This title is stolen from an artist who got a bit of radio play in the late sixites/early seventies by thye name of Buzzy Linhardt. His biggesat break was when Bette Midler did a cover of the tune I'm using on her "Devine Miss M" album. To be perfectly honest I'd rather have used the more obscure tune from Led Zeppelin III, simply entitled, "Friends" but that would have been too easy. Led Zeppelin is more of a pivotal band in my upbringing than Buzzy Linhardt ever was, but I enjoy the obscure and ecclectic, so there's the logic ( or lack thereof) behind my choice.
I am an admitted loner. That isn't by choice, it's simply just the way things work out. I know lots of people, and I consider them friends simply because they aren't enemies, but if I was stranded at an airport at 11:55 p.m. and needed a ride, there's nobody that I'd feel comfortable calling and asking to come pick me up.
Back in the eighties, I was seeing a girl and one night we went to the movies. By some coincidence, a bunch of her friends were at the theater. The relationship was new and she asked me if I'd like to meet her friends, naturally I said, 'okay'. She introduced us and then she told me to go back and save our seats before someone else took them. When she returned to the seats, she announced that her friends thought I was cute. She then asked when she could meet my friends. I told her that my friends were the people I worked with, and she already knew them.
" You work with them, they're not your friends!" She informed me. I was stunned by that revelation. Of course she was right. I get along with my coworkers on a pretty steady basis, but once the workday ends, we'd go our separate ways and I wouldn't see them again until the following workday. It was next that she told me that I was a, "Disposable person". I laughed and thought that was a pretty efficient was to describe people that don't serve any real purpose on our planet. But she had hit the nail straight on the head, driving it ino the wood with one shot. I don't fill any needs in anybody's life except my own. I think this is why I have such a difficult time dating. I'm bland and boring, and the women that I like, are the ones that everyone likes! When a gal has a tribe of suitors all vying to conquer her ass, I fall pretty close to the bottom of the list, end of story...sort of.
I was in high school when the movie "American Graffiti" came out. I wanted to see it because it featured hot rods as a central theme. So when the group of guys I was hanging out with were talking the topic of movies came up and I mentioned that I wanted to see the new George Lucas film. On Monday when I returned to class, a bunch of my pals were talking about the weekend. In passing they let it slip that they saw "American Graffiti".
" Why didn't you tell me? You knew I wanted to see that?" I blurted out, enraged that I'd been excluded from their foray to the cinema. They kind of shrugged and blew it off. I then asked myself why I was trying so hard to hang out with people who didn't give a fart about me, and made an oath that I wouldn't bother with them anymore. After about four weekends of staying home, I decided that was even less appealing.
I'm not anti-social, I enjoy going to parties, and social events, but apparently I'm not the life of the party, or even the flickering, fading candle flame of excitement...I'm just a guy. I refuse to force myself upon people. I've known folks who did that, and they are most often secretly resented by the group they're trying too hard to fit in with. So I've learned to bite the bullet and entertain myself when the need arises. I still go to concerts from time to time, but the lack of a social interaction makes it an empty experience. I've seen some great shows, but without somebody to share it with, makes it almost the same as watching TV. So in conclusion...oh one of my favorite shows is on, I'll finish this later....
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
People Are Strange
That title of a Doors song can be used for a lot of my rants. I never cease to be amazed at how well their music holds up over time. There have been newer bands that cover their tunes, but the one that sold the most copies, was Jose Felicano's dreadful version of "Light My Fire". It's almost on a par with horrendous version that Ike & Tina Turner did of Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Proud Mary". Better left forgotten. When I worked at WLIR F.M. way back in the mid 1980's, I had to edit an interview with Ray Manzarek the keyboardist for the Doors. It was prior to Oliver Stone's release of his movie about the band. I was blown away by how smart and talented this individual was. I later read some comments by Mr. Manzarek denouncing Stone and refusing to help promote the flick. Naturally I went and saw it when it came out,a nd I can see why. It made Jim Morrison into an icon and the rest of the band came across like mindless dolts, who unthinkingly just followed along with whatever Morrison did. Anyway my tirade this time isn't about the Doors, but someone very close to me...
