Just got back from a night out with Molly. We ate dinner with Boogie at the Reade Street Pub in TriBeCa, where I had to nearly fight off a group of fabulous patrons to get the last available table. There was one empty table, reserved from someone who had left and said they were coming back. I was irked. My situation was helped when I made a comment to the owner (I didn't know it was him... I was just talking out loud) that all I wanted was to come by for a beer and a cheeseburger. Within minutes, he gave us the table and seated us! The pints were moderately priced at $4. After our meal we walked over to No Moore Bar to see Charlie Hunter play with his quintet. The show was great. He's the shit. Charlie played two sets and the show ended just after Midnight. KK and Judd showed up, as well as a cameo from Ethan, and the night was highlighted by an unexpected, rare, out of the blue appearance from none other than Crunchy Dynamite!! I don't know his real name, but I gave him the nickname "Crunchy Dynamite" (CD) in the winter of 2001, during a ride from NYC to Philly. KK drove Boogie, Ethan, CD and myself as we ventured off to see Galactic at the Electric Factory. CD was tons of amusment for all of us. OK, back to the skinny on tonight... after the Charlie Hunter show we went drinking in the East Village for a late night cocktails. I think that we got the same cab driver twice. He drove us from North Moore Street to the East Village and almost 3 hours later, he picked us up on Second Avenue. Molly recognized his name from before. Very strange I think.Same cab driver? What are the odds? It's rare in NYC with so many cabs!
Friday, February 28, 2003
Thursday, February 27, 2003
Check out a: Good Philly Phish Review... which I read on the net, and written by some guy named Bart.
Here's a bit:
"This band is doing just as they have always done, which is whatever they want to
do, ignoring reason and consequences, and along that journey, even at this stage of
the game, there are bound to be some pitfalls. They're right where they are supposed
to be, onstage, taking chances, both conscious and unconscious, and if the kid in
Section 302 throws a hissy fit because Trey couldn't hit the high notes in "Talk",
even if he hasn't played it in five years, then too fucking bad. You want to be
moved? You want to experience the religion of it all? Then shut your little mouth and
take this one like a man."
Here's a bit:
"This band is doing just as they have always done, which is whatever they want to
do, ignoring reason and consequences, and along that journey, even at this stage of
the game, there are bound to be some pitfalls. They're right where they are supposed
to be, onstage, taking chances, both conscious and unconscious, and if the kid in
Section 302 throws a hissy fit because Trey couldn't hit the high notes in "Talk",
even if he hasn't played it in five years, then too fucking bad. You want to be
moved? You want to experience the religion of it all? Then shut your little mouth and
take this one like a man."
Zobo sent me this e-mail:
"Thanks for hooking Jarad up with the tickets for Monday's show! Cincinnati was freakin' incredible. Here is a review of the weekend I wrote up!"
and now check out: Zobo's Cincy Phish review
I thought both shows were incredible. It is hard to say one was better than the other because they were a little different. Friday night seemed to be all about the heavy hitters (Mike's, 2001, Hood, etc.) and they were played really well. Saturday night was all about the jamming.
Friday night's highlights were Frankenstein, Antelope, and the entire second set except All of the These Dreams which I think might be the worst Phish song ever. Mike's was a great set opener and the Free was so funky in the middle. Waste had a nice little jam at the end and 2001 was much better than it was in Hampton. Hood was one of the best I have seen and the jam lasted longer than it did before the break. As they started to build up towards the lyrics at the end, they went right back into the jam for another few minutes and then built up again before finishing. Possum was so much fun and I love when they close a set with Cavern. I don't like Wading as an encore, but it didn't matter because the show was so awesome.
After passing out around 5:00 a.m. that night, we were awoken to this Fire! Possibly the worst morning of my entire life. Raf and I were on the 11th floor. We had 10th row seats on the floor Saturday night which added to the crazy excitement. Sloth opener kind of surprised me. Not a big fan of Dogs Stole Things. The show really got going with Piper into Weekapaug and the segue was so seemless, that I didn't notice it was coming until Chad and Raf started going crazy. A lot of people don't like Dirt, but I really enjoy that song because of the harmonies at the end and it was time for a break after the craziness that happened with Weekapaug. Mule was fun with some great stage antics by the boys. Wall of the Cave was ridiculous, great fifteen minute hard rocking jam that had a perfect buildup to the end of the song. I went to the bathroom during Mountains and also missed Sample.
Second set was unreal. Tube was one of my top Phish moments ever. So funky and the song is so much fun. I seriously felt like I was in a big tube filled with funk and I couldn't get out (and I was completely sober at the moment). Bathtub clocked in at close to a half hour and the jam never seemed to get lost. Incredible. Friday wasn't too bad, but wasn't good either. Needed to sit down after Bathtub. Bowie was fantastic as usual and I really like Bug because it brings back great memories from the shows I saw in Japan. A lot of people don't like that song, but it was great on Saturday. Suzy encore was a lot of fun as I can always listen to a song about a stupid Jewish chick!
"Thanks for hooking Jarad up with the tickets for Monday's show! Cincinnati was freakin' incredible. Here is a review of the weekend I wrote up!"
and now check out: Zobo's Cincy Phish review
I thought both shows were incredible. It is hard to say one was better than the other because they were a little different. Friday night seemed to be all about the heavy hitters (Mike's, 2001, Hood, etc.) and they were played really well. Saturday night was all about the jamming.
Friday night's highlights were Frankenstein, Antelope, and the entire second set except All of the These Dreams which I think might be the worst Phish song ever. Mike's was a great set opener and the Free was so funky in the middle. Waste had a nice little jam at the end and 2001 was much better than it was in Hampton. Hood was one of the best I have seen and the jam lasted longer than it did before the break. As they started to build up towards the lyrics at the end, they went right back into the jam for another few minutes and then built up again before finishing. Possum was so much fun and I love when they close a set with Cavern. I don't like Wading as an encore, but it didn't matter because the show was so awesome.
After passing out around 5:00 a.m. that night, we were awoken to this Fire! Possibly the worst morning of my entire life. Raf and I were on the 11th floor. We had 10th row seats on the floor Saturday night which added to the crazy excitement. Sloth opener kind of surprised me. Not a big fan of Dogs Stole Things. The show really got going with Piper into Weekapaug and the segue was so seemless, that I didn't notice it was coming until Chad and Raf started going crazy. A lot of people don't like Dirt, but I really enjoy that song because of the harmonies at the end and it was time for a break after the craziness that happened with Weekapaug. Mule was fun with some great stage antics by the boys. Wall of the Cave was ridiculous, great fifteen minute hard rocking jam that had a perfect buildup to the end of the song. I went to the bathroom during Mountains and also missed Sample.
Second set was unreal. Tube was one of my top Phish moments ever. So funky and the song is so much fun. I seriously felt like I was in a big tube filled with funk and I couldn't get out (and I was completely sober at the moment). Bathtub clocked in at close to a half hour and the jam never seemed to get lost. Incredible. Friday wasn't too bad, but wasn't good either. Needed to sit down after Bathtub. Bowie was fantastic as usual and I really like Bug because it brings back great memories from the shows I saw in Japan. A lot of people don't like that song, but it was great on Saturday. Suzy encore was a lot of fun as I can always listen to a song about a stupid Jewish chick!
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
2:55 am... I just got back from driving all the way from Philly, and seeing Phish. First of all, the last 12 hours have been one rollercoaster of a half of day! Long story short, we almost missed the show due to circumstances beyond my control. Almost. But we made it, just in time... all the way from NYC to Philly, thanks to kick ass directions from Modeski!!
So here's the setlist (a review to follow in the morning):
2.25.03 The Spectrum ~ Philadelphia, PA
Set 1: Julius, Talk, 46 Days, Taste, Frankie Says, Slave to the Traffic Light, Water in the Sky, Walls of the Cave
Set 2: AC/DC Bag, Cities, Theme from the Bottom > Runaway Jim, Thunderhead, Sparkle, Pebbles & Marbles
Encore: Squirming Coil, Character Zero
So here's the setlist (a review to follow in the morning):
2.25.03 The Spectrum ~ Philadelphia, PA
Set 1: Julius, Talk, 46 Days, Taste, Frankie Says, Slave to the Traffic Light, Water in the Sky, Walls of the Cave
Set 2: AC/DC Bag, Cities, Theme from the Bottom > Runaway Jim, Thunderhead, Sparkle, Pebbles & Marbles
Encore: Squirming Coil, Character Zero
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
Phish Review: 2.24.03 Continetal Airlines Arena ~ Meadowlands, NJ
Set 1: Down with Disease, Corinna, Wolfman's Brother > Limb by Limb, Everyday I Have the Blues (w/ BB King), Thrill Is Gone (w/ BB King), Rock Me Baby (w/ BB King)
Set 2: Halley's Comet, Harry Hood, Heavy Things, Twist > Jam >Twist, All of These Dreams, Waves, Sample in a Jar, Chalkdust Torture
Encore: Farmhouse
Highlights: B.B. King, Wolfman's, Hood, Waves and Sample in a Jar.
There was no traffic coming to the show, and we got there rather quickly. While standing in line I met these two guys, and one of them gave me a joint (sprinkled with hash) because he said, "I had a nice smiling face". It turned out that he had been to several of the same Dead shows I was at in the early 1990s, including the infamous Omni, Atlanta, GA show when the Dead opened with Here Comes Sunshine.
Gil, Spider, KK and Rachel found us shortly before the show started, and we got to hang out. Just after 8:06 PM the boys took the stage. Molly and I were sitting in the middle of the upper level, at the center of the venue. Not a bad seat at all for Molly’s third show.
