Ornoth

When I heard that a tour featuring Devo and the B-52s was going to visit Austin, I knew it was a must-see. Both bands’ songs can be hit-or-miss, but their best ones are exceptional. From the moment I saw them play on the Merv Griffin show on October 16, 1980, Devo – for whatever reason – were a formative part of my adolescence. But opportunities to see them have been extremely rare; I had to wait 28 years before I finally managed to catch them headlining a Boston show in 2008… And I’ve waited nearly two more decades for my next opportunity!

B-52s Love Shack

Devo Jocko Homo

Devo Going Under

The timing wasn’t great, tho. The Austin show was on Saturday November 1, the night before the Livestrong Challenge: a 100-mile bike ride I was signed up for. I started the day of the show by laying out all my ride gear, then made my way to a photoshoot at Livestrong headquarters with my Team Kermit friends. Then an early dinner of takeout Thai food, which was accompanied by ominous thunder.

With threatening weather surrounding Austin, I took hope from a rainbow I saw on the drive to the Circuit of the Americas Formula 1 racetrack where the open-air show was being held. I got there really early to score good parking, but was “asked” to stay in the car due to lightning in the area.

I promptly ignored that “request” and walked the kilometer to queue up at the main entry gate, along with the most disappointing selection of humanity I’ve seen in a long time. It was 6pm: about an hour before the gates opened, and two hours before showtime.

By 7pm there were obvious lightning bolts and thunder, and the skies opened up for about 20 minutes, absolutely soaking everyone. Security told people to take cover in their cars or a distant parking garage, but I obstinately hovered nearby and waited.

After having stood around idly for two hours as the storm abated, we finally were let into the venue at 8pm – the original show time – and were told the performers would go on at 9pm. I grabbed some paper napkins from a vendor to dry off my soaking wet seat and waited: chilly, damp, and shivering.

They dispensed with the opening act – Lene Lovitch – and the B-52s came on at 9pm, which would have been their normal time slot. I like the band, and am especially fond of lead man Fred Schneider’s distinctive vocals and quirky lyrics. Their set included the upbeat “Cosmic Thing”, plus several of their less distinctive, melodic songs that I tend to ignore, and I was disappointed that they passed over the edgier “Channel Z”. And it would have been nice to include something from Fred’s solo career, like “Monster” or even “Coconut”. Overall, they put on a passable show. I’m glad I got to see them once.

I’ll mention here that a couple, seated two rows in front of me, decided to stand through the entire set, which meant I had to do so as well, if I wanted to see anything. So between the wait outside the venue and the concert, I stood in place for an agonizing 4½ hours… on the evening before a 100-mile bike ride!

After the stage was rearranged, Devo came on and also played for an hour. I had low expectations, since they’re known for never changing their setlist or show, but they’d updated some of their visuals and delivered the songs with more energy than you’d expect if you thought of them as a one-hit wonder from four and a half decades ago. They played personal favorite “Going Under”, but not the newer “Mind Games”, and they did not perform “Beautiful World” or their cover of “Satisfaction”. Despite my concerns, they delivered a fast-paced, very satisfying show.

After the bad weather and delays, I was delighted that both headliners were able to take the stage and perform their full sets without having to truncate the show. Scratching the opener was the ideal response to the weather situation.

The Germania Amphitheater at the Circuit of the Americas has a reputation as a horrible place to see a show, mostly because of the long walk between parking and the entry gate, how far it is out of town, and how much of a cluster it is to get into and out of. I found it tolerable, and I somehow managed to get out pretty easily after the show.

Getting home and ready for bed around 1am left me just four hours to sleep before my pre-ride wakeup alarm. And even the bonus hour of sleep I’d get from the autumnal time change that night meant that Sunday was gonna be a grim day in the saddle. But that’s a story for another blogpo…

Today, kids grow up with their entire lives digitized and at their fingertips, but those of us over sixty rarely get a high-fidelity look back into our childhoods.

Sure, there might be some faded Polaroids or 35mm slides from major holidays, but those aren’t particularly vivid or easily shared. A majority of our lives—who we were and everything we experienced—exists only in brief flickers of increasingly fragile human memory, ultimately unsharable except as tediously repetitive verbal anecdotes, like those our grandparents told us when we were kids.

