Happy Tardy New Year

So, many of you have wondered* where my annual Christmas bitch-fest was this year and truth be told it's because I didn't have enough venom stored up inside me to harsh your holiday buzzes (be they created with delicious eggnog or heathen manischewitz). Consider it a sea change in attitude for me coupled with the simple fact that I was pleased with my 2009 and didn't care to see it end, unlike the last three or four years where I have wanted to strangle everyone and everything.

A spot of good news and an auspicious event for the beginning for the new year:

New Year's Eve Day I had lost my Con Ed and National Grid bills somewhere in Park Slope. A few hours had passed between leaving the neighborhood and realizing they were missing and in my head I knew they were gone and lost forever, but I went back anyway to see if the could be found at any of the three stores I had gone into that morning.

My head was correct and they were lost and gone; probably on the bus, probably trashed, probably being used to break into my checking account (the argument in favor of paperless bill-pay begins here).

But a few days later, on January 2nd, a strange letter appeared in my mailbox with no return address, my name listed only as "Gin" in blue ball point pen. Inside was a lines piece of spiral bound paper with a grease stain on the margin.

"Hi Gin,

I found your con edison and National Grid bills on the bus(63) and I dropped it in the mail for you.

12/31/09
Happy New Year."

So there you go. Some good person not only put my bills in the mail for me, but wasted another 32-cents+ to tell me they had done so. If that isn't a sign of good things to come and the promise of a better future, then I don't know what is. Happy New Year indeed.

So in honor of you, stranger, who lives somewhere between Columbia St. and Ft. Hamilton in Brooklyn, NY, I have made a donation to the good people at This American Life. Why This American Life? It's free for everyone with a radio or mp3-ready device, generally non-partisan (but with a healthily progressive bent) and as far as I'm concerned, it's as capable of showing the power of the generosity of human spirit as your good deed did. Thank you for teaching us about life and love, again.

Happy New Year.

*None of you have wondered, and fuck all y'all.
+I don't know how much a stamp costs these days.

Rainy Day Activities Also Include Silent Ball

Starscream let me watch them make their new shirts. Starscream is awesome.

(Other information: This is my film school boredom coming out again. Of course, why would I get a video camera, or a new-fangled camera that shoots video when i can just waste time making gadgets like this? It's not like such cameras are plentiful or anything. Still, I think this is cool. I suck).

Don't Fuck With My Play

Shapes, Personality Crisis 8, 8/20/09

I actually don't know much about Shapes, except that they have a pretty loyal following and are out there playing almost every weekend (it seems). The second fact usually leads to the first, obviously. Fanelli, the lead Shape, has a pretty significant cult-following as well. They are also more hardcore than you would expect from someone so obviously glammed out. That's not a judgement. How's that for a boring write-up? Fuck, I never said the content on this blog would always be good or particularly enlightening. Fuck. Someone help me out here.

This group of photos also has shots of all the Little Angels, including sterling images of Devin threatening boys with his powerful sexuality. Examine, and feel your groin tremble.

I Heard You Missed Us; We're Back

Devin & The Li'l Angels, Don Hill's, 8/18/09

I was going to neaten up two days of band deaths with a band birth in Devin & The Little Angels, a supergroup made up of Earth Defense Force and Jack Ferencz from TMH fronted by Devin Therriault, the howlin'est, swingin'est wolf I've met. Of course, this particular show was missing Jack and, well, they only played three or four shows in this incarnation -- Ian Cory is in Chicago, Jack F. is upstate, Sam is upperstate and Jonathan Betz is [scene missing]. Therefore, Devin needs a new band.

The result is the new incarnation of D&TLA starring Devin and a couple of guys I haven't met yet. They exist on MySpace here and wouldn'tcha know they're playing tomorrow at the Yippie Cafe. I think it's free -- a fair deal for memories that will last you a lifetime.

A quickie note about the picture -- Sam is the best guitar player for a photographer imaginable, and his knowledge of rock histrionics is vast and demonstrated often. Two observations,

1) Sam jumps no more than six times per show. Live your life and time your film count accordingly.

2) Sam has no (0) hang time. You know what they say about drinking slowing reaction time*? Monitor your drinking intake accordingly.

*"They say..."? It's science, bro.

Enjoy Them Old Man. They Will Be Your Last

Ron Wax (Last NYC Show), Don Pedro's, 8/3/09

Two weeks after The Handful left us, Ron Wax bolted for Nebraska. Ain't got no money to pay the bills, you see. As a performer, Ron was one of the strangest, most charismatic acts I have ever seen and he wasn't seen often enough or by enough people. Before he left, we agreed to trade an envelope full of my prints for a silkscreen he had done and a poster he made for his show with The Hydes at Don Pedro's.

