I posted this a few years ago on an older version of my blog that I later deleted. One of these days I’ll get it right.
Todd Bernhardt used to interview XTC’s Andy Partridge about individual songs and the interviews were always wonderful glimpses into Andy’s amusing brain. MySpace torched all of its blogs back in June 2013 (I’m sensing a theme here) and after a little digging I discovered Chalkhills.org has collected and reposted the interviews on a new XTCFans page.
10 a.m. (PST) - Miles leaves the Grand Hyatt Hotel on Union Square in the Batmobile after answering the chief of polices call for help. Exits building through loading dock area located between Williams-Sonoma and the former Levis store on Post Street between Powell and Stockton.
Here’s BatKid’s schedule, if you’re following along online. He should be rescuing the damsel-in-distress on the cable car tracks right about now.
James Spader is having fun with The Blacklist, but why aren’t we?
Andy Greenwald had a few great lines in this review. I love the use of acronyms:
It’s the tale of a snarky global supervillain who teams up with a spunky junior G-woman to foil the mustache-twirling, globe-imperiling machinations of characters named the Stewmaker and General Ludd. Spader’s Reddington is that supervillain — he’s a former military man who first went AWOL and then went YOLO — and he’s had dealings with all of them. And now, for reasons he has yet to elucidate, he’s ready to sell them all up the river.
And this one, from a footnote:
Not only that, Klattenhoff saves humanity by taking said car — which was rigged to disperse radioactive material across Houston — on a long drive off a short pier. It explodes underwater, presumably destroying Texan aquaculture for a generation. And this is brushed off as an outstanding outcome! Yeah, America! Screw you, fish!
I’m sitting across from some guy who is wearing what must be noise-projecting headphones. I should start singing along to his music to see if he gets the hint.
Ah, who am I kidding? Nobody acknowledges or interacts with other people in coffee shops anymore.
It’s always amusing when Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks cultures collide. Like when the guy in front of me at this Starbucks ordered a muffin but couldn’t understand why it took the baristas almost ten minutes to warm it up for him. Or why it needed to be warmed up in the first place. Come to think of it, I didn’t understand that either.
Any Bostonians who enjoy The Beatles should check out my friend Dave’s fantastic cover band The Beatle Butchers. They played at the great little Porter Square bar TOAD last night and they’ll be there tonight as well. The band only assembles once every couple of years now because the lead guitarist lives in Germany. I love their relaxed and rootsy take on the Fab Four. I’ll be there again tonight. It’s free!
During the past few months I’ve made several overtures to distant friends and they have been met with either indifference or silence. It happens. Everyone is busy, people change, friendships are hard to sustain, etc. I’ll try to avoid taking it personally. But I’m also going to reevaluate their importance to me and accept that a few of those connections were never really mutual.
I flirted with creating an online dating profile again after swearing off them years ago until I looked at my bathroom scale and realized I still have a long way to go before that will be a good idea.
I hope the Red Sox can complete their stunning World Series run because I’d love to see the duck boat parade in person. I didn’t bother taking time off to watch the 2004 and 2007 parades in Boston and I now wish I had. I currently work within sight of the Charles River so seeing the boats this year would be much easier.
About two or three times a year I flex my leg awkwardly and reaggravate an old ski injury that messed up something in my knee and the surrounding tendons. During the rest of the year I can ignore it. So I’ll be hobbling around for the next week or two.
You know that a house is in rough shape when the landlord volunteers to lower the rent for a few months. I feel like the apartment dwellers in the movie Batteries Not Included.
I don’t follow enough people to see where these daily meme posts originate. Still, with everyone naming their favorite Beatles, Stones, and Zeppelin songs I might as well join in.
My favorite songs by any artist are usually my favorites because they remind me of happy childhood days when I daydreamed about even happier times to come. It doesn’t have anything to do with the quality of the song, just my undying fondness for it. I really haven’t changed all that much over the years.
(Although I do like that one more than most people)
Okay, picking a favorite Beatles song is almost impossible. It all depends on my mood at the moment. Some make me want to sing along and others stop me in my tracks every time and cause me to marvel at them all over again.
The song that conjures the strongest childhood memories is Hey Jude, which was on top of the charts the week I was born (dinosaur alert).
If I’m being completely honest then I must go with my sentimental favorite, as corny as it may be. Even if it’s not really a true Beatles song. And if you’ve read this far it’s not hard to spot the trend. So sue me.