Yesterday at Coney Island, the Mermaid Parade.

The parade is fun and all, but really it’s just an excuse to ride the Cyclone. I went with a friend who’s also crazy for photography–so I could do the scene with somebody who was also pausing every nine seconds to get a shot of, like, a vending machine filled with Bert dolls–and her reaction to the roller coaster was hilarious. On the way up: SHITFUCKMOTHERFUCKERSHITSHIT. As the cars pulled into the station again: Is that all?
The dude offered us $5 for two to ride again; she whipped out a $5 bill from her purse in a snap. And then, all over again: SHITFUCKMOTHERFUCKERSHITSHITSHIT. And when it was over: Is that all?

More Apparitions.

Chuck D.’s on Marc Maron’s show right now, lamenting the departure of the NY oldies station WCBS. Because when he’s driving around with his kids in the back seat he’d rather they not listen to “Pass the Courvoisier,” but rather “The Four Tops, the Temptations, and the Allman Brothers.” The Allman Brothers.


Just now I saw a huge, pristinely white Cadillac coming up Orchard Street; behind the wheel was a large black guy with sunglasses and numerous gold chains around his neck. He wore a matching collared, short-sleeved shirt and slacks set; olive-greenish, sort of like something a Latin American dictator might wear.
The license plate said: CONNECTICUT LEGISLATURE.

Another Pleading Call to the Masses.

Can any of you Limeware-savvy rocksters-in-the-know hook me up with an MP3 of the Screaming Blue Messiahs’ song “Clear View”?
ADDENDUM: Thanks to Randy from Cambridge, Mass, for sending it to me!!

I just have to point out how astonishing it is that I ask for an obscure 80s alt-rock song at 9:30 am, and a guy in Boston sends it to me less than two hours later.


Is there anything not worth blowing off?

I have succumbed to the season. I blew off everything today and lazed around in Central Park. Walked barefoot in the Great Lawn. Sat by the statues of literary notables and flipped around on the iPod.
I fell in love with the Joe Strummer song “Coma Girl,” and downloaded all of his solo stuff. Really good records. It’s a shame I didn’t know what a vital solo artist he was ’til he passed away.
When I briefly lived in London, my roadie Heinz was friendly with Joe, and kept telling me that–being that we were both latecomers to the Ecstasy phenomenon, and both quite enthusiastic about it–he wanted to get us together to hang out. Never happened. The mind reels.


Andy Adelewitz (aka Mike Doughty HQ) took these pix of the video shoot for “Looking at the World at the Bottom of a Well.

I got there this morning at 7:30 am, and we shot ’til 7:30 pm. The man in the blue shirt with the awesome hair is the director, Danny Clinch. Keep in mind that in most of these shots with me laying on the ground, there’s a camera up above me on a cherrypicker. Other than that, I could explain more but I think it’d just sound perplexing.

Rashomon of the Late Night Talk Show Set.

I’m getting a shitload of emails that are like, Dude, you were so nervous on Letterman!

This is perplexing. I totally was not nervous on Letterman. Really. I mean, I had a mild case of jitters, but I was pretty together. At least I felt that way. As a matter of fact, I walked offstage thinking, Wow, I can’t believe how in the moment I was.
There was a monitor dead smack in front of us as we were playing, and it was really difficult to not stare at it the whole time, like, Hey, I look good in that shot! Aargh, I look bad in that shot! So I was trying hard to look in every other possible direction, lest staring at the same point for three and a half minutes straight render me zombie-looking on television.
Funny thing: people that know me are all saying, You looked so relaxed! That’s not quite true, either.
Maybe you guys don’t see me that close up so often. Maybe I should consult my TiVo for further analysis.

Oh Yeah: This Is My New Tattoo.

It says “musician” in Amharic (aka Ethiopian). I was hoping that there’d be a clear shot of it on Letterman last night, so that Ethiopians on their couches throughout the CBS-broadcastable world would rub their eyes and think, What the Hell?! But, no dice.