I was calling for a Carini opener. Instead they busted out Down with Disease. From the get-go, I saw that Trey was on, and having a good time. Mike was a little bit louder than the last time I saw Phish (my only complaint about NYE was that I couldn’t hear Mike). The boys had a nice jam out of DWD.
Corinna is a rare tune that they play. Completely unexpected, but a good version. Page’s solo was sweet and made me happy.
Wolfman’s Brother is a tune that I had sort of called (I wrote it down on a piece of paper the other day). I was really pumped at first, but after a couple of minutes I realized that I was actually bummed out. I wanted to hear something different. But a couple of minutes into the jam, I changed my mind. The middle of Wolfman’s had a great jam, and it ended up being the highlight of the set.
Molly called Limb by Limb. I know it’s one of Fishman’s favorite tunes to play, and I fell in love with Limb by Limb during the Japan shows in 2000. The ending jam is always unexpected, and I usually forget that they pull out some funky ass shit, which they did. That was a close second to the Wolfman jam.
B.B. King came out to play the rest of the set. At first I didn’t know who was sitting in. A stagehand pulled out a folding chair and placed it in the middle of the stage, and out walked an older, chubby black dude, with a sleek black guitar. It was B.B. King. I knew it was not going to be just another normal Phish show.
They opened up the B.B. King set with the standard, Everyday I Have the Blues. It was sloppy and unorganized, and it almost seemed the boys were slightly hesitant to do their own thing. It was great to hear B.B. on vocals, his old scratchy voice still kicks my ass. The fifteen-minute version had its moments, but again, it was sloppy.
The next tune was Thrill Is Gone, and I got a Jerry Garcia vibe. I was thinking about his smoky version with David Grisman that I used to listen to non-stop when I lived in Seattle. Mike was the star of this tune, and the bass at the beginning was the highlight of the B.B. King set.
I thought they were going to end the set after Thrill. Phish had clocked an 80-minute set, and I figured that was it, but they boys kept pushing. Parts of the crowd were slightly restless with the B.B. set, and I felt sorry for the nay-sayers, because after all, a Phish show has nothing to do with them… it’s always about the music. Whether it’s a Phish song or not, it shouldn’t matter. And Phish didn’t seem to care. They had a rare opportunity to play with the man who, in some circles would be considered the godfather of modern rock and roll. It was a treat for them and they went with the moment. I admired the fact they said, "Fuck the crowd, fuck the setlist time, we’re playing with B.B. King!"
The B.B. King set was solid, and I didn’t mind the distraction at all. His appearance made the night and show special, and in a decade, the show will be referred to as the B.B. King show, when told by me during the occasionally antedote or Phishy story. A rare special treat indeed. The set ended at 9:44 PM (my time) and the final timing was about 1 hour and 36 minutes. One of the longer sets of Phish I had seen in a while.
Setbreak came and went, and I wandered into the bathroom, and was thoroughly amused by the comments from the guys waiting in line to take a leak.
"Dude, I hear that Avril LaVigne is coming out to play the entire second set."
Snickers went all around the Men’s room, until the guy’s friend replied.
"Dude, I’m sooooo, looking forward to that, eh?!?!"
That’s when I lost it. I also saw the "Mike Gordon look-alike" that I met in Japan. He was standing next to me as we waited to take a leak.
"Hey man, I know you from Japan."
"Yes, you do," he said.
Before the setbreak ended we wandered over to Section 209 to find everyone else. I eventually found Gil, Spider and Rachel and we sat down with them for a few minutes. Gil told me the sad story about how KK lost their smoking apparatus. I laughed, not because it was humorous, just because of the irony of the situation. Eventually KK climbed the steep steps to their seats to join everyone. We got back to our seats just as the lights went down.
I was still hoping for a Carini opener, but I heard Trey playa rift or two on his guitar and I swear I heard a Reba tease. Even Molly heard it and she got excited. Alas, it wasn’t a Reba opener, it was a rare Halley’s Comet. I expected them to break it out in Nassau (the last two times they gigged at Nassau they played Halley’s). It was sweet, and the jam was exciting and dark. One of the funnier moments of the night was in the middle of Halley’s when Trey stopped to play, and quickly bent down to tie his shoe, before he ripped into a jam.
I wasn’t expecting Harry Hood at all either. Since they recently played it at Cincy a few nights before, I thought they’d save it for the Philly show. Nope. Good too, because Hood rocked.
"Where do you go when the lights go out?"
There was a weak glow ring, glow stick war, but that’s OK. The jam out of Hood was sweat, and not forced (like I thought it was on NYE). Molly was excited, super excited. Hood is one of her favorite songs. At a random point in the song I looked over at Page, and at the same time, some kid from the audience threw a glowstick in his vicinity. Page kinda ducked to the side, but kept playing, and all I could think about was Boogie!! And the infamous Boogie glowstick incident at the Nassau show in October of 1999.
"Could you feel good, feel good, good about Hood?"
Heavy Things was the next song, and I usually am indifferent about this song. Sometimes I really like it, other times I could do without it. But during the show, I was slightly disappointed. It was a solid version, but I had hoped for something else. I got stoned during Heavy Things.
Twist Around was an interesting choice. The Twist parts were OK, but the jam in the middle of it was odd, eerie, tripped out, and obscenely spacey. I loved it.
All of These Dreams was next. Just when I thought they might go the entire show without a new song, but here you go. I know Zobo thinks All of These Dreams is one of the worst Phish songs ever, but I have to disagree. I like it, but not in the middle of that set! At least they didn’t play it as the encore.
Waves... I had hoped they would play Waves! And I actually called it and blogged it too! After hearing Waves on NYE (a personal highlight for me) I got hooked on that new tune. Of course Trey went off, and the song Waves is just what’s it’s about. Waves and waves of Phish just hit the back of the arena and rippled back to the stage and it kept going. The yellow lights (great job by Chris Kuroda) were fun, and set the tone for the high needling frantic energy. As I said Trey was going off, and at 11:26 Trey peaked. He hit his high-water mark.
I thought that perhaps Waves would end the set. But Trey kept it going with an old classic Sample in a Jar. It was high energy and the crowd seemed to enjoy it. Again I thought this would be the end of the set, but Trey decided that he needed one more song. Chalkdust Torture.
Chalkdust is one of Trey’s favorite songs, and I guess he was feeling it that night. It seemed like he woke up a little late, and wanted to pack it all into the last few songs. The second half the Set 2 was all Trey. From the middle of Twist on to the end of the set, he took over and kicked ass. It wasn’t the tightest set, nor the most mind blowing, but in the end, it was splendid.
Farmhouse is an old favorite song of mine since I first heard it back in 1997. The vocals were good, and the lights were the best for this tune. I know Molly was disappointed with the encore, and that’s fine. But I walked away happy (I would have been irked if they played Coil, or something I detest, or a cheesy song from Round Room, like Friday or Mexican Cousin… I enjoy both, but not for an encore!)
The final set time was about 90 minutes. For a total of nearly three plus hours of Phish. Not too shabby, plus B.B. King’s appearance made the night a special event.
Set 1: Down with Disease, Corinna, Wolfman's Brother > Limb by Limb, Everyday I Have the Blues (w/ BB King), Thrill Is Gone (w/ BB King), Rock Me Baby (w/ BB King)
Set 2: Halley's Comet, Harry Hood, Heavy Things, Twist > Jam >Twist, All of These Dreams, Waves, Sample in a Jar, Chalkdust Torture
Encore: Farmhouse
Highlights: B.B. King, Wolfman's, Hood, Waves and Sample in a Jar.
There was no traffic coming to the show, and we got there rather quickly. While standing in line I met these two guys, and one of them gave me a joint (sprinkled with hash) because he said, "I had a nice smiling face". It turned out that he had been to several of the same Dead shows I was at in the early 1990s, including the infamous Omni, Atlanta, GA show when the Dead opened with Here Comes Sunshine.
Gil, Spider, KK and Rachel found us shortly before the show started, and we got to hang out. Just after 8:06 PM the boys took the stage. Molly and I were sitting in the middle of the upper level, at the center of the venue. Not a bad seat at all for Molly’s third show.
I was calling for a Carini opener. Instead they busted out Down with Disease. From the get-go, I saw that Trey was on, and having a good time. Mike was a little bit louder than the last time I saw Phish (my only complaint about NYE was that I couldn’t hear Mike). The boys had a nice jam out of DWD.
Corinna is a rare tune that they play. Completely unexpected, but a good version. Page’s solo was sweet and made me happy.
Wolfman’s Brother is a tune that I had sort of called (I wrote it down on a piece of paper the other day). I was really pumped at first, but after a couple of minutes I realized that I was actually bummed out. I wanted to hear something different. But a couple of minutes into the jam, I changed my mind. The middle of Wolfman’s had a great jam, and it ended up being the highlight of the set.
Molly called Limb by Limb. I know it’s one of Fishman’s favorite tunes to play, and I fell in love with Limb by Limb during the Japan shows in 2000. The ending jam is always unexpected, and I usually forget that they pull out some funky ass shit, which they did. That was a close second to the Wolfman jam.
B.B. King came out to play the rest of the set. At first I didn’t know who was sitting in. A stagehand pulled out a folding chair and placed it in the middle of the stage, and out walked an older, chubby black dude, with a sleek black guitar. It was B.B. King. I knew it was not going to be just another normal Phish show.
