My sister Amy’s kids divided the family up last night and we played baseball with a short aluminum bat and a bright green tennis ball. My father umpired the game from behind the plate. Peggi’s mom, my mom and and brother John’s wife watched from the porch. Peggi got a hold of one and knocked two of us in but it wasn’t enough to beat my sister Ann, her daughter Jann and Amy and her husband, Howie.
I found five golf balls today when we crossed the course today. I’m thinking a lot of golfers just drop a new ball when they can’t find theirs. I put 12 Crystal balls, all translucent pink or white, into a used egg cartoon and I plan on bringing it into my painting class tonight for Maureen. When we got back form our hike I blew the oak droppings off the roof. The oak mast is now clustered like tumbleweed all around our house.
Duane Sherwood is posting his favorite reggae singles to So Many Records So Little Time while Kevin is in Europe with the sensational Matt & Kim. I was helping Duane with his first entry and he mentioned that he was headed out later to to drum with his posse Prospect Park. He said he’d call on his iPhone and let us listen in. I kinda forgot all about that and headed down to the basement to paint.
Later on Peggi stopped down to see me and said someone had called on the business line and it was all music. She listened for a few minutes and then they hung up. She said it sounded like Ethiopian music or some other kid f world music. She heard a sax in there too. I said it might have been Kevin calling form Paris. About a half hour after that I realized it was Duane calling from the park.
I heard a few silent beats, if that is possible, while Jeff Spevak was doing his raging, barefoot version of “Masters of War” at the annual Dylan tribute last night. Jeff was playing a metal wedge with a Ball-Peen hammer and those silent beats might have involved fingers between heavy metal. I hope I’m wrong.
Hunnu hosted the event and a parade of local musicians reinterpreted the classics. Jack Schaefer, Mike Rae and Rick Petri were the furthest out and Kinloch Nelson was the furthest in. My favorite performer was the little girl who played tambourine on Jaffe’s version of “Things Have Changed”. She was very respectful of the tune, she had great natural time and she played some beautiful flourishes. A sensational arrangement could have been built on her part instead of too many people piling on. My favorite line of the night, in a night of poetry, was Frank DeBlase calling ‘for everyone in the band to solo at once after he finished delivering the goods on his tune.
Never got out today but I did manage to take a nature shot out our office window. We made a round of revisions to the HairZoo website and finished moving the So Many Records site to a new dot com address. We are designing the cover of Annie Wells new cd and we’re updating her site. We are also building a site for the internationally renowned glass artist, Michael Taylor. He has a brilliant show at the Memorial Art Gallery now. The recession is over. I’m going out for a game of horseshoes with my friend and neighbor, Rick.
I checked a few of my blog entries from this time last year (it’s the only way I can keep track of things) and I see the water temperature of our street pool is well above where it was last year. As presidents of the pool association we need to get down there every day to check and record the pool chemistry levels, an awesome responsibility. Our neighbor, Joey, was in the pool with a friend when Peggi went down there yesterday. The water temperature is 71 degrees. Summer is here.
Spring is more intense every year. At least that is how I see it. The explosion of new growth in the woods is just overwhelming. We were lucky enough to get out for a walk today and found this little moss covered cave dwelling. We skirted the golf course at one point and I found five balls. One was a translucent pink Slazenger. If our street had any traffic, I’d set up a stand and sell these by the dozen. I’d undercut that guy on Lakeshore Boulevard.
My high school girlfriend made friends with me last night on Facebook. And on top of that I came across a song from that time period that I absolutely loved. We have been moving the So Many Records site to a new server and in the process we’ve tidied up the music players and pop-up enlargements. “Boogaloo Down Broadway” by The Fantastic Johnny C. sounds as good as it ever did.
The morning paper had a story about this Saturday’s Dylan Tribute and for some reason it featured a Margaret Explosion photo. We were invited to do a song there but we are hardly the featured act. Chuck Cuminale, the ultimate Dylan fan and critic, started this tribute twenty some years ago and I will always think of him in connection with this event. He even shares a birth date this week week with Bob.
