If you are very perceptive you may have noticed that I’ve added a little photo gallery, which at the moment includes several pictures from my last two shows. Sometime soon I will figure out how to resize the Klekolo pics but for now I implore you to enjoy the left side of my head. A big thanks goes out to Theresa for supplying these lovely photographs for us all to enjoy.

If the pictures only serve to enhance your feelings of shame and regret for not having attended the last few shows, fear not! Two more shows are quickly approaching. June 8th I’ll be back at Klekolo located on Court St. in Middletown, and on Friday July 7th I’ll be playing at Java Palooza on Main St. in Middletown. The Java Palooza show should be quite special. My good friend Mike Irwin will be joining me to lay down some smooth jams, it’s going to be sweet. You can find details above in my groovy little announcements section, or you can e-mail me at rold@solidgoldrold.com for more information.

Well, I’ve been pretty freakin busy lately, what with watching season three of Angel, season one of the X-files, season one of Twin Peaks, and trying to watch every Robocop movie in existence. I didn’t even know there were any more Robocop movies past number three. Apparently there was a four part series of films made for Canadian television that I just happened to find on Netflix. God bless Netflix, it’s completely changed my life. To think I would have been wandering around completely unaware that there was more Robocop to watch. It’s frightening really. I decided to start with first movie and work my way up to these new Canadian dealies, I’m currently waiting for Robocop 3 to come in the mail. Then I’ll be ready for uncharted territory. It’s a very exciting time.

My life hasn’t been all Joss Whedon, Gillian Anderson, and robotic law enforcement however. I’ve been tirelessly practicing for these upcoming shows, trying to cultivate a bunch of new material for your listening pleasure. I’ve also been working quite a bit, foisting books on the public, corrupting them with words and intellectual stimulation (depending on what they’re buying of course, there’s hardly anything stimulating about Bill O’Reilly books. I simply pity those poor misguided souls who actually spend money on such things.) My Playstation baseball obsession is also back in full swing, I won the World Series last season and now it’s time to fortify my digital Devil Rays in the off-season and build the dynasty Tampa Bay was always meant to become. I’ve got some hot new prospects and things are looking good for the upcoming season. I’ve also made some improvements to Jeff Meek Memorial Stadium and am looking forward to an even more productive year than last year.

Making these busy days more enjoyable is the presence of Brother Adam’s Bragget Honey Ale, quite possibly the greatest beverage known to man. My parent’s went to Maine not too long ago and brought back some of this wonderful beverage and it has made my world a happier place to be. I’m enjoying some right now in fact; it very well may be enhancing the quality of this entry. It’s difficult to explain what makes this brew such a treasure, it may be it’s high alcohol content or it could be it’s unique flavor and world class smoothness, or the fact that it’s named after a bee breeding monk. Whatever it is, I’m glad I’m drinking it.

Tomorrow the new Preston/Child book comes out and I’m practically quaking with anticipation. Unfortunately for me I’m going to have to wait until Wednesday to pick it up due to my bank totally fucking up my checking account. Again! I think I’m on a list that is circulated to banks called “People to fuck with.??? I’m sure of it. I know I’ve bitched about banks before so I’ll try to refrain, but goddamn! I mean I think it’s policy to randomly screw with people’s accounts based on the assumption that people won’t notice what they’ve done. Banks are evil. Anyway I’m dying to read this book, and I can’t wait to get my grubby little paws on it. It’s like reuniting with old friends. Fictional friends mind you, but friends nonetheless.

Well I suppose I should wrap this up and post it to the site. It’s been real, and I intend to keep it that way.

Peace
Rold

I’m listening to a Peter Gabriel record I purchased the other day. And by record I do mean one of those big black discs made of vinyl. Remember those? It’s one of his first solo albums, one of the ones without a name. It has a picture of him on the cover looking through the windshield of a car. The album was recorded in 1977, and since it seems to still have a whole lot of that bizarre Genesis flavor to it, I’m assuming it was probably his first record after leaving Genesis. However, I could be wrong. I guess I could always check, but I’m lazy. I also picked up a live Neil Diamond recorded that I’m terribly excited to listen to. I’ll let you know how it is.

Well I didn’t make it back in time from Maine to catch all of the Super Bowl. I did however manage to catch The Rolling Stones. Someone really has to tell Mick to start wearing shirts with sleeves on them, his arm skin was practically waving in the breeze, it was all I could look at. I have to say that the performance itself was quite good though. It’s really quite surprising that men who are that old and who have done that many drugs, and in some cases are still doing them, can actually still perform with that much energy. I mean Mick was running around like a mad man waving his arm skin all over that enormous stage/platform thing they erected. Pretty impressive, unless of course they are all robots, like I’ve suggested in the past. And if that’s the case, then we’ve got to start making better looking robots.

There was one cheerleader boob close up however, though it seemed rather hasty. As if maybe the camera man was just trying to get a normal cheerleader action shot, zoomed in too quick, got a lens full of boob and then ran away in fear. It was an all too brief moment but I think the boobs were just happy to be there.

The version of Here Comes the Flood on this album is totally different than the one on the greatest hits compilation that I have. I’d go so far as to say that it’s a whole lot better. It’s more tangible, easier to wrap my head around. Peter Gabriel, he’s full of surprises that one. That’s why he’s so boss. Boss indeed.

I need a snack, I shall return.

