Cum 2 Costco

While driving out to the ranch yesterday I noticed that the parking lot of the Costco in Lenexa was completely full. It definitely looked like the place to be on a suburban Sunday afternoon. Having never been inside a Costco, I could only speculate as to what kinds of magical bulk item sales were taking place. Fortunately, I was able to draw on the research of Big Baby T, whose recent adventures at a Seattle Costco will likely be up for several journalism and blogger awards when 2009 draws to a close. Aside from a couple of parenthetical comments, all cellphone pics and captions here have been provided by Tara.


this person fOUND so many grRRRRRRReat dealz and stuff that it wouldnt even fit in a cart! good thing costco provides these for your shopping ease


need to use the internet? why relax at a coffee shop or your local library when U CAN CUM TO COSTCO AND LAPTOP ALL DAY ALL THE TIME 247272424/27 IN TRISTAN RECLINER RECLINERZ SO COMFORTABLE OMGOMG LOOSE WAIGHT NOW AND GET YOUR DEGREE AT THE SAME TIME ALL AT
COOOOOOOOOSTCO


Inviting u to try this delicious sample... Srsl it is so good only 5.39$$$$$$$$ (so tasty you'll need a surgeon's mask)


This. Is. Real.
(for some hilarious commentary on the "Costket," see this clip of Kansas City's Chris Porter on Last Comic Standing...Costco bit starts at about 2:37)


for all of your toilet paper needs cum to costco asap


cute lil baby
unfortunately, my cell phone camera could not capture the outstanding photoshop job on this package of super couches(?)


i cum to costco for lunch every day 2 get my beef hot dawg

Thanks again Big Baby for the wonderful tour.
See you at Costco. (Or Not-sco.)

oh my greenness

The new issue of Urban Times is out in newsstands now around the Plaza, Westport and downtown. There are some good stories and photos, among them a feature about the rebuilding of Greensburg, Kansas, which was hit by a tornado a few years back. Jenn and I collaborated for a story about where to go outdoors in the area, which is a useful piece if you'd ever like to find any of the spots where we take some of the nature pictures that have been posted here and at jennybros.com over the years. You can find our piece at the end of the PDF found under the Arts & Entertainment tab on the sidebar of the Urban Times site.

This is the second piece we've done for the magazine, which is a neat publication considering the staff is made up of local writers, photogs and designers who all have different day jobs and backgrounds. Aside from the publisher's decision to endorse Wayne Cauthen as the man of the year in the last issue, the mag generally focuses less on politics and more on spotlighting downtown businesses, community initiatives and urban development, which I find refreshing even if I'm not exactly the downtown revival's biggest cheerleader.

Speaking of "going green," I think I might go get some chinese food. To compensate for that sentence making no sense, I'll sign off with one of my favorite photographic illustrations of how to go green.

Inspired by meeting someone who will be turning 30 on the day the world is supposed to end

The traveler girl gets a tattoo on her neck of 2012
and by sunrise on December 22 of that year
the Apocalypse
still has not happened

The tattoo, however, will remain
She has only 9 days left
to do something worthy of this skin-art
commemoration
as the rest of her life has been spent
anticipating the paradigm shift

So what should she do?

28

My boy Matt, a blogger and professional church sign designer, posted a nice track in honor of my becoming the latest member of the 28 club.

It's nice to be respectable, saintly, sweet and fair. But I don't want to finish up alone in a rocking chair.

More on numbers, superstition and the apocalypse in my next post.

Waking up at the wheel

Sorry it's been so silent around here, folks. It's just that up until now it's been so cold. I go outside for a smoke and by the time I come back my fingers are all frozen. Easy solution: stop smoking, right? Well lest the American Cancer Society join the long list of public institutions lobbying to get this blog permanently shut down, let me just add that I do not endorse smoking. It's just that a cig here and there with a glass of Broadbent 5-year Malmsey (only 20 bucks at Gomers) can be rejuvenating on a cold, late night.

Another thing is that I was re-reading the Bacchae (please hold your knock-knock jokes about Euripides until the end of the performance) and I couldn't help but notice Teiresias's chastisement of impudent young Pentheus:

But you are glib; your phrases come rolling out
smoothly on the tongue, as though your words were wise
instead of foolish. The man whose glibness flows
from his conceit of speech declares the thing he is:
a worthless and stupid citizen.

