New news, for anyone what gives a shite.

Dayjob at Royalties R Us is all right, just shuffling paper & rocking out on the headphones. At least for now. They haven't started putting me in charge of anything yet, & that's when things start sucking.

Matter of fact, they invited me to Friday's staff meeting, where I had some serious X flashbacks. They're talking about mandatory overtime & what the board wants us to do whether it makes any sense or not, & yonder I go down memory lane. Fuck.

And I know they're going to offer me this job permanently, I can read it in the cubiclian Marfa lights. My old corporate sensibilities are even divying up the chiefs & Indians to figure out how to get things done more efficiently. Well, screw that with a ribbed egg beater. I wouldn't mind the work, actually, but the mandatory overtime bit is a step too far. FOR THE LAST TIME, HIRE ENOUGH GODDAMN PEOPLE TO DO IT IN 40-HOUR BLOCKS, YOU MOTHERFUCKING SACKS OF FUCKING APE SHIT, GODDAMMIT. Jeeeeeeeeesus.

But we all know about that. On other fronts:

Had a small bout of anxiety attacks early in the week that seem to have resolved themselves. Just culture shock, I think. They mostly manifested themselves in freaking out on the subway, but the more I get comfortable with the city, they don't seem to be a problem. Which is good.

Wednesday, we saw a film called Home Movie, which is a documentary on various weirdos and their houses. One family lives in an abandoned nuclear missile silo, one guy's house is made of gadgets, etc. Pretty funny stuff. But the greatest thing was the short film that followed it, called Heavy Metal Parking Lot. Some guy wandered around the parking lot at a 1985 Judas Priest concert, & you have NEVER seen such mulletude in your life. I nearly shit myself laughing. Oh, my God. If it ever plays in your area, please allow yourself the pleasure of catching it.

Went to Central Park Friday after work, & saw a bunch of guys practicing judo throws in the grass. Pretty entertaining. This woman with a little shit dog who's off his leash comes up and wants to take pictures of them, & while she's doing so the dog is running around them barking furiously in their faces every time one of them hits the ground. I kept waiting for one of them to practice the judo dog-throwing maneuver, but they let me down. Stupid tolerant judo guys. It was good to lie in the grass for a while, though. I'm still enough of a Texan to like greenery, so I suspect the park may be a regular weekend stop.

Friday night, I saw a great (and free) gig at the Sidewalk Bar in the East Village. I saw the listing, didn't recognize any of the names except for one Chris Barron. My Back-In-The-Day-Saurus (I keep it in my head) looked that name up & seemed to think that was the name of the Spin Doctors' lead singer, so I thought I'd go to see what that was all about. And lo & behold, it WAS Chris Barron of the Spin Doctors, & he put on a fucking great show. Just him & an old-ass acoustic guitar, plus an occasional trumpet player and an old wizened saxophonist who both threw down with gusto. He had some really good songs, and apparently has a solo album out, which I had no money to buy, but I shall be doing so at the first opportunity. Anyhow, thought that was kinda cool. I didn't yell "What time is it?", though. And there was much rejoicing.

Couple of openers for him weren't too bad, but weren't great: Mr. Slacker Singer-Songwriter Guy was workable, but Mr. Other Guy was working the Lennonesque vocals so hard that I felt like shooting him in a fan-rage. Probably what he wanted. Had the Roy Orbison black suit & Mike Mills glasses & hair, though, so he at least looked legit.

Saturday we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art (the Met, for non-rubes). Beautiful building, great exhibits, not enough freakin' time in the world to see them all. Saw the New York photo exhibit, but didn't get done in time to see the musical instrument gallery, which apparently has the world's oldest extant piano. We shall see about that. I'd lay my money on that one in the Weatherford High School band hall.

After that we went to Times Square and just stared at the Blade Runner-ness of it all. Spotted a few instrument shops just off the main neon way, which I went back & visited today. Biggest ones are Sam Ash & Manny's Guitars. Manny's is kinda like Craig's in Weatherford, what with the Beat Up & Expensive section and all. Sam Ash was weird, because they had a different store for each type of product, all along the street. Drum store, guitar store, pro audio store, brass & woodwinds, etc. Each store was about the size of your average Brook Mays, & had your basic Guitar Center selection. Their pro audio store is hiring, but I'll betcha that pays them good Taco Bell wages. Mmm, bean burritos.

Check this out. Today, this guy moves into the room next door to us (our old room), and he's brought ALL HIS STUFF. I mean all of it. Must've moved from a bigass house in Kentucky or something. He left a corridor from the door to his bed, but aside from that, the room is piled to the ceiling with crap. Edwino, our Dominican landlord, passes us in the hall after helping him move the room's furnishings out, smacks his head & rolls his eyes at us. At last, there's a bigger rube than me in town. It cracks my ass up. Oy!

Right, that's all I've got. Peace out, & keep rockin' like Dokken.



© 2002-2006
the matthew show