So when one uncovers an item that triggers lots of childhood memories and emotions, it’s worth expending some effort to preserve it. In this case, a 40-year-old cassette tape bearing a very special song, which I recently digitized.

Therindel and Daeron cover

Therindel and Daeron On Ravenhill cassette

In 1978 I was only fourteen years old and about to start high school. I’d recently devoured J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy, and had gotten in touch with a handful of other young fans to found the New England Tolkien Society.

NETS had two publications: I produced a big annual called “MAZAR BALINŪ” (The Book of Balin) that featured art, poetry, fiction, and such (read more about that here); but our regular newsletter was a monthly called “Ravenhill”, named after a fortified spur of the Dwarves’ Lonely Mountain, which was the ultimate goal of Bilbo & Co.’s quest in The Hobbit.

Our Tolkien fan group’s meetings were infrequent, because we were spread out all over the northeast, but we made up for it with enthusiasm, taking on Hobbit or Elven or Dwarven personae, dressing up in costumes, having period feasts, hosting Tolkien trivia contests, and the all-important mushroom-rolling race (using only one’s nose, of course).

Those events were always uproarious fun. Contrary to my home life as a very strong introvert, under my Hobbit persona I surprisingly found myself loosening up and expressing a fun-loving, impulsive side at our gatherings. For me, they were incredibly important experiments in my adolescent social and emotional growth.

It was in that context where, at one of our very earliest meetings, we were joined by a local musician named Tom Osborne, who went by the name “Dæron”, after a minstrel mentioned in Tolkien’s works. He played guitar and sang a folk song he’d composed around a poem written by Marthe Benedict (aka Therindel), a Tolkien fan of international renown.

The song, “On Ravenhill: Gimli’s Song of Parting”, is a poignant one. You may or may not recall that Gimli was the Dwarf who joined the Fellowship of the Ring to help Frodo bring the One Ring to Mordor. Tom’s song takes place long after the conclusion of the War of the Ring, as Gimli says farewell to the Lonely Mountain and Middle-earth, before joining his Elvish friend Legolas in sailing to the Undying Lands: something no Dwarf had ever been permitted to do.

Between the stirring words, so wonderfully performed, and the direct connection to our newsletter “Ravenhill”, everyone who heard it at that early gathering was near tears, despite the fact that we were mostly teenaged boys. There was something about Tolkien’s works that had touched each of us—the sense of wonder, the magnificence of nature, the freshness of youth, the sentimentality and romanticism—and Tom’s music and Therindel’s words captured all of that perfectly. It’s no exaggeration to say it resonated in my heart and lodged itself permanently in my memory.

The version I have on cassette… Over the past 42 years I never played it very often, but—knowing that it was important to me—I hung onto it through my many moves and all the changing roles and circumstances of my life. I’m happy that after so many years, it’s still in adequate condition for digitizing and posting (here’s the MP3), even if the quality isn’t up to modern standards.

Now, like Gimli, in old age I find myself looking back upon an astonishingly diverse, full, and fulfilling life with immense appreciation. I’m not quite ready to depart for the Undying Lands, but I can look back at the many treasures I have found, and savor precious memories such as those evoked by this deeply meaningful song of parting.

Far down the Lonely Mountain’s southern arm
I stand on the grey rocky height
Whence oft of old was sounded the alarm
And winged messengers soared in urgent flight.

(BEGIN CHORUS)
Only on Ravenhill—can you believe it still?
Looking across the green lands;
Mining the metals we shaped with our hands each day
Under the mountain where mystery lay.
(END CHORUS)

Here sun and wind and rain shaped the stone;
Here blood of kinsmen slain have soaked the clay;
And here I stand bent by the years I’ve known
To hear the echoes of a fading yesterday.

CHORUS

I am a living part of all this land—
Each standing stone, each tree a treasured friend,
Each glint of the sun a gem within my hand—
And yet beneath the sun all things must have an end.

CHORUS

I will surrender all I held as worth
And take the westward road across the sea.
A Dwarf of Durin’s race, a son of the earth,
Who dared to crave the lofty Elvish destiny.

CHORUS

So here I forfeit all my mortal right,
And here I render up my earthly will.
I shall leave it all to seek the light,
For I have bid the past farewell.

