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Phantom 309

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Hey. I'm over here now. [Apr. 2nd, 2006|10:09 pm]
Phantom 309
This is what eight bucks a month buys you, blogwise.
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gotta, t'... t'... t'..., nah, nah, nah, gotta try a little tenderness [Jan. 11th, 2006|10:55 pm]
Phantom 309
[Current Mood |ecstaticecstatic and exhausted]
[Current Music |"Try a Little Tenderness," Otis Redding]

Is it wrong that every time I hear Otis Redding sing "Try a Little Tenderness," I choke up a little?

Let me answer that. No. No, it is not wrong. It is one of the few right things in the world.

These are tears of joy, people. And tonight I heard Otis sing it live at Monterey in '67, on my new CD purchased through the auspices of an Amazon gift certificate given to me by my big brother, who is the one who turned me on to soul and R&B in the first place, so it's fitting. And if I thought the single of "Try a Little Tenderness" was good, I was just not ready for the Monterey version, which left a smoking crater where I was standing. The fact that it was preceded by "I've Been Loving You Too Long"... well, I'm only human, my friends. When Otis made his band hit him one more time, and then one more time, and then just one more time...

I apologize to my downstairs neighbors. That loud "Fuck, yeah!" was me. But don't blame me, blame Otis.
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My girlfriend loaned me her bass. [Sep. 23rd, 2005|08:47 pm]
Phantom 309
Is that, up there, the coolest sentence ever to be written in the English language? I think that perhaps it might be.

A lot cooler, certainly, than, "So far, I suck at playing the bass."
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Jesus Christ. (Literally.) [Jul. 19th, 2005|01:54 am]
Phantom 309
[Current Mood |irritateditchy]
[Current Music |"Stupid," the Long Winters]

Okay. This has nothing to do with the stuff that I told orthoepy I was going to write about, but anyway. So, for whatever reason, I have this habit of listening to AM talk radio, mostly I guess to keep my hatred of the world honed to a knife-sharp edge. This afternoon, a local host is talking about a Duke Medical Center study about the power of prayer. A caller has roughly this to say on the matter:

"Well, I don't know about all this science, but I do believe in the power of prayer. We talked to a Satanist one time about it, and we asked him if he had anything wrong with him, and he said yeah, he had narcolepsy -- which, you know, is where you can't ever get to sleep? -- and we asked if we could pray over him, and he said okay, and so the three of us joined hands and prayed over him right there, and Host, I'm not sayin' the Lord cured him right there, but I can tell you that we saw this fellow later, and he had fallen asleep right there standing up!"

Oh yeah? That's because he had narcolepsy, dumbass. Which doesn't mean "can't fall asleep" -- it means "falls asleep all the time." Or, in this case, could mean "smartass Lovecraft-worshiping punk kid totally yanking your chain, you self-righteous probable wearer of Dockers and iridescent golf shirts."

Sheeeeeeee-zus. Plus, it's like 195 degrees down here, I'm sweating through eight shirts a day, and my back itches all the fucking time. None of which has anything to do with the above. But I'm cranky and itchy, and I'm going to bed now. G'night!
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(no subject) [Mar. 24th, 2005|09:53 pm]
Phantom 309
[Current Mood |sadsad]

Two thoughts, and only two, on this fine early spring evening:

1: Goddammit, I love "Rhapsody in Blue."

2: People, you've got to let her go. She's not coming back. She's done here. She's got to move on. This is not the way humans are meant to live. Please, just let her go.
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Jonathan Richman and I are both crazy for riding the bus! [Mar. 9th, 2005|12:05 pm]
Phantom 309
Yeah, we're crazy; so, what's the fuss?

Today was supposed to be the beginning of my one-month odyssey of being Carfree in the Triangle. (Long story, involving lapsed insurance, and the 30-day surrenderage of license plates which is the penalty thereof. It's a fair cop; I'm guilty of that which they accuse me of, and it's really not a good idea to be driving without insurance, so I'm ready to pay my debt to society.)