I’ve returned, with popcorn. Peter Gabriel has finished and now it’s time for Neil. This record is glorious. God bless Neil Diamond and his sparkly shirts.

So it snowed like crazy today. Definitely the worst storm we’ve had here in a long time. And lucky me I got to drive to work in it this morning only to be told that the mall was closing two minutes before I was ready to open the store. Pretty cool. I had been calling the mall office since 8:00 in the morning and it wasn’t until 10:58 that someone finally answered the phone. I was slightly less than pleased. Not only did I drive all the way in, in what was quite possibly the worst conditions I’ve ever had to drive in before , but then I had to drive back home in even worse conditions. Could have been worse I suppose, I could’ve died. That would’ve sucked. Dying isn’t cool. I still can’t fathom why they would’ve waited so long to tell anyone that the mall was closing though. Lame.

On the plus side I got to watch several episodes of Lost today. Hooray! Though I did miss out on a fun evening of bowling and $1.00 beers. Booooo! However I am still alive and listening to Neil Diamond. Hooray! Neil Diamond makes life worth living. You can quote me on that.

Peace,
Rold

I think I forgot to mention that I bought a new car. That’s right I’m no longer driving the Millennium Falcon. I traded it in for a Tie-Fighter. I’ve gone to the Dark Side and the rebellion doesn’t stand a chance. (Evil laughter ensues.) Actually it’s a 2004 Chevy Impala and it’s my new best friend. I’m super freaking psyched to be driving something that wasn’t made when Ronald Reagan was president. Also it has a CD player which I’ve been missing form my vehicles since the death of my Ranger, may it forever rest in peace. I’ve decided to start calling my new car Vlad, as in Vlad the Impala. (More evil laughter.) It’s a bad joke but that’s my favorite kind.

So I’ve been pretty cut off from the world up here. I’m actually looking forward to watching a little TV. As I mentioned before my hopes are set on football. But I’d really like to see some Simpsons, and most definitely The Flava of Love, which happens to be my new favorite show. In case you haven’t seen it yet, and if you haven’t I weep for you, it’s a reality show that revolves around the premise of a gaggle of relatively attractive, but for the most part completely insane, women competing for the opportunity to become the next Mrs. Flava Flav. I’m telling you it’s the best thing on television. What really makes the show fabulous is the fact that these women are fighting over Flava Flav! The dude’s a complete whack job. These chicks have to be really cracked to actually think they’re winning something here. A few of them have even confessed to being in love with him. What!? When he selects the girls he’s keeping at the end of the episodes, he gives them clocks and hangs them around their necks while letting them know that he knows that they know what time it is. Half the time you can’t really grasp what it is he’s trying to say. It’s totally crazy. I wholeheartedly endorse it.

I definitely miss my Playstation as well. I know it’s fucked up but I can’t deny it. I’m so hooked on this baseball game that I’ve been playing that sometimes it’s all I can think about. I bought the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and totally restructured the organization. They’re now on top of the AL East and it doesn’t look like anyone has a shot at dethroning them. This could be the year for the Rays. I’m totally into it. I’ve already started scouting minor leaguers in attempts to fill the very small holes I have in my roster. It’s all very exciting. Unless you’re not me, in which case it’s probably ridiculously boring and bordering on neurotic.

Well I’m afraid I’m going to have to wrap this up. I hope you’ve enjoyed these entries as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them. I apologize that it took a trip to Maine for me to start writing again. I pledge to make a more concerted effort in the future.

Peace
Rold

I came back, and not much later honestly. My father woke up and now the radio is on as we are trying to get a weather report. Needless to say I don’t have internet access up here, so we’re pretty much relying on the radio for information. A crow just landed in the back yard, he was just joined by a couple friends. The first thought that popped into my head was Randall Flag. Being that we’re in Maine I guess it’s appropriate. They all just took off, bye bye crows, keep it real. There isn’t much to choose from up here as far as radio stations go, I searched through the AM stations to see if I could find something that might tell us the weather but all I could find were some preachers and a Boston news station, so I flipped over to FM where all I found was the weird station I’m listening to now. Some strange ass guy with one of those old school radio voices, he spent about ten minutes listing off things that happened on this day throughout history, including the death of Woodrow Wilson, and then he read off some birthdays, now I’m listening to the most bizarre country music ever recorded. I’m hoping we get some weather soon so I can get rid of this guy and his whack ass country music.

Eventually the guy with the whack ass country music gave way to some radio preacher and I had to change the station. I did however find an NPR station playing classical music that also eventually gave me a weather report; apparently it’s going to be snowing in the northern part of the state and the western mountain regions, though they said nothing about the coast which is where we are. So a lot of good that did me, however classical music is infinitely better than whatever it was I was listening to before. Today we will be heading to a town called Lubec which I believe is north of where we are now. Lunch will be acquired in this town, I’m looking forward to it, I’m a big fan of lunch. Anyhoo I suppose that is all that warrants mentioning at this time, when we return from Lubec and points north I will perhaps expound on our travels and have something more exciting to say.

Peace for now,
Rold

Part II

So we went to Lubec, actually we went through Lubec and up to Canada to visit our neighbors to the north. They gave us pie. It was splendid. It was raining pretty hard so we just drove around for a while then made our way back to the house. Now I’m just enjoying some tea and trying to think of things to write about. It’s been a while and I’m sure there are plenty of topics I would like to discuss but none of them seem to come to me at the moment. That whole Oprah rant was a big one though, glad I got that out. That had been building up for a long time and it just kept getting worse. I feel much better now.

