in the grove . . .

spent the better part of the day yesterday feeling like the judge from Rashomon as I heard testimony from victim, perp and witnesses in a sexual assualt claim. it's not very often that one actually attempts to sort out the truth of a situation through 4 different and greatly varying perspectives, all of them somehow self-serving. and when i say sort, i mean really pick apart and revisit specific events in an attempt to find fault in accounts--asking questions in different ways, jumping around on the timeline of events, etc. i felt like a rookie detective--except i didn't get into that whole leading questions side investigatory work. it was very frustrating as noone involved speaks very good english and my tagolog doesn't go much further than basics like good morning (mangadang umaga) and thank you (salaamat). this kinda shit is draining . . .

on a much lighter note, check out the new look (and name?) for twinkle twinkle blah blah blah etc

current background = Pharoah Sanders' Summun, Bukmun, Umyun (Deaf Dumb Blind) mixed with the blanketing din of ammonia compressor units . . .

From Jameelah Ali's liner notes: "This album is predicated on spiritual truths and to the future enlightenment of El Kafirun or The Rejectors of Faith (non believers).... Deaf, dumb and blind as used here does not refer to the physical state, but, instead, to the spiritually handicapped... Deaf--To the pleas of fellow creatures to harken, Dumb--To spiritual enlightenment and Blind--To the essence of Beauty and Truth."

it's suntory time

last week's Anchorage Festival of Unpopular Music was a quite a good time. there was all day barbeque-ing, a dozen or so homemade hulahoops (with plenty of hips to match), stubby's free zine library, little kids air-guitaring on stage, cheap beer in the beds of pickups and weather ranging from all-out sunshine and temps in the whopping 70's to heavy overcast with a clipping breeze but nary a shower. sounds were provided by: the vienna boys sausage choir (their 'coming out' show), flying falcons, los gran torinos, double fines, spitshine, eu vusahm and fats tunamelt. more people showed up than i had been expecting and stage fright kicked me square in the teeth and sat on my chest (right next to the guilt for playing without sax-a-mo Joe). nerves got the best of me and the thing seemed to be more stressful than fun for some of the day. more and more i feel kin to David Berman's "anti-showmanship, anti-showanship, anti-showmanship" aesthetic*. it was great to hang out and catch some live music after being heavily pinned to the plant for the last few weeks. thanks to everyone for coming out (Ted--what's up, man? i was hoping you and meghan would show. you suckers shoulda come. you were missed) oh, and big ups to tree-dan for making it all come together. his support for anchorage's outsider music community is unwavering and noble.

this weekend brought the return of our roe technicians from Japan and my annual gift of Suntory from the duty free. i get a bottle every year and never seem to finish it. last year was a 15 year old bottle, this year's a 12--guess i wasn't as nice last year. no matter, the shit is just awful. anyway, their arrival marks the unofficial start of the season-- by the end of next weekend we'll have around 200 employees on hand, a fresh mosquito hatch and all the headaches that they bring. i need to go out and re-up on my scotch soon. the suntory will park right next to last year's bottle until i'm really desperate**.

finally started in on Drop City by TC Boyle. i've been asked often enough about how i think it portrays AK that i feel almost obligated to read it now. i really dig Boyle's short stories and Water Music is one of my favorite books so i'm interested to see his take on late 60's commune life in northern california and AK.

picked up the current issue of the Believer when i was back in town. it's some special music issue that comes with a cd of folks covering what they've "been listening to latley." the track by Josephine Foster and Vetiver's live version of Michael Hurley' s "be kind to me" (with Hurley apparently sitting in on "snock trumpet") are damn good. the Moutain Goats' cover of the Silver Jews' "Pet Politics" is fucking fantastic. plus, there is a very informative, well researched, carefully drawn out and down-right funny tree giving the heirarchy of the world of singing drummers.

* you should read here that i'm just a pussy when it comes to performing in front of folks.

** i'm not usually one to dwell in the mouth of a gift horse but i sure would rather have a bottle of that canadian whisky that always seems to be kicking around their place. they're like college sophmores in their first apartment: it's filthy (one guy actually had to be shown how to step on the foot pedal of a vacuum to release the handle from it's locked upright position), sparsly furnished, and littered with dirty dishes, empty beer and whisky bottles, and porn.