The telephone company had their trucks out back all day yesterday but we were too busy to go down and see what was going on. They showed up again this morning and woke us up. So right after coffee we headed down the hill to investigate. The guy up in the ladder figured a truck pulled down the wires where they crossed the road. Just as I was wondering whether our neighbors were without phone service one of them drove by smiling and talking on his cell phone.
Only have two more painting classes this year before summer break. Our painting teacher, Fred, told me I was on a roll. I looked unsure and he asked if I was aware of that. I said, I feel like I have improved by a small margin and I held my thumb and forefinger close together. He said, “But you are enjoying the problem solving.” And damn if I don’t keep missing the big picture.
We really wanted to see the Chesterfield Kings performing at the Lilac Festival last night but it didn’t work out. Stan the Man put some pictures on his FB page. We did manage to catch Dr. John but he seems to have lost his gris gris. I recently heard “Gris Gris Gumbo Ya Ya” from his 1968 debut while playing pool in Rick Simpson’s basement. It blew me away and I borrowed the vinyl to digitize it. I kinda thought he might be able to muster up some of that old gumbo but that didn’t happen.
The Rochester International Film Festival is a great event but it’s at an awkward stage. We did some work for the festival and we have tickets to the events so we are sort of invested. Sponsorship is down everywhere and certainly a huge influx of money might solve some of the problems but unlike the local Jazz Fest, this event has not really caught on so that it grows each year regardless of the economy. There were a lot less movies shown this year and no movies at the Dryden because the venue is too expensive. The movies we saw were great and that’s why I’m complaining.
Yesterday we saw a beautiful movie about the search for the reincarnation of a Tibetan Buddhist monk, a movie called “Skin” that told the story of black girl born to white parents in South Africa during Apartheid and a Russian movie called “Mermaid” about a girl with special powers. The Film Fest delivered the goods but the package made us feel like we were in the Twilight Zone. We drove out to Corporate Woods for one of the film parties and fittingly heard a band wearing suits. And the next night we finished the evening at High Falls where there were two loud bands playing at the same time so we couldn’t talk about the films we’d just seen. There should be movies shown all over town. The ticket price should be a lot less. The web site should at least have links to trailers or the film’s official site. And the parties should be downtown. I’m sure I forgot something but somebody has got to figure out a better way to promote this thing.
One of the best lines in “Food Inc.” was spoken by the overweight hillbilly chicken farmer. He boasted that he owned about 300,000 chickens. The rest of the farmers featured in the documentary playing at the High Falls Film Fest deserve our sympathy as they slug it out with the monstrous agriconglomerates. Monsanto genetically altered and patented the Round-up Ready soy bean and they now own the plant. If you try to grow your own strain and your plants get cross pollinated by your neighbors’ Monsanto crop, they will see you in court.
The movie was heavy handed and preachy when it didn’t need to be. I was one of the only ones laughing as we watched an absurd parade of corn-fed chickens on assembly lines grow so fat they couldn’t take two steps without falling over and cattle up to their knees in their own shit on their way to a slaughterhouse that kills 400 cows an hour. There were flyover shots of endless corn fields that would make the earth artists envious. Corn is in everything now and they’re teaching farm raised fish to eat it for Christ’s sake. Near the end of the movie, after growing accustomed to bloated produce, hogs, chickens and cattle, we see diabetes ridden fat people that drive this market.
We rode home from the movie in Rick and Monica’s car and Rick suggested sausage shish kabobs for dinner. “A man’s gotta eat.”
We were standing outside the fence at the Rickie Lee/Dr John show when Jan Marshall walked by with her son and his friends. She recently bought a house near the park and we walked there to see it. You can tell it is a work in progress by the sight of paint brushes in the sink. Jan and her late husband have had a string of cool houses and this song came to mind.