CHORUS x3

Four days after returning from Asia via Tokyo, I undertook a new adventure: Japanese ritual drumming—or taiko—in the form of a four-week beginner’s workshop offered by local group Pittsburgh Taiko.

Big drums have been used in Japan for centuries in religious rituals and to inspire troops in battle. However, kumi-daiko—the current style and form of performing in ensembles—wasn’t established until 1951 by an inventive Japanese jazz drummer.

Taiko Beginners Workshop

My first exposure was seeing the local group Pittsburgh Taiko perform at the local lunar new year celebration back in 2016. A month later, Inna and I went to see them perform alongside Japanese-American taiko master Kenny Endo.

I’ve always been a fan of percussion (except for vibraphone, which hardly qualifies). I’ve done my share of playing around, including both West African hand drumming as well as rock kit, so I was intrigued.

When that local group offered a beginners workshop in the fall of 2016, Inna and I registered. However, when it rolled around, I was in Maine to caretake my dying mother, and in my absence Inna, who is also into drumming but has no affection for things Japanese, opted to sneak out halfway through the first session.

However, a year and a half later, I saw them again at this year’s lunar new year, and learned they were going to offer another beginners workshop, which I was finally able to attend. We had 10-12 students, which matched the approximate number of people in their performance group.

The first sessions were painful. One of the first things I learned is that your stance is supposed to result in your hips being at about the same height as the barrel-like chudaiko drumhead. Since that isn’t much more than two feet off the ground—and impossible to adjust—it resulted in my essentially having to play while performing a front split. Neither comfortable nor stable for someone of my height! That was reinforced by four days of severe DOMS that followed the session, thanks to my woefully underdeveloped cyclist’s arm muscles.

Week two started with even more pain. Although the group does some warmup exercises before playing, they illogically start with ballistic exercises like jumping jacks, and only do gentle muscle stretches afterward, which is backwards and dangerous. Going from a cold start straight into an exercise that involved simultaneous hopping and kicking caused me to severely pull a calf muscle. Initially that injury made even walking difficult, and kept me off the bike for two full weeks.

We started making progress in that session, when we were introduced to the first two lines of the standard practice piece called “Renshuu”. However, after staying to watch the experienced group prepare for an upcoming performance, I noticed the discouraging ring of tinnitus.

In week three we learned most of the rest of Renshuu, and we took the opportunity to record video of the teachers playing it, so that we could practice at home, which was helpful.

Things started coming together for the fourth and final class. We spent some time going around the room round-robin style, giving everyone a chance to play improvisational one-measure solos. I can’t say mine were particularly great, given my lack of familiarity with the instrument and its playing style.

We also played Renshuu through a couple times before the teachers sat down and had us (as a group) play it for them in formal performance style. As you would expect of any Japanese art form, taiko isn’t simply about making music as a group; it’s also about synchronized and choreographed movement, elegance, and visual appeal. Our first “performance” went reasonably well, and marked an emotional peak for the class.

Beyond the drumming, one of the things that appealed to me about taiko was its potential as an exercise in mindful movement, much like my kyūdō (Japanese archery) practice did back in Boston. In that respect, it was half successful. At first, I was too busy trying to understand the rhythms and use the correct hand; but the more familiar I became with each piece, the more attention I could spare to focus on my body, my stance, and the timing and expressiveness of each movement. It might become a meditative exercise at some point much further down the road to proficiency.

Which brings up the obvious question about whether I will continue with it. Taiko would suffer with the same limitation as kyūdō: it’s not a core priority. When we talked about the possibility of a followup workshop, I found myself reciting a litany of dates I couldn’t make: two weekends in Italy with Inna’s family, two more for a meditation retreat, and that doesn’t even include all my summertime cycling events! I’d like to continue and will make an effort, but I won’t have much success until the end of the busy summer season.

Of course, continuing would also raise the question of public performance, which isn’t something I’m particularly comfortable with, either. A nice idea, but realistically my lack of any inherent musical ability will out, and I’d rather that not happen in front of a knowledgeable audience.

All the same, it was an interesting experiment and experience, and hopefully something I can make room for during months that are a little less packed with more important “interesting experiences”!