Before you think I'm just beating up on myself here, I'm talking about the collective droning and blather of the online masses to which we all contribute in one form or another almost daily. So many words, so little substance. Maybe that's another reason I still enjoy newspapers. They're tangible. You can draw faces on the text and photos when they piss you off.

With blogging, it's tough to find the right middle ground between being uncomfortably forthcoming and totally guarded. Personal blogs are like newspapers about one person, which is why I love them and also why I loathe them. No sooner have I shaken my fist at someone else's site for being sloppy or uninteresting than I go back to my own computer/flight console and write about what I'm having for dinner (braised clams in parsley broth, AGAIN) or something I overheard at the grocery store ("Sir, please stop assaulting the other customers with our delicious biscotti samples").

Plenty of times in the past few years I've thought I should apply my writing energies elsewhere. Newspapers (still) are more reputable, magazines are more attractive, and hand-written scrolls of poetry do more to impress the woolgathering housewives in my sonnet-writing workshop. But when it comes to free, instantaneous, and easy-to-distribute publishing, blogging can't be beat.

I've read that blogs are going out of fashion and giving way to more micro-bloggy, networky things like Twitter and Facebook, but I think that just makes me like blogs even more. I used to lament that the word "blog" sounded awful, like a booger, fecal log or a case of the pukes, but compared to "twitter tweets," the word "blog" contains a venerable ugliness that I feel comfortable with. The blogosphere is like the neighborhood bar where everyone gets sloppy and runs their mouths even though nobody remembers anything the next day. Probably healthier to avoid, but staying home isn't any fun either.

So I plan to keep blogging, even if this first post in a while is nothing but a blog post about how I plan to keep blogging. In the coming weeks you'll be seeing a lot of the same stuff I've always posted here, including shaggy-dog stories, transcriptions of fever dreams, fake headlines, mini-travelogues, photo adventures, haiku, music and food links, and perhaps even some more original art.

One thing I'll probably try to do is decouple this blog from any specific sense of place. I know that maintaining an illusion is a writer's primary task, but trying to present Kansas City as a perennially exciting place to spend your twenties is more than even I can bear. After living in KCMO for over three years, I find myself cycling through the same tired observations and storylines. Somebody gets shot. Another favorite cafe, venue or guitar store closes down. The tax guy dressed up as the statue of liberty puts down his signs and sits down at the intersection for a cigarette. The beat goes on.

I'm sure I'll still mention local happenings and will continue to place-drop as much as possible, but from now on I'm going to make very little effort to be factual, relevant, hip, grammatically correct or in any way tied to reality. If you're going to blog, you might as well take advantage of the fact that there are no rules and nobody cares.

On that note, feel free to chime in if you have any suggestions for content you'd like to see more of. And have a good day.

Thanks for reading and come back soon.

LDHW

Dilla had Donuts, Wetzel had Pretzels

If you've come here lately, you might have started to get the feeling that this site was a vacant storefront. Well, it's not entirely far from the truth, as this photo can tell you. As you've probably already read in the community papers, I'd been using a Wetzel's Pretzels franchise location in a run-down Missouri mall to sell scraps of haiku poetry and old blog posts, but as anyone in this dubious industry knows, it's sometimes best to keep a move on. So I apologies for the lack of fresh, salted or cinnamon-coated content, but I assure you there will be more in the future. 27 was a good year, and I plan to enjoy the final fortnight or so, but for 28 I think I'll have to ramp it up a notch. So be sure to check back by early March to see which directions things take.

In the meantime I'm heading to St. Louis with Jenny to stay at the Hilton on the Mississippi. I plan to swim, hit up the city museum, and perhaps visit an old mill or sculpture park along the way.



See you soon.

them books is wrong

Fort Case

According to the inscription at the statue at Case Point:

When Lewis and Clark stopped at this spot on September 15, 1806, atop a high bluff with a sweeping view of the Missouri River Valley, they noted that the site offered a "commanding situation for a fort."

The sign notes that although the site overlooking the mouth of the Kansas River seemed like an ideal spot for a fort, no fort was ever built here.



Last week, however, I found evidence to the contrary. Sure, it's nothing too formidable from a military standpoint, but the careful arrangement of sticks and plastic shows a lot of ingenuity went into the making of this structure.