Considering a Move to Memphis
I’m considering a move to Memphis with my hair all aglow
When I arrive in Memphis, I’m bound to meet up with someone I might know
I’m considering, I’m considering
A move to Memphis, a move to Memphis
I’m considering, I’m considering
I’ll visit the Graceland mansion and set my face in wax
Then go back to my motel room to file my income tax
I’m considering a move to Memphis and this much I know
When I arrive in Memphis, I’ll have to spent my dough
I’ll walk down to Beale Street to watch the jug band show
I’ll shake hands with Gus Cannon, he’s someone I should know
I’ll get myself a motel room that’s not too small to see
I’ll get one with a private bath and a black and white TV
Memphis isn’t all that big, at least that’s how I found it
Why, it took only an hour and a half to walk completely around it
Memphis isn’t all that big, it isn’t all that wide
Still, it is the kind of place where a country boy can hide
I’m considering, I’m considering
A move to Memphis, a move to Memphis
I’m considering, I’m considering
I’ll find a favourite restaurant and eat there every day
And at the nearby bowling alley I’ll bowl my cares away
Some days I’ll order chicken, some days I’ll order fish
Some days I’ll have piroshki’s, that’s a Polish dish
And after bowling twenty frames, I’ll sit and have a beer
Perhaps I meet a pretty girl who is a barmaid there
I’ll get a job at a steak house, wash dishes, mob floors
Yes, I know I won’t get rich
Memphis is the kind of town that won’t feel like a trap
Besides, I kind of like the way it sits there on the map
I’m considering a move to Memphis, that’s Memphis Tennessee
It worked for Elvis Presley, why can’t it work for me?
The people in the restaurants there will all use forks and knives
They won’t take decongestions though for fear of getting hives
I’m considering, I’m considering
A move to Memphis, a move to Memphis
I’m considering, I’m considering
I’ll ask the lowly sparrow, up in his lofty perch
“Would you please direct me to the local Baptist church?”
I’ll attend the Wednesday meeting and there I’ll speak in tongues
I’ll shout and holler “praise the lord” ”till I nearly burst my lungs
Someday I’ll return to Memphis in my own private jet
I’ll remember my first visit there, that’s if I don’t forget
When I arrive in Memphis I’ll put a sign out on the door
“It’s ok to disturb me, that’s what I came here for”
I’m considering, I’m considering
A move to Memphis, a move to Memphis
I’m considering, I’m considering
At the end of every painting class Maureen Outlaw folds up her disposable paper palette and creates a Rorschach painting. Sometimes they are quite beautiful like this weeks’ (shown above). They are always nicer than Wavy Gravy’s tie died t-shirts. That whole tie dyed thing is so tired looking I am always surprised to see it still around.
I had heard the name but really had no idea who Wavy Gravy was. He seems to have been everywhere in history and last night he and his fish named after the master graphic artist, Saul Bass, were sitting right behind us at the Little Theater for an advance screening of a new documentary about him and his lovely wife. She almost stole the show. The documentary was made by Odetta’s daughter and she was sitting next to Wavy.
The movie started with footage of Hugh Romney (his previous name) in the Village doing poetry readings with the big Beat names. He opened for the giants of jazz when they were still mostly unknown. He roomed with Dylan. He hung with Moondog, the Dead and the Merry Pranksters. He served free food at Woodstock along with members of the Hog Farm commune where he has lived for forty years. Seven of those years were spent on the road with the commune as they traveled across Eastern Europe and into Pakistan in buses.
He answered questions after the movie while wearing a red clown’s nose and that is really the best description of this guy, “a clown” in the most flattering use of the word. Ben and Jerry have named a flavor after him and he has joined their ranks in raising money for the most worthwhile charitable organizations.
Who was that band in Luis Buñuel’s, “Simon of the Desert?” The devil takes Simon to a discotheque in the climax of this 1965 movie and the sax and guitar players drive the frenetic dancers to state next to madness! I want to be there.
Peggi and I were both half asleep the first time we watched this dreamy 45 minute masterpiece so we had to go around again last night. And then of course we did the extras with the exotic Silvia Pinal interview. I highly recommend this movie to anyone who has ever set foot in a Catholic school or church or anyone has ever even met or spoken to a Catholic or a former Catholic even. The Protestants have “Jonestown: The Life and Death of Peoples Temple” to savor and there must be something out there for the Jews but if not this movie could address universal religion just as well.
That’s my ringer underneath Rick’s leaner. If the leaner came after the ringer does it cancel the ringer?
Our neighbor is 92 and still driving but he is forgetting his way around the city. The other day he drove up and down Hudson Avenue looking for a place that had closed decades ago. He rang our bell this morning asking directions to Rowe Photo on Mount Hope.
