The Walkmen - The Rat 2004 (get it)
Someday I too will play this song on the drums. My arms will fall right the fuck off, and I’ll be smiling.
Matt Barrick on drums.
The Gary Booher Memorial Urinal. Los Angeles, CA
Lost his father to a drunk driver. He and I were both released from service as jurors because we couldn’t promise to be unbiased in a case involving a DUI accident.
"I understand you both have ‘issues’ with drunk driving…?"
Doesn’t everybody?
Hall of Justice. Los Angeles, CA
“Everyone of ‘em, is as sharp as a marble.”
“This is jury duty. Not arts and crafts.”
“When I was in the 7th grade, I spelled my name with a Y. Because Y’s are cooler.”
“If you’ve ever thought about postponing anything in life. This is your moment.”
“HOGTIE put his feet up on the cooler, pushed his hat off his white forehead. ‘You know this clownin’ is gettin’ old, ain’t no dignity in it.’ Wallop scratched at something under his cap. ‘Au contraire, Hog. Clowning is an integral element of the safety procedures incumbent upon rodeo management to provide to secure the well being of the riders.’ Hogtie pursed his lips. ‘Yeah, guess you’re right. Hand me my nose.’”
“Here’s a theory for you to disregard completely. Music, you know, true music, not just rock ‘n’ roll, it chooses you. It lives in your car, or alone, listening to your headphones - you know, with the vast, scenic bridges and angelic choirs in your brain. It is a place apart from the vast, benign lap of America. Did you know that “The Letter” by The Box Tops was a minute and 58 seconds long? Means nothing. Nil. But it takes them less than two minutes to accomplish what Jethro Tull takes hours to NOT accomplish! (Pulls albums from the shelves) …You see this? This is fatuous, pseudo blubber! You know…which is fine, but…to foist it off as art - Or The Doors? Jim Morrison? He’s a drunken buffoon posing a poet. Aw. Give me the Guess Who! They’ve got the courage to be drunken buffoons, which makes them poetic! (Pulls more albums) …Yes? No. …Live “American Woman?” Have you ever - the most BRILLIANT piece of gobbledygook ever! Give me some “White Light/White Heat.” …Iggy Pop! AAAAAYMEN! …I’ll put this on. This isn’t on your playlist either.”
“I’M BLINDED by the white of the page, have nothing to write. I stand in the doorway to the studio and the thought of making an image fills me with the dread of responsibility, as if I had to tend to a roomful of dying elderly, of disabled children. I go for a drive and imagine collisions at every intersection, so I park and get on a bus. I stand, refuse to sit down. There are germs on the seats.”
“I RISE at three a.m. to walk my bladder to the bathroom, then return to bed and wait for my face and pillow to come to an agreement. I lie on my right, my left, my stomach, my back, as if attempting an even tan, until I find the Goldilocks spot. The only sound is the hum of the planet, and the whistling and chirping of the little birds who live in my nostrils.”
Father and son. NYC, NY 2004
“HE WAITED all his life for a splashy catharsis, irrefutable evidence that a profound change had transformed him. It took him many years to realize that he had been altered each day by the sun’s rising and the moon’s movement, by the unfurling of his daughter’s tiny hand to grasp his thumb, by the cat on his chest, by the glass of water his wife brought him before bedtime, by the questions his son asked.”
“‘THOSE ARE not fleas. Those are my nipples,’ my dog said as I hunted across her body for bloodsuckers. I’d stopped in the grand veldt of her pink and brown belly, fingers sniffing for prey. ‘You do this every time,’ she said. ‘OK,ok,’ I said and moved to the wilds of her back, the region behind her ears, under her muzzle. I chased one down her neck, snapped it between my thumbnails. ‘Atta boy,’ she said. ‘Atta boy.’”
Mahó Beach, St. Maarten
Photo: Kent Miller
I wish I had taken this, I hear St. Maarten is lovely this time of year.
“HER SUMMER DRESS is crisp, white with dark blue polka dots, open at the throat, sleeveless, set off by a wide red patent leather belt and espadrilles that raise her heels three inches from the sticky tarpaper. Backlit by the sun, her hair a splendor, she walks to the edge of the roof garden, looks down for a moment at the street 60 stories below, then returns to water the tomato plants. There are no insects up here.”
Wow, Mon! Los Angeles, CA
photo: Jasmine Wright
Passion Pit - Little Secrets 2010 (get it)
I hear this and I bounce.
I bounce like a big pink bunny. I bounce like my name is Hopper and it’s Easter. I bounce like I’ve been waiting all year for this day, so I can give everybody chocolate and hugs and jellybeans. I bounce like carrots are my favorite food.
Los Angeles, CA