So, you see, there is a fort at Case Point after all. And yes, I did have ethical qualms about sharing this online, but considering it's on public land that's viewable from the highway, and in light of its historical significance, I opted to go ahead and post it.

Another fun fact about Lewis and Clark's journey through this area. It was near this place that Clark saw a dazzling sight -- an immense flock of Carolina parakeets. This was the first documented sighting of these now extinct birds west of the Mississippi.

Must have been pretty.

Brothers Gotta Live

(photo by Jill Toyoshiba, KC Star)

Although you probably wouldn't know it, this blog started partially out of a frustration with crime in the city, which at the time I'd just moved back to. I wound up deciding instead to write about the frivolous, fun and attractive aspects of life in Midtown and KC in general (and beyond) but I've always remained somewhat preoccupied with the violence that goes on nearby; fascinated with how far removed these kinds of things are from my reality and yet how close they are to where I live.

Of course, I haven't offered any solutions, and my own involvement in helping improve the city's situation has been mostly non-existent, aside from a bit of online hand-wringing. I aim to change that in the future, though I don't know exactly how just yet.

One voice that stands out to me is Midtown Miscreant, a local writer who many of you might have seen featured in the Pitch Weekly cover story last month. He doesn't profess to having the answers either, but he does draw attention to crimes and call folks to task for their actions or lack of accountability. His posts about the recent vandalism of monuments, churches and other inanimate objects by so-called "anarchists" have been particularly strong.

As fun as it can be to live near the Art Institute and amid the cheaper apartment housing that's home to so many students and twentysomethings, I wonder what's up with some of these kids. The other day a couple of girls I know who are a few years younger were talking about how a guy threw a molotov cocktail into an abandoned building next to Harlings. "Yeah," the girl said. "It's awesome."

What? Awesome? Starting a fire in an abandoned building and then running away? Yeah, it's just about as courageous as the folks that broke windows at the nearby Obama office three times during the campaign.

I just wonder when people started equating anarchy with property damage, as if that's all there is to it.

After last week's destruction at a 100-year-old church in the neighborhood, I was upset, just like a lot of other area residents. I figured if I came across one of these kids in action it would be somewhat satisfying to personally put a stop to it. But of course my mother did not raise me to hit nobody, and the chances of encountering them in the first place is unlikely.

Instead of becoming some kind of vigilante, I'd rather challenge these kids to reexamine how exactly they go about trying to introduce "change" and revolution to the world. To quote Joseph Campbell:

"Revolution doesn't have to do with smashing something, it has to do with bringing something forth. If you spend all your time thinking about that which you are attacking, then you are negatively bound to it. You have to find the zeal in yourself and bring that out."

Now, about the murder issue...

I was pleased to see the Star's Tony Rizzo and photographer Jill Toyoshiba do such a great job on in the three-part feature called "Murder Factory," which is about life and death in the neighboring zip code, which produces more murderers than anywhere else in the state. Say what you will, the story addresses some difficult subjects -- interviewing murderers, their families, those who have lost children, had their homes riddled by gunfire, seen their streets go from respectable neighborhoods to overgrown, nightmarish crime zones. The series raises some tough questions, and the photo essay alone is worth spending some time looking through.

The final part, which ran today, examines real cost of crime (16 million to incarcerate 100 people for 10 years) vs. the ways some of that money could be spent to help prevent crime, with programs in Newark, NJ and Boston used as an example. The article also addresses how it's no so much evil as it is indifference that allows these kinds of crime to continue with such frequency (i.e. Hannah Arendt's idea of the banality of evil).

I drive through 64130 quite a bit, usually en route to Swope or somewhere like that, and while I don't make a point to spend time there, I don't want to ignore it. The only times I've spent much time in the Ivanhoe neighborhood was while volunteering for a housing rehab project as part of "Christmas in October." I remember being in the basement of an elderly black couple working on repairing a staircase or something and seeing a sticker on one of the beams that must have been placed there a few decades ago. It was some kind of affirmation about the need for unity in the black community. Though I don't remember exactly what it said, the last lines were "Brothers don't got to die. Brothers got to LIVE."

