[for Sunday, July 15] I made my first trip to Graceland today, tagging along with Rebecca and her mom and mom’s boyfriend, who were visiting from Texas. Ho. Lee. Crap. That place is furnished in suede and carpeted from floor to ceiling in the tackiest colors you can possibly imagine. And there are mirrors everywhere. It is kitsch defined. Kitsch squared. A bizarre little bubble of weirdness trapped in the amber of rock ‘n’ roll…
[for Friday, July 13] This, in honor of one of our copy editors, who lost his battle with lung cancer early Friday. Kent was a quirky dude, but a really good copy editor. The thing that always makes me laugh when I think of him is how he’d do bicep curls with a dumbbell while reading proofs. And the sign he posted on his cube following the release of Hustle and Flow that said “Hustle…
This one’s for Lesley. Godspeed, woman, godspeed. Project 365
I have worn this tacky ring since 2003 or so, when I bought it somewhere in the Village (which one? I dunno) in New York. The other day, I broke it when I punched Phil in the shoulder. Thankfully, he offered to take it to work and solder it back together. So I’ve got my tacky-ass ring back and I feel like me again. Project 365
You’d think I have a rose garden around here, keeping me supplied with new blooms to photograph, when in reality, I have a good friend who likes to put the vase on my bookshelf to good use with flowers of the sore-bought variety. Project 365
Ms. Saint descended upon Memphis Saturday evening to check out the debut Harmony Brothers performance (post on that forthcoming), so I offered her my couch for the night, and we spent the wee hours sipping cheap-ass pinot noir and talking about ghosts and all sorts of unsettling things. (She thinks there’s some non-threatening residue in my kitchen, and not just the kind that has accumulated from my never cleaning the damn room.) [interlude to complain…
[for July 6] Forgot my real camera. Forgot to take a real picture. So here’s a lovely crapphone view of my desk at work. I’ll let you guess what’s going on in that picture on my computer. See, Lesley had to come into town and distract me with lunch at the Pizza Cafe (which I lurve despite my general wishy-washiness toward pizza) and tales of her mother and her mother’s crazy cats; crazy garden-destroying wildlife;…
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