense of communion. By this I mean that erotica sheds reveals the way sex gives one gets a great sense of companionship with other human beings. You can see our commonalities and gain an understanding that one path to true happiness is via other people. Erotica shows sex in a light that helps you comprehend your self and our shared humanity. In this sense, that Saturday night was possibly the most erotic night of my life. It is no lie to say that all 3 of us were changed by that night. A lot of food for thought came out of it and new perspectives for each of us about ourselves.

For my part, that night gave me some nice masturbation fantasies and made me question my sexuality. I’m reading about polyamory. While I don’t think it’s fair to say that I’m polyamorous just yet, I do think about that part of my sexuality. I’d never been in a threesome before and so I really don’t have any basis for comparison. I can’t say what it’s like to be in one with a partner or partners whom I don’t know intimately as a friend or lover. I have this gut feeling that I was really lucky to have had my first with 2 womyn for whom I have intense feelings, that are friends and not strangers. I feel closer to The Dulcinea and Pam. We shared something really special. My sense of trust in each of them was already great but grew even larger. And I feel like I know both of them better and on a deeper level. While I don’t know what will become of The Dulcinea and I in the future, I know Pam and I will be friends until the very end. It’s like I know her on a different level now that goes beyond the physical, although I now know her more deeply on that level as well. It’s like loving her as a friend as well as a lover. Like we are going on the greatest and most improbably journey together.

As for my relationship with The Dulcinea, it deepened greatly. A greater sense of trust was gained, I think, and more of a feeling that we’re going through things together, that we’re a team, of sorts. Who knows if we’ll explore this again. I think we both want to but want to slowly, carefully to see what we can learn about each other and about ourselves. It’s like a door has opened up and we want to check out what’s on the other side.

Triad

So you see--what we can do--is to try something new
If you're crazy too
I don't really see
Why can't we go on as three

Returning to my place, we took off our coats and began to relax. With Stevie and Becca both out of town for the weekend, I put on some loud music in the living room and lit the candles there. I then headed to the refrigerator to grab one of the Sprecher 20th Anniversary Generation Porters. Popping off the top, I greedily poured some into my mouth. It was very fine. Very fine, indeed. It tasted like raspberry but the flavor wasn’t overly strong and there were definite shades of chocolate. I got lost doing something I can’t recall at about this point and the next thing I know I walk back into the kitchen only to find that Miss Pamela had started tying a harness on The Dulcinea. It was, to say the very least, quite stimulating. I made sure not to get into Pam’s way and just watched while occasionally giving The Dulcinea a slug of the Sprecher. Feeling a bit tunned on, I grabbed a camera and started taking some snaps. I believe I went to the bathroom at some point and returned to the kitchen just in time to see Pam pulling down The Dulcinea’s pants. Oh, it was getting good. But it got better when she relieved her of her panties. Pam has never been one to let clothing get in the way of art. It was almost too good to be true and I couldn’t let this moment pass without capturing it for posterity so I took more pictures.

With the harness finished, a light bulb flashed above Pam’s head and she lead The Dulcinea to the living room while I eagerly followed. For her next trick, Pam had The Dulcinea lie prone on the couch. I suspected (and hoped) what was to happen next. My suspicions were proven correct when Pam had The Dulcinea raise her legs – she was fit to be hogtied. This was really their show so I watched. Then I thought that some musical accompaniment was needed so I ran and got An Asspocket of Whiskey by R.L. Burnside. As “Goin’ Down South” and “Boogie Chillen” boomed, Pam weaved her magic. I grabbed the camera again. (I got some nice pics of Pam standing over The Dulcinea looking like a hunter standing over her prey.) Once she was done, the look of concentration & determination disappeared from her face and it was replaced by one of relaxation. She began to caress The Dulcinea’s legs and ass and I knew that we were taking a turn towards something beyond merely tying rope.

In the glow of the candles, Pam continued to caress her legs and ass while I kissed and gently bit her neck, which I know she loves. She had such a beautiful look on her face. She looked so happy, so content lying there tied up. Occasionally she would moan as Pam and I continued. For me, it was just an incredibly beautiful scene. The amber tint from the candles, the throbbing beat of the music, and two gorgeous womyn. I felt aroused and had this tightness in my chest from anticipation. I’d never been in a triad before and it just felt so new, so wonderful. What would happen next? Could it get any better?