I probably won't be discussing crime here much in the future, as I plan to completely change the format of this site and do something different than the infrequent commentary and event and photo stuff I've put up in the past. But for now I'm glad that people are talking about what's going on. In the future I hope it leads to more actions being taken and real change being brought forth by those of us who live in Kansas City. Even if we don't live in the middle of the roughest patches, that doesn't mean we shouldn't do our part to help improve the situations of our brothers to the east.

respectfully,

LW

in the realm of obscure feeling

Tomorrow I get to see a performance of one of my favorite symphonies of all time. (Never mind that I only really know a handful, it's still my favorite)

About five years ago, Mahler's 1st ("The Titan," as it's called) was essentially burned into my brain, mostly by accident. I had meticulously packed a set of about two dozen CDs for a train trip, but when I got onboard I realized I'd remembered my discman and headphones but forgot the travel case of discs. When I popped the CD player open I saw that it was a copy of Mahler's first that I'd picked up a few months before. It was a long and stormy train ride, and I never forgot it.

My introduction to Mahler actually took place before that, during my sophomore year at college. My roommate Pat was a music student, and even though he specialized in the French horn, he often fell asleep at the piano after hours of playing classical pieces I'd never heard of. I'd sit nearby in the parlor of the scholarship hall, entranced by the intricate and inspired melodies that carried us both to the end of the night. "Who was that?" I'd ask Pat at a pause in his playing. More often than not it was Mahler.

I'm no Mahler scholar, but my two favorites are probably the first and the ninth symphonies, especially when conducted by the composer's personal friend, Bruno Walter or some other reputable conductor like Leondard Bernstein. Even if I was an expert on classical music, I'd still probably refrain from writing anything else about him here. As Mahler himself said about a hundred years ago,

"Let the public have its own thoughts about the work performed. Let it not be forced to read during the performance, let no preconceived ideas be instilled into it! If a composer has of himself impressed upon his listeners the feelings that surged through him, his object has been attained. The speech of tones has then approached that of words; but it has infinitely more to impart than words can express."

If you go to NYtimes.com and do a search for Mahler, you can actually pull up PDFs of the original articles such as this one about Mahler's work being performed in the U.S. for the first time.

If you're in the KC area, there might still be some tickets for Friday or Saturday night. I know if you're a student with an ID you can sometimes show up and get a $5 dollar rush seat. Doesn't always work, but it's worth a try. Whether you've got a strong interest in the composer, a fascination with timpani drums or are just looking for a classy place to zone out, you'll likely enjoy some aspect of watching the KC Symphony under Michael Stern. More info at kcsymphony.org.

Until then, I'll give the final word to Mahler, from the end of the previously linked-to 1908 NY Times article:

"I, for one, know well that, so long as my life happenings can be conveyed fitly through words, I will not use them as a musical theme. The longing to express myself musically comes over me only in the realm of obscure feelings, at the threshold of the world beyond, the world in which the categories of time and space rule no more."

Inauguration photos

To make up for the nonsensical video I posted last night, here's a pretty amazing photo series put together by the Boston Globe of the inauguration and people viewing it around the world. Found this through Matt.

When Dinosaurs ruled the earth

As I'm posting this, it only has 287 views. I bet it has a lot more tomorrow. What's funny is I came across it by accident. I was trying to find the no voice-over BBC footage of the Obamas bidding the Bushes fairwell, which is itself a very moving piece of footage. Like a propaganda film played in reverse, not without a certain amount of hope and goodwill. Instead I found this clip dubbed over with dialogue from "Jurassic Park." I have to admit, though, the fanfare does strike a certain chord.

Godspeed.

At the CVS on Main

Today at the downtown CVS I was about to tell the guy "no, I don't have a CVS card" when a lady behind me raced up to volunteer to swipe hers for me. I told her it was no big deal, figuring there probably weren't a lot of savings in my $10 purchase of Dunkin Sticks, cough drops, Sweet Tart Hearts and disposable razors. But she insisted. "We're all each others' keeper, it says so in the bible," she said. "With this economy the way it is, we could all be living together next week."

So we swiped her card and I got a coupon about a mile long that ostensibly will save me four and a half bucks next time I visit CVS.

