Archive for February, 2007

Aural Hygiene

I was at the dentist today, getting holes drilled in my head, and had the option of listening to my iPod during the procedure. It was very difficult to decide what to listen to through the process. Brian Wilson’s Smile? Wilco’s Summer Teeth? Talking Heads’ More Songs about Buildings and Food? (Not particularly toothy, but I drop that title any chance I get. More appropriate, maybe, would be the Speaking in Tongues track, “Pull Up the Roots.”) Should I have made an oral health playlist?

I’m open to suggestions for my follow-up next week, but I just set the ‘Pod to “shuffle albums” and hit play. What resulted was surprisingly perfect for all the grinding, scraping, and high-pitched sqealing going on in my mouth (the equipment, not the patient): Stereolab’s Emperor Tomato Ketchup. There’s a pleasing blend to the layered, churning bleeps & bloops of this album – just a nod towards a little industrial ambience – and dental work. If you have the means, I highly recommend it.

Also significant to this experience: the new sensation of not being able to feel my beard.

Floss, people.


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Sunni made me a tape labeled “Montana Guys” that became a staple in Denver (“Loose Summer Clothes” was like my national anthem). Then one day in Abilene someone was playing my Montana Guys on their cd player, except it was called Chris and Johnny, and I learned to play “Boulder River,” which seemed like a place I wished I could promise somebody. Then I found out they changed their name to Storyhill, just in time to discover they were breaking up.

But, lo, the Montana Guys rise again! These guys are kind of like the Jayhawks meet. . . well, John Denver, but the guitar and harmonies are solid stuff. I haven’t been as impressed with anything they did after (what eventually became) Clearing was wired into my personal soundtrack, but it’s pretty.

And then there’s this other thing: Jeff Buckley’s Live at the Sin-e “Legacy Edition.” (more…)

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I am not sure that this is a Lenten prayer, but it came to mind today.

They say ev’rything can be replaced,
Yet ev’ry distance is not near.
So I remember ev’ry face
Of ev’ry man who put me here.
I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released.


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Time to wrap this thing up, so I can get back to writing about the weather and commenting on my aches and pains. Oy, vey.

I didn’t really get 10 entries on topic, which was the condition for awarding a prize, but everyone’s work was so fantastic – just brilliant, really – that you are all winners in my book. I mean that.


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Entries rejected for insensitivity:

Five, four, three, two, one. . . .
Ground control to Major Tom:
Ignite psych profiles.

Spin, media, spin.
Houston, we have a problem.
Hope for star shooting.

Hell hath no fury
Like my alleged assault charge.
Final frontier, fool.


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I don’t know this blogger, and I don’t watch American Idol, and I don’t go with girls that do. But I stumbled into this post today, and kind of enjoyed it.

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Here’s the competition so far (just to save you some click-and-scroll time). I’ll keep the box open until Thursday, and then declare which writer is the most gifted poet in the World.

Orbit passion thwart
“zero-g and I feel fine”
Earthbound rubber tubes

White rocket flying
Love-tranced white-knuckled driving
Whom can I Depend?

In space, heads are home.
If hearts stayed weightless on Earth
We’d all jump the moon.

So early in life
So late in my sanity
It’s diaper time

disguise, pepper spray
BB-gun, new steel mallet
knife, rubber tubing


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