I’ve been getting a lot of reading done actually. Yesterday I read a fascinating book called The Death of Media by Danny Schecter. It was truly enlightening. Today I’ve been reading the third book in a series by Michael Marshall, whose real name apparently is Michael Marshall Smith (why it's shortened for the Straw Men books I don't know,) called Blood of Angels. I’m not sure if this is the last one in the series or not, though they are good enough that I would be immensely pleased if he wrote a fourth one. The big book of the last month however was Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves; without a doubt the most insane book I’ve ever read. I couldn’t even begin to do it justice by trying to explain it here, let me just say that it was completely unsettling. And not just due to the content but the way the book was crafted. It was meticulously put together and it seems - though I don’t know this for sure nor do I claim to grasp all of it - that every word written seems to serve some ultimate purpose. It was wicked strange, of that I am certain. Does anyone find it amusing that I spent god knows how long complaining about Oprah’s book club and then proceeded to start writing about books I’ve read? However I do not have a book club and if I ever do I give you all permission to punch me in the face.

Well I think I’m pretty tapped out at this point and I’d like to get back to Michael Marshall and my Michelob. Tomorrow is our last full day here in glorious Maine and I plan to make the most of it which includes visiting a winery and sampling some of their product, so far that’s about the only concrete thing we have planned, I’ll let you know if anything more develops.

Peace,
Rold

Well now that that’s out of the way let’s begin with what’s really been eating me up lately: Oprah. As I mentioned in an earlier entry I harbor a great deal of resentment towards Oprah. Most of it is directed towards her book club. What’s funny is that I’ve been meaning to discuss my resentment of Oprah’s book club since December, it’s a good thing I waited because what was previously mere resentment has evolved into all out loathing.

Let’s start at the beginning. I’ve never really liked Oprah all that much; I’ve always felt that she made herself out to be more than she is. Now don’t get me wrong, she’s an incredibly savvy businesswoman and she does some incredibly philanthropic things with her money and influence, but doesn’t it seem like she’s an expert on just about everything. Whether it’s movies, politics, or the one thing that bugs me the most, literature, she apparently knows better than anyone else what’s good for you. She doesn’t just suggest movies or books she implores her viewers to consume them. And her viewers answer in full force.

As most of you know I work in a bookstore, and pretty much every day someone asks me where we keep the Oprah books. As if Oprah is thought of so highly in the book industry that she needs her very own section for the books she recommends. Let me make this clear here people, she doesn’t write the books, she doesn’t edit them, all she does is recommend them. And apparently this monumental feat of literary criticism qualifies her for her very own section in the book store. She is a talk show host! Would you take book advice from Jerry Springer? How about Phil Donahue? Ricki Lake must read a few books; maybe she knows what we should be reading. I guess I just don’t understand what makes Oprah so much smarter than anyone else. I mean any boob can go on television and tell you Tolstoy is great literature. Shit I’ll do it tomorrow if you want, I’ll spend two hours listing off classic literature for people to read, doesn’t mean I understand any of it. And it certainly doesn’t make me an expert.

So anyway that’s just the beginning. Sometime in either November or December Oprah picked the book A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. Many of you are probably aware of all the controversy surrounding this book presently, I’ll get into that as well, but first let’s cast our minds back to that glorious day when A Million Little pieces became Oprah’s next book club selection. First off let me say that no book she has ever picked generated the kind of sales that this one did. Keeping copies of this book in stock was nearly impossible. Most likely because her viewers could actually read this book as opposed to previous picks including such authors as Leo Tolstoy, John Steinbeck, and William Faulkner. I’d like to see a survey of the people who bought Faulkner based on her recommendation and then see how many of them were able to get through it. Sure would be neat.

Anyway, what really irked me about A Million Little Pieces was the fact that I had read the book almost two years previously. I read it and fell in love with it. The book was my staff pick at work for nearly two months, and nobody bought it. I suggested it to more customers than I can remember and 99% of the time I was ignored. For some reason a lot of customers tend not to trust my advice on books, which is strange to me, seeing as how I work in a book store. Though there are a handful of super swell customers who take my advice willingly and appear to be grateful. But this particular book was a hard sell, that is of course until Oprah told them it was ok. Then they came in swarms, most without knowing the actual title (one woman asked me for A Thousand Tiny Things) a vast majority not knowing the author’s name or even what the book was about. One woman actually asked me for the book that Oprah wrote! I had to politely tell her that the book was in fact not written by Oprah and that we were also out of stock on it because all of the other lemmings got there first. Minus the biting sarcasm of course, I am a professional after all.

Needless to say the blind allegiance to Oprah’s book club gets my goat, however we were still residing in the land of resentment here, and truth be told I was a bit torn seeing as how James Frey was now selling more copies of his book in a week than he probably had sold up to that point. I think though that that kind of large scale exposure kind of robs the book, or any work for that matter, of its magic. There is something wonderful about loving something that a small minority of people knows about and when all of a sudden it becomes the flavor of the week a little bit of what made it special to you kind of gets taken away. It would be good to point out however that A Million Little Pieces became the flavor of the next three months. A stunning example of extreme overexposure.

