Friday, April 25, 2008

Down time

I'll be Santa Cruz'ing with Iron Fist all weekend, fam, so emails and calls will go unanswered over the next few days. Keep yourselves busy in whatever way seems best to you.

Love, peace, and hair grease-
Jugo aka Adams aka Misty Knight

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

This Post Is Not For You. This Post Is For You

"Pushy Questions for...Tom Selleck" (Variety, May 18, 2007)

...Three Books That Mean A Lot to Me

Any Rudyard Kipling book
Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand
The Shadow Riders, by Louis L'Amour


I mean...just...there's never been a more perfect encapsulation of someone's worldview than that list of books. I especially like the the "any Rudyard Kipling book" bit. Shesus.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Speaking of getting gully

The WGA is going for the dome, family.

Called out.

Get.That.Dirt.Off Ya Shoulder...

Just following Jack and Jill Politics on this.

Gully, indeed.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Don't You Say That It's All the Same


Given the way I have so severely fallen off my game, it will surprise none of you to note that I missed Frank Frazetta’s birthday. February 9th marked the 80th birthday of the Grand Master of Fantastic Art, and I would have remained blissfully, scandalously unaware were it not for a fortuitous dip into a Borders (or Barnes and Noble, maybe. One doesn’t quite remember) to seek out design magazines for creative inspiration. Now, I ask you family: what fills you with more bottomless African sadness? The fact that I had to be reminded of Frank’s birthday or the fact that I was dipping into a Borders for my aesthetic inspiration?

At any rate, a belated happy birthday, Frank.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Kitchen Ass Musings

I miss smoking so very much.

I saw a dude crossing the street this morning; he was taking a smooth, leisurely drag of a delicious looking cigarette, and I promise you, I almost jumped out the window of the bus and wrestled him to the ground.

In other news, I bought an amazing pair of low-slung, looooooooong, wide-leg jeans and I am wearing them today (because Casual Friday is all I have left). But because I only do laundry once every galactic cycle, I don't have any normal human-sized underwear. So I am sliding around in a truly colossal pair of bright purple draws -- draws which are not so much peeking out of the top of my pants but rather, making a desperate bid for freedom. I look like a fucking asylum patient trying to blend in with the general public.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Five Minutes Without Westerberg

For Jimmy, who was Steve

Jimmy in profile, silhouetted against a dusty car window that only partially lowers and is anyway raised against the stark sunshine of a brittle Minnesota winter afternoon.

The kind of jobs I worked back then, you were always free at odd hours. Jimmy, too. Free at odd hours. Not in the evening, when other people were getting off work and reentering the world. Not on the weekends, when other people flooded the streets in desperation and forced enthusiasm. But Wednesdays at two in the afternoon. Mondays at two in the morning. Sundays at midnight. Driving around town, Camel Lights in the ashtray, between the lips, tucked into breast pockets and coffee too, probably, because we all survived on the free coffee we earned as bartenders, baristas, and waiters. Jimmy might be deep-throating some toxic sludge-colored soda or other, because in those days he wasn't drinking alcohol anymore but he was always drinking something else equally deadly.


I didn't have a car. Then or now. If there are two places you don't want to be without personal vehicular shelter, it's Minneapolis in winter and Los Angeles year-round.

Jimmy blazed through a brief infatuation with Adele before we really started to hang out, and I suspected that at first, I was only being chaffeured around on sufferance.
But it didn't matter, really. Jimmy wasn't talking to me, or Adele, or anyone else in the car.

He was talking to Paul.

We drove by Westerberg's house I don't know how many times. I didn't even know who he was then.

Paul. Paul. Paul.

That's Paul's house, Jimmy breathed... and in the dark of a bitter Sunday dawn I could see it on the air.

Bill Wyman's Song's About Rock: "Left of the Dial."

Look Me Over

A few weeks ago, I asked you to comment on your personal deal-breakers, and many of you* came out in strong support of my Steely Dan fatwa. Family, today I want to starta discussion on deal-sealers. And I do this with full awareness that just today, wiser souls than I** expressed gratitude that blogging doesn't mean just online journalling. Well, I got nothing else for you. Supplies are running low here at Get Down HQ.

Come to think of it, I don't have many deal-sealers, because I hate people. In fact, I can only think of one: tattoos. Bonus for text over images. Super super bonus for placement on the neck.



* and when I say "many of you," I want you to know, non-commenters, that I am tracking your shady tails via sitemeter and you are not fooling anyone.


**Sweeeeeeeeeeet Christ. I'm on some kind of shout out roll, Get Down family! First Mark Lamarr, now the Professor. Which reminds me: I no longer remember if I found his site through afrogeeks or through a google search on The Prisoner, but I was yapping at JoMo once about how not enough people are talking about The Prisoner, dammit, and I said that I had found some dude in SF who did, and that he was also a professor with a passion for drumming and so he should check him out and Mowitt was like, "I already know who that dude is, trick," thus reminding me that it is indeed a small world after all. And while we're on the topic of small worlds, let me cop to being a little nervous about commenting on his blog because I am still convinced that all UK-expats convene periodically to debrief and I don't want anyone letting Cuthbert know that I am still alive and kicking dirt.

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Everything I Do Gon' Be Funky (From Now On, Bitches)

Hot damn!

Remember in my last post -- which I wrote five minutes ago -- when I said that I was listening to Claudia Linnear sing a Lee Dorsey track? Well, I neglected to mention that I was listening to Mark Lamarr's God's Jukebox show (YES, EVEN THOUGH HE DISSED MY ASS ON HIS SHOW TWO SHORT WEEKS AGO) and then, peoples! He played a song for me and thanked me for it and just generally reassured me that, you know, he's still cool with being my baby daddy.

The song was "I Really, Really Care" by The Alan Bown Set.

I should probably set up a blog specifically to deal with my Mark Lamarr issues, shouldn't I?

Yeah, right. On your bike, son. The Get Down is all about my issues. Every single ridiculous, insane, bizarre, Lamarr-inflected one of them.

Everything I Do Gon' Be Funky (From Now On)

Andrew Goodwin, the estimable Professor of Pop, today linked to Hitsville's trenchant review of the Scorcese-Stones spectacle, Shine a Light. Broc, Spencer, and I have tentative plans to check the film out tonight (with Broc and Spencer -- long-time Angelenos -- campaigning hard for the Arclight "experience," whatever that might be, and your fearless leader coming down on the "give me Imax or give me death" side) so I was eager to hear what Bill Wyman had to say. Well, eager might be overstating it a bit. Let us say, rather, that I wondered if he was the sort of slackwitted hack who goes on about whether the Stones are still "relevant," which seems to me to be the most absurd -- and lazy! -- non-critique that rock journalists make about any artist past the age of 40. Well, Wyman's not a hack, and his review is fantastic and, you know, I love my boys but he's right on the money about the fatted calf that a Stones stadium show represents these days.

But anyway, in an example of the weird but wonderful circularity that trips me out daily, while I was reading it I happened to be listening to a cover of Lee Dorsey's "Everything I Do Gon' Be Funky (From Now On)" sung by Claudia Linnear, the foxy funky singer credited with being the inspiration behind both David Bowie's "Lady Grinning Soul" and the Stones' "Brown Sugar."


**You also gotta check out Wyman's resume of the R. Kelly allegations here.

Friday, April 04, 2008