Downtown yesterday

I was coming out of the city market yesterday after buying a bratwurst a pepsi and some cookies full of figs and crushed walnuts and in front of us were two cops on horseback. This guy with dreads had come out to one of the patios for a smoke and right when we went outside we heard him yell "Oh man those some HORSES, dog! Those some HORSES!" The cops reigned in their steeds and talked to the guy for a bit, who said every weekend in the summer he goes to ride and hang out with the 25 horses he has on a farm in Oklahoma. Just before that I'd seen two female police offers on horseback right at my place of employment at 12 and Walnut. I guess that's one thing downtown KC has going for it -- we still have law enforcement on horseback.

Linkage

"It comes from a deep-rooted conviction that if there is anything worthwhile doing for the sake of culture, then it is touching on subject matters and situations which link people, and not those that divide people. There are too many things in the world which divide people, such as religion, politics, history, and nationalism. If culture is capable of anything, then it is finding that which unites us all. And there are so many things which unite people. It doesn't matter who you are or who I am, if your tooth aches or mine, it's still the same pain. Feelings are what link people together, because the word 'love' has the same meaning for everybody. Or 'fear', or 'suffering'. We all fear the same way and the same things. And we all love in the same way. That's why I tell about these things, because in all other things I immediately find division."

-- Polish filmmaker Krzystof Kieslowski, in a 1995 interview

I just watched the Double Life of Veronique last night. I think I like the Polish Weronika better than the French Veronique. Even though the film came out a decade or so before "Amelie," it's hard not to think of it during the Parisian scenes.

Anyway I liked this quote from KK. Especially on inauguration eve.

Alligator on bun

For those of you who can read German, Moritz, my "Brat-Bruder in Lederhosen," wrote a great travelogue about his tour of hot dog stands in Los Angeles.

Polish up your track jackets

TONIGHT

workfare incorporated benefit concert @ czar bar

featuring

winston apple
katlyn conray
tony ladesich
&
SLOW BROS (jake blanton & andrew connor)

show starts at 7, slow bros go on at 9:30.

It's All About The Introduction

These songs all more than stand on their own, but in each case the introductions in these music vids kick things off on the right foot.

Here's Taj Mahal...



I used to think it was just practice I needed to make me a better mouth-harp player, maybe one of those cool Pignose mics that Red has. But now I know a handful of fancy rings helps. I love this song. Used to play it on the radio.



How cool would it be to be introduced by The Big O? I feel nervous for Eric at first...for a white guy (hell, for anyone) those are some tough shoes to fill. But he does a good job, never minding the head bobs.


"Bridging not only the generation gap, but the geography gap." Skip Spence is a lot of fun to watch as well.

Kaleidoscope

The other night while searching for Matthias Grunewald paintings I somehow found this kaleidoscopic photo rendition of St. Mary's Basilica in Krakow. Photo by Keitology, whose other work includes colorful landscapes, nudes and a brain wearing headphones.

An Erinaceidae for the books

I've never given too much thought to the idea of having a spirit animal. If somebody asked me in the past I probably would have said "pterodactyl" or something either prehistoric or fictitious. But if I gave it some thought I would have to say that my spirit animal is a hedgehog.

I encountered hedgehogs quite a bit (usually at night) back in Lawrence and also in Rhineland-Westphalia, where a hedgehog is known as an "Igel". Whenever I saw them I treated them with respect, and I think hedgehogs and I usually had a pretty good (if silent) understanding of each other.

So it's with great delight that I read this scoop from the KC Star about Lawrence overturning its ban on having a pet hedgehog within city limits. The story chronicles the legal campaign of a kid named Justin, and when you reach the story's conclusion you'll see that my symbolic adoption of the animal isn't without some cosmic merit.

In addition, my friends at Zoroastrian Kids point out that the hedgehog is a sacred animal created by none other than Ahura Mazda.

My affinity for the critter also stems from one of my favorite poems in the German language, Kurt Marti's "Das Herz der Igel" (The Heart of a Hedgehog, translated into English if you scroll down a bit here).

Any other hedgehog-related trivia can be sent here via the comments section. Otherwise, hope you're having a good year so far.

Cheers.

LW

tones from 2009

Some strumming from the other day...

(with apologies to Mr. Fahey)

Image courtesy of T-Bit, who recently completed her year-long illustration cycle.

What about you? What's up your sleeve?

