Monthly Archives: September 2010

“It’s Night of the Livin’ Fuckin’ Dead!”

September 12, 2010 Filled under Blog, Video
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Took a solo roadtrip this weekend — solo, because the dog, who was riding in the front seat, wasn’t very good at keeping up his end of the conversation. I’ve never made the 150-mile drive to the Hill Country alone before, and this time the three hours actually felt like three long hours on the straightest stretch of Interstate 10 in the country.

My shitty iPod tape adapter only plays music out of one half of my speakers, and I was sick of the 10 or so CDs I had. For some reason I thought it might be worthwhile to scan the dials, hoping there would be listen-worthy radio on a Friday night. Somewhere between Schulenburg and Luling, I caught several Christian/self help stations in a row, including one where three gossipy women were having a would-you-ever conversation regarding stripping for one’s husband/boyfriend at his request in the privacy of one’s home. All three women talked about this hypothetical request as if it were the most scandalous thing they could possibly think of doing.

It took all I had inside not to swerve to the side of the road and pull a Sailor and Lula after that.

Never kept a dollar past sunset

September 20, 2010 Filled under Blog, Video
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My friend Lance and I went to the one-night-only screening of Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones Thursday night. I’ve always liked the Stones, and for years have nursed a crush on the dandy-esque Mick Jagger (yes, still). They are, after all, the greatest rock-n-roll band of all time, and they provide the perfect antidote to my dislike (but tolerance of) The Beatles.

But until Thursday night I would not have called myself a Rolling Stones fan. Since Thursday night, I’ve been reading obsessively on the 1969-1975 line-up, probably the best line-up in the band’s decades-long career. (Check out this awesome, informative chart.)

And also since Thursday I have become totally infatuated with Keith Richards. Mick Jagger’s onstage antics seem contrived and performance-arty, but when Keith Richards closes his eye and shakes his hair you can tell it’s because he feels the music, not because he’s on display. It goes without saying, but Keith Richards is so fucking cool. That I am 30 years old and just discovered this is some kind of pathetic, but hey. Better late than never.

Their pool was perhaps the oldest in the country, a fieldstone rectangle, fed by a brook.

September 21, 2010 Filled under Blog
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Years ago, when I was a teenager, I caught a past-midnight screening of The Swimmer on Turner Classic Movies. I think I fell asleep before the film ended, and in the days before Netflix I was never able to find the movie to finish it.

Since then I’ve harbored a longstanding fascination with the film. It’s in the list of 350+ on my queue now, but last week, when Maud Newton tweeted about a story of the same name by John Cheever I realized the movie was based on the same short story, which you can read online here.

Summer ends today. Maybe I should bump the film to the top of my list?