My Father
I moved back home with my Dad and Sister after being destitiute for a while. Living alone in my apartment, where I moved when I got the job in radio for over twenty years, I amassed a considerable amolunt of useless crap. Most of it was materials that I had plans to make into something, but never got around to because I was spending a ton of time taking buses back and forth to work, and I wasn'tmaking enough money to be able to spend it on the necessary parts and equipment to launch those plans I had. When I moved, most of it went in the trash. I inherited this mentality from Dad.
Dad cannot throw anything away! At Christmas time, the grabagemen should tip HIM! My father is also negligent about maintaining things. His way of dealing with situations is to ignore them until they reach critcal mass. I'm a car freak, as I've mentioned in other posts, and I recently got another vehicle that I am anxious to customize. This will be a near impossible undertaking because there isn't an inch of spare space in the house. It is all taken up by the crap he's amassed. The garage, basement, attic and most of the rooms are overflowing with ordinary junk. He cannot throw out a box, he must save every one he gets, the yard is littered with every flower pot that ever came onto it, despite their being empty, if I attempt to get rid of them, I'll be reprimanded. To try and get rid of furniture is beyond comprehension to him. Things that get broken, are all taken to some part of the house to use valuable space. I worked at a car stereo shop in the late '80's through the mid '90's. They had a service center there,. My father's VCR had gone on the fritz so I took it in to be fixed. I was told that parts were no longer available for that model and to junk it. I passed that diagnosis along to my Dad, it's still down in the cellar. If a branch falls off a tree, he will cut up the twigs and put them into one of those wax coated cardboard milk containers and stow it away to burn in the fireplace, the problem is we had maybe a dozen fires this past winter and not one of those boxes was among the things torched. He's also got boxes of sawdust, broken light bulbs, old dead batteries, styrofoam packing, and if I suggest we get rid of them to make room or a drill press or something that has a practical value, he bites my head off. He's beyond the packrat mentality he's obsessive/compulsive. If he buys something and it's not what he wanted, he won't return it. He's as negligent about his health as he is about household maitenance. He complains about his arthritis but won't seek any medical treatment for it. He'll throw away tons of money on snake oil that's advertised on infomercials but won't seek advice from a medical specialist. I'm willing to help do some of the stuff around the house to make it easier to live here comfortably, but his attitude makes it the kind of thing one has to tiptoe around. I certainly don't have the money to get much of the work done by a professional, and the DIY method would be really hard because to move anything would make the house into a labyrinth of clutter. The only viable solution I can see, is to move out, but to find another apartment where I have a garage or a work shop is already out of my price range, so I just have to hold my breath and live with it.
My Father
I moved back home with my Dad and Sister after being destitiute for a while. Living alone in my apartment, where I moved when I got the job in radio for over twenty years, I amassed a considerable amolunt of useless crap. Most of it was materials that I had plans to make into something, but never got around to because I was spending a ton of time taking buses back and forth to work, and I wasn'tmaking enough money to be able to spend it on the necessary parts and equipment to launch those plans I had. When I moved, most of it went in the trash. I inherited this mentality from Dad.
