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December 1996 index
December 4, 1996, Wednesday
At Plan 9 records I was flipping through the used CDs as I occasionally do when I spied an Overwhelming Colorfast CD, Two Words for only $4. I'd been familiar to some extent with the band back in the early 90s from College Radio airplay, so what the poop, $4 wasn't going to kill me. And I have to say it's a good album. It could be criticized for being formulaic grunge, for gratuitous hat tipping to low-fi, for being too pop, or borrowing too much from Sugar/Bob Mould/Hüsker Dü. But that doesn't take away from the audio experience, which I rate highly. They depart from grunge here and there with ample use of slide guitar -which would normally annoy the hell out of me- but which I like in this case. And at times the album veers towards a sort of Dinosaur Jr. sound. They're obviously very talented musicians in a crowded genré known more for attitude than virtuosity. And it's rare that I like any music on a first listening, yet -call me a wuss- I felt tears come to my eyes the first time I heard track 13.
I'd been telling Theresa and Persad that I'd let them hang my painting Felis diabolica for the past several weeks. Today I finally made good on my promises.
Theresa was so enthusiastic about it all when I arrived at her and Persad's place at 1300 Wertland that she had the painting hanging on the wall inside of thirty seconds among the other bouncing actions through which her enthusiasm carried her. One of these involved her pouring me a hearty glass of spiced rum and coke. Both Persad and his remarkably youthful-looking father were there, and the ever-gothic "weirdo Doug" also made a walkthrough with his distinctive gate (which makes his head execute a wide crescent with every step). But we three, Theresa, Persad and myself were about to leave in the couple's white 1978 Chevrolet Monte Carlo, which was decorated recently with abundant slogans and gothic symbols in silver spray paint. The destination: Theresa's 17 year old Aquarian sister Angela's abode, an upscale suburban house in a dismal neighborhood of many identical upscale suburban houses, lawns and well-scrubbed white Christian children with identical hopes for a Christmas overrun with Dalmatian puppies. Like most such depressing places, it was located somewhere off 29 North.
|Like most such depressing places, it was located somewhere off 29 North|
The whole way up Theresa and Persad carried on a remarkably low-key battle about what she did this weekend. You see, it seems that while Persad was off earning $400 in a medical experiment, Theresa was having great sex with the boy Jesse. Persad seemed to be taking it all rather well, but he was obviously bitter. Theresa was still debating whether to leave him tonight...for em-bare-ass-ment I suppose.
At Angela's though, things heated up considerably. This was facilitated to some extent by the Spiced Rum (we got another bottle on the way) and marijuana. Theresa and Persad kept storming off to their car saying one was going to leave the other immediately. And Angela kept trying to calm them down, making them Perogies and not allowing anyone to leave. She and I chatted some about Theresa and Persad whenever they were off having their fight in private. I said that it really seemed like Theresa was treating Persad poorly. And when I told Theresa that she humiliates Persad and that he doesn't deserve such shabby treatment, she agreed, saying "Persad doesn't deserve me." That's a sure indication that their relationship is in terrible shape. Apparently this crisis in the Theresa-Persad household has shaken the Venesian household to its very core. Being a tight Italian family, they have strong feelings about loyalty and relationship. They have been calling on the phone and doing other things, trying to keep the couple together.
Owing to all the tension, I drank excessively and came near puking. Somehow, the couple managed to rally enough facility and co-operation to drive back to Wertland with me in the back. I stumbled home and passed out in my bed. I slept in my clothes.
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