So what then brings me to the land of loathing which I now call home? As I mentioned above there is a great deal of controversy currently surrounding this book, which unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve no doubt heard about. A media watchdog of sorts, thesmokinggun.com, released an article claiming that certain events depicted in A Million Little Pieces were untrue or at least embellished in some way. The Smoking Gun made a huge deal over it and the man responsible for the article, whose name eludes me due mostly to the fact that I could care less, appeared on Larry King Live, which I might add is another television show I greatly dislike. After the Larry King interview the shit hit the proverbial fan (quick question: is the fan proverbial or would the shit be proverbial, or maybe both? Also, there seem to be a lot of proverbs I was never told about in Sunday school) and things started to blow up in Mr. Frey’s face. I’m not going to lie here, when I first heard about this I was a little incensed. It sucks to be disillusioned. Well, the day after I found about the controversy I was informed by a dear friend of mine that James Frey would be appearing on Larry King live that very night. After being so heartily disappointed I jumped at the chance to get an explanation from the author himself, I needed answers.

Please allow a brief side note before I continue. Before Larry King came on I had the great pleasure of catching the last fifteen minutes of whatever show it is that Paula Zahn hosts right before Larry King. Well was I ever delighted that Paula deemed it necessary to eat up ten minutes discussing Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Now apparently most of the American public seems quite taken with the Brad, Angelina, and Jennifer Anniston saga and I’ll even admit to casually flipping through an issue of People for a brief update. However I was watching mother fucking CNN! CNN! Not E! Not VH1! Mother fucking CNN ate up ten minutes on Brad and Angelina! What the hell is going on?

I apologize for that outburst, I’ll try not to let it happen again, though I am prone to outbursts and the occasional tantrum. Let's get back on the horse. Mr. Frey, while weirder sounding and harrier than I had expected, gave an exceedingly smart interview, and addressed the issues quite plainly. It appears that the total amount of material disputed in the 432 pages of A Million Little Pieces totals out at a whopping 18 pages. Most of what was disputed was Frey’s arrest record, and some confrontations with the law that he supposedly had that apparently were undocumented by the local police and The Smoking Gun could not find Police reports for. First of all, I couldn’t even remember reading about these particular events in the book, mostly because they have little or nothing to do with the story the book tells. However The Smoking Gun gives the impression that these events are pivotal to the story and without which the book would have significantly less impact, obviously I felt differently. Secondly James Frey was a drug addict, prone to binging for weeks at a time and blacking out for just as long. It seems a little unfair to try and hold him to details about events he experienced while abusing large amounts of mind altering substances. I’d like to see anyone do a bunch of drugs non stop for a couple of weeks and then give an accurate report on what happened. Thirdly the book is a memoir. The definition of a memoir is a retelling from memory of a particular period of time. A retelling from memory. Do I need to restate that? Do I also need to restate the fact that he was a drug addict?

The scrutiny the book received is really unbelievable; no memoir in the history of the genre has ever received the level of scrutiny that this one has received. Most biographies haven’t received this much scrutiny. Kitty Kelly has made a career out of writing supposed biographies that are almost complete fabrications, she lists virtually no references, and supplies a limited if any bibliography. Yet apparently it’s ok because she didn’t go on Oprah. I mean for crying out loud, generations of school children have been taught out of history texts that were filled lies, distortions, and fantasy. Kevin Trudeau, best selling author of Natural Cures They Don’t Want You to Know About, is a complete con-artist and has been arrested for credit card fraud. Nobody cares that he’s been ripping people off left and right selling them a book of cures that he largely made up. But deceive Oprah and suffer the wrath of a nation.

From the beginning this controversy had little to do with James Frey and his book, and everything to do with Oprah Winfrey. Every other question out of Larry King’s mouth was about Oprah. To her credit the big O called in to Larry King’s show and defended Frey. I thought that was pretty swell of her, even though I resented her for overexposing one of my favorite books, and being the inspiration for so much undeserved scrutiny. I thought I’d cut her some slack for at least standing up for the guy that she thrust into the spotlight.

Little did I know that only weeks later Oprah would invite Frey onto her show and humiliate him in front a national TV audience. Apparently Oprah received so much negative response from her viewers, who may I remind you would never have even heard of this book had she not told them about it, and also didn’t even bother to know the name of the book or it’s author before going to purchase it, that she felt it necessary to completely revoke her support of Frey and his book and to accuse him of lying to her and her fans on national television, thus prompting the publisher to cease printing the book until which time a disclaimer will be printed on the cover and the book will include a special forward from the author and the publisher. Not to mention permanently damaging the literary career of an incredibly talented young writer who never asked for Oprah’s endorsement in the first place. Who the fuck does this woman think she is? Who made her chief of the literature police? I still can’t believe that the publisher folded on this. They should’ve told her to piss right the fuck off. Why does she deserve any special treatment? At the risk of sounding repetitive: SHE’S A DAY TIME TALK SHOW HOST! Let’s give no thought at all to the people who were inspired by Frey’s book, and who made choices to better their lives, to stop killing themselves and find a solution to their problems. Forget all the drug addicts and alcoholics whose lives were touched by his story, forget that he himself found redemption in the retelling of his time in rehab and all of the pain that he suffered, none of that means shit next to Oprah’s pride.

My final verdict: Fuck Oprah and fuck the stupid fucking horse she rode in on.