They opened up the B.B. King set with the standard, Everyday I Have the Blues. It was sloppy and unorganized, and it almost seemed the boys were slightly hesitant to do their own thing. It was great to hear B.B. on vocals, his old scratchy voice still kicks my ass. The fifteen-minute version had its moments, but again, it was sloppy.
The next tune was Thrill Is Gone, and I got a Jerry Garcia vibe. I was thinking about his smoky version with David Grisman that I used to listen to non-stop when I lived in Seattle. Mike was the star of this tune, and the bass at the beginning was the highlight of the B.B. King set.
I thought they were going to end the set after Thrill. Phish had clocked an 80-minute set, and I figured that was it, but they boys kept pushing. Parts of the crowd were slightly restless with the B.B. set, and I felt sorry for the nay-sayers, because after all, a Phish show has nothing to do with them… it’s always about the music. Whether it’s a Phish song or not, it shouldn’t matter. And Phish didn’t seem to care. They had a rare opportunity to play with the man who, in some circles would be considered the godfather of modern rock and roll. It was a treat for them and they went with the moment. I admired the fact they said, "Fuck the crowd, fuck the setlist time, we’re playing with B.B. King!"
The B.B. King set was solid, and I didn’t mind the distraction at all. His appearance made the night and show special, and in a decade, the show will be referred to as the B.B. King show, when told by me during the occasionally antedote or Phishy story. A rare special treat indeed. The set ended at 9:44 PM (my time) and the final timing was about 1 hour and 36 minutes. One of the longer sets of Phish I had seen in a while.
Setbreak came and went, and I wandered into the bathroom, and was thoroughly amused by the comments from the guys waiting in line to take a leak.
"Dude, I hear that Avril LaVigne is coming out to play the entire second set."
Snickers went all around the Men’s room, until the guy’s friend replied.
"Dude, I’m sooooo, looking forward to that, eh?!?!"
That’s when I lost it. I also saw the "Mike Gordon look-alike" that I met in Japan. He was standing next to me as we waited to take a leak.
"Hey man, I know you from Japan."
"Yes, you do," he said.
Before the setbreak ended we wandered over to Section 209 to find everyone else. I eventually found Gil, Spider and Rachel and we sat down with them for a few minutes. Gil told me the sad story about how KK lost their smoking apparatus. I laughed, not because it was humorous, just because of the irony of the situation. Eventually KK climbed the steep steps to their seats to join everyone. We got back to our seats just as the lights went down.
I was still hoping for a Carini opener, but I heard Trey playa rift or two on his guitar and I swear I heard a Reba tease. Even Molly heard it and she got excited. Alas, it wasn’t a Reba opener, it was a rare Halley’s Comet. I expected them to break it out in Nassau (the last two times they gigged at Nassau they played Halley’s). It was sweet, and the jam was exciting and dark. One of the funnier moments of the night was in the middle of Halley’s when Trey stopped to play, and quickly bent down to tie his shoe, before he ripped into a jam.
I wasn’t expecting Harry Hood at all either. Since they recently played it at Cincy a few nights before, I thought they’d save it for the Philly show. Nope. Good too, because Hood rocked.
There was a weak glow ring, glow stick war, but that’s OK. The jam out of Hood was sweat, and not forced (like I thought it was on NYE). Molly was excited, super excited. Hood is one of her favorite songs. At a random point in the song I looked over at Page, and at the same time, some kid from the audience threw a glowstick in his vicinity. Page kinda ducked to the side, but kept playing, and all I could think about was Boogie!! And the infamous Boogie glowstick incident at the Nassau show in October of 1999.
Heavy Things was the next song, and I usually am indifferent about this song. Sometimes I really like it, other times I could do without it. But during the show, I was slightly disappointed. It was a solid version, but I had hoped for something else. I got stoned during Heavy Things.
Twist Around was an interesting choice. The Twist parts were OK, but the jam in the middle of it was odd, eerie, tripped out, and obscenely spacey. I loved it.
All of These Dreams was next. Just when I thought they might go the entire show without a new song, but here you go. I know Zobo thinks All of These Dreams is one of the worst Phish songs ever, but I have to disagree. I like it, but not in the middle of that set! At least they didn’t play it as the encore.
Waves... I had hoped they would play Waves! And I actually called it and blogged it too! After hearing Waves on NYE (a personal highlight for me) I got hooked on that new tune. Of course Trey went off, and the song Waves is just what’s it’s about. Waves and waves of Phish just hit the back of the arena and rippled back to the stage and it kept going. The yellow lights (great job by Chris Kuroda) were fun, and set the tone for the high needling frantic energy. As I said Trey was going off, and at 11:26 Trey peaked. He hit his high-water mark.
I thought that perhaps Waves would end the set. But Trey kept it going with an old classic Sample in a Jar. It was high energy and the crowd seemed to enjoy it. Again I thought this would be the end of the set, but Trey decided that he needed one more song. Chalkdust Torture.
Chalkdust is one of Trey’s favorite songs, and I guess he was feeling it that night. It seemed like he woke up a little late, and wanted to pack it all into the last few songs. The second half the Set 2 was all Trey. From the middle of Twist on to the end of the set, he took over and kicked ass. It wasn’t the tightest set, nor the most mind blowing, but in the end, it was splendid.
Farmhouse is an old favorite song of mine since I first heard it back in 1997. The vocals were good, and the lights were the best for this tune. I know Molly was disappointed with the encore, and that’s fine. But I walked away happy (I would have been irked if they played Coil, or something I detest, or a cheesy song from Round Room, like Friday or Mexican Cousin… I enjoy both, but not for an encore!)
The final set time was about 90 minutes. For a total of nearly three plus hours of Phish. Not too shabby, plus B.B. King’s appearance made the night a special event.
I just got back from Phish... and here's tonight's setlist:
2.24.03 Continetal Airlines Arena ~ Meadowlands, NJ
Set 1: Down with Disease, Corinna, Wolfman's Brother > Limb by Limb, Everyday I Have the Blues (w/ BB King), Thrill Is Gone (w/ BB King), Rock Me Baby (w/ BB King)
Set 2: Halley's Comet, Harry Hood, Heavy Things, Twist > Jam >Tiwst, All of These Dreams, Waves, Sample in a Jar, Chalkdust Torture
Encore: Farmhouse
I'll blog a review later... but the B.B. King appearance with the boys made the night special, indeed.
2.24.03 Continetal Airlines Arena ~ Meadowlands, NJ
Set 1: Down with Disease, Corinna, Wolfman's Brother > Limb by Limb, Everyday I Have the Blues (w/ BB King), Thrill Is Gone (w/ BB King), Rock Me Baby (w/ BB King)
Set 2: Halley's Comet, Harry Hood, Heavy Things, Twist > Jam >Tiwst, All of These Dreams, Waves, Sample in a Jar, Chalkdust Torture
Encore: Farmhouse
I'll blog a review later... but the B.B. King appearance with the boys made the night special, indeed.
Monday, February 24, 2003
Ok, so I am about to leave for NJ to see Phish, and of course I'm excited. Took Molly to midtown today for a lunch with Jessica. While waiting for Jessica, a pigeon shit on me. Yep, just my luck. In an eeire coincidence, I sold my two extras to a friend of Zobo's! Small world indeed.
Tonight's wish list: Carini, Waves, and Tweezer.
Tonight's wish list: Carini, Waves, and Tweezer.
Sunday, February 23, 2003
Molly just called from DFW (Dallas-Fort Worth airport)... her flight to NYC is delayed almost 2 hours!! I hate waiting in airports. I always find myself drifting towards the infamous airport bar, where I sit and wait for my chance to get out of some place I normally have no business being. And after a few, over-priced, watered down drinks and a meaningless conversation on the local sports team (pick a sport and team) I always end up getting handed a business card from a heavyset, scotch drinking, traveling salesman named Wally, hailing from somehwere in the Mid-West, where his second wife, two and a half kids, and a dog named Skippy reside.
Tyson Afterthoughts...
Yes, that Mike Tyson fight sucked! I saw two high school girls get into a more entertaining fight on a subway platform a month ago. I know there was a lot of hair pulling and nail scratching from an heavy set black girl, who held a sizebale advantage over a petitte, yet wiry hispanic girl, who kept calling her "Aunt Jemima". Everyone who had gathered to watch (mostly HS students and a random suit) were hootin' and hollerin' and telling one girl to throw the other onto the subway tracks before it got broken up by transit cops who swooped in from out of nowhere. But shit... that cat fight lasted at least 5 minutes! That's five times longer than last night's circus act. They should have put that subway fight on pay-per-view.
Yes, that Mike Tyson fight sucked! I saw two high school girls get into a more entertaining fight on a subway platform a month ago. I know there was a lot of hair pulling and nail scratching from an heavy set black girl, who held a sizebale advantage over a petitte, yet wiry hispanic girl, who kept calling her "Aunt Jemima". Everyone who had gathered to watch (mostly HS students and a random suit) were hootin' and hollerin' and telling one girl to throw the other onto the subway tracks before it got broken up by transit cops who swooped in from out of nowhere. But shit... that cat fight lasted at least 5 minutes! That's five times longer than last night's circus act. They should have put that subway fight on pay-per-view.
Sunday Morning Poem: That's My Chicken
That's My Chicken
The senators laughed at the
Bearded lady, when she violently sang
An obscure song, only known
To a couple of mead riddled Druids,
And some random kid in Idaho named
Eddie, who downloaded the lyrics onto
His new i-pod, after he snagged
Several porn flicks involving chickens and
Busty blondes.
The senators laughed at the
Bearded lady, when she violently sang
An obscure song, only known
To a couple of mead riddled Druids,
And some random kid in Idaho named
Eddie, who downloaded the lyrics onto
His new i-pod, after he snagged
Several porn flicks involving chickens and
Busty blondes.
