Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").
got that wrong
fun social media stuff
Like my brownhouse:
Jamie Dyer at the Escafe
Sunday, March 9 1997
Thing to say today: Dollars are the monopoly money of the game of life.
I awoke fairly early and went to UVA's Cocke Hall to do some computer work. Along the way at some point I decided to invest in yet more CDs. Today's music theme was one of classic rock. Of course, having been born in 1968, there is much classic rock that I like. This is not the same music that is played endlessly, mindlessly, on classic rock stations however. There is much music that has been completely forgotten but that is every bit as alive and meaningful as the "alternative" music with which we are assaulted in the 90s. One such band is, I kid you not, Genesis. I say this because I have a tape at home of a Genesis album called And the Lamb Lies Down on Broadway that came out in 1974. This tape mysteriously fell into my possession after the acromonious break up of my relationship with Lisa Joy Powley in Oberlin in the Spring of 1989. She'd had a fairly extensive collection of tapes, and for some reason I was left with only one of these, And the Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. I was not a fan of Genesis when I first started playing this tape. But there was something about it that snuck up on me and soon I loved it, particularly the song "The Carpet Crawlers." But many of the other songs soon seemed miraculous to me. I liked the subtle mix of psychadelic imagery and social commentary. It's hard to balance these two, but Genesis did it as well as any band I have ever heard. Gradually, though, the tape began to wear out. It never broke, but parts became crumpled, stretched, distorted, abraided and thin. Hiss and distortion drifted in. It eventually became like an old mossy relict of music. But it lost none of its impact from these changes. Indeed, the hiss and distortion added to the existential impact of the music. This no doubt set me up perfectly for my later appreciation for Guided by Voices, which, I will venture to say, at times sound like a less-keyboard-intensive pre-aged early Genesis. Even Robert Pollard, the singer for Guided by Voices, admits that he sounds like Peter Gabriel.
And so today I was pleased to find that someone had liquidated their entire collection of early Genesis CDs into the Plan 9 Used CD bin. By the way, late Genesis (post-Peter Gabriel or, at the very least, post-1981's Abacab, the title song of which I actually like) is horrible soul-less pop music that no one in their right mind should ever listen to.
Perhaps the most famous early Genesis CD is 1972's Selling England by the Pound. When I found this in the Plan 9 used CD bin, I elected to buy it. I didn't actually like it too much when I later listened to it. It all seemed so overwrought. But maybe that will change.
I also picked up a used copy of REM's Dead Letter Office, which is a compilation of B sides. Dead Letter Office is an often underrated compilation, much like Nirvana's Incesticide. But I like the shoddy quality of the songs. A great band at their worst can often be more inspirational than the intimidating inaccessiblity of their best. Guided by Voices is a great band that is consistently at their worst. That's their beauty I think. Another cool thing about the CD of Dead Letter Office is that it comes with all of REM's first EP, Chronic Town, tacked at the end. It was a must-have for $7. I'd grown to love Dead Letter Office back in 1988 when a college chum named Matt Rogers first introduced it to me. I'd always especially liked the version of "Seven Chinese Brothers" with the gospel album liner notes standing in as lyrics.
About this time Persad anomalously arrived. He and Theresa have not been getting along very well since the 28th. Their situation is continuously one of breaking up, moving out, and reconciliation, all conducted in an extremely public manner. The situation today: he's moving out (so says Cecelia). Anyway, Persad had come in search of a creepy blue glass that had disappeared after the February 17th trip to Blue Hole. He'd seen the videotape made that day and it clearly showed us drinking vino from that glass. His presence made me extremely paranoid. In my intoxicated state I feared he might confront me about some of his jealousy issues related to Theresa and things she and I might have done on the 28th of February. It seemed like the glass issue was symbolic of bigger things. I searched my room and he and I together searched my car for the glass (which I may or may not have been responsible for losing) but we could find nothing.
As Dr. Randall Phillip was no doubt doing (according to Sara), we watched the Simpsons followed by King of the Hill (an animated comic soap opera about suburban life in Texas by the same guy who brought us Beavis and Butthead). But we left during the latter show so as not to miss the beginning of Jamie's show.
Bri-Bri drove us with all due haste to the Downtown Mall in his jeep. On the way, we stopped at Theresa and Persad's to see if Theresa wanted to come. But she was dealing with her rocky personal domestic situation and so couldn't join us. Jessika said she looked depressed. I had the videocamera and was to tape snatches of the rest of the evening.
Monster Boy was working at Escafé when we arrived. But it was a slow night and he was free to hang out with us. To liven up the videotape we all went to the Mudhouse in hopes of finding Patrick Reed. But no such luck. They all checked their email (all of them now have Hotmail accounts, though Sara is too much of a spaz to ever check hers) while I chatted with older bozART acquaintances.
Back at Escafé, I ordered a Sloe Gin Fizz (per Jessika's recommendation) but there wasn't any Sloe mix (you'd think a gay bar would keep kegs of the stuff; go figure!). So I told the waiter to just fix me some "girlie drink." Meanwhile, Sara and Bri-Bri split a dish of sesame noodles. For three dollars, the sorry pile of noodles came on a plate no larger than an ashtray. As Sara put it, "That even offends my Aquarius Rising! [imagine what it does to your Taurus Rising!]."
Farrell suddenly appeared (he was the one who had told the Malvern Girl about tonight's performance) along with a contingent of his single male friends. They sat nearby, but apart.
Jamie and some friends started playing their instruments: Jamie always on guitar and singing while the others played an assortment of instruments, including a violin, an accordion, and a drum. It was warm, mellow, folksy. As Monster Boy was to say, "I didn't like it at first but it grabs you after awhile." It's good that Jamie's playing again; he hadn't been playing for many months, you know.
The performance of "ADD" (the song about Sara's problems with concentration) that Jamie did tonight was slower than that done at the Jehu End of the World Party, perhaps to accomodate the violin. I'd been anticipating this song all night, but everytime I would begin to sing it, Sara would grab me and pull my hair.
By now I was a walking corpse. I felt sick from cold, stiff and sore from the dancing on Friday night, hungover from last night, drunk and stoned from the afternoon, and tired from a general lack of sufficient sleep. I was also melancholy because of the impending departure of my friends from Malvern.
The funny thing is that the whole time she was here, I never really felt a need to talk with Jessika since we'd kept in such good contact over the Internet. Our contact over the Internet had been in many ways superiour to our contact when we'd been living in the same town!
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
previous | next