Well, that was almost seven months between journal entries. This place is still standing, it seems.

Hmm, where'd everyone go?

Ugh. I've fallen victim.

Myspace.

Come visit me.

Ever spend 65 bucks at the grocery store, and feel like you still have nothing to eat?



In other news, used vinyl stores would be a lot nicer to poke around in if their clientele didn't smell like bee oh. (Which, interestingly enough, if you add a T, becomes "beeotch. " )

I've had a hankering for cloves of late. Haven't had any since last summer. Last smoked one on Yawkey Way Boston at a Red Sox game, a few steps from RemDawg's. Ahh, the sweet sweet smell...

Interpol is playing a few minutes' walk from my door at the end of September. Wanna go?

Latest LL_Bean_J raves:


An interesting read penned by John Dicker about how we are all "Wal-Mart's Bitches."


Jeff Buckley's dad Tim's fine work "Goodbye and Hello." Pick this up and see where Jeff "got it from."


Self-explanatory.


Something to gaze at if you hate hot weather (Saddleback Mtn, Dallas ME, March 2005, from the top of the T-bar.)

Tell me something good.

Nothing beats a phonecall when you're all settled in for the evening, all relaxed etc etc, that "hey we're off the air!" Quick run back downtown to push buttons and get everything fixed.

I'm back, it's hot and sticky as nuts in here, as it was when I woke up early this morning. I made eggs and the pr-cracked eggs were sweating, it's that kinda asstastic 'round these parts.

Sweet creepin' christ on a carnivalcruise... i have a huge nose. Thanksdad.

I was wearing my steelydan "aja" Tshirt at Bullmoose the other day and some dude said "HEY, THAT ALBUM ANY GOOD?" and after my brief reccomendation, bought said album. I should get a fucking commision check. Yet again we find that Steely Dan is like butter, not the kind in the plastic tub, but the kind in the stick with the waxy paper around it. Pure, rich and some other buttery goodness-related adjective that's just not coming to me at this time.

Me, I picked up Tim Buckley's "Goodbye and Hello." Wow.

I think I like the "Did You Park Pay and Display" profile pic better, come to think of it.

Spotted on my walk home yesterday:

Two young'uns walking around with open containers of Bud Light at 7p on Congress Street. In beer mugs, no less. Such balls. Two blocks later, two old drunks were beating each other up. It's like I took a quantum leap into the mug-totin' punks' futures.

After that it was the Eastern League All Star Game at Hadlock Field, located just a couple of blocks from my hut. I was there to help introduce the fireworks after the game, which was a nice little shot of deja vu, since I did so much on-field promotional stuff for a minor league team last summer in New Hampshire. Bush 41 and Barb were at the game too. Barb sat outside, the tough ol' bag. George opted for the security and sanctity of the private box. Both headed back to Kennebunkport by the 6th inning.

Had a little dinner date earlier this week at a cool little pub downtown called Shay's. Ever go out with someone several times and you're still not sure how you feel about the whole thing? Yep, welcome to my world.

So Friday night was the big Allman Brothers show in Augusta. I drove the station van up plus a couplea interns and our new morning co-host met us there (a legend in our market, he just joined our station, everyone was clamoring to meet him.)

My understanding was I was going to get to intruoduce ye olde Allman Brothers Band on stage. I got to go on stage, sure, but no de facto intro, just "hi howyadoin i cant hearrrrrrrrr you hey allmans in a few minutes" antics. My fantasy of saying "Okay the Allman Brothers Band" and them launching into "Statesboro Blues" was shot down by Lee Harvey Tour Manager. Oh well. So I made the most of my stage announcement, then enjoyed the show, although poor ol Gregg Allman seemed to be singing about a beat behind the band and his Hammond B3 playing (which was top notch.)

This morning was a live broadcast at a store that sells athletic shoes. A classic reality check in the pissing rain-infested 55-degree Maine weather.

At least I found a copy of the only album by McDonald and Giles, a sort of King Crimson spinoff group by two of its founding members. Still formulating an opinion.

Just my luck, I start dating a girl two weeks ago and her birthday is Monday. I think I've been in one of these situations before but I forget what i did. Ruling from an official, please!

On that note, my wine glass needs refreshing. Sutter Home Merlot, yer not that bad, I don't care what they say.

I'll sit on Julia Child's counter and repeat that.

Weekend was good. Much beer was guzzled. Family reunion was a success. Cheap side of the family said "you must be rich now" (PSH), ate half my steak, and told me about stuff they got for free and for half price since last I saw them two years ago.

89-year old great-aunt is still doing well. Youngest (and last living member) of the five siblings that formed the foundation of my dad's side of the family. Got invited to Christmas out in the Finger Lakes with my cousin and her husband.

Friday night I get to introduce the Allman Brothers Band on stage at their Augusta show!

Then Saturday morning, live broadcast at a shoe store

Nothing beats an 11:30 pm call that says the morning guy is sick, could you fill in. And do your usual airshift.

I do like being owed favors, however, so I got three hours' sleep and sucked it up.

1000 dollars later, and my Jeep runs much better, now with the coldest AC money can buy. Great for these 60 degree days we've been having. Now I'm a few dollars short of broke!

The weekend brings a family reunion, and quite possibly some prodigious drinking, all mixed in with work.

Hope yours is a humdinger of a hoedown and quite possibly a wingding.

It's so effing hot in this apartment that it might be a three-shower day. Oy..

So how was your weekend... Saturday work brought me up to Falmouth, surrounded by hot asphalt pavement for two hours, but I did run into an old college classmate that now reports for one of the local tv stations. We indulged in a good ten minutes of "where are they nows."

There's a new ice cream shop in the building in which I work, and I've already been there four times in its first week of biz. Operation weight gain has begun! Pshh I couldn't buy 10 pounds for a million bucks the way my metabolism cranks.

Did I mention it's hot as nuts in here?

This morning I discovered the rail trail in South Portland and did a bit of walkin. In my birks. Oops. Now my feet are a blistered wreck. Still, didn't stop me from hoppin back in the car later and cruising around looking for the elusive Willard Beach. There's no signs for it anywhere, maybe that's why so few were there. You never hear about the place. Once there, a little wade in the water was the order of the hour...

... then I broke Maine law and drove back in my barefeet. Muthafuckas at the mattress store better watch out, I'm comin' to rip your tags to shreds next...

Tonight, meeting up with a friend at Brian Boru, a pub with the Guinness Toucans painted on its entire northern facade. Or were those pelicans? Definitely not puffins.

My CD player has been alternating between My Bloody Valentine, Leon Russell and The Church. I've just discovered the sonic wonder that is The Church's The Blurred Crusade. Nothing like Aussie jangly neo-psychedelia on a hot steamy summer night.