I woke up to a hazy, fog... it rained all day yesterday, heavy at times, pouring down over 2 inches in less than a day. After the mild temps these past few days and all the abundant rain, most, if not all of the snow from Monday's blizzard has melted. And the rest of it has been removed by large orange trucks in the middle of the night.
Saturday, February 22, 2003
Mr. Clean... Perhaps?
I just finished cleaning my bathroom, which took twice as long as I expected. And I also did a half-assed job on cleaning up the rest of my studio. I was lazy. My entire work space is a mess. I have dozens of stray parts and excerpts from random pages of novels I attempted to write, but decided to delete. I have almost a hundred issues of the Hollywood Reporter stacked up in my bathroom, in the hallway, around my table, etc. for fuck's sake. But I just downloaded the Phish show on 2.18.03 Denver, CO from the other night, from livephish.com. I had that show playing in the background why I casually made lists of things I should be cleaning... instead of actually cleaning what needed to be. Oh well. The reason I'm cleaning is to prepare for a Molly's weeklong visit. She'll be visiting from Texas to see 3 Phish shows with me next week, and she's crashing at the studio. So, the Molly Countdown is... 27 hours.
I just finished cleaning my bathroom, which took twice as long as I expected. And I also did a half-assed job on cleaning up the rest of my studio. I was lazy. My entire work space is a mess. I have dozens of stray parts and excerpts from random pages of novels I attempted to write, but decided to delete. I have almost a hundred issues of the Hollywood Reporter stacked up in my bathroom, in the hallway, around my table, etc. for fuck's sake. But I just downloaded the Phish show on 2.18.03 Denver, CO from the other night, from livephish.com. I had that show playing in the background why I casually made lists of things I should be cleaning... instead of actually cleaning what needed to be. Oh well. The reason I'm cleaning is to prepare for a Molly's weeklong visit. She'll be visiting from Texas to see 3 Phish shows with me next week, and she's crashing at the studio. So, the Molly Countdown is... 27 hours.
Friday, February 21, 2003
11 Qs: The First Batch of Questions
Here's the inagural batch of 11 Qs.... you ask the questions and I answer them...
The next round of 11 Questions will be out soon. If you would like to ask a question, feel free to send me an e-mail! Thanks to everyone who participated.
1. What are the odds of the Cowboys winning the next Super Bowl? - Spider, Strong Island, NY
10-1. I hate all the teams in the NFC East except the Giants. But Tuna's appearance in Texas will help your odds. You now need a real QB. I say you'll make the playoff for sure, but that’s about it. Maybe in 2005.
2. What is your new novel titled, and what is it about? – Betty, San Francisco, CA
The working title is: Untitled. Exciting, eh? And I do not like discuss works that I am currently writing. It's a jinx. You’ll have to wait until it’s done.
3. Who is your favorite artist? – Stephen A, Seattle, WA
Henri Matisse. He's the shit.
4. J-Lo. Or Gwyneth Paltrow? – Derek, NYC
Wow, you threw an Affleck question at me. For the record, I’d marry Gwyneth, but keep J-Lo. on the side. Jenny from the Block isn’t the type of girl you marry, ya know what I mean? She’s the prefect salsa, something spicy on the side to dip with when your meal gets a little stale. Gwyneth on the other hand, is the type of girl you escape to the suburbs with and have kids, pets, and nice furniture.
5. Will Spree be traded? - Jerry, Miami, FL
Good question. Knowing that the Knicks are a second rate organization these days, the answer is: No. Latrell Sprewell won't be traded, and if Layden unloads him, we're going to get the shitty end of the deal. No one wants Spree because the Knicks are asking for too much. The suits at Cablevision and the Dolans, who own the Knicks, should all be rounded up and sent to Gitmo Bay and thrown into concrete cells with the Taliban and random al-Qaeda thugs. Only until then, after the real criminals are locked up, will the Knicks and Rangers be able to thrive and have an opportunity to win championships, and give the fans in NYC a chance to see fresh, new, upcoming talent, that will be here for a decade maybe more. The Knicks need a franchise player. And it seems that unless we cut salary room, there's no hope.
6. Which would you rather be, and why: A dolphin or a lion? - Dave S Tampa, FL
Sweet question. I would rather be a dolphin. They always seem like they have a lot of fun. Jumping through hoops and eating fish from the hands of little kids. Some sci-fi geeks will tell you that dolphins are a cross-bread between aliens and whales, just like us humans are a cross breed between apes and aliens.
7. What is your novel Jack Tripper Stole My Dog about? - Edgar, Thunder Bay, Canada
Jack Tripper Stole My Dog is an odd family story, of sorts, about a man and the women in his life: his wife, his daughter, and his lover. His life is filled with a long history of lying, cheating, gossiping, infidelity, hijinks, rape, incest, war, turmoil, some reflection and eventually unfolding into torture, murder, revenge and redemption. Add to the mix a half of dozen scorned lovers, psycho stalkers, several literate pugnacious lesbians, George Bush bashing, interstate serial killers, the KGB, canine tossing, taxi driving hitmen, one horny Ecstasy popping Hollywood Director, a drug peddling Mossad Agent, Chicks with Dicks porn, Bill Gates and the New World Order, suicides, suicide attempts, date rapists, the Russian mafia, bad hippie jam bands, a bizarre and sick love triangle, East Village junkies and Brooklyn drunks, trick turning Catholic high school girls, broken hearts, a documentary film team, Jesus Freaks, swinging Upper East Siders, Internet lies and disinformation, a transvestite hotdog vendor, John Lennon murder conspiracy, the impending Russian-Chinese War, drunken frat boys and spoiled sorority girls, a corrupt heroin smuggling Reverend, Julia Stiles movies, and of course, the CIA. That makes for a comedic, existentialist journey called Jack Tripper Stole My Dog.
8. When did you know you were a writer? – Jessica, Jersey City, NJ
After I saw Resevoir Dogs in college, I decided that I wanted to direct films and write screenplays. I applied, but didn’t get into NYU Film School, and I gave up on writing for the screen. It was easier to quit and think about doing something like finding a different career. I kinda drifted towards poetry and novel writing soon after, just around the time I found a job as a security guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art because I was looking for the least amount of responsibility as possible. I wrote everyday, but didn’t consider myself a writer. Being around art and artists all day, fifty hours a week, I knew what I had to maintain a specific level of discipline and dedication and acquired a devoted passion for my words before I dared associate myself with people who truly lived and died for their work. But the first time I called myself a writer is when a Hollywood agent contacted me the first time in late 1996 to write a spec pilot for a sitcom. I recall the person who contacted me said, "We are looking for writers."
9. What is the lifespan for frogs? – Modeski, South Orange, NJ
The lifespan for most frogs is 5 to 14 years, typically. Although the European Bullfrog has been known to live for up to 40 years.
10. If you were an al-Qaeda terrorist, what would your pledge name be? (i.e. Mohammed the Towel Head, Pinto, Akmad the Baby Killer, Asif the Dyslexic Shoe Bomber, etc.) – Derek, NYC
That's an excellent question. I would call myself Kareem Abdul-Ali Abu Mohamed the Ass Bomber. I would walk around downtown Tel Aviv dropping stinky farts up and down Haifa Street, causing hundred of people to gasp for fresh air, all in the name of Allah.
11. What is your favorite Grateful Dead song? – Stephen A., Seattle, WA
Cosmic Charlie, how do you do? Eyes of the World is a close second, and throw in Scarlet Begonias, Shakedown Street, St. Stephen, and Row Jimmy for the Dead Song Six-pack. I never saw the Grateful Dead perform Cosmic Charlie or St. Stephen (last time they played it was 10.15.83).
Friday Poem: Ode to Nothing
I hastily look up at the
Vast cluttered midnight sky
And I stop, to pause and wonder
Why?
And I stop, to pause and wonder
Why?
Thursday, February 20, 2003
Wednesday, February 19, 2003
My Early Afternoon Drinking Binge
It had been a while since I got shit faced during the day, and although I didn't wake up with the thoughts of boozing it up today, I ended up spending a couple of hours in bars. It seemed like the "unemployed-writer-thing-to-do"... spend money that I don't have self-medicating myself in the NYC daylight. In between appointments with Matt and Bruce, I managed to pop into a few East Village establishments... Bar 81 on East 7th Street (one of Gil's favorite places to drink and shoot pool) and the infamous Cedar Tavern on University Avenue. Fifty plus years ago, the Cedar Tavern was the local hangout for artists the likes of Jackson Pollock, Willem De Kooning, Franz Kline, Philip Guston, and Tony Smith.
At the Cedar, I had a couple of pints of Bass Ale and read parts of the manuscript (my new novel) that I had been working on. After about 20 minutes or so, the guy next to me struck up a conversation. Within 15 minutes, he poured out his life story to me. It was slightly comical, and I didn't mind, because after all I was killing time. Normally I would have been annoyed with drunken banter, but I already had a nice buzz, so I welcomed the coversation. By the looks of him, it seemed to me he had been there since the Cedar opened. He was chain smoking Marlboro Reds, which he told me he got cheap at an Indian Reservation on Long Island. Michael C. was his name, and he wondered what I was reading.
"My second novel," I told him.
He noted that he once tried to write the story of his life, and it ended up a 1,200 page monster. He gave it to Montel Williams, Peter Jennings, and the author of Losing Isaiah (who's name escpaes me). Anyway, he also told me he was on the Montel Willaims show a few years back, after his wife blew $500,000 of his money and left him and their son, and hit the road. I dunno if I felt sorry for the guy, or I was just talking to him for amusement and literary purposes. Here I am, a few hours later, blogging our brief meeting, so I guess that's the real answer.