If I were to choose the destination for a birthday trip, I probably wouldn’t choose Cleveland. However, that’s what Inna wanted. At least it’s easily accessible from home. Here’s a quick trip report.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: I wouldn’t call it disappointing, but it was spotty. A third of the building was closed and under construction. The layout was chaotic and confusing, so we probably missed some of the exhibits, but we saw nothing from numerous major acts like the Who, Michael Jackson, Kiss, the Bee Gees, Abba, Pink Floyd, Duran Duran... While entire walls were devoted to some acts, superstars like Elton John and Madonna were represented by one item each. But then what would you expect from an institution that is only now getting around to inducting Joan Baez, ELO, Journey, and Yes? Overall I give it a C+.

Spent a lot of time around Market Square. Ice cream at Mitchell’s was awesome. Killed time playing Codename Pictures and Forbidden Island at the Tabletop Board Game Cafe. Had a good dinner at the Great Lakes Brewpub, where Inna ordered and mostly stared at their flight/sampler of twelve five-ounce beers. Salivated a lot while browsing the huge West Side Market meat and produce stalls, where Inna (after some tribulation) eventually fulfilled her quest for a slab of strawberry cassatta from Cake Royale.

Returned downtown and checked into our hotel before the main event: a punk concert at the House of Blues by Inna’s adolescent idols, the Damned. They seemed tighter than previous performances, and overall it was a good show despite an iffy mixing job. Not so good was the rain-soaked walk back to the hotel afterward, nor the 3am fire alarm and building evacuation later that night.

After a decent hotel breakfast, we stopped by a mall in Mayfield Heights to hit the World Market (an internationally-focused grocery store) with an unplanned bonus bra shopping expedition.

Other than Inna’s desire to see the Damned, nothing about Cleveland was a must-see by any stretch of the imagination; however, we enjoyed the trip, got a nice break from our regular daily routine, and had fun together.

Then, after a night’s sleep, we got up and hit Pittsburgh’s amateur Art All Night exhibit, which we both found engaging, then enjoyed a damned savory lunch at Salem Halal on the Strip and a lovely walk around the Highland Park reservoir.

Nice weekend with the little woman.

It’s official: in six weeks TT the Bears will shutter and disappear, leaving Central Square that much more normal.

Right next door to the Middle East, TT’s booked bands that would have struggled in that larger venue. But that gave TT’s the freedom to feature all kinds of unknown but enjoyable acts.

And the tiny size of the club made the concertgoing experience that much more intimate, whether you wanted it or not! You couldn’t physically get more than about 30 feet from the stage.

I can’t say I was a regular at TT’s, but I did see my share of shows. My buddy Bob Corsaro will be glad to know that I was there to see his ska band, the Brass Monkeys, play no less than four times. Multiple shows by Boston ska royalty the Allstonians and Beat Soup. Inspecter 7. Dow Jones & the Industrials.

One of the more memorable shows I enjoyed was Mono Puff, a bizarre alt-rock collage orchestrated by John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants fame. As they might tell you themselves, “It was totally rockin’!”

But the most unforgettable moment was the night I met Greg Hawkes, the original keyboardist for the Cars. He was the only band member who showed up at a 2005 show celebrating the release of a Cars tribute album by a collection of Boston-based bands.

I was introduced to Mr. Hawkes by show organizer Andrea Kremer, and actually got to sit with him and chat before he took the stage as guest performer for “Just What I Needed”. It remains one of the most cherished memories of my time in the scene. You can read more about that show and see my other photos in my blogpost, “Life’s the same, except for my shoes…”

Now TT’s becomes another in a long list of legendary Boston music clubs that can only be spoken of in the past tense. But these memories remain.

Want to feel old? Just take a look behind you…

I’ve been blogging long enough now to post the third installment in my series of posts remembering people, places, and things that Boston has lost since I moved in.

Nostalgia. Memorabilia. Whatever synonym you use, it’s likely to evoke the same bittersweet morose feeling of loss. So many good times, so many memories, all gone to seed.

At the same time, a city—or at least a living one—needs to change, grow, and evolve to stay interesting and vital. Still, it’s hard to feel as sanguine about new, unfamiliar places as the comfortable, memory-filled things they replace.