If you had contemplated reading A Million Little Pieces and where discouraged by the negative press it received, I assure you it is an exceptional book and well worth your time.

I apologize for ranting here but that shit’s been pissing me off big time. Well I promise another entry soon, as I am in Maine with not a whole lot else to do.

Peace,
Rold

Well on the off chance that you didn’t read the little blurb above, I’m playing a show on January 19th, at Javapalooza in Middletown, CT. It’s gonna be super swell. It all goes down at 7:00 PM. Come and bask in the sexiness. It’ll be boss, I assure you.

I hope everyone had a nice Christmas, mine was quite lovely. There was punch and pie.
I’m still feeling pretty stunned from it all actually.

I’m afraid this entry must be brief; I was planning on doing more tonight, but I got involved in a pretty heated game of Skip-Bo with my niece and my father. I won, because I’m cool.

I’ll be putting more time into the site now that Christmas has past us by. Sexiness will prevail!

Peace
Rold

I need to obtain beer from the fridge and turn up the heat, I’ll be right back.

(I realize that you’re not reading this in real time, and that to you, dear reader, I never really left. But maybe you should take this time to get yourself a beer or Ecto Cooler, whatever your preference is – but those are the only choices you get – and return in a moment and continue reading. My trip to the fridge took approximately two minutes. It would have been shorter, but I totally couldn’t find the bottle opener, argh! Now that I’ve taken up so much of your beer gettin time let me leave you be and allow the gettin of beer and/or Ecto Cooler, remember those are your only options.)

I have returned, beer has been obtained, hooray! Soon I will cook sausage. An enticing vision indeed. So yeah, work was fun. Some little bastard ripped open sixty dollars worth of these stupid fucking Dragon Ball Z plastic ball things. There where lots of dumb people at the mall tonight. I realized just now just how bizzarre the word "dumb" really looks.

dumb

It’s kind of suggestive; all bulbous and lumpy. I’ll never see that word the same way again. Wow.

By the way, how sexy is the new color scheme? It’s my little tribute to the Hartford Whalers. The sport of professional hockey died for me when the Whale left town. I’ve practically brought myself to tears just thinking about it. Good times, good times. I still have my Peter Sidorkiewicz jersey. I had a shitload of signatures on it. I got them at these Tip-A-Whaler dinners my parents and I used to go to where the players would wait on you, and you could just walk around and talk to them and get them to sign shit, it was so boss. All the tips the waiters/players received went to charity, it was a real nice deal.

My dad and I used to go to these Sportsman Dinners as well. All these sports guys would come out to this dinner, most of them were baseball players, in fact now that I think about it I’m pretty sure they were all baseball players. We would have dinner at some super fancy joint like the Aqua Turf or something, and all these baseball cats would be up on this big podium eating while you were eating, and every once in a while someone at the table would get up and talk for a little bit. After the dinner there were all kinds of speeches and such, which can get kinda boring when you’re a little kid. But before the dinner they would have all the baseball players inside of one room with a bunch of really long tables where all the dudes where sitting and you could just go around in a big line and get all of their autographs and bullshit with them, it was pretty sweet. I met Billy Martin which was rather swell, and even though he was a Yankee I think he was pretty kick ass. The guy got fired from the same job like three times, that’s cool. I have a whole ass-load of Marty Barrett signatures; he was there practically every year, don’t ask me why. I met Bob Stanley, which was a little weird for me. On the one hand he played for the Red Sox and gave them some pretty good stuff for a while and I also had his rookie card which I really wanted to have signed. But on the other hand I kind of hold him responsible for losing the 86 World Series, more so than Bill Buckner. Poor Buckner. Never has one player received more undeserved derision. The year we lost the series, practically the entire 86 NY Mets lineup came to the dinner, I was so pissed, I didn’t go that year. My dad still got a bunch of signatures and pennants and shit, which looking back now, is pretty cool; the grudge I held against the Mets has lessened considerably over the years, and now that we won the World Series, it just seems petty. One year Ellis Burks, Mike Greenwell, and Todd Benzinger were there, who were all starting their first season with the Sox. That was kinda neat. I named a character in a story I wrote in the third grade Todd Benzinger. Just a little fun fact for ya. I’m trying to think of who else was at some of these things. I should go get some of that stuff out and see what I got. I bet I would be pleasantly surprised. I really want to go through all my baseball cards too, I think that would be wicked fun.

I have to go start making my sausage now.

(Once again I implore you to take a small break, it’s up to you really, but I think it would enhance the experience.)

Steaming sausages is pretty much the best thing ever. This beer I’m drinking is swell too. It’s Harpoon Ale, I’m pretty impressed. My good friend Raena and I went to a beer tasting Thursday night in New London, it was pretty fantastic. I was very happy. Needless to say I bought some of what I sampled and I’m drinking it now. Hooray for beer! I also threw Siamese Dream on the CD player, just in case you wanted to listen along. I can’t think of a more kick ass introduction to an album than Cherub Rock, what a fucking killer song. The whole record is goddamned unbeatable. I’m wondering now if I put this in my “Top 5 Album??? entry from way back when. I’ll check that out, I don’t think I did, and for that I’m just a big loser. I can’t believe I wouldn’t have, what a tragic oversight on my part. I apologize if that is in fact the case. We’ll see, but right now I’m upstairs in the kitchen and I don’t feel like going downstairs and signing on to stupid dial up. BOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Dial-up internet can really harsh the mellow, if you know what I mean.

