Welcome to the Cacomixl blog.
So I'm working late, trying to upload some stuff to the site, and all of a sudden my server password doesn't work.
That's this company in a nutshell.
The Global Pop Conspiracy just streamed one of my favorite songs of all time, Whenever You're Ready, by the Zombies.
Before that was an early My Bloody Valentine track that I'd never heard.
Radio is dead. The future is here, and it's streaming.
Did I mention I hooked up my networked, iTunes-equipped computer to my living room stereo? Oh yes.
Diary of a Mad Monk
The fascinating diary of an ex-priest: "My breaking point came with the realization that most people need a whole lot less religion in their lives and a whole lot more Prozac. Not every error in judgement, human folly or foible can or should be attributed to a divine power, nor should the cure for human weakness necessarily be found in a philosophy as abstract as religion."
Elspeths read ducks
I recently received a postcard from those merry pranksters, the Elspeth Gordons, or the Not Elspeth Gordons, as they subsequently, helpfully pointed out. These enigmatic "itinerant book lovers" sent me a bunch of books, with postmarks from all across this fine continent, inscribed with mysterious encouragements to write. These books were uncannily accurate in taste. It was wonderful. And a little bit creepy, at first. I racked my brain trying to think who they might be, and what they were really after. But they also sent postcards and friendly e-mails - which developed into an intermittent correspondence - and soon I was convinced of their benign generosity. I eventually decided it was nice keeping things anonymous (since I was too dumb to figure it out).
Now it appears they're in Durham, Ontario, a place where murals are painted, Renaissance knockoffs go unrecognized, and, as a result, communities bloom.
See? I'm lucky.
I may already be a winner
Speaking of gratitude...
What a surprise to find this unique piece of wearable art, courtesy of the sweepstakes department of Mango Pudding Blues, fittingly packed in a tube. Savor the brand consistency of the mailing label. Gasp at the photo-realistic mango, practically oozing off the shirt. Stroke your chin at the profundity of the MPB tagline ('strapline', for you English readers), nicked from Howard Rheingold (or is it Reinholdt Messner?) And when in Calgary, stroke the shirt itself and sigh at the high thread-count, 100 percent cotton fabric.
Mango Pudding Blues. It pays to play.
Gratitude
There's a buildup in me.
My life is good. I have a loving family, dysfunctional and complicated and just right. My sweet, sassy Dollface makes me smile and laugh and think. I adore my friends, who enrich me, support me, even humor me, only to be repaid with mindless banter, ill-advised enthusiasm, or lazy neglect.
It's high time I started communicating these things. Not just my gratitude, but other feelings, dammit. Because who knows how much time we have?
My heart goes out to Drina and Desmond and everyone close to Michael. We'll miss him.
Even under construction, it's beautiful.
Beulah top Cacomixl charts
Thanks in part to their new video for Gene Autry, Beulah are number one.
I got a reassessment letter from the tax people too.
So yesterday I call "my tax guy" to ask what I should do, and I discover that this guy, a friend of the family, who helped me get a bigger deduction... isn't really a tax guy. Oh fucking joy.
What are those damn things called?
"Tom Swifties", says Jane. Thanks. Here's a good one I found - a caption to an Image Bank Film clip:"Walt Disney talking animatedly in front of drawings"Knowing several former keyworders personally, I'd say that was intentional.
Does anyone know where one might procure - bear with me, now - a tiny, wireless video camera? I've been searching and searching, to no avail.
Not only would such a device be excellent for security, I would find it quite entertaining, for reasons I can't allude to. However, I will post this photo for illustrative purposes:
If only, if only... Please help.
Why does roryborealis blog at 3:50 am? Because she's out late every night, supporting the local scene!
Well, OK, it's because she has a nasty cold and can't sleep. But still, she's right. Blow off Blockbuster. Get out and do stuff.
MPB's recent post ("Freaks vs. Freaks") coincided with my reading this indictment in Daniel Harris' recent book Cute, Quaint, Hungry and Romantic:What the SCA calls the 'living history movement' reduces the past to a sword-and-sorcery mise-en-scène straight out of a Universal Studios theme park, an imaginary kingdom in which inebriated ruffians engage in 'wassail-making,' holding beer chugging contests with tankards brimming with mead. If historians seek to know the past intellectually, those who revel in that most ahistorical of aesthetics, quaintness, seek to know it sensually, not through knowledge but through atmosphere, stripping it of facts and mining it for sensations.I particularly like his take on coolness:Far from reflecting confidence, coolness grows out of a sense of threat, of the strain of living in metropolitan war zones where our equanimity is constantly being challenged, giving rise to a hyper-masculine folk religion that fetishizes poise and impassivity.Wow. - Er, I mean - Whatever.
Sloan? Or Super Furry Animals?