This week provided a particularly sad example, in the sudden shuttering of the venerable Boston Phoenix, a free alternative tabloid newspaper that guided two and a half generations of young adults through the vibrant if chaotic maelstrom of Boston youth culture.

The Phoenix was the heart of my Boston experience through my 20s, 30s, and 40s. Clubs, bands, restaurants, classical concerts, lectures, readings, exhibits… If it was worth doing—even if it was way too outré for the mainstream media to touch—you’d find it listed in the Phoenix.

Although I’ve aged and my life has become more mainstream, losing the Phoenix is no less painful. If nothing else, it represented a connection, and sense of continuity with the person I used to be. It was one of the threads that still connected me with that other Ornoth, the younger, more social, and more visceral one whom I grew out of.

But it’s just the most recent example of the Buddhist law of impermanence. Here are a few others, just to remind you that nothing lasts forever, and the great danger of binding your happiness to something impermanent.

If you’re interested in other stuff that Boston has lost, check out the previous posts in this series: one from 2009 and another from 2005.

Updates: All Asia Cafe, Cambridgeport Saloon, Thailand Cafe, Charley's restaurant on Newbury Street, Crossroads Irish Pub, Bostone Pizza, An Tua Nua pub, Anthony's Pier 4, the Purple Shamrock, Hilltop Steak House in Saugus, Hi-Fi Pizza in Central, Calumet Photo, Steve's Greek restaurant on Newbury Street, Daisy Buchanan's on Newbury Street, India Samraat, Cactus Club, J. Pace & Son North End grocery, Amtrak's ticket office in Back Bay station, Louis Boston, Louie the Tricycle Guy, International Bike in Brighton & Newton, Forum restaurant on Boylston, Bayside Expo Center, MakerBot on Newbury Street, TT the Bears nightclub, Tedeschi convenience stores, the entire food court at the Prudential mall, Berk's shoes in Harvard Square, Church nightclub (formerly Linwood Grill), Scissors & Pie pretentious pizza hovel. Impending closures: Johnny D's, Medieval Manor.

I used to spend my free time hanging out in the Boston club scene, seeing live music nearly every day. In those years, I saw a lot of noteworthy shows, some of which are cherished memories.

But those days peaked about sixteen years ago. I really don’t go clubbing anymore, and don’t really listen to much music at all. But I keep my eyes peeled, and once in a while I see a show that’s too compelling to pass up.

The last time that happened was three years ago, when Devo came out of retirement to record their first album in 20 years. Being a huge fanboi, there was no way I was going to miss their first live show in New England in more than two decades. And it was, as they say, an electric performance.

Recently, a remarkably similar series of events took place. Another of my absolute favorite bands from the 80s—The Cars—got back together after a twenty-year hiatus and put out a new album and a handful of concert dates to support it. I made damn sure I was there when they took the stage at the House of Blues last week.

It was my first time in the new House of Blues on Lansdowne Street, which consolidated the space formerly occupied Avalon and Axis. Not bad, but not as intimate as those smaller clubs, and absolutely nothing like the old, original HoB location in Harvard Square. I took up a position above the stage, near the mezzanine rail (echoes of Paradise), and settled in for the show.

It was gratifying that despite their advancing years, the band played pretty tight. Ric’s voice is still a perfect match for Greg Hawkes’ awesome synth work, and Eliot executed his guitar solos with energy and precision. They put on a really good show.

The setlist featured a handful of okay new songs, several of the obligatory classics, and a generous number of their slightly more obscure songs. I was especially gratified that “Moving in Stereo” was the first song played for their encore.

The Cars are a Boston band, and they appeared to remember it fondly, making reference to the Rat, and telling the crowd it was “nice to be home”. Seeing them on Lansdowne Street, the row of clubs behind Fenway Park’s “Green Monster”, then walking home and stopping to get some ice cream at JP Licks on trendy Newbury Street… it was a quintessentially “Boston” evening.

Although I haven’t picked it up yet, I will probably acquire the new album sometime in the near future. Looking forward to that, too, although like the new Devo album, it’ll probably be a mixed bag, with some hits and some real misses.

But all in all, a new Cars album makes me happy, and finally having an opportunity to see them play live was ridiculously cool. Although I did get to meet Greg Hawkes and see him perform a couple Cars tunes at the tribute show at TT’s a few years ago, as described here. That was ridiculously cool, too.