I like pepperoni.

(I got up to get another beer and then got completely distracted by my steaming sausages, swelling successfully it seems.)

I had some other things I wanted to write about, but I don’t feel that right now is the appropriate time to discuss them. Some are just good ideas and things that people should be made to do. One item in particular is my resentment towards the Oprah book club. I’m just not prepared to air those concerns at the moment however. The smell of my succulent, swelling, steaming sausages is quite distracting and I just don’t think I can resist the call of the sausage any longer. I’m going to go watch some Trailer Park Boys and eat. Three cheers for food. I’m not going to hold you to cheering three times, once would probably be sufficient, I’ve asked a lot of you already, this is turning out to be a rather long entry. It’s been a while since I posted one so I figured I should try and make it worth the wait.

Sausage wins, I must go now.

Happy trails,
Rold

I’ve been meaning to put some sort of list of links to other people’s sites that I think you might enjoy, but I have been unable to figure out how. So I figured I’d just go ahead and do it now:

www.juliamccurdy.com - Home of Julie’s super bad ass blog. A vast source of insight into everything from the care and feeding of snails to torsos that play football.

www.outerworld.org - Dave is like the Dungeon Master of blogs, without him we would all be lost fighting orcs in the dark.

oblog.cmorgandesign.com - This is my friend Collin’s blog. He has some very lovely pictures of muggles playing quidditch. You should really check it out.

steve.cooleysekula.org - My old friend Steve (I don’t mean that he is old, but rather he is a friend I’ve had for a long time, he was the drummer in my very first band Grushenka) has this super cool site that I still have not fully explored. His blog is exceptionally well written, and though I don’t know some of the words he uses I find it extremely fascinating.

www.ctnow.com/music/hce-sound1020.artoct20,0,1201450.column?coll=hce-utility-music - You probably all now who Eric is by now and have most likely listened to his music (shame on you if you haven’t.) But in case you don’t know who Eric is here’s a link to a picture of his head and sound advice on music.

www.machinegunstudios.com - My good buddy Mike Irwin has a studio in Boston that is top notch. He’s also one hell of a dresser.

So that’s a small on-line sampling of my wicked dope friends and their equally dope web-sites that you should definitely visit.

I’m sad to say that I’m currently drinking the next to last glass of a thirty year old bottle of whiskey, the likes of which I’m not likely to see ever again. This is quite possibly the best whiskey I’ve ever had and despite a healthy dent put into it by Dave, Andre, and myself I’ve managed to make it last for almost two months. It’s difficult to convey just how wonderful this whiskey actually is, Dave and Andre could attest to it’s uncompromising quality, and both will probably be pissed that I’m finishing it off, but I mean really, I’ve been pretty goddamned good, I’m surprised it’s lasted this long to be honest. I’ve gotten pretty spoiled, I’m going to have to find somewhere where I can purchase old bottles, there’s simply nothing better.

Well I just realized it’s getting pretty fucking late, and though I don’t have to work tomorrow, I still should try and post this entry before I pass out.

Peace y’all, don’t forget about the party, Julie has all the details on her site, I’m too lazy to give them to you now.
Rold

"Arawak men and women, naked, tawny, and full of wonder, emerged from their villages onto the island's beaches and swam out to get a closer look at the strange big boat. When Columbus and his sailors came ashore, carrying swords, speaking oddly, the Arawaks ran to greet them, brought them food, water, gifts. He later wrote of this in his log:

They...brought us parrots and balls of cotton and spears and many other things, which they exchanged for the glass beads and hawk’s bells. They willingly traded everything they owned…. They were well-built, with good bodies and handsome features…. They do not bear arms, and do not know them, for I showed them a sword, they took it by the edge and cut themselves out of ignorance. They have no iron. Their spears are made of cane…. They would make fine servants…. With fifty men we could subjugate them all and make them do whatever we want.

Columbus also wrote:

As soon as I arrived in the Indies, on the first Island which I found, I took some of the natives by force in order that they might learn and might give me information of whatever there is in these parts.???

Happy Douche-bag Day Everyone!

That’s about all I have to say about this stupid holiday which under my governance would quickly be changed to Hooray for the Guy Who Invented Coffee Day. Coffee is so much cooler than Christopher Columbus.

It appears that the benevolence I showed towards Isherwood the Cricket was in fact a bad idea. You give an inch and they take a mile, that’s the way it is with crickets, I should have known better. As soon as Isherwood realized that he had free run of my studio, he started inviting all his crazy cricket friends over for wild parties that really got in the way of my recording. FYI, if you’re looking to get some great recordings of crickets I’m your man. Ah, I can hear one of them now, chirping ever so pleasantly. It would also appear that Isherwood’s sexuality is no longer in question; I believe I met his offspring earlier this week. I told you these parties were crazy, you thought I was screwing around; it’s all true, crazy cricket orgies and the like.

Since it’s bad luck to kill crickets, my only real alternative seems to be buying a snake to eat them all. And when he’s all done, since I’m kind of scared of snakes, I would need to hire some sort of freelance mongoose to take out the snake. I would name him Monty and invite him to stay with me; it would all be quite lovely. Shouldn’t the plural of mongoose be mongeese? I don’t think it is but it bloody well should be.