I stumbled out of the Cedar just before 2 PM, with a hearty buzz, and I jumped over pools and lakes of slush before hoping on the uptown No. 1 train.
It had been a while since I got shit faced during the day, and although I didn't wake up with the thoughts of boozing it up today, I ended up spending a couple of hours in bars. It seemed like the "unemployed-writer-thing-to-do"... spend money that I don't have self-medicating myself in the NYC daylight. In between appointments with Matt and Bruce, I managed to pop into a few East Village establishments... Bar 81 on East 7th Street (one of Gil's favorite places to drink and shoot pool) and the infamous Cedar Tavern on University Avenue. Fifty plus years ago, the Cedar Tavern was the local hangout for artists the likes of Jackson Pollock, Willem De Kooning, Franz Kline, Philip Guston, and Tony Smith.
At the Cedar, I had a couple of pints of Bass Ale and read parts of the manuscript (my new novel) that I had been working on. After about 20 minutes or so, the guy next to me struck up a conversation. Within 15 minutes, he poured out his life story to me. It was slightly comical, and I didn't mind, because after all I was killing time. Normally I would have been annoyed with drunken banter, but I already had a nice buzz, so I welcomed the coversation. By the looks of him, it seemed to me he had been there since the Cedar opened. He was chain smoking Marlboro Reds, which he told me he got cheap at an Indian Reservation on Long Island. Michael C. was his name, and he wondered what I was reading.
"My second novel," I told him.
He noted that he once tried to write the story of his life, and it ended up a 1,200 page monster. He gave it to Montel Williams, Peter Jennings, and the author of Losing Isaiah (who's name escpaes me). Anyway, he also told me he was on the Montel Willaims show a few years back, after his wife blew $500,000 of his money and left him and their son, and hit the road. I dunno if I felt sorry for the guy, or I was just talking to him for amusement and literary purposes. Here I am, a few hours later, blogging our brief meeting, so I guess that's the real answer.
I stumbled out of the Cedar just before 2 PM, with a hearty buzz, and I jumped over pools and lakes of slush before hoping on the uptown No. 1 train.
Re: Monday Poem: 152 Peaches
Jessica wrote me this comment:
"This is awesome. I love this poem, this little story, it read like a dream sequence, scene to scene, linked but not. It's wonderful. I wonder if any of the other Tao readers are geeks like me, who copied and pasted the poem into a Word document, to count for sure what theyalready knew... the 152 lines. You fucking rock, Pauly!!"
Jessica wrote me this comment:
"This is awesome. I love this poem, this little story, it read like a dream sequence, scene to scene, linked but not. It's wonderful. I wonder if any of the other Tao readers are geeks like me, who copied and pasted the poem into a Word document, to count for sure what theyalready knew... the 152 lines. You fucking rock, Pauly!!"
Boogie Makes Me Laugh...
This is an old e-mail from Boogie that I forgot to blog. She sent it a couple of days after Elite's birthday party.
WOW!!! What a GREAT night! It was wonderful to see all of you! I was also hungover for two days. Apparently I got into a fight with a candle (wax ALL OVER my jeans) AND I lost a glove. Oh well - bargain price for a TOP RATE evening!"
This is an old e-mail from Boogie that I forgot to blog. She sent it a couple of days after Elite's birthday party.
WOW!!! What a GREAT night! It was wonderful to see all of you! I was also hungover for two days. Apparently I got into a fight with a candle (wax ALL OVER my jeans) AND I lost a glove. Oh well - bargain price for a TOP RATE evening!"
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
Tuesday Night Poem: Fortunate Fool
The lagging silence was broken
By her percise eyes, and the peering
Glances that she shot my
Way across the cluttered table.
I tried to break the rountine, of me
Laughing at bad jokes, and eventually
Choking and spitting up
Vanilla milkshakes out of my nose.
That usually gets a lingering chuckle
From the other customers,
Who saunter by with encouraging
Words and pats on the back.
I snarl at their pandering attempts
To console me.
I silently curse their Mothers
And secretly memorize their home
Telephone numbers, so I can crank
Call them when I am lying awake at 4 AM.
The whining bag lady who stood
On the empty corner in the middle of the
Early afternoon sun shower kept
Pointing up at the sky, to no point
In particular,
Yet a group of Danish tourists
Stood, marveled, took pictures,
Then got their pockets picked by a
Slick midget named Sully.
I shrugged my one good shoulder,
Tipped the waitress a meager 3%,
Then glided out of the unknown diner,
With a whispering soul a few steps
Behind me, planting small, yet
Delicious melodies within my earshot.
I walked down the sidestreet
And smiled when
I saw a young father angelically
Kiss his oldest
Daughter on her forehead
Before she got hit
By a speeding city bus.
Re: Jack Tripper Stole My Dog... a Review
Armando wrote me this:
"Pauly...
Once again, thanks for sending me your manuscript and including me in the thanks page. I was touched.
Just finished your novel today and definitely enjoyed it. The wealth of characters is incredible. I found myself wanting to hear about every one that your main character crossed paths with. I also liked how he kept on looking at the time while driving the cab. It added pace to the story. Definitely think he was a complicated character.
Well done! Let's see it published and I can't wait for the next!!
Armando wrote me this:
"Pauly...
Once again, thanks for sending me your manuscript and including me in the thanks page. I was touched.
Just finished your novel today and definitely enjoyed it. The wealth of characters is incredible. I found myself wanting to hear about every one that your main character crossed paths with. I also liked how he kept on looking at the time while driving the cab. It added pace to the story. Definitely think he was a complicated character.
Well done! Let's see it published and I can't wait for the next!!
Monday, February 17, 2003
My Snowman
Pathetic... I just tried to make a snowman on my terrace. First of all, I haven't constructed a snowman in almost 15 years, so my method was very sloppy. Plus the snow on my terrace was mostly windblown. It's light and fluffy, and not sticking, which was a problem. For a while, my snowman looked like a heaped pile of snow. But I tried my best, and my fingers started to get numb so I stopped. We should be getting another half a day of snow. Perhaps I'll try again later.
Pathetic... I just tried to make a snowman on my terrace. First of all, I haven't constructed a snowman in almost 15 years, so my method was very sloppy. Plus the snow on my terrace was mostly windblown. It's light and fluffy, and not sticking, which was a problem. For a while, my snowman looked like a heaped pile of snow. But I tried my best, and my fingers started to get numb so I stopped. We should be getting another half a day of snow. Perhaps I'll try again later.
Last night's Phish setlist...
2.16.03 Thomas and Mack Center - Las Vegas, Nevada
Set 1: David Bowie, Catapult > David Bowie, Horn, Guyute, Round Room, Golden Lady**, Poor Heart, Pebbles & Marbles
Set 2: Down With Disease > Seven Below > Down With Disease, Anything But Me, Piper > Down With Disease > Makisupa Policeman, Character Zero
Encore: Friday
** Stevie Wonder cover song
Thanks to Cali Kat for the post show call!
2.16.03 Thomas and Mack Center - Las Vegas, Nevada
Set 1: David Bowie, Catapult > David Bowie, Horn, Guyute, Round Room, Golden Lady**, Poor Heart, Pebbles & Marbles
Set 2: Down With Disease > Seven Below > Down With Disease, Anything But Me, Piper > Down With Disease > Makisupa Policeman, Character Zero
Encore: Friday
** Stevie Wonder cover song
Thanks to Cali Kat for the post show call!
Blizzard Socks NYC... it's been snowing for 12 hours now... might take a walk to snap a few photos. Central Park reported of having 12 inches of snow by 8:05 AM EST.
I am currently listening to Seven Below by Phish... the music seems fitting for a blizzard.
I am currently listening to Seven Below by Phish... the music seems fitting for a blizzard.
Monday Poem: 152 Peaches
To find me sitting
In a well lit room,
Is to find me staring
At the swarthy cracks in the shabby wall.
I saw him working,
In a small pool
Full of blissful frogs and other amphibians
But he did not see me
Lurking in the faint twilight,
When the purples and oranges take
Over the sky, and the other colors
Must patiently sit and watch
Them gleefully dance with each other
Their shadows vibrating off
The sour terrain below, and I stop to whiff
The moist breeze.
The alarmed chimpanzee and the hardy zoo keeper,
Would laugh at me when I
Walked over to them with a
Tiny notebook, and a twelve gauge shotgun.
He demanded I hand over the notebook,
But I let loose two bursts.
The chimp died instantly,
And the damaged lungs
Of the injured zookeeper,
whimpered sorry breaths,
As I chuckled like a bastard on
Prescription uppers, and
Spit thrice on the now
Bloody ground.
The hallow buzz that I
Begrudgingly steal from staring into
Space, is the identical high
A sophomoric junkie accomplishes
After religiously shooting
Up a handful of freshly cooked
Smack.
Bought from the slothful man
With the idle dog whom
Sat in an old flat tire,
Chewed on all sides by
Adorable puppies.
He’s the pimp who sold Fried Peanuts
His daily stash.
Which he made me fetch for him,
As well as a jar of
Apple Jam, and poppyseed bagels
Four times a week,
Sometimes more.
The hassle of all hassles,
Trying to cop for a desperate addict,
Was more than I could handle,
So I quit my job, and pawned it off to
A comedian in training named Marty.