Rock on!

Let’s meme a meme.

Time?

14:06 EST

Can you fill this out without lying?

I try my best to never lie, so lying would be more difficult for me than being truthful.

What was the last thing you put in your mouth?

A homemade chicken quesadilla, followed by two 400 IU Vitamin D-3, washed down with 3 cups of Langers Berry Punch fruit juice cut 1:1 with water.

Have you ever kissed anyone named Scott?

Not that I recall.

Where was your profile picture taken?

On Rock Harbor Road going through the salt marsh in Orleans, Massachusetts during the 2010 Pan-Mass Challenge. Approximately (41.797871, -69.99278).

Can you play guitar hero?

I have never tried.

Name someone that made you laugh today?

Probably Inna.

How late did you stay up last night and why?

I went to bed early last night, shortly after 10pm, because I've underslept the past several days and can only make that deficit up on the front side.

If you could move somewhere else, would you?

I would retain my current residence, but I would also maintain a summer home on Cape Cod and a winter residence in the Caribbean.

Ever been kissed under fireworks?

Probably. Ailsa and Inna are the most likely culprits.

Which of your friends lives closest to you?

Probably Roopa.

Do you believe ex's can be friends?

I am friendly with nearly all of my exes, and it's highly probable that they would be friendly to one another, as well.

How do you feel about Dr Pepper?

Like any soft drink, it's terribly unhealthy for you.

When was the last time you cried really hard?

I don't recall.

Where are you right now?

Home, at desk.

Who took your profile picture?

An official Pan-Mass Challenge event photographer.

Who was the last person you took a picture of?

Aside from my cat Grady, I shot someone's handbag; I think it was Kaela's. And before that, someone's feet; that might have been Zeenat. And before that, Ranjeev.

Was yesterday better than today?

Today's pretty good, but it would be difficult to beat the day I had yesterday, which featured a major life development.

Can you live a day without TV?

I have lived over 16 years without a television. I'll go out to a pub to watch the NBA playoffs if the Celtics are in contention, but that's about it.

Are you upset about anything?

Being upset is an indicator of emotional immaturity and denial of responsibility for one's internal state.

Do you think relationships are ever really worth it?

They probably are, but I tend to prefer relationships which are easygoing and undemanding. Most relationships aren’t worth a lot of drama.

Are you a bad influence?

I wouldn't be the right person to ask.

Night out or night in?

Usually in. Out can be fun, with the right small group of people.

What items could you not go without during the day?

There aren't any particular items that I require every day.

Who was the last person you visited in the hospital?

Possibly Inna or maybe an uncle.

What does the last text message in your inbox say?

"up?????"

How do you feel about your life right now?

Generally quite satisfied at the strategic level, although the aging process is a bit of a challenge. At the tactical level, there's some tension, as I'm in the middle of a transition period.

Do you hate anyone?

I try not to.

If we were to look in your facebook inbox, what would we find?

Messages from recruiters. Spam. Anke's recipe for aloo mutter. A thank-you note.

Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass?

Drug have never been part of my life, and I haven't touched alcohol in three years.

Ever been arrested?

No.

Has anyone ever called you perfect before?

Many times. I do my best to live up to that expectation.

What song is stuck in your head?

None. I've taken to avoiding music recently for precisely that reason. Although I did recently receive a pointer to Madness' "Night Boat to Cairo" video, and Madness is one of my two worst bands in the world for earworms (the other being Bim Skala Bim).

Someone knocks on your window at 2am, who do you want it to be?

Ed McMahon, with a very large check.

Wanna have grandkids before you’re 50?

Not in ten thousand years.

Name something you have to do tomorrow?

Test my bike out by doing a workout on the indoor trainer, since I just lowered my handlebars. Bring my bike down to the LBS for its five-year overhaul. Reserve a car for a Foxwoods trip. Register for the Old Ironsides 4th of July turnaround cruise lottery. Let the maintenance staff into the condo to test the fire alarms. Run the monthly backup and defrag jobs on my laptop.

Do you think too much or too little?

I find it unlikely that you'll be able to convince me that there is such a thing as too much thought.