Being that it’s been over a month since my last entry there were a few things I wanted to talk about, I can’t remember all of them at the moment but hopefully as I go on they’ll start to come back to me. One of the ones I remember was the Bret Easton Ellis reading I went to at the New Haven Free Public Library. It was on September 29th and it was super cool. For a guy whose subject matter is typically extremely disturbing he’s a pretty normal guy. In case you don’t know, Bret Easton Ellis is the author of American Psycho, Less Than Zero, The Rules of Attraction, Glamorama, and a collection of short fiction called The Informers. On the night in question he read from his newest novel Lunar Park. I hadn’t read the book at the time (and I still haven’t actually, as soon as I finished the new Neil Gaiman, which was fucking awesome, I started reading a biography of Khrushchev which is kind of taking a long time to get through. Go figure.) So the readings themselves were a little confusing, but in a way I think it might have caused me to pay attention to the language a little bit more. The last passage he read, which was from the end of the novel, was especially striking in that its emotional content seemed to practically drip off the imagery, making the prose even more vivid. It’s hard to explain, it was extremely moving. The novel, from what I can tell, is a ghost story in which Ellis himself is haunted by his father. I’m foggy on the details due mostly to the fact that I have yet to read the book, but just from seeing how haunted Ellis was during his reading of that final passage I’m convinced it has to be one of the best, if not the best book he’s written. I’ll let you know for sure after I’ve read my super swanky signed copy.

I know there was more I wanted to write about but I can’t think of it just now, and I should probably post this entry before the day is over and my Christopher Columbus bit is no longer timely.

Peace y’all
Rold

You many not know this but the Japanese make some of the best sounding records in the world. In the 80’s when American studios began converting all their analog gear to digital the Japanese, crafty buggers that they are, began buying up all the analog equipment that we Americans no longer deemed relevant. We are very dumb. Cornelius, Pizzicato Five, and Buffalo Daughter are shining examples of why. If you have the opportunity I highly recommend giving these artists a listen, they’ll blow your mind.

On another note my self imposed Buffy hiatus lasted all of 16 hours, I’ve already watched the first two episodes of season 7 and am clamoring for more. I may have to go into some sort of slayer rehab when this is all done. One positive effect might be that I’ll stop writing about it in my blog all the time, then again I might not; she does leave a lasting impression that Buffy.

So, what else is new? Oh yeah I finished mixing another song for Eric and as soon as possible will be making it available for download. The song is pretty kick ass; I had a really hard time mastering it though. For whatever reason I just can’t wrap my mind around the mastering process, it really is an art, one in which I have little experience or ability.

I should probably update you on some of the books I’ve finished recently. John Irving’s new book Until I Find You was absolutely fantastic, in my opinion the best book he’s written in a long time. The whole time I was reading it I kept saying to myself “I can’t believe how freaking good this is.??? This book is probably the most autobiographical he’s written, and deals with some pretty heavy and at times disturbing sexual situations. But anyone that’s read any of his other books probably won’t be all that surprised, disturbing sex is kind of a staple of Irving’s writing. He was recently interviewed on the Daily Show where he briefly talked about the similarity between himself and the main character Jack Burns and related a very amusing story about his teacher and mentor Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

I also recently finished a collection of writings by Kevin Smith which was super funny, he kind of gushes about Affleck a lot, but it’s still pretty cool, and there’s an interview with Tom Cruise which is pretty neat once Cruise stops talking about Scientology.

Before I read the Kevin Smith book, I read a book called The Future of Freedom by Fareed Zakaria. This book was positively brilliant. If you’re at all interested in political theory you should read this book. The basic premise of the book is that freedom is not necessarily the product of democracy but usually other way around, and that more democracy can actually begin to limit and degrade already achieved liberties. Key to the book's argument is the concept of liberal and illiberal democracy, and the differences between the two. An example of a liberal democracy would be our very own country The United States of America (although by the end of the book he makes it quite clear that our current pattern of government is leading us away from liberal democracy.) An example of an illiberal democracy would be Zimbabwe, a country that is technically a democracy, but deprives its people of freedoms through crooked elections and violent tyranny. Mugabe is an elected leader, but he is a terrible one, and without the freedoms of press, speech, and trade Zimbabwe will never achieve a liberal democracy. Nazi Germany is also an interesting example of how a highly democratic society can become a brutal dictatorship, not through force, but by manipulating a system that was, for all intents and purposes, too democratic. My over simplified explanations hardly do Zakaria's work justice, and without the book in front of me it’s hard to give more specific examples, so I would implore you to read the book yourself.

Speaking of books, I should probably do a little promo for the Quills awards, which you can vote on up until the 15th of September by visiting www.quillsvote.com. I mention it mainly because the one volume edition of Jeff Smith’s Bone has been nominated for best graphic novel. Dave let me borrow it sometime during the winter, and I read almost the whole thing in one day. I couldn’t keep myself from reading it, it’s really one of the best fantasy stories I’ve ever read, and I’d like to see Jeff Smith get some props for writing such an astounding piece of work. Graphic novels rarely get the respect they deserve and it’s nice to get the opportunity to show some towards a work I so highly regard. There are also some other pretty swell books up for awards including Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian, and Stephen King’s final installment in the Dark Tower saga, which are some of my favorite books in the whole world. Once again great fantasy that I feel has been overlooked by some who write King off as a one trick pony, when it’s so drastically the opposite.

