(Sidebar: as I lay in the dentist’s chair today I heard my first xMas commercial of the year. The one for the Radio City Christmas show, where the singer sounds like he’s just about to explode from Yuletide anxiety.)
So it was a Halloween tradition that a number of Simon’s Rock students would hitch a ride to Hampshire College and take LSD for Halloween. My friend Peter Mack did, in 1987. He was the kind of guy who wouldn’t be caught dead in a costume.
He was wandering around the campus by himself, out of his mind, not knowing where the hell he was. Suddenly, he finds that there’s a guy in a wizard costume sticking a microphone into his face.
“So what are you supposed to be?”
Peter Mack had wandered onto the stage of the Halloween costume competition.
“I’m an art fag,” he said.
The audience roared! He was awarded first prize. Unfortunately the guy who came in second was wearing an intricate octopus costume that he’d clearly spent hours stitching together, and Peter Mack was stripped of his title.
If I had the skills, I’d go out and tag ROVE all over New York, in classic grafitti lettering.
Yep, the man was born on Halloween. If you appreciate him as much as we in the band do, send him a birthday wish via his MySpace page. PBRs, or JPEGs of PBRs, would make a lovely gift.
My number one is Super Bowl Sunday. For the commercials. The above pic ganked from my homegirl Maryl.
Last night in Philly I shared the bill with a phenomenal singer named Melody Gardot. Really courageous and fascinating, too–clicky linky for full story.
The view from the couch. Oh, my very own couch.
The last tour show was Saturday in New York. The next day we flew to Seattle for a radio show, then home yesterday. So am I done? I have another radio show in Philly tomorrow, but I’ll be home by midnight. And then Scrap and I are going up to a certain cable network on Friday to play for staff peeps there. So when can I say I’m done? Today? Saturday?
So much I want to do today, my first full 24 hours at home since September. Go to a meeting. Go to the gym. Call friends.
I just got back from Seattle where I played a party co-sponsored by Starbucks.
KMTT in Seattle has put out a compilation in conjunction with Stbx, benefitting a wildlife fund. They flew us out and we played a set for contest winners. I debated excluding “Busting” from the set, being that Stbx personnel were on hand, but I decided not to wuss out, and played it, after a preamble: Look, this song is making fun of WTO protesters–“Go on and fix it with your tiny fist there”–not advocating riots, and if you cut me off from my latte I’ll die I’ll just die.
The next day I was in the Stbx across the street from my hotel. The compilation was sitting on the counter. I laughed. What’s so funny, asked the girl. I’m track ten on there! I said.
She had me autograph it for her.
Pretty much the moment I landed in Seattle I went to Vivace on Broadway, some of my favorite coffee in the world. But almost any other city in America it’s Sbtx I’m looking for.
What has happened to my taste in cars?
I have fallen in love with the 2000-2001 Toyota Echo. What the hell?! Something about its lines. And its smallness.
Has anybody ever gotten their car painted at Earl Scheib or Maaco or something? Does it look any good? I have this urge to buy a used Echo and have it painted psychedelic green or something. Maybe if Haughty goes gold I’ll get rims, too. Yeah.
If I do move to Portland, I figured out that it’d be cheaper to throw all my furniture away and buy new stuff than rent a U-Haul to schlep it all out there!!
Listener Patrick Stone sent in this picture of his pumpkin.