His friends called him Marty Farty
Because of all the fart jokes
He would tell to the crowds who
Dared show up at his Open Mic
Performances in the Niagara Falls
Area as well as all over Eastern Canada.
His savvy talents were no match
For his jealous wife’s twin brother.
Who longed to tell knock-knock jokes
In French, while wearing a
Kiwi colored tu-tu.
His small, yet capricious
Dreams, were hastily pushed aside
By Marty Farty’s comedic rants about
Passing gas in crowded elevators
And stealing bowls of chili from
Soup kitchens in the Detroit area.
Great laughs for sure,
But not when Marty Farty
Was poisoned by an ex-girlfriend,
A dyslexic stewardess employed by Air Jamaica.
Peaches was her name,
So her nametag read.
And she showed me pictures
Of her pet snake named Hamlet,
An albino python that she
Loved like a regular pet
Or a third cousin, a distant
Relative that you saw only
During weddings and every other funeral.
The cheeseburger eating fireman
Walked over to the rental car
That Peaches had just wrecked.
She drove it up onto a
Semi-crowded sidewalk
And wrapped the Geo Metro around
An utility pole, and nearly
Hit an express mail mailbox
And almost flattened a fragile
Collection of rabid raccoons
That gathered to pick through
The daily garbage left out
On the slimy side street by the
Pizza shop owned by Greek porn gurus.
Her intentions weren’t to mow down
A hapless crowd of pedestrians,
But Peaches
Pulled a Lizzie Grubman,
And took a single life.
She killed a man.
A divorced man,
A scum bag lawyer,
But a life nonetheless.
People cried at his wake.
Relatives brought flowers and
Pre-cooked Tupperware meals for
The reluctant party afterwards and
Even his long lost son showed up to
Sing a cheerful song.
He, a flamboyant dancer from
Miami Beach, was secretly living with his
Scrappy life partner nicknamed Scooby,
A sloppy bartender
Hustling in backrooms
Each savory night, and he
Held a job
As a terrible pool cleaner
By day.
The keen Vietnam veterans
That throw multi-colored water balloons at the
Catholic school kids walking home
Each afternoon,
Would pretend that they
Are Charlie.
And each exploding balloon
That wets an up and coming
Hearty Christian, is a twisted
Game of selfishly acting
Out their morbid shell-shocked
Nightmares of endless tours in the dismal jungle
Cracking branches from leaves
The size of small farm animals.
The machete men would
Shout like lunatics to the insects
That landed on their
Muscular tattooed arms.
Sometimes burning them off with Zippo lighters.
The vodka crazed taxi driver showed up
And offered me a ride to the airport
To get me away from the insanity of my
Waking dreams.
I try to catch myself
And talk to the gloomy walls,
Like I used to,
When the harsh days were shorter,
And the lines to the methadone clinic
Were not as crowded
Like they were back in the 1970s.
In a well lit room,
Is to find me staring
At the swarthy cracks in the shabby wall.
I saw him working,
In a small pool
Full of blissful frogs and other amphibians
But he did not see me
Lurking in the faint twilight,
When the purples and oranges take
Over the sky, and the other colors
Must patiently sit and watch
Them gleefully dance with each other
Their shadows vibrating off
The sour terrain below, and I stop to whiff
The moist breeze.
The alarmed chimpanzee and the hardy zoo keeper,
Would laugh at me when I
Walked over to them with a
Tiny notebook, and a twelve gauge shotgun.
He demanded I hand over the notebook,
But I let loose two bursts.
The chimp died instantly,
And the damaged lungs
Of the injured zookeeper,
whimpered sorry breaths,
As I chuckled like a bastard on
Prescription uppers, and
Spit thrice on the now
Bloody ground.
The hallow buzz that I
Begrudgingly steal from staring into
Space, is the identical high
A sophomoric junkie accomplishes
After religiously shooting
Up a handful of freshly cooked
Smack.
Bought from the slothful man
With the idle dog whom
Sat in an old flat tire,
Chewed on all sides by
Adorable puppies.
He’s the pimp who sold Fried Peanuts
His daily stash.
Which he made me fetch for him,
As well as a jar of
Apple Jam, and poppyseed bagels
Four times a week,
Sometimes more.
The hassle of all hassles,
Trying to cop for a desperate addict,
Was more than I could handle,
So I quit my job, and pawned it off to
A comedian in training named Marty.
His friends called him Marty Farty
Because of all the fart jokes
He would tell to the crowds who
Dared show up at his Open Mic
Performances in the Niagara Falls
Area as well as all over Eastern Canada.
His savvy talents were no match
For his jealous wife’s twin brother.
Who longed to tell knock-knock jokes
In French, while wearing a
Kiwi colored tu-tu.
His small, yet capricious
Dreams, were hastily pushed aside
By Marty Farty’s comedic rants about
Passing gas in crowded elevators
And stealing bowls of chili from
Soup kitchens in the Detroit area.
Great laughs for sure,
But not when Marty Farty
Was poisoned by an ex-girlfriend,
A dyslexic stewardess employed by Air Jamaica.
Peaches was her name,
So her nametag read.
And she showed me pictures
Of her pet snake named Hamlet,
An albino python that she
Loved like a regular pet
Or a third cousin, a distant
Relative that you saw only
During weddings and every other funeral.
The cheeseburger eating fireman
Walked over to the rental car
That Peaches had just wrecked.
She drove it up onto a
Semi-crowded sidewalk
And wrapped the Geo Metro around
An utility pole, and nearly
Hit an express mail mailbox
And almost flattened a fragile
Collection of rabid raccoons
That gathered to pick through
The daily garbage left out
On the slimy side street by the
Pizza shop owned by Greek porn gurus.
Her intentions weren’t to mow down
A hapless crowd of pedestrians,
But Peaches
Pulled a Lizzie Grubman,
And took a single life.
She killed a man.
A divorced man,
A scum bag lawyer,
But a life nonetheless.
People cried at his wake.
Relatives brought flowers and
Pre-cooked Tupperware meals for
The reluctant party afterwards and
Even his long lost son showed up to
Sing a cheerful song.
He, a flamboyant dancer from
Miami Beach, was secretly living with his
Scrappy life partner nicknamed Scooby,
A sloppy bartender
Hustling in backrooms
Each savory night, and he
Held a job
As a terrible pool cleaner
By day.
The keen Vietnam veterans
That throw multi-colored water balloons at the
Catholic school kids walking home
Each afternoon,
Would pretend that they
Are Charlie.
And each exploding balloon
That wets an up and coming
Hearty Christian, is a twisted
Game of selfishly acting
Out their morbid shell-shocked
Nightmares of endless tours in the dismal jungle
Cracking branches from leaves
The size of small farm animals.
The machete men would
Shout like lunatics to the insects
That landed on their
Muscular tattooed arms.
Sometimes burning them off with Zippo lighters.
The vodka crazed taxi driver showed up
And offered me a ride to the airport
To get me away from the insanity of my
Waking dreams.
I try to catch myself
And talk to the gloomy walls,
Like I used to,
When the harsh days were shorter,
And the lines to the methadone clinic
Were not as crowded
Like they were back in the 1970s.
Sunday, February 16, 2003
NYC... Blizzard!!
From weather.com...
Tomorrow night: Periods of snow and windy. Low 27F. Winds NNE at 30 to 40 mph. Chance of snow 90%. Snow accumulating 3 to 6 inches. Total storm accumulations 12-24 inches.
Stephen A. sent me this e-mail. He attended the Peace rally in Seattle yesterday.
Dear McG,
Feelin' good. There was a anti war demonstration Sat, 2/15/03 downtown... starting at the Seattle Center, down Fifth Ave. to Pine Street, down Pine to Second then to the Federalies building and ending at the former Assay office, now known as the INS detention facility (in the shadow of the ghost of the Kingdome). I took about 4 1/2 rolls of film and was right in the middle of it (on the corner of 5th and olive in the middle of the street against a monorail post). People streamed by me for 2hrs waving signs, banners and puppets of Bush oilrigs and a huge globe. What a sense of what the world is saying, a sense that all over the globe people are against this schoolyard bully action by the idiot George Bush. Crowd estimates range from 15,000 to more than 30,000... It seemed to me there were about 30,000, as the strees were full of people both lanes for about an hour and forty-five minutes. And in a sea of people, I followed the march, working my way through the crowd as it worked its way down Second to Airport Way... it was a solid sea of people, what a beautiful sight... no property damage, one arrest for someone putting stickers up (if you can belive it!) So it went very well. Heard you had a few folks protesting in NYC. Good to hear. Blog this if ya wanna, its on me.
Peace and salukis. Stay warm. Noonan
Sunday Poem: Fried Peanuts and Piss Stains
My bladder was about
To burst all over my pants,
And trickle three day old urine
Onto her father's rare bearskin
Rug, that he bought off of
E-bay for $4,500, not including
Taxes and shipping costs.
I bravely stood, and crossed my
Withered legs, as I winced in mortal pain.
My obscene thoughts drifted back
And forth across the highway median
Dodging erratic college kids
Quickly driving to Spring Break
On South Padre Island, where
The mellow days are long, and the
Sassy nights are longer...
So I'm told,
By a bitter junkie named Fried Peanuts,
The blind ex-veteran, harmonica player,
Who lived next door to my babysitter.
To burst all over my pants,
And trickle three day old urine
Onto her father's rare bearskin
Rug, that he bought off of
E-bay for $4,500, not including
Taxes and shipping costs.
I bravely stood, and crossed my
Withered legs, as I winced in mortal pain.
My obscene thoughts drifted back
And forth across the highway median
Dodging erratic college kids
Quickly driving to Spring Break
On South Padre Island, where
The mellow days are long, and the
Sassy nights are longer...
