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I’ll Take What’s In The Box | PJ Newman


Greetings from the Oregon Coast where Spring is more a state of mind than an actual calendar event.

What’s new? What have you been up to? The family? Stuff?

Am I the only person on the planet whose favorite Pink Floyd album is “Animals?”

All kinds of things to report, none of which are the least bit important. As part of my campaign to ignore linear-based time narratives, I reserve the right (or have no choice) to go off on tangents seemingly random and based on prime numbers when applicable.

Spring. Been there, done that, wish it were here. Did manage to mow the yard and moved the maples and bamboo into patterns only discernable from satellites. Overfed the compost can/tank/bucket/barrel/brown thing.

Had a lovely visit with the parental and other family and friend units in Idaho. Folks bought a new house, downsizing from their lovely greenish house to something smaller with more neighbors. Toyed with the idea of moving back to be closer to them, as they continue to age with somewhat reckless abandon. Got home, yelled at Mifune for no good reason whatsoever and felt like Dorothy when she wakes up from Oz. Nice place to visit, but I have everything I need here except for parents, nice weather, a fully functional nervous system and…shit, I forgot what else. I’ll get back to that.
Considered moving to Manzanita (much closer to here and the beach). Probably not going to happen. I think I get to see the house next week. It had better be spectacular or we’re staying put.

Long time compadre Jon Stone came to Mole End for a short face to face. Jon first graced the digs not long after we moved in. It was a dark and stormy night (it is Oregon) and Mr. Stone was coming to Seaside for a gathering of festival organizers or maybe not. He brought down a couple of boxes of my vinyl which I had left at his house for safe keeping or scratch posts for his collection of Manx cats. One or the other. I seem to remember that I was still living out of boxes and that my wood stove had yet to find its way home (as in the rat bastard who lived here before me stole it along with the stove and refrigerator, but was kind enough to leave 3 tons of decomposing garbage).
This time is was neither dark nor stormy, with the exception of nights and parts of Saturday. Jon brought (this time) at least a dozen boxes of Chinese Dog Girls ‘Live from the Theatre of Vampires’ cd which my attorney has been holding onto for 20 years. I can only guess that he was bootlegging them, as I don’t remember making that many to begin with. Boxes of cassettes, too (remember cassettes?)! Also these bizarre press releases for the record written like a menu. What was I thinking? What am I ever thinking?

Damnit! The waitress didn’t put the leftover broccoli with garlic sauce in the to go container. She must’ve taken my rant against MSG personally.

Oh yeah while we were in Boise I took Mifune to the vet for some reason. The good doctor felt his driver’s side rear leg and felt a clicking on the knee joint. This is probably not a good thing, but Research Assistant Mifune hasn’t said anything yet.

Oh look. The broccoli is under the rice. Sorry.

The hand thing is deteriorating nicely. Been losing function in the left hand more frequently and the pain has morphed into a constant reminder why the Eskimos revere Killer Whales. Now think ‘Logan’s Run.’ The doctors are baffled and bill accordingly. Last idea was to implant a micro-current generator inside of me. Like a pacemaker, but the leads are attached to my spine. I’ll stick with the portable unit for the time being.

Unlike you, I missed Record Store Day (April 20th) as I was attending the 11th Ballard Jazz Festival. In Ballard.
Highlights were an incendiary set by Gary Bartz, George Colligan, Matt Jorgensen and Phil Sparks. Made my all time Top 5 concert list. Allison Miller’s Boom Tic Boom also made me very happy. Allison played drums on numerous records by my old friend Jessica Lurie whom I worked with on her “Motorbison Serenade” record as well as the Tiptons Sax Quartet “Sunshine Bundtcake.” Can’t find it? Look under “The Billy Tipton Memorial Saxophone Quartet” instead. It’s yellow. Jessica played all over ‘The Hand of Dog’ for me.
Low point was the Cornish College ensemble. Students. Not too late for most of them to change majors.

By now, you’ve figured out that I bought the Pink Floyd “Dark Side of the Moon’ and ‘Wish You Were Here’ Immersion Box Sets. No ‘Animals.’
As an engineer/producer/musician (well…)/music historian (amateur), these boxes are indispensable. Remastered, 5.1 Surround, Quad, concert footage, rare live audio, Concert Screen Movies (RIP Storm), marbles….
I have not been able to stop listening to these. Luckily, someone thought to include some live tracks that later showed up on ‘Animals’ or they’d better check their garbage cans closely.
I mean for dog turds. Nothing more sinister.

Boston..…Go pick on someone your own retarded mentality.

Things don’t happen for a reason. They just happen.

Anyway, so when Jon was here we watched a bunch of live David Gilmour concerts and listened to some of the surround mixes of the Floyd box. After he left, I listened to some more and, lo and behold, came upon the ‘Animals’ stuff. I texted Jon unceasingly blah blah blah. At one point, he replies,
“Ran into a young female version of you in Seaside. I stopped at this huge candy store to get some stuff for the kids. Checkout girl asks me how I am. I say fine. I ask “how are you?” She stops, gives me a stare like I’m the dumbest fuck in the world. I say “what!?” She says, “I’m a kid. I work in a candy store. How do you think I am?”
(Transcribed faithfully. Please excuse typos and grammatical irregularities.)(Used by permission)
At first, I’m thinking, “Poor fat balding broken girl…”
Then I get the analogy about me listening to the Holy Grail of live Pink Floyd recordings.
Then I reply, “Too much candy and your teeth will corrode.” (Andy Krikun, “Cheap Thrills” (Fellaheen Music, BMI)
Then I say, “What’s the worst that could happen if you listen to “too much” Pink Floyd?”

OK, I’m through. Feel like crap. Listening to a live concert of DSOTM from 1974, I think, but I don’t want to take it out to confirm. I hope you’ll understand.
Rambling. Got to get out the light.