The rest is shoved behind this here cut.Collapse )
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home from the date [Feb. 23rd, 2005|09:47 pm]
Phantom 309
[Current Mood |disappointeddisappointed]

Well, shit.
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Hey, orthoepy... [Feb. 23rd, 2005|09:51 am]
Phantom 309
You know the phenomenon when a brand name becomes, in the vernacular, the name for that kind of product? (e.g., Xerox, Coke, Band-Aid.)

Is there a word for that?
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(no subject) [Feb. 22nd, 2005|10:09 pm]
Phantom 309
[Current Mood |tiredtired]
[Current Music |inexplicably, Alvin & the Chipmunks]

If you like Zima, and you like baby aspirin, you'll love Smirnoff Twisted V Mandarin Orange!

So, I've got another First Date tomorrow night. Since the time that we first contacted each other over the Internet, there have been:

- over 20 e-mails between us (mostly snappy 'n' zingy, but still)
- one drop-in to Chain Bookstore to say hi (which wasn't as weird as it probably sounds)
- one IM conversation
- one phone conversation

The kicker? This has all happened since last Friday. So, yeah, I'd say we're getting along okay so far.
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where the hell is my Feelies CD? [Feb. 17th, 2005|11:48 pm]
Phantom 309
[Current Mood |groggygroggy]
[Current Music |not the Feelies]

I was all in the mood for something energetic yet vaguely pastoral, but I am unable to find "Only Life." Must be in the car. If pressured, I will admit that there are worse problems to have than not being able to put my hand to a certain CD while still having a pretty good idea where it is. Anyway, it's a great album, when I'm in the same room with it. I've been going through a pretty heavy "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea" phase, too.

The other day, a friend of mine e-mailed me to ask, "If I were to have heard that someone you met somewhere thought you were cute, should I tell you about it?" The answer to which, by the way, if you're curious, is usually "yes." In my case, it's "yes, as often as possible," what with my famously huge ego and all. So it turns out that the friend who posed this question works with a woman who recently, with yet another friend, came to a "game night" party that I also attended. I just spent about five minutes writing that last sentence in my head (even going back after I posted to edit it once), and I honestly couldn't get it to make any more sense than that syntactically. Anyway, it's the twice-removed friend who apparently thinks I'm cute (the friend of the co-worker of my friend who e-mailed me way back at the beginning of this paragraph). I remember her from the party, and I thought she was cute, too. Well, I'm not quite sure which one she was -- her or her friend -- but they were both cute, so it's good news either way. (In fact, I remarked upon them to the hostess of the party -- the famous M! who I think I'm mostly over being secretly in love with.) So, my friend is currently moving through back channels to get my e-mail address to the person who is of the opinion that I'm cute.

You know, even if nothing comes of this... well, dang. It's never bad to hear that somebody finds you cute. We were playing "Cranium" that night, so I got to show off some of my freakish savant-like command of trivia.

Hey, speakinawhich, I just updated my deal on match.com -- my profile name is my first initial and my last name (which lacks originality, but makes it up by virtue of my being able to remember it), so if you want to gawk at it, be my guest. I'm always curious how it comes across. For the record, I'm going for "charming and endearing," not "pathetic and creepy."

It's been a while since I had my hair cut; I usually wear it pretty short. (By the way, there's no logical transition from the previous paragraph to this one.) My hair doesn't lengthen so much as it... expands. As each day goes by, I look more and more like Jack Lord.

Imagine my delight to discover that on Saturdays, my local PBS station -- which is the one station that I receive with crystal clarity -- shows reruns of The Joy of Painting starring Bob Ross, who was very probably the world's most comforting man. (Yes, I'm including Mr. Rogers.) Can it be a coincidence that the Target menswear department now stocks a Bob Ross Happy Trees T-shirt? I really want to believe that the late Mr. Ross was as kind and good a man as he comes across as. If it turns out that he's a pederast or something, I really don't want to know about it, so don't tell me.

If I'm going to get a walk in before work tomorrow, which I'm thinking now I might want to, I'd best be headed bedward soon. And so, good night.
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