I thought my BitchBuzz column would be up by now, but it’s not, and I have been furiously busy this first week of classes — and paying for my summer of idleness — so here’s the lovely video for Robyn Hitchcock‘s beautiful song, “I’m Falling” from the forthcoming film about Brian Epstein. Sigh — he’s appearing in London tonight.

More actual content soon!

Crazy Haste

The next interview will be up later today; naturally, I have all the interviews at home while I’m here on campus and running like mad today, because I plan to head down to Bard to hear Liz Hand read between my classes. I will be announcing a new writing gig later this week. I just got interviewed by the Schenectady Daily Gazette regarding Watchmen, which I suspect will NOT result in a quote because I can’t seem to learn to talk in sound bytes (work on it, work on it). There’s a new podcast interview with Moore by the folks at Disinformation. Gotta run —

UPDATE: Gaah — too much snow. Didn’t go to Bard, waah!


Sure, we’re supposed to be on a new austerity kick and saving money, etc., but somehow a little splurge now and then becomes necessary. Thus we wended our way to the Café Madison for brunch because well, we wanted to have a good meal. Even at the relatively late hour we headed over, the place was quite full, although we were seated in one of the few remaining tables right away. I started with a bellini (always a good way to start brunch) and Gene opted for decaf. I got the spanakopita omelette (oozing with spinach, cheese and onions) while Gene finally settled on the very cheesy bacon and cheddar omelette. Both came with their wonderful home fries and their home made bread: mmmm, walnut wheat. So filling, we need not eat again today.

Another extravagance that could hardly be passed up: Jonathan Richman at Club Helsinki in October! Cheap tickets and an intimate venue: I’m in love with Massachusetts, with the radio on.

I’ve finally begun reading Ginger Geezer, the life of the extravagantly eccentric Vivian Stanshall (hence the photo which comes from the Ginger Geezer website). I’ve been enjoying the anticipation of reading this book that I picked up on a recent visit to London, and yesterday became the day to start it after Gene found a radio program on Stanshall hosted by Stephen Fry and I decided that wasn’t enough Vivian for me. It’s a bit of an odd read, jumping back and forth in time (and I suspect, between the two authors) but there have been a lot of laugh out loud anecdotes.

Want something extravagant for free? Go download the free track “Dreamin’ of You” from the Bob Dylan site. It’s a teaser for the next volume of the Bootleg series. Hits the spot — more so than the tour tickets (he’s playing Saratoga) which are a little too extravagant for me at present.

Hail Monday

At least I was inside when the hail came — Gene was in the parking lot at the grocery store (the nice picture comes from Zimbop). Lights have been blinking here at my office, but haven’t gone out, so here I stay. Busy, so here’s some inspiring words from inimitable Dorothy Parker for your delectation:

Symptom Recital

I do not like my state of mind;
I’m bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn’s recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I’m disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I’d be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men….
I’m due to fall in love again.

Boxing Day

Just taking a break from the numbing process. Today we need to box up everything that’s sitting on furniture large enough to have to be moved on the truck that we rented for tomorrow. Time to turn off the brain in order to avoid thinking about a) how much stuff we still have, b) how hard it will be to drag it up to the third floor, and c) how it will not all fit anyway. Yes, yes, we brought it on ourselves. No one should pity us. Just reporting the facts, ma’am. And doing a good impression of a Romero extra.

Tomorrow will be the deciding day: what doesn’t fit (furniture-wise), has to go… somewhere. Not in the aerie. Shelves that don’t fit mean books that won’t fit either. I just don’t know. I don’t think I can fit too many more books in my office. But we’re not going to live with boxes like now; I’ve had enough of that.

Save the date: Saturday June 28th — I think by then everything that’s going there will have to be situated. Sangria in the afternoon, chips and salsa and the unveiling of the new digs. It’s small, but there are the stairs for overflow. Kipper will just hide under the bed anyway.

Yard sale at the old place the day after… everything must go.

Ah, London

Today is the first day of the rest of the month, and for us it’s the beginning of the hideous process known as moving. This is one of the shorter moves we’ve had in recent years, so I ought not to complain, but it’s still a painful process best avoided by putting my fingers in my ears and repeating LALALALA anytime it’s mentioned.

Which of course makes me wish I were still in London and pine for that extra week I thought I might have (until I checked on the actual cost of changing the ticket). Instead I will recall the fun I did have: Friday and Saturday with the Brookses, my home away from home (and the very finest graphic design in London!). Thank you so much for always having room for one more. Sunday I saw Stewart Lee at the Tate Modern (which has quickly become my favorite museum in London and that’s saying something) then headed out to Great Dunmow for dinner with James and Joanne (thanks!), taking a late train back to London as I needed to meet with the students Monday morning.

It was your usual bank holiday Monday, which means it was pouring all day. I had my full count of 9 students after their weekend travels, so I didn’t mind. We made a quick stop at the British Museum, where it was discovered that not all the medieval exhibits were closed, just the stairs leading to them, so two students gave their presentations before we were off to the National Gallery‘s medieval paintings. I gave the students their assignment, then slipped off to the Modern again because I had a chance to see Neil Innes talk about Claes Oldenburg and the Bonzos. I even worked up the moxie to go talk to him and say how I had seen him on my first visit to Britain in 1980 at a Save the Whales concert — and yes, I got his autograph and shook his hand (which gets me as close to George Harrison as I’ll get I guess). He was fun and funny, and swore us all in as Egowarriors. I am eternally grateful to Mr. Hamilton for tipping me off to this event (and the Stewart Lee one). It was all part of the Long Weekend, which highlighted a lot of fun and Flux. Brilliant!

I was pleased to discover that my words are in the Tate — true, they’re not credited to me and they’re only in the gift shop (on the back cover of the second Moomin book, my review from Finlandia Weekly), but one must clutch at straws where they fly. Gosh has the two books in their display window, which was a pleasing sight as well, since most days required walking past the shop.

Tuesday was the Globe and a lively production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which seemed to convince the students that this Shakespeare guy has something to offer. Wednesday was the Revenger’s Tragedy at the National — blood, sex and violence in equal parts. Middleton was no Shakespeare, but what he lacked in poetry he made up in guts (both senses). Thursday, the last day to enjoy London and we tried to cram in as much as possible and make the day last as long as possible and taste as sweet as could be. How could it not succeed? The sweetness lasted at least as far as Heathrow — the students all seemed enthusiastic if a little wistful. I hope they will be beginning new travels soon.

The Gawker Excoriates You

This time, it’s all about your reading habits, and not that outfit you wear (you know the one). You can read about the original AP poll here.