Dad cannot throw anything away! At Christmas time, the grabagemen should tip HIM! My father is also negligent about maintaining things. His way of dealing with situations is to ignore them until they reach critcal mass. I'm a car freak, as I've mentioned in other posts, and I recently got another vehicle that I am anxious to customize. This will be a near impossible undertaking because there isn't an inch of spare space in the house. It is all taken up by the crap he's amassed. The garage, basement, attic and most of the rooms are overflowing with ordinary junk. He cannot throw out a box, he must save every one he gets, the yard is littered with every flower pot that ever came onto it, despite their being empty, if I attempt to get rid of them, I'll be reprimanded. To try and get rid of furniture is beyond comprehension to him. Things that get broken, are all taken to some part of the house to use valuable space. I worked at a car stereo shop in the late '80's through the mid '90's. They had a service center there,. My father's VCR had gone on the fritz so I took it in to be fixed. I was told that parts were no longer available for that model and to junk it. I passed that diagnosis along to my Dad, it's still down in the cellar. If a branch falls off a tree, he will cut up the twigs and put them into one of those wax coated cardboard milk containers and stow it away to burn in the fireplace, the problem is we had maybe a dozen fires this past winter and not one of those boxes was among the things torched. He's also got boxes of sawdust, broken light bulbs, old dead batteries, styrofoam packing, and if I suggest we get rid of them to make room or a drill press or something that has a practical value, he bites my head off. He's beyond the packrat mentality he's obsessive/compulsive. If he buys something and it's not what he wanted, he won't return it. He's as negligent about his health as he is about household maitenance. He complains about his arthritis but won't seek any medical treatment for it. He'll throw away tons of money on snake oil that's advertised on infomercials but won't seek advice from a medical specialist. I'm willing to help do some of the stuff around the house to make it easier to live here comfortably, but his attitude makes it the kind of thing one has to tiptoe around. I certainly don't have the money to get much of the work done by a professional, and the DIY method would be really hard because to move anything would make the house into a labyrinth of clutter. The only viable solution I can see, is to move out, but to find another apartment where I have a garage or a work shop is already out of my price range, so I just have to hold my breath and live with it.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Everlong
Thank God for the Foo Fighters! Along with Green Day, they are keeping original Rock and Roll alive. When Dave Grohl appeared on the Howard Stern show, back when he was on terrestrial radio, they did a killer acoustic version of "Everlong". The station has since become another outlet of bland dance music, leaving New York with one less outlet for Rock and Roll music. But my admiriation for the Foo Fighters isn't what I'm bitching about today...it's shoe laces.
Back in the early nineties black youth would buy the highest sneakers available and then buy thick, brightly colored laces but only lace the boots or basketball shoes up a small part of the way, leaving a streamer of laces dangling behind them. It didn't take long before white kids copied this trend. First of all, why buy high top sneaks if you're only going to use the lower portion? You can save a large hunk of cash by purchasing the smaller athletic footwear. Now it seems that manufacturers have seen the light and automatically include oversized laces with any shoes that need to be tied. The effect, constantly stepping on the tips that lay on the ground, cracking the aglets...those sleeves over the lace tips that enable you to easily feed the lace through the eyelets. So in the event you ever have to relace te shoes, you're guaranteed to have a difficult time of it. The first thing I do whenever I purchase a new pair of boots or shoes, is to take out the laces and seek some of a more apporpriate length. Does this boost the economy? I don't think so. Is it a major conspiracy? Hardly, it's just one of those pain-in-the-ass fads that make life more of a question mark than anything else.
I am baffled that this has yet to pass it's course and become ancient history the way Nehru Jackets and Love Beads did. But I'm also still baffled that the wearing of low-slung pants that exhibit giant underwear still is trendy. Especially since the people who do it aren't hot girls, they're generally young men with big butts that nobody is interested in viewing. I am hardly a fashion maven, but I know what I like and I certainly hate having to constantly retie my shoes because the laces are too long. Am I crazy? I must be, to let something this trivial inspire me to write about it!
Back in the early nineties black youth would buy the highest sneakers available and then buy thick, brightly colored laces but only lace the boots or basketball shoes up a small part of the way, leaving a streamer of laces dangling behind them. It didn't take long before white kids copied this trend. First of all, why buy high top sneaks if you're only going to use the lower portion? You can save a large hunk of cash by purchasing the smaller athletic footwear. Now it seems that manufacturers have seen the light and automatically include oversized laces with any shoes that need to be tied. The effect, constantly stepping on the tips that lay on the ground, cracking the aglets...those sleeves over the lace tips that enable you to easily feed the lace through the eyelets. So in the event you ever have to relace te shoes, you're guaranteed to have a difficult time of it. The first thing I do whenever I purchase a new pair of boots or shoes, is to take out the laces and seek some of a more apporpriate length. Does this boost the economy? I don't think so. Is it a major conspiracy? Hardly, it's just one of those pain-in-the-ass fads that make life more of a question mark than anything else.
I am baffled that this has yet to pass it's course and become ancient history the way Nehru Jackets and Love Beads did. But I'm also still baffled that the wearing of low-slung pants that exhibit giant underwear still is trendy. Especially since the people who do it aren't hot girls, they're generally young men with big butts that nobody is interested in viewing. I am hardly a fashion maven, but I know what I like and I certainly hate having to constantly retie my shoes because the laces are too long. Am I crazy? I must be, to let something this trivial inspire me to write about it!
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