Well I really should get back to work on this song and record the stinking bass part, although I might cop out and go play a game of PS2 baseball. It’s very close to the end of the regular season and my digital Red Sox are poised for a championship.

Peace y’all
Rold

I’m sitting in my living room right now watching the Red Sox game. John Olerud just hit a 3 run homer in the bottom of the fifth. Woo hoo! Rodrigo Lopez was looking pretty fucking un-hittable until this inning.

Part of my problem with updating the site comes form my not knowing precisely how to update it. I’m slowly learning how to use this new software and I plan on making up for my incompetence ten times over.

Mannequins freak me out. I’m not sure what it is, but I find them entirely unsettling. Especially when they have no heads, it doesn’t really seem right. Yesterday however I found a new and even more frightening mannequin manifestation: Heads but no faces! They totally unnerved me. I feel like maybe they were once human but have been mystically transformed into faceless soulless pushers of fashion; incredibly disturbing. One more thing, why do mannequins have nipples? That just seems unnecessary. They don’t have to feed any small children, so the nipples only serve to arouse innocent passersby who may or may not have a penchant for the ever alluring stimulated nipple. The whole thing can be explained by my aforementioned theory of human/mannequin slavery, of course if they can rid the mannequin of its face then why can’t they do the same for the nipples? These are the kinds of things that keep me up at night.

Today I watched Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Hedwig is a super high quality movie. It’s based on a musical about a cross-dressing glam rocker from East Berlin; fucking brilliant. The music is pretty goddamned great, one of the songs “The Origin of Love??? is quite possibly the coolest song ever written. I’m actually contemplating covering it, it’s so freaking hip.

Fall has to be my favorite time of year in Connecticut, College Football season starts, MLB post-season is right around the corner, and Samuel Adams releases their Octoberfest brew. Octoberfest is probably my favorite of the Sam Adams line-up, plus right now it’s obscenely fresh and tasty. That’s the beauty of the seasonal brew. The only thing that fall has against it is that it’s immediately followed by winter, which I hate. This is why I should have a second home in California or perhaps the Caribbean. That would be swell.

Last night I finished watching Buffy season six, which leaves me with only one more season of vampire slaying goodness to enjoy. After that I may have to move from Sunnydale to Los Angeles and start watching Angel. I’m going to try and give myself a small break though before I start season seven, I kind of want to savor what time with Buffy I have left. She’s a real special lass that slayer. I like how in every episode she has a different hair style, I think that’s neat. She’s pretty alluring for a chick that died twice.

Ok enough gushing over the slayer, I’m going to watch the last inning of the Sox game.

Hooray! The Sox win it 5-1. David Wells put on a fucking clinic today. It was a beautiful thing to watch. 114 pitches and 82 strikes, pretty sweet.

Well I think I’ve spewed enough nonsense for one day, I’m going to go concentrate on making dinner. I’ll be back soon, we have much to discuss.

Peace,
Rold

Shoosh! It’s been a while and I apologize profusely. Life’s been a touch hectic ever since Harry Potter came out. For the first few days I was constantly working, and then after that I had to devote my time to reading it. I finished it yesterday and let me just say, Holy Crap! This book was intense. Some serious shit went down at Hogwarts this year; I’m still a little dumbstruck. I’m actually considering reading it again in the near future. A better idea would be re-reading the whole series. I’m going to hold off on that though, I need to finish the new John Irving and my boss just hooked me up with Buffy season Five. Plus I need to finish watching Trailer Park Boys which is this ultra funny Canadian television series. It’s supposed to be a fake documentary about two complete reprobates who are just getting out of prison. The show gets consistently funnier as it goes on, I’m thoroughly amused.

So I have a lot of entertainment in store for the next couple of weeks, it should be quite thrilling. With gas prices the way they are I think staying home and consuming media is an optimum choice for spending my free time. All I have to do now is sign up for Net Flicks and I never have to leave home again, except for that whole work thing, what a pain in the ass. If I could just figure out a way to make money without working I’d be all set. I’ll keep my brain working on that one; we’ll see how it pans out.

Tonight Dave and I are going to try and switch the website over to this groovy new software that is going to increase the sexiness of this site exponentially. The sexiness will astound you. It might even be done by the time I post this entry, in which case the sexiness has already astounded you and you’re reading this in an extreme state of astoundation. I don’t really think that’s a word, but I don’t particularly care.

I’m chilling out at the 99 Restaurant in Cromwell right now munching on some top notch popcorn. I’m really digging the corn, it’s quite flavorful. I don’t know how long they’re going to let me stay here eating popcorn and typing on my laptop but I’m willing to push the envelope on this one. Actually it looks like my computer might be making the decision in a little bit. The battery’s starting to get pretty low and the laptop doesn’t work so well without any power. I can’t really understand why but that’s what the manual says. I can’t get over how great this popcorn is, yum yum, I can’t stop eating it. I’m sure the owners of this establishment would be pleased that I’m sitting here touting the only thing they serve that’s free. What can I say though, I’m a corn appreciator.

Well my battery’s getting down to about 25 percent left and I don’t’ want to push it any farther than that, I may need what battery power I have left later. I don’t know what kind of emergency situation I would be in where I would require the services of my laptop, but you never know. I’ll continue this later when I can plug in.