it’s been cooling down tremendously here. the last few days have been extremely comfortable by any standards, but particularly when compared to the thick funk of louisiana august.
i must be feeling slightly better as my nesting tendencies have picked back up. bought a recliner yesterday at st. vincent de paul for $25. immediately realized that i couldn’t fit it in my car. thinking quickly, i called my friend helana who conveniently lives down the street. i woke her up from a nap (bad start), but she acquiesced because she’s one of those really kind souls who seems genuinely interested in being nice to people, or, at the very least, is one of those people who can’t say no to some jackass standing in a light rain with a rose colored $25 recliner. the moral of the story is never buy a truck. and thank you, helana.
i also bought a little shelf (unfinished) for $3 and put two coats of white paint on it today. then (i’m on a fucking roll here) i headed out to hobby lobby to start replacing all the glass from my pictures that broke during the move. hobby lobby. what a scene. it’s one of those giant arts and crafts shops. stuffed scarecrows and fake trees and styrofoam balls in every size you can imagine and construction paper and glasses and glue and sprinkles and, oh, you get the picture. when i walked in, i overheard these two old birds talking to each other as they were preparing their shopping carts for action.
“Do you like hobby lobby?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Me too!”
whoopee.
i found my piece of glass and then found myself in line. the big rub with hobby lobby is that everyone in there is eight weeks from hospitalization. seriously, this is aarp country with a capital geezer. the line moves s l o w l y . . .
while waiting, i notice that there is a book called more than a hobby: how a $600 startup became america’s arts and crafts superstore in front of me. i didn’t even know america had an arts and crafts superstore. i guess i secretly suspected it, repressed it perhaps, deep in my unconscious with the corncobs and the talcum and the nervous laughter … anyway, i notice that there are, oh, i’m going to conservatively guess, about 1,200 copies piled up in front of the register i’m waiting for. i quickly notice that all of the store’s 20 or so registers have a similar amount piled up in front of them. this instantly strikes me as low class. selling your stupid book to your stupid customers? come on, david green! this reeks of rush limbaugh and how he is always peddling coffee mugs and crap like that on his ‘fans.’ easy, rush. your fans have made you rich enough, you don’t need to squeeze a few more dollars out of each of them via some worthless fucking trinkets. show a little respect for fuck’s sake. anyway, the hobby lobby autobiography doesn’t appear to be a big seller. the book also didn’t appear to contain any quilting patterns. mr. david green might want to rethink his marketing strategy on this one for the sequel.
i also bought a really cool old desk chair
at my favorite consignment shop and some primer and yellow paint. gonna get motivated to paint this fucking office one of these days. then i’m gonna soundproof the windows and start recording loud music over the din of redneck truck traffic. good grief.
final thoughts fall to the replacements … while eating a rather competent cheese steak today i stumbled upon an old issue of spin magazine and fell in love with the replacements all over again. i didn’t realize that tommy stinson’s brother bob (on lead guitar) died via drink and drug. i came to the party way late. a lot of emotion and honesty and frankness in the interview, which you’d expect, i suppose. paul westerberg said, ‘i think about bob everyday, especially when i hear the ringing in this ear from his guitar screaming into it all those years.’
it’s weird, the mag had all these stories about the new indie scene or whatever and, i don’t know, i guess i’m just an old fart now, but everything seemed pretty bland to me. the interviews and articles seemed to have no soul. i guess it’s hard to compare some little band of twerps like vampire weekend to the replacements, even in an interview, but, i don’t know. there didn’t seem to be a whole lotta rosie in that mag until the ten page spread on minneapolis’ finest.
final, final thought on being an old fart … i am two years older than one of the profs on my program of study committee. i knew it, too. could just feel it. he’s a great guy, has a guided by voices book in his office, but jesus. he’s almost tenured. i’m sitting here in a $25 recliner in from of a box fan, finding it hard to swallow the bull shit. { … sigh … }
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There’s something about a cool old second hand desk chair….until you reach under the seat and scrape your hand along the original owner’s dried up booger collection.
smoke! you’re alive! i’m so glad to hear from you … it’s not the booger collection that bothers me as much as the thought of the last guys beer farts defiling the seat cushion. you’ve really got to work to get past that one. are you in china?
Points of interest her:
1.) You’re very welcome. Anytime!
2.) Hobby Lobby, I’m not ashamed to have spent a lot of my $ in that store. There’s something about the painting section…then the grout and tile section…then the scrapbooking section…then the home decor section…I get sucked in everytime. I really hope that I don’t become one of the fogies you mentioned asking if people who obviously like the store, do in fact, like the store.
3.) You are on a roll with the furniture.
4.) Being 2 years older than your professor is merely a sign that you spent more time doing substantive things then writing about them. Get over it. You’ll get tenure. And, you’ll probably be even cooler than the guy with the salt and pepper in his hair.
i still need a bookshelf … that’s probably the most important piece, and i’m still in need! i also bought some paint (yellow!) for my office. i’m entering the final push for the home nesting. then i’m gonna sound proof all the windows and sit inside in the dark and do heroin and record music and paint in the nude till the end of days.