I was pulling my hair out with this jquerry ThickBox script until Bill Jones troubleshot our work and found that I had to remove an @ in the thickbox.js code.
I brought up a Google map and showed our neighbor how to get to Rowe but I could see he wasn’t quite following it. He told me “he’s getting soft in the head”. I asked him what he was going out there for and he said that his camera was broken. I took a look at it and found he had locked the card so that he couldn’t write to it. I opened the photos that were already on the card including the photo he took in Rowe Photo when he bought the thing. I found one of him and his lady friend and I cloned his face onto the woman’s head. He asked if he could do that with his computer. I said “sure” but then he told me he had hired someone to help him with his pc twice at 90 bucks per visit and it still wasn’t working right. I’m quite sure the computer is fine. I told him that sounds like some easy money, easier than jquerry implementation, and I laughingly told him to call us next time.
My brother is a mason and he bids on some pretty big projects. A few weeks ago he drove to Buffalo to pick up some plans that the builder wanted to email him. He didn’t have a computer then but he does now. He had a pc years ago when his daughter was in her teens and she brought the computer to its knees with viruses. I encouraged him to buy a Mac this time and he did so we’ve been doing phone support all week. We told our neighbor to buy a Mac too but he found a cheaper pc.
I used to be much more competitive when I was younger. Sports is about all I did in my teens and the drive to be better propelled me. We have horseshoe pits in our front yard and Rick from across the street will play at the drop of a hat. I just have to go out front and clang the shoes together. Rick called the other day while we were still working. I picked up the phone and all he said was, “Clang, Clang”. Of course he beat me so we played another and he beat me again. I try my best to hit the stake but I have the hardest time keeping score. I can’t bring myself tally the points. I don’t really care who wins. I’m thinking I’ve gone soft in the head.
Paul Dodd Crime Faces for upcoming Rochester Contemporary Sis by Six Show
I really enjoyed doing these small paintings on canvas paper. I knocked out about twenty in the last two weeks and was planning on submitting them all to the Rochester Contemporary 6 by 6 Show. But then someone told me there was a limit of ten entries per person. When I found that out I kicked around whether I should be submitting the ten I like the least or the the ten I liked most.
I settled on the later and spread them all out on our kitchen floor yesterday so Peggi, her mom and I could pick our ten favorite. Peggi’s mom was a little disturbed by the women with no pupils and she she joked that none of them were exactly good looking. Of course I thought I was going to submit the the ones I liked regardless of what they thought but I was easily swayed by the two astute Fourniers. And it turned out the ten best didn’t exactly work together so we chose the best group of ten. They are twenty bucks a piece at RoCo.
Two of Peggi Fournier pieces submitted to the Six by Six Show at Rochester Contemporary
I know which pieces I’m going to be scrambling for when they open the cash registers at the upcoming 6 by 6 show at Rochester Contemporary. My only problem is that I can’t decide which piece I like most of the two mixed media pieces that Peggi Fournier submitted.
I parked around the corner from RoCo and was cutting across the Episcopal Church property as the bells chimed five o’clock, the official deadline. I had to fill out duplicate forms for each of Peggi’s pieces and the ten of mine, twenty four in all. My crime faces all had the same name so I swung a deal with the girl there make copies of the first one. Peggi’s pieces were untitled so I left the space provided for “title” blank thinking that “Untitled” would actually be a title.
On my way out I noticed someone sitting on the sidewalk sketching the church on a six by six inch board.
Ornette out front with his first chipmunk of the year
I was especially tired yesterday because we drank coffee the night before with my mom and we both wound up tossing all night. And I compounded the funk worrying about Ornette not eating. I picked up some Felovite at PetCo and gave him a squirt but he hardly ate anything else all day.
I slung his boney body over my shoulder this morning and walked slowly around the house as he purred in my ear. I set him down and went in to read the paper and couldn’t believe my eyes as he came up the sidewalk with his first chipmunk of the year. He ate a good bit of it too but I’ll spare you the documentation. Could this be a late inning rally?