So I'm told,
By a bitter junkie named Fried Peanuts,
The blind ex-veteran, harmonica player,
Who lived next door to my babysitter.
Phish... 2.15.03 Thomas and Mack Center - Las Vegas, Nevada
Set 1: Llama, Wolfman's Brother, Reba, Life on Mars, 46 Days, It's Ice, Frankie Says > Antelope
Set 2: Waves, Bug > Ghost > Free, Harry Hood
Encore: Sample in a Jar
Thanks to Cali Kat for the setbreak and post show calls! Looks like a kick ass show!! I think the last time they played Life on Mars was back in 1997?
Set 1: Llama, Wolfman's Brother, Reba, Life on Mars, 46 Days, It's Ice, Frankie Says > Antelope
Set 2: Waves, Bug > Ghost > Free, Harry Hood
Encore: Sample in a Jar
Thanks to Cali Kat for the setbreak and post show calls! Looks like a kick ass show!! I think the last time they played Life on Mars was back in 1997?
Saturday, February 15, 2003
Saturday Poem: Cheese Fries
The anorexic waif ranted
"Where's my cottage cheese?"
As I stuffed a fistful of cheese fries
In my mouth, sideways,
As she clenched both fists
And pounded on the counter,
Attracting pissed off glares and
I laughed with my mouth full,
Only to spit the glob of
Half-chewed food at the shivering
Fool with the aqua-green shawl.
"Where's my cottage cheese?"
As I stuffed a fistful of cheese fries
In my mouth, sideways,
As she clenched both fists
And pounded on the counter,
Attracting pissed off glares and
I laughed with my mouth full,
Only to spit the glob of
Half-chewed food at the shivering
Fool with the aqua-green shawl.
A V-Day Poem from Boogie!
Pauly,
May there always be work for your hands to do;
May your purse always hold a coin or two;
May the sun always shine on your windowpane;
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain;
May the hand of a friend always be near you;
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
Love,
Boogie
Pauly,
May there always be work for your hands to do;
May your purse always hold a coin or two;
May the sun always shine on your windowpane;
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain;
May the hand of a friend always be near you;
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
Love,
Boogie
Phish in L.A.
Cali Kat called in the setlist from last night's show. Here's the first show of their tour...
2.14.03 Great Western Forum - Inglewood, California
Set 1: My Sweet One, Cover of the Rolling Stone **, Chalk Dust Torture, Fee > Taste, Bathtub Gin, Heavy Things, Golgi
Set 2: Possum, Walls of the Cave > Spacey jam > Carini, All of These Dreams , Limb by Limb, Oh Kee Pah Ceremony > AC/DC Bag, Prince Caspian
Encore: Loving Cup
** I heard this a cover song...
Rumor: Cali Kat said that someone ran on stage and grabbed Trey during AC/DC Bag...
Cali Kat called in the setlist from last night's show. Here's the first show of their tour...
2.14.03 Great Western Forum - Inglewood, California
Set 1: My Sweet One, Cover of the Rolling Stone **, Chalk Dust Torture, Fee > Taste, Bathtub Gin, Heavy Things, Golgi
Set 2: Possum, Walls of the Cave > Spacey jam > Carini, All of These Dreams , Limb by Limb, Oh Kee Pah Ceremony > AC/DC Bag, Prince Caspian
Encore: Loving Cup
** I heard this a cover song...
Rumor: Cali Kat said that someone ran on stage and grabbed Trey during AC/DC Bag...
Friday, February 14, 2003
Thursday, February 13, 2003
Thursday Poem: Ode to Hans Blix
The small hands of a blind
German girl rang a small bell,
Which she held tightly with her
Fingers grasping the piece of brass
That her grandfather sold to her
On his deathbed.
Was he an ex-Nazi?
That's up for debate,
But she had no idea what facism
Or what other gossip
Would whip up behind her back,
When she skipped to school,
With her small poodle,
Following her down the cobble stone
Road to the last feast of the season.
German girl rang a small bell,
Which she held tightly with her
Fingers grasping the piece of brass
That her grandfather sold to her
On his deathbed.
Was he an ex-Nazi?
That's up for debate,
But she had no idea what facism
Or what other gossip
Would whip up behind her back,
When she skipped to school,
With her small poodle,
Following her down the cobble stone
Road to the last feast of the season.
Check out: Leftover Phish... which is a collection of outtakes from the Rolling Stone Phish interview.
Phish Resurfaces is an article appearing in the next issue of Rolling Stone.
Some highlights...
• "We had these jam sessions," Anastasio says one night after practice, "where we drank hot chocolate with mushrooms and just played, trying to get in tune with each other, for eight hours."
• Fishman, who turns thirty-eight on February 19th, played most gigs during Phish's first two years flying on LSD. "I still play with the feeling I got from those experiences, trying to generate wind and water," he claims quite earnestly.
• "We sat there and smoked some pot, drank champagne and cried," Fishman says. "It really felt like the end." ... "I said, 'We're done,' " Fishman recalls. "Trey said, 'Yeah, we're not coming back.' I said, 'All right, I'll see ya later.' We got in our cars and went home."
• "A part of what killed Jerry Garcia," McConnell says, "was the bigness of what the Dead became. He couldn't stop touring. It's the antithesis of what I want to happen. I want to create a way for us to continue to be ourselves and make new music all the time.
Here's the title page for that article.
Some highlights...
• "We had these jam sessions," Anastasio says one night after practice, "where we drank hot chocolate with mushrooms and just played, trying to get in tune with each other, for eight hours."
• Fishman, who turns thirty-eight on February 19th, played most gigs during Phish's first two years flying on LSD. "I still play with the feeling I got from those experiences, trying to generate wind and water," he claims quite earnestly.
• "We sat there and smoked some pot, drank champagne and cried," Fishman says. "It really felt like the end." ... "I said, 'We're done,' " Fishman recalls. "Trey said, 'Yeah, we're not coming back.' I said, 'All right, I'll see ya later.' We got in our cars and went home."
• "A part of what killed Jerry Garcia," McConnell says, "was the bigness of what the Dead became. He couldn't stop touring. It's the antithesis of what I want to happen. I want to create a way for us to continue to be ourselves and make new music all the time.
Here's the title page for that article.
Re: Jack Tripper Stole My Dog
Jerry Engel sent me an e-mail the other day:
Hey dude -I read more of your novel last night - and I'm not afraid to say
I'm hooked. It is dirty - and I like it. That whole Kelly thing - I got a wood
during one scene!! Which reminds me of Ken Follet books, my favorites,
because he also has that ability to throw some nice, nasty, REAL sex scenes
into the story. It is also awesome that I know alot of your references to
things (i.e. Emory). The history of the flask was also very cool.
Peace, JE
Jerry Engel sent me an e-mail the other day:
Hey dude -I read more of your novel last night - and I'm not afraid to say
I'm hooked. It is dirty - and I like it. That whole Kelly thing - I got a wood
during one scene!! Which reminds me of Ken Follet books, my favorites,
because he also has that ability to throw some nice, nasty, REAL sex scenes
into the story. It is also awesome that I know alot of your references to
things (i.e. Emory). The history of the flask was also very cool.
Peace, JE
Happy Birthday to The Daily Dave!!!
The The Daily Dave turned one year old yesterday! I would like to take the opportunity to thank Dave Simanoff for turning me onto blogger and suggesting I start my own weblog! Without his encouragement, I would never had untaken the hefty task of starting two of my own weblogs! Thanks again SKIPPY!!!
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
Wednesday Poem: Porch Song
Sometimes there is a small
Child who sits on my porch
And eats his crusty boogers with
His freshly packed lunch
Made by his somber nanny from Cuba.
Othertimes, there is a medium size dog,
Who shits on my porch,
after trying to bite my mail man's leg,
And that ugly dog howls at odd hours,
Always when I am sleeping.
I tried to throw small, yet heavy
Objects at the tresspassers.
Othertimes, I sit and I listen
To their heartbeats hum,
As I sing my own song.
And eats his crusty boogers with
His freshly packed lunch
Made by his somber nanny from Cuba.
Othertimes, there is a medium size dog,
Who shits on my porch,
after trying to bite my mail man's leg,
And that ugly dog howls at odd hours,
Always when I am sleeping.
I tried to throw small, yet heavy
Objects at the tresspassers.
Othertimes, I sit and I listen
To their heartbeats hum,
As I sing my own song.
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
Declare war on the Euro Pussies!
Can we INVADE Europe? I say, postpone Iraq, and lets invade Europe first, and shake up their government, institute a "regime change", and then we can continue our role on the world stage. And we know how the Frenchies are, they wouldn't even put up a single fight, not fire one freakin' bullet, and probably not even throw one rock in defense of their homeland. They'll bitch and moan, for sure, and hurl anti-American insults at our occupying forces, but fuck 'em. What good are they anyway? They're a bunch of sore losers, with a short-term memory. In all honesty, that country is a bunch of fascist, anti-semetic, lazy, non-showering assholes. No one talks about how their own citizens are getting abused, spit on, and kicked out of the Ivory Coast, where anti-French attitudes run amock, and they can't even protect their own coffee importing-exporting business, so why the fuck should we let them dictate our military and international politics?
Who's with me? I'm sick of this anti-Americanism spreading like a bad case of the herpes throughout Europe. Where's the respect? Let's end this crap, now, before we get another Hitler thrust to power by the spoiled Euro-trash, pro-terrorist regimes of Germany, France, and all...