Ron had no phone at home and no cellular so he called me from a pay phone* and told me he had nothing to do and asked if we could make the handoff. He came to my house to deliver the things and he commented on a few of my vanity prints I have hanging on my wall -- He had been to Santa Barbara with Mercy Rule and cut a rattle off a dead rattlesnake he found in Mission Canyon. He told me about the time Mercy Rule supported Sleater-Kinney when they passed through Nebraska in the 90's. We shook hands and he rode off on his bike into the night.

He told me he would be back. I have no reason to doubt this. Ron is a gentleman hobo. He might also be a spirit, or something more complex -- the fifth-state of matter. Say his name three times and he appears.

*Make sure you read that last sentence closely. How many times in the last 20 years have you had a call from a pay phone? Seriously. Ron Wax is advanced.

Goodbye Bozos

The Mighty Handful (Final Show), Shea Stadium, 7/25/09

They always played best when they didn't care about putting on a show. By the time the end had come their act was a known commodity and everyone knew what to expect, and so did they. The set list was basically the same as the last four shows and they ended with Uptown Drunks, which is still my favorite song of 2008 (Paper Planes is #2). Some people were crying because something so insignificant in the grand scheme can still have meaning. We were all young and beautiful once, and now we are old and tired and have other things to do. Toil. Death. When the house cut the PA, it faded up Born to Run, which seemed appropriate.

Somewhere in this anecdote is a comment on the changing of the seasons and the coming of autumn and then winter and then spring, when things begin again.

Earlier in the night there was an older guy floating around who looked like a NARC. He was taking pictures, but it was strange because no one had seen him before; no one wanted to engage with him because he looked like a NARC. As it turns out he was shooting for Paper Magazine for an article about Shea Stadium, which is all fine and dandy except he left before the main event. He couldn't have known.

The lead picture that accompanied the article ended up being a static shot of Museyroom, and there were a few shots of kids milling about and drinking or smoking. In one picture, Rich Toledo is sitting against the wall, alone, tired. He is wearing one of the twenty or so Mighty Handful shirts that were made by hand and sold before the first 741 show. I know it's Rich because I recognize him and I know the shirt he is wearing because he wore it to every Handful show. From the picture in the magazine, however, he's just some kid in a messy shirt.

Somewhere in this anecdote is a comment on defeat being snatched from the jaws of victory or the randomness of opportunity or how fleeting things can be.

Electric Revival

Hello my darlings. It's been so long. How are you? How are things? How's your mother doing with the... unpleasantness? Oh! How grand! I've been doing so much since my last half-assed post in June that I've barely had time to sit and write pithy commentary about my own work, thank you very much, and I regret that I've left you in the dark regarding wherefores and whatnots and the particulars of the general thing.

I intend to get back into the swing of things by forcing myself to make a comment on a picture -- taken since June -- from my vast, incredible archives and I would be ever so pleased if the readership, whomever or whatever you are, would submit your personal favorites. An end-of-half-a-year review of sorts. I shall begin with the following,


Japanther, Whitney Museum, 7/11/09

I remember when Japanther didn't exist anywhere except on the page -- this is a well crafted legend at this point so there is no need to go into it here. There are old, shamefully bad pictures of them from my archives when they were playing to no one and still giving their all -- isn't that how it always is? Riley's hair was shorter then and he looked less jacked, Ian had fewer tattoos and wasn't married to his kit (in fact, I don't think there was a drum kit at all). The Marshall behind Ian had no graf on the face, though the name "Marshall" still read "Ma-." There was no telephone microphone.

This is from the Whitney Museum (obviously). I was down at Solar-1 at another series of shows and I was getting bored because a white man was rapping and I was actively looking for something else to do. Earlier in the week, Anita had suggested we all go uptown for the Japanther show. Y'know... for old times' sake. Besides, I mean, come on, how many times do you get to see Mega BMX-guy Darryl Nau doing quarter pipe tricks at the Whitney*? I hopped in a cab and went.

Going to this show was seriously a no-brainer -- regrettably I've passed on a surprising amount of no-brainers this year -- I have no idea why. Dissatisfaction with my work? More amusing things? Granted, a lot of those "more amusing things" have been amusing but it hammers home the fact that I can only do so much at a time. I'm not Satan.

*More on this: Japanther has played the Whitney before so if you are asked how often you get to see them play the Whitney, the answer is "occasionally," whereas the answer to the question, "How often do you get to see Mega BMX-guy Darryl Nau do quarter pipe tricks at the Whitney," is probably a shrug, or some kind of emoticon, depending on your questioners' format.