Not forgetting that The Dulcinea was in an unnatural position, I would ask her if she was comfortable and she finally needed to move. Pam loosed the rope that bound her feet and we rolled her onto her back. She felt better. I sat on the floor by The Dulcinea’s face while Pam was kneeling at the end of the couch by her feet. Pam and I continued caressing and kissing.

I began to drag my fingers up and down The Dulcinea’s legs while Pam put a finger inside of her. She slowly pulled it out and gently pushed it back inside. I couldn’t hear the squishy sound of Pam’s finger going in and out of The Dulcinea’s pussy over the din of the music but I know she was wet. With her eyes closed and mouth open, she would sigh and moan. I sat there watching Pam as she stared at her finger. Occasionally Pam would lick her lips while her whole body swayed gently back and forth as she fingered The Dulcinea. Surveying the scene, my mind bounced back and forth between concentrating on The Dulcinea’s body and being totally giddy like a little kid. I mean, there I was living out every guy’s fantasy. I’d masturbated countless times while fantasizing about being with two (or more) womyn and now I was actually with two of them. It was almost surreal. One thing I noticed was just how nervous I wasn’t. Maybe it was the beer but I felt no anxiety. I just felt so comfortable with them. No fear, no jealousy – just a sense of pleasure, of letting go and indulging my senses.

I began to drag my tongue along The Dulcinea’s leg. Pam repositioned herself and bent down putting her mouth between The Dulcinea’s legs. It was just an incredible turn-on to witness one womyn perform oral sex on another. That feeling of living a fantasy returned in full force. I love going down on The Dulcinea and I saw that Pam did too. I knew she would. I felt like saying to Pam, “I told ya so.” While Pam licked and sucked, I began to rub The Dulcinea’s breasts through her shirt. Her nipples are very sensitive so I gently pinched them. Turning back to Pam, I saw that she was removing her shirt. (That kind of thing happened a lot that night. I’d turn around and something new would be going on.) It seemed so natural – like the next logical step. Next thing I know, she and I are both naked. The Dulcinea’s breasts were wrangled from her shirt and they stuck out from between two ropes. They hung there, her nipples so tempting. I suckled at them and they quickly stiffened. Pam leaned over and kissed The Dulcinea. As their nipples rubbed together, I began to caress the insides of The Dulcinea’s thigh with one and Pam back and ass with the other. At first it felt odd to touch Pam like that. It was something I’d wanted to do for so long but she was married. Fortunately I soon got over my hesitation.

Variety being the spice of life, I took great pleasure it touching Pam. It had been a long time since I’d been with a womyn other than The Dulcinea. As I caressed them, I looked at them admiringly. I looked at the contrast in their skin colors and at the different curves of their bodies. Both of them are so beautiful! I think I could have sat there watching them kiss all night. Pam began to suck The Dulcinea’s nipples and then offer hers. Occasionally Pam would whisper to The Dulcinea’s. Softly, the words “You’re so beautiful…” would trickle into her ear.

The Dulcinea’s limbs were getting constricted so Pam and I loosened her up and she could then touch and caress us. She was still on her back and Pam once again began to eat her out. I was having a hard time, um, getting hard. The combination of awe and beer, I guess. I needed direct stimulation and lots of it. So I stood up and offered my self to The Dulcinea which she accepted gleefully. As she wrapped her tongue around the head of my cock, I looked out the bay window of the living room and briefly thought how funny it would be if someone were to be looking in. I began to get hard and Pam blurted out, “Fuck her!” Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get hard enough. I rubbed my cock between The Dulcinea’s legs but to no avail. Oddly enough, I really didn’t feel like a failure. Instead it was an opportunity to bring Pam back into the mix. I put my face between The Dulcinea’s legs and circled my tongue around her clit. Pam bent over her and they kissed and nibbled at each other’s breasts. As The Dulcinea later admitted, she was just so nervous and excited that she was unable to come.

We ended up in a position whereby The Dulcinea was lying on her back on one end of the couch while I sat on the other. Pam moved to get on top. As she did so, her right breast hung before me and I tenderly laid a kiss on it. Kneeling over us, she began to insatiably kiss The Dulcinea. With one hand, I started caressing Pam’s back as I looked at her tattoos. They’re so colorful and contrasted nicely with her pale skin. It was almost hypnotizing as I traced the smooth curves of her hip and ass as the muscles of her back undulated. My hand wandered to her ass and I kneaded her cheeks while I started touching myself with the other. Because of our position, I had to stop stroking myself and instead concentrated on Pam’s behind. They were tantalizingly fleshy and her skin so silken. I ran a couple fingers down the cleavage envisioning her tight, puckered hole. My finger made its way to her pussy and I ran it down the center spreading the lips. I could feel the intense heat and her wetness. I slipped my finger inside and gently began to pull it out. And then back in. With my thumb, I rubbed her clit. I began to feel really aroused looking at Pam’s ass stuck up in the air. The slope of her hip, the curves of her ass – it just looked so inviting. Pulling my finger out, I noticed that it was bloody. It then occurred to me that it was also that time of the month for The Dulcinea.