Happy Christmas

I found this postcard of Santa with his chipped-away eyeballs in the bargain bin of a second-hand store. I love how the doll is about to be abducted from the toy pile by the little Christmas devil hiding in the Christmas tree. Puts me in the spirit.

Lots of holiday cheer and love from Lucubrations. I'm off to go wrap presents, drink springboek shots and eat several pounds of polish sausage.

See you soon

LW

positive/negative

I had a story in the Star the other day. It was about Christmas. Maybe not my bestest piece ever, but it was a nice opportunity and it turned out okay. The only problem was the head shot, which on the Web site looks like this...



Scary, huh? I was pretty creeped out at first but upon further examination the texture on the wall behind me shows up in the negative version like a bunch of stars, as if I'm not just a guest columnist but instead some kind of galactic message-bringer. And I guess that's kind of cool. Anyway at least my photo didn't wind up here.

Speaking of writing, last week on the Universal Press Editor's Blog I posted a short essay about the famous South American comic character and overall pervy bird, Condorito. You can read that here. My friend Mr. Bolling, creator of "Tom the Dancing Bug," posted some additional comments and a Condorito-inspired strip on his site.

Romance of the Black Grief

by Les Rallizes Denudes.

Fun Saver Friends

I know I should probably get with the times and post this kind of thing on Facebook. But that's so exclusive...I want the whole world to be able to ignore my fun-saver photo series. From top: Plaenterwald, Arboretum, Warwickshire.

Lopsided: A short film by Blue McNiel

My friend and neighbor Blue McNiel's film was featured in the UMKC end-of-the-semester student film showcase at the Tivoli last week. With her debut effort, "Lopsided," she manages to tell an interesting and highly personal story in just six and a half minutes. You can now watch it here.

"I'm OK. All I can report is a size ten." - W

So bizarre, on so many levels. The guy throws a shoe. Misses. Then another shoe. Misses. Somewhere off camera, just before the shoe-flinger is taken down, a woman screams.

The best part, though, by far, is Bush's follow-up shrug. It's a shrug that will go down in history.

Reminds me of the 2003 Schwarzenegger egg incident. As Arnold said at the time, "It's just part of the the free speech."

Kansas City Skylines

Part of a recent photoseries

Dining out downtown -- or -- Aiding and abetting the soda addictions of those too young to speak

Next door to my new downtown place of employment, there's a Kentucky Fried Chicken/Pizza Hut Express. Although the novelty and enjoyment are quickly wearing off, I've been going there about once or twice a week.

I never eat the fried chicken, just the pizza, and the breadsticks, drink and personal pan (well, box) are a pretty good deal for six bucks. Adding to the allure is the proprietor, a middle-aged Indian guy who calls everyone "buddy" or "sweetheart" depending on their gender (I'll let you figure out who gets called what). Though it sounds a trifle awkward in his thick accent, the heartfelt delivery more than makes up for it.

So the other day I was in there filling up my soda when I saw this little kid in a coat and stocking cap holding his soda cup and looking at me expectantly. I figured he wanted a refill, so I decided to help.

"Which one do you want?" I asked.

"Masfhfhfah" he said.

"Which one?"

"Dsssffffffma" he said, standing up on the toes of his Velcro sneakers and pointing up to the Dr. Pepper.

So the kid couldn't really talk, even though he looked like he was at least 3. No problem, I thought. Just fill up his Dr. Pepper. But as soon as I held the cup under the thing, he reached up and held down the lever (being just tall enough to reach it) and didn't let go until the fizz had crowned in a nice bubble just a split second away from overflowing.

I put the lid on for him and stuck in a straw, since he seemed to have lost his original one. I carefully handed him the full soda, which he almost immediately dropped. Once he got a better hold of it, he tilted the cup so he could get a drink -- never mind that the lid was firmly in place. In addition to not knowing how to talk, he also did not appear to know how to use a straw.

That's also when I realized that he was carrying a white styrofoam cup that definitely wasn't from the Kentucky Fried/Pizza Hut. For all I know, he had picked it up off the ground and carried it in to me to fill up for him while his mom took her sweet time deciding which chicken bowl to order.

Fortunately the mom reappeared, showed him how to use the straw, and told the kid to say "thank you" to me. "Mffaaffwa," he said, not taking his mouth off the cup. As the two of them walked off, I exchanged glances with the guy who runs the place and shrugged as if to apