Tuesday, June 19, 2007

A Soundtrack to a Pastry...

VA - Inside the Fantastical Cave

(2003, Little Cakes compilation, no matrix number, edition of 50, out of print.)

The enclosed insert discloses all:


(86.1 MB, ripped at 320 kbps, archived to zip.)

Get it here.




The Usual Swirl...

(Amended June 22, 2007.)

My head is spinning... Spent nearly five hours in the rec center today, half working out with my friend Pam (who insists on introducing me to her pals as "Tom, the aging rock star," or "Tom, the guy I told you about who's in a band with Andrew W.K.," neither of which would likely pass deliberative muster at The Hague), the other half grinding out another ten-mile elliptical slog. My (cough) fitness goals are set, and I'm hewing to 'em. Frankly, I'm terrified of wasting away - my dad's decline has been precipitous, and although I've not been diagnosed as having a genetic disposition for Alzheimer's, who knows? I want to steel myself against EVERYTHING. All the fears... And, yeah, vanity, solipsism, self-absorption, narcissism, still wanting to get laid when I'm on the road, etc. It'll take six months or so to accomplish what I want to do, but I'll do it.

(The goal: one thigh the size of Kansas - the band, not the state - and the other the size of an immodest gesture.)

Dad's perception of Father's Day was likely intermittent at best, a series of gauzy recollections and softly pulsing foci. It's dreadful of me to wish ill of others, but I fucking pray that Bush, Cheney, Dobson, Robertson, and the rest of the daft cocksuckers who stand in the way of research fall prey to this and/or the other related maladies themselves. It's the only fitting poetic coup de grace.*

Finally heard from my son! He made time from his non-stop surge duties to give me a ring. Best present this padre has ever received... As usual, the stories spun stopped my heart cold. Ambushes, firefights, IEDs, rounds sailing inches over Evan's head, etc. I'd rather he be elsewhere...

Great time with Graham, Bobbie, and their retinue on Saturday. We enjoyed a excellent dinner, then hit the bars. Left my camera at Blossoming Noise HQ, but as soon as I've retrieved it I'll post pix. Friday evening we recorded a few hours of new TLASILA material; Graham played the Serge Modular synth system (from the late 70s) - an awesome piece of hardware. With luck we'll be lugging it to NYC for the forthcoming album sessions.

Elyse Perez's mom is in very poor health at present - she's in hospice in Fort Lauderdale. If you are a friend to EP (and who isn't?), send a ray of hope southward. Her family could definitely use it.

That's enough for tonight.

Until Tomorrow,


*(On Wednesday, Bush vetoed the latest embryonic stem cell bill... Motherfucker.)

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