The Dulcinea got up and scurried to the bathroom. Pam then sat on my lap. Our eyes met and then wandered to look at each other’s bodies while our hands did the same. At first it felt like a break from the intensity of what had come before but it then took on an intensity of its own. It felt like we were friends and lovers. Perhaps that feeling came to me earlier in the night but there was this sense of recognition at that moment. A sense that the ties of our friendship were strengthened, that it had become deeper.

Upon The Dulcinea’s return, things had wound down and we got dressed. There was no embarrassment, no shame. Indeed, I think there was a desire to keep going. But, as Pam later wrote me, she had to head home as she was afraid of what else might happen though she didn’t really regret any of it. With Pam on her way home, The Dulcinea and I headed to bed. And of course we fucked.

At Mickey's

Walking into Mickey’s, we saw only a few people. A tall, lanky guy who was standing over the jukebox looked familiar – a lot like Shad. Shad was a good friend of a former roommate/friend of mind, Wally, and is a guitarist/singer in the local band, Brickshithouse. Not being able to see his face, I wasn’t sure if it was him and so Pam and I took a couple seats at one end of the bar. We ordered a couple barley pops and began talking about how great an experience the class had been. Some loud music started booming through the bar. While I forget what it was, I do recall Pam enjoying it. She talked about her trip to Madison a couple weeks previously and about how she, Bill, and their friends had gone to the Lava Lounge whose jukebox had impressed her. The guy at the jukebox returned to his stool just across from ours. As Pam and I chatted, my eyes glanced over at him – he looked just like Shad. It had to be him. Finally our glances met and we recognized one another. Not having seen one another in several years, we asked each other how the other was doing, what we had been up to the past 7 or 8 years since we’d last seen one another, and the like. I’d heard that he and Mia had finally gotten married and he confirmed this saying that things were well. They lived not too far from me, in fact. I asked about Britt, the drummer in Tongue, the band Shad was in last we spoke. Britt had moved to Florida and was still there, married’n’all. I was hesitant to ask about Wally since he and I had parted on bad terms but did so anyway. He was still in contact with him. Wally had finished school and was living in Stoughton and seeking employment in his field. Shad wasn’t sure what this field was – fluvial or aquatic something-or-other. In any event, I was happy to hear that Wally was doing well. I drifted back to Pam trying to jolt her memory into recalling Wally whom she’d met at least once. My conversation with Shad ended as he began to talk to the bartender and another patron. Looking out the window, I guesstimated the hour and figured that The Dulcinea was now available so I asked the bartender to use the phone. I called her and told her to meet Pam and I to which she replied that she’d be there in about 20 minutes.

Pam and I continued to blather on about music, rope tying, and life up north when we were in high school together. After a while, I had to use the men’s room. While standing at urinal, I looked out the window and noticed The Dulcinea traipsing up the sidewalk. For no good reason, I felt a bit nervous. Would she and Pam get along? A few seconds after returning to my stool, The Dulcinea walked in and introductions were made. I really needn’t have worried as they got along fine. It wasn’t long before they too started talking about music, specifically their love of British Seapower. Sometime later, The Dulcinea recognized a guy with whom she went to high school and they started chatting. As they did their thing, Pam and I once again did ours. She related to me a funny incident from high school. She had somehow ended up in bed with a former classmate of ours, Ernie. Things got hot’n’heavy between them but, before she’d allow Ernie to wax his wick, she told him that he’d need to wear a condom. He disappeared for a moment and then returned. Pam said that she heard this crinkling noise, very uncondomlike. Since he did not have any rubbers, Ernie improvised in the most Marine-like way. Pam described how, once a little light was shed on the situation, she discovered that he’d tried to sheath himself with the wrapper of a candy bar. The things we guys do for sex.

Pam called her hubby to check in as it was getting late. Well, not really late but we had planned on only a couple beers so Pam could get home as she had to teach yoga the next morning. We had been there a few hours and the three of us were inebriated. So we decided to head back to my house where Pam could sober up a bit before heading home.