Wednesday, May 31, 2006

post 272. it's just easier with a camera phone.

who doesn't like reading on the fire escape? i've been trying to get through abe's the box man, but haven't been able to focus on it with business buzzing around the inside of my head. so the other night, i meant to take a picture of mike looking to get out onto the fire escape wiht me, but in trying to manipulate my phone i dropped it. i watched it float through the air and land gently on the concrete driveway, three floors down. amazingly enough, it still works like a charm.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

post 270. morning writing.

10 minutes of nonstop typing:

Having trouble with the seismograph, I went outside to find out if the material transponder had been awakene by that damnable dog that was the neighborhood scourge. I mean, really. There are dosgs in this world that I can tolerate, but one that destyroys scientific processes? That’s alittle to much for me to take. So I went out side and wouldn’;t you know it, dog oprints in the dirt outside the transponder. I investigated and founfd the part of the fence where he obviously was getting in. I went inside and got somoe duct tape to fix the broken fence. When I returned outsde, I saw the dog stainding at the transponder . he was working on it. Bad dog! Was the first thing I could think of, although I was inordinately shocked at the scene. The dog had a rudimentary tool belt around his waist and I couldn’t make out any of the instruments he had. Was it a dog-sort of sy? Was is someone from fergeson’s lab trying to undermine my work? I instantly ran after him, who got down on all fours and escapes dthrough the hole in the fence. I looked at the duct tape. Obviously, this tape wouldn’t be enough o stop an animal so smart. I called ferguson’s lab. Have you been sending a og to undermine my research, I yeklleed into the phone. No, I haven’t, he byelled, have you beenb messing with the pizza place to continually screw up my lunch orders? No, I hevant;t I yelled, and was about to hang up the hone with enough force to hopefully convey to ferguson that I wasn’t over our long-winded and long-standing relationship, when I heard his voioce stammer. Who are you? I heard him say, the I heard him yell out, “no! no, bad dog! Bad dog!! Ahhhhh!!!!!” and then the cracking of the receiver oin the floor, that beautiful parquay floor that I had known so well when ferguson and I were lab mates…ferguson! Ferguson! I yelled, are you there! Answer the phone, you lame-braoned idiot! Then a clatter and the sound of breathing. The sound of…panting. Hello, dr townsend. Who is this? What have you done to dr. ferguson? He has been removed from this laboratory. Who are you, I asked. Someone who is going to detroy all the research you two have been trying to accomplish. Funny- you could have found what it was you were looking for, but your rivalry has set yo both on paths that could have never – I’m speaking scientifically – converged to save those you weer trying to help. And I’m going to make sure that it never happens. Who are you, I yelled. Why, terry, the voice said, don’t you remember your favorite Labrador retriever? Magnus, I said, shocked, and dropped the phone. In the distance, outside by the transponder, I heard barking in the distance.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

post 266. what i sent to city newspaper.

Forged in New Hampshire just over ten years ago, Scissorfight’s music sounds as if it’s made by some kooky backwoods history professor who likes to drink, fight, and make punk metal soundtracks for the crush-y bits of monster truck rallies. Delivering riffs that could carve their home state’s motto into the side of Kilimanjaro, they brandish an imposing lead singer named Iron Lung (who looks as if he’s lost his way from the bowling alley) as well as goose-pimply cool song titles that are no doubt the envy of metal bands everywhere: “The Gruesome Death of Edward Teach,” “The Most Dangerous Animal is Me,” and “Rules are Different for Dead Men,” to name but a few. Scissorfight rise above the rest with a spirit and personality that would kick your ass if you ever told them they had such stupid, mortal things as spirit and personality. See. This. Band.

Scissorfight with Orange Goblin play Saturday, May 27 at the Montage Grille, 50 Chestnut Street. 232-1520, www.montagegrille.com. $15, 8:00 pm.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

post 264. from keith's upcoming work.

Beginners are doing something very difficult: great clowns are doing
something easier.

If great clowns get into a car it will go somewhere. Even if it
shakes itself to pieces it will at least have driven around the
circus ring a few times before it explodes. But if beginners (or
badly trained improvisers) pretend to get into a car some saboteur
will say 'There's no gas in the tank', or 'This car only goes in
reverse!' or 'We'd better look at the map first!", or 'I've left the
keys in the house', or 'I forgot to tell you - I took the wheels off
yesterday!'

A more experienced player might counter such sabotage by saying
things like: 'I've got a spare set of keys,' or 'I filled the tank
earlier this morning', and so on, but someone will cap this by
saying: 'Oh no! The engine's fallen out, or 'Oh dear, the steering
wheel's come off!" Even if the car manages to 'drive forwards' it'll
run over a pedestrian, or get a puncture, or the road will divide and
they'll argue about whether to go right or left - anything rather
than travel to a destination. Beginners see such behaviour as 'being
funny', but I see them as protecting themselves from a future in
which they might be altered
It's easier to 'drive away' than to invent reasons for not driving
away, but moving into the future implies the possibility of change.
But beginners experience 'being changed' while they're being stared
at as weakness, as a loss of control. So they conspire to have
nothing happen.

We see this as a 'lack of talent', but it's really a conspiracy not
to go anywhere.

Keith Johnstone

post 263. a real, live cubicle (part 2).

due to some technical wiring problems for the telemarketers, (i)mprov now has a window seat. "...to a de-luxe apartment...in the sky-y-y."

Thursday, May 11, 2006

post 262. just like the old days.

with scissorfight's impending show at the montage grille (may 27th), i called up the legendary and inimitable frank deblase, asking him if i could return to the city newspaper fold and write a soundsbox to tout this fantastic happening.

so now i have 150 words to spend in a way that will both show my love for this band and hopefully generate interest in the show. i've always loved music writing, even though i'm a little out of practice; using metaphors and whisking off musical opinions like some kind of expert is a wonderfully self-centered experience.

so first off, i've got to figure out how to describe scissorfight's music. heavy. that's the start. now we have to find some interesting thing that stands out and makes them take heed. saying, "scissorfight is one heavy band" doesn't really have a lot of punch anymore, since we're a good thirty some-odd years past the term's inception. so it has to be something that makes someone say, "wow. that's heavy." like, "scissorfight's heavy like a big rig filled with rhinos."

or...uh...something like that.

so now to the thinking.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

post 258. rio grande blood.

there is no possible way you could hate george w. more than father al jourgensen of ministry. after toiling through the nineties with the lackluster, misspent albums filth pig and dark side of the spoon, ministry came roaring back with animositisomina. throbbing like psalm 69, it promised a return of a ministry finally devoid of drug problems, band problems, and legal problems, ready to face down the new republicans in charge. top it? certainly. houses of the mole, the next album, did the same thing, but did it more.

those two albums, as tough as they were, are nothing compared to the latest: rio grande blood is the center of a super nova. it tastes like dynamite. it's one hot taco. this latest triumverate of albums can hold itself up against the late eighties / early nineties ministry, although only in its raw passion and distaste of the government. (what, do want me to tell you there's something as good as "just one fix?" "stigmata?" the angriest song ever, "so what?" sorry. not gonna happen.) but it's good stuff. very, very good stuff.