We opened the street pool this morning. Took the cover off, got the pump primed, put the diving board in place, swept the deck and dumped a bunch of chemicals in the water. Consequently, we missed the annual Weiner Dog Parade. Our friends, Bob and Liz, were planning on bringing their long haired low riders down there so I hope to see photos. We got an email blast from Rocco at Small World Books about a sale, poetry reading and greens and beans this afternoon. We might stop by there. We talked about riding our bikes over to Highland Park to listen to Ricki Lee Jones and Dr. John but it looks like rain. Perfect weather for painting in the basement.
I remember laughing as I read about someone who was trying to clone their dog. I was probably laughing at myself, a few years down the road, wishing I could clone our cat, Ornette. He’s twelve now and he used to weigh twelve but he only weighs eight and we’re having a hard time getting him to eat.
When we picked him out at the pound there weren’t any kittens on the floor so we asked an employee if they had any young ones. I remember a girl coming out of the back with this fluffy little thing screaming at the top of his lungs. He wailed all the way home and we named him”Ornette”. He has a light fluffy coat of long hair and four extra toes on his front feet. He doesn’t care much for strangers and he won’t even let our friends get close to him so only Peggi and I know how lovable this guy is.
He goes about his usual routine but without his trademark vigor and it is really sad. He hasn’t dropped a single chipmunk at our door this year. Its noon now and he’s sleeping in his pink basket.
Paul Dodd “Crime Face 01” 2008 headed for the Schweinfurth Art Center in Auburn NY
Back in the early eighties Peggi and I held a wedding reception for the bass player in our band. He and his wife got married in a church and everyone came back to our house for a party. Their parents and family and our friends were all there and I was spinning records in the living room. The bass player’s brother asked if it was ok if he set some fireworks off in the backyard and I said “Sure.” There was a tremendous boom in the back but I didn’t pay much attention. Those things sort of scare me. I kept playing records.
Our neighbors and people from blocks away called 911 and and the next thing I know there was a cop at the door. He asked me if I was the owner of the house. I said, “Yeah,” and he said, “Come on. We’re going downtown”. There were about ten cop cars on the street by this time and they had already spotted the crater in the backyard.
I said, “Wait. I have to go to the bathroom.” I went upstairs and the cop followed me up. I went in the bathroom and he wouldn’t let me close the door. He came into our tiny bathroom with me. I told him, “Look, I don’t really have to go to the bathroom. I’m just stalling, trying to figure out what to do.” He ushered me downstairs, put handcuffs on me and had me sit in the back seat of his car out in front of our house. I noticed the woman across the street looking out her window while I sat there with the dome light on.
I kept saying that I didn’t know anything about the boom. They kept me out in the car for over an hour while the “Exterminating Angel” like party going on inside turned into a a heated moral dilemma. The groom’s brother worked for the City and he had more explosives in his car so he didn’t want to confess and risk losing his job. There was a lawyer in the crowd he said he would represent me. We all showed up in court the next morning but the arresting officer never showed so they dropped the case.
I was thinking of this story this morning when I put the crime guy (above) in our car. I entered him in the “Made In NY” show at the Schweinfurth Art Center in Auburn and he was accepted. I’m taking this guy downtown.
detail from Felix Esquilin’s portrait at the Village Gate – click photo for full drawing
I like the idea of First Fridays a lot. I’m talking about the effort to coordinate openings on the same night of the month at various galleries around town. Bill Jones is developing a website to replace this one. We checked it last Friday before heading out. You can only take in so much. Our favorite from last Friday wasn’t even on the list and we stumbled on it on our way to see the Respect Sextet. It was a high school art show upstairs at the Village Gate. This kid, Felix Esquilin, makes it look easy.
Peggi and I celebrated an anniversary of sorts yesterday. Our first date was an outing to the Kentucky Derby. We rode in the back of Steve Hoy‘s van from Bloomington, Indiana to Louisville. Voice over talent extraordinaire, Joe Barrett was in the front seat. Secretariat won the race.
We make a point to tune in to the race every year and this time we watched it at Bill and Geri’s house. We were invited there to help take down a few Arborvitae trees that had grown out of control. The shrubs were probably planted there when the house was built and they were now taller than the house. Bill had one of his trees fall on a neighbor’s property many years ago and he bought a chain saw to clean up the mess. His saw has been on permanent loan to us and we really couldn’t live without it. I did most of the cutting but Bill stepped in for this dramatic footage while I grabbed a movie.