Can we INVADE Europe? I say, postpone Iraq, and lets invade Europe first, and shake up their government, institute a "regime change", and then we can continue our role on the world stage. And we know how the Frenchies are, they wouldn't even put up a single fight, not fire one freakin' bullet, and probably not even throw one rock in defense of their homeland. They'll bitch and moan, for sure, and hurl anti-American insults at our occupying forces, but fuck 'em. What good are they anyway? They're a bunch of sore losers, with a short-term memory. In all honesty, that country is a bunch of fascist, anti-semetic, lazy, non-showering assholes. No one talks about how their own citizens are getting abused, spit on, and kicked out of the Ivory Coast, where anti-French attitudes run amock, and they can't even protect their own coffee importing-exporting business, so why the fuck should we let them dictate our military and international politics?
Who's with me? I'm sick of this anti-Americanism spreading like a bad case of the herpes throughout Europe. Where's the respect? Let's end this crap, now, before we get another Hitler thrust to power by the spoiled Euro-trash, pro-terrorist regimes of Germany, France, and all...
Monday, February 10, 2003
Monday Morning Poem: Ode to Michael Jackson
MJ dangled a little baby
Named Blanket, out an art deco window
As crazy Germans gleefully looked on
And the world's cameras captured
The jittery gloved freak, freak out.
And we all watched,
With looks of bewilderment
As he took little boys
And little girls to his world
Called "Never Never Land".
Perhaps France and Germany
Should send Hans Blix, and
UN weapons inspectors to MJ's bedroom.
Named Blanket, out an art deco window
As crazy Germans gleefully looked on
And the world's cameras captured
The jittery gloved freak, freak out.
And we all watched,
With looks of bewilderment
As he took little boys
And little girls to his world
Called "Never Never Land".
Perhaps France and Germany
Should send Hans Blix, and
UN weapons inspectors to MJ's bedroom.
It is supposed to snow again today. I stayed up all night and wrote after watching the NBA All Star game which went into double overtime. My second novel is giving me a little trouble, but I expect it's just a "nerves" thing. Believe it or not, I do get nervous and anxious when I work on my projects. Because I'm not working I feel a certain pressure to write a better novel than Jack Tripper Stole My Dog.
Sunday, February 09, 2003
The voice cast of the Simpsons will be appearing on Inside the Actors Studio tonight at 8PM on Bravo. Check your local listings for showtimes!
"Trying is the first step towards failure." - Homer J. Simpson
"Trying is the first step towards failure." - Homer J. Simpson
Saturday, February 08, 2003
Well, I am slightly hungover after Elite's b-day party last night at Tribe in the East Village. I abused Spider's bar tab, adding several drinks, OK, I added all my drinks to Spider's tab, but he said it was OK. It was nice to see everyone again!!
Some of the highlights were:
• Gil getting scolded at by the bouncer (twice) for wearing his hat. Supposedly there was a "no hat rule" at the bar.
• Although she didn't bring me back a French girl like I requested, Keren did bring me back a nice treat from her recent trip to Paris... a Harry Potter book (en français) called "Harry Potter à l'école des Sorciers".
Some of the highlights were:
• Gil getting scolded at by the bouncer (twice) for wearing his hat. Supposedly there was a "no hat rule" at the bar.
• Although she didn't bring me back a French girl like I requested, Keren did bring me back a nice treat from her recent trip to Paris... a Harry Potter book (en français) called "Harry Potter à l'école des Sorciers".
Friday, February 07, 2003
Re: Michael Jackson Documentary
What was more spooky?
Michael Jackson's $6 Million Dollar spending spree in Las Vegas... OR the life size mannequin of the Jolly Green Giant that was travels with him?
MJ naming his second son Prince Michael Jackson II...OR calling him Blanket?
MJ over-estimating his net worth by $700 Million (He said, "$1 Billion." His lawyers said its closer to $ 200-300 M)... OR MJ having kids sleep with him in his bed?
What was more spooky?
Michael Jackson's $6 Million Dollar spending spree in Las Vegas... OR the life size mannequin of the Jolly Green Giant that was travels with him?
MJ naming his second son Prince Michael Jackson II...OR calling him Blanket?
MJ over-estimating his net worth by $700 Million (He said, "$1 Billion." His lawyers said its closer to $ 200-300 M)... OR MJ having kids sleep with him in his bed?
Friday Poem: Ode to Tommy Franks
Forgotten memories of epic snow forts
And little slush balls
That I used to hurl at taxi cabs
Slowly driving throughout
My blanketed neighborhood
After the furious snowstorms
Left too much snow.
Dropping off harried customers
Who lost their snow shoes
They seem to be nice people...
The taxi drivers,
Even the foul smelling ones.
Now I think most of them
Raise money for Al Qaeda
That's why I don't tip very well.
And little slush balls
That I used to hurl at taxi cabs
Slowly driving throughout
My blanketed neighborhood
After the furious snowstorms
Left too much snow.
Dropping off harried customers
Who lost their snow shoes
They seem to be nice people...
The taxi drivers,
Even the foul smelling ones.
Now I think most of them
Raise money for Al Qaeda
That's why I don't tip very well.
Snow! It's been snowing for almost 10 hours now....
I don't why the little green men with extra fingers, who used to make those large ornate skeletons for the medical schools in all of Europe, and they decided to go on strike and carry out a massive public relations campaign to bring down the established medical community.
I don't why the little green men with extra fingers, who used to make those large ornate skeletons for the medical schools in all of Europe, and they decided to go on strike and carry out a massive public relations campaign to bring down the established medical community.
Thursday, February 06, 2003
Heady News Update...
Feds Have Enough Evidence to Arrest Martha Stewart... read all about the "solid criminal case" on Martha.
Hospital Tells Baby to Wear Condom... in a mix-up in Norway!
Only in Germany... Artist Plans to Serve Food Made from Urine and Breast Milk
Le Bron James Cleared to Play... highschool hoops star will be able to rejoin his team after sitting out two games.
Feds Have Enough Evidence to Arrest Martha Stewart... read all about the "solid criminal case" on Martha.
Hospital Tells Baby to Wear Condom... in a mix-up in Norway!
Only in Germany... Artist Plans to Serve Food Made from Urine and Breast Milk
Le Bron James Cleared to Play... highschool hoops star will be able to rejoin his team after sitting out two games.
Thursday Poem: Underneath Grey
Underneath the cover
Of a dark gray sky
I can see the faint
Trails of a flock of geese
Flying westward
To a place
I never heard of
But saw once
In an old postcard
Sent to me from a friend
Who still owes me $56.
Of a dark gray sky
I can see the faint
Trails of a flock of geese
Flying westward
To a place
I never heard of
But saw once
In an old postcard
Sent to me from a friend
Who still owes me $56.
Wednesday, February 05, 2003
I watched Colin Powell's speech to the UN Security Council, and I have to say, after hearing his strong statements... and seeing his overwhelming convincing evidence, using charts, satellite surveillance photos, and intercepted communications... that if Colin Powell tried OJ Simpson for murder, then today...OJ would be doing 25 to life in a California prison. Powell put forth what everyone has wanted to see. Even the French started backpeddling... but then again, they are famous for thier flawless retreat techniques.
Wednesday Poem: Ode to Phil Spector
Big fat, soapy rat
Sat in front of the
Little rusty doorway made
By the oily man whom we
Used to make fun of
By throwing large bricks
At his sloppy house, and at
His several small adopted children
As they quickly walked to school
Under the veil of early
Morning Darkness,
As they sing silly songs
Written by dope fiends
During lunchtime binges of
Oxycontin and vodka.
Sat in front of the
Little rusty doorway made
By the oily man whom we
Used to make fun of
By throwing large bricks
At his sloppy house, and at
His several small adopted children
As they quickly walked to school
Under the veil of early
Morning Darkness,
As they sing silly songs
Written by dope fiends
During lunchtime binges of
Oxycontin and vodka.
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Read the latest article from Hunter S. Thompson called Extreme Behavior in Aspen.
Here's a bit: ""We are turning into a nation of whimpering slaves to Fear -- fear of war, fear of poverty, fear of random terrorism, fear of getting down-sized or fired because of the plunging economy, fear of getting evicted for bad debts, or suddenly getting locked up in a military detention camp on vague charges of being a Terrorist sympathizer ... "
Here's a bit: ""We are turning into a nation of whimpering slaves to Fear -- fear of war, fear of poverty, fear of random terrorism, fear of getting down-sized or fired because of the plunging economy, fear of getting evicted for bad debts, or suddenly getting locked up in a military detention camp on vague charges of being a Terrorist sympathizer ... "
Monday, February 03, 2003
Saturday, February 01, 2003
Phistory: A Long, Strange Trip Started at Nectar's
Here's a bit: "There wouldn't be a Phish without Nectar's," said Trey Anastasio, the band's guitarist and lead singer. "It really all started there."
Anastasio was reflecting on Nectar's, the bar and its namesake, last week after Nectar Rorris sold the business he started 28 years ago.
Here's a bit: "There wouldn't be a Phish without Nectar's," said Trey Anastasio, the band's guitarist and lead singer. "It really all started there."
Anastasio was reflecting on Nectar's, the bar and its namesake, last week after Nectar Rorris sold the business he started 28 years ago.
Happy New Year!
It is the Chinese New Year... 4701! Which is the year of the Ram/Sheep. Take a look at this link: Chinese Calendar which explains the history and has links to other types of calendars.
It is the Chinese New Year... 4701! Which is the year of the Ram/Sheep. Take a look at this link: Chinese Calendar which explains the history and has links to other types of calendars.
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