Do you smile a lot?

A whole lot more than I used to, that's for sure.

Who was your last missed call on your Mobile phone?

Inna.

Is there something you always wear?

During the summer, I usually wear sandals, and I'm always wearing my cycling sandals while riding. I also usually wear my PMC wristband during the summer.

What were you doing 30 minutes ago?

Flipping the stem on my bike's handlebars, in order to lower them.

Did you have an exciting last weekend?

Not bad. Dhamma book club was good, and hanging out with Jay was good, too, although I probably shouldn't have eaten that entire calzone.

Have you ever crawled through a window?

Numerous times.

Have you ever dyed your hair?

Blue, red, blond.

Are you wearing a necklace?

No.

Are you an emotional person?

What are these emotions you speak of?

What's something that can always make you feel better?

Bike, ice cream, sunbeams, kitteh, money.

Will this weekend be a good one?

Probably. Dinner with Carla, and my Kalyana Mitta group, at minimum.

What do you want right now?

Wanting is a self-destructive behavior. The less wanting you do, the more satisfied you will find yourself.

Have you ever worn the opposite sex's clothing?

Of course.

Have you ever worked in a food place?

Several.

Does anyone know your facebook password?

No. Even *I* don't know my F*c*book password, as all my passwords are maintained by a password safe, and you have to go to special lengths to view them. And even if I did see it, it's unlikely I'd remember it, since it's a meaningless random string of several dozen characters and symbols.

Forty albums that influenced me meme, huh? Okay, I’ll play along with this one.

Rather than try to order them by some subjective ranking of how big an influence each was, I think I’ll do my best to set them down in as close to a chronological order as I can. Hopefully that’ll give you an idea what my road has been like.

1. Abba: Greatest Hits Vol. 2
2. Elton John: Captain Fantastic
3. Sweet: Desolation Boulevard
4. Aerosmith: Toys in the Attic
5. Devo: Freedom of Choice
6. The Cars: The Cars
7. Various: Heavy Metal: The Motion Picture Soundtrack
8. Soft Cell: Non-Stop Erotic Caberet
9. Aldo Nova: Aldo Nova
10. Loverboy: Get Lucky
11. Billy Squier: Emotions in Motion
12. Def Leppard: Pyromania
13. Fleetwood Mac: Tusk
14. Nik Kershaw: The Riddle
15. Wall of Voodoo: Call of the West
16. Art of Noise: (Who’s Afraid of) the Art of Noise
17. Rush: Caress of Steel
18. They Might Be Giants: They Might Be Giants
19. Negativland: Escape From Noise
20. Moby: Moby
21. H.W.A.: Livin’ in a Hoe House
22. Laibach: Opus Dei
23. Ministry: The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste
24. Kraftwerk: Electric Cafe
25. KMFDM: Nihil
26. KLF: The White Room
27. EMF: Schubert Dip
28. Bentmen: Magicroom
29. Emergency Broadcast Network: Behavior Modification / We Will Rock You
30. Concussion Ensemble: Stampede
31. Shriekback: Go Bang!
32. Robert Plant: Now and Zen
33. Stan Ridgway: Mosquitos
34. Various: Mashin’ Up the Nation Vols. 1 and 2
35. Madness: Complete Madness
36. Dance Hall Crashers: Lockjaw
37. Toasters: Dub 56
38. Beat Soup: Start From Scratch
39. Gangster Fun: Pure Amphetamines
40. Pressure Cooker: Pressure Cooker

Submitted for your approval:

The year is 1968; a 42 year old Florentine composer named Piero Umiliani pens several tracks for a sexually titillating Italian language pseudo-documentary about Sweden entitled “Svezia, Inferno e Paradiso”: Sweden, Heaven and Hell.

One of those tracks, which accompanies an all-girl sauna scene, charts internationally, reaching number 55 on the American Billboard Hot 100, despite having no more lyrics than a series of nonsense syllables, in similar vein to scat singing.

A little more than a year later, the song is performed by Jim Henson’s Muppets on the 14th episode of Sesame Street, as well as the Ed Sullivan Show. The rest, as they say, is history.

But if you’re not familiar with this story, you might be amused to view the song in its original context in this scene from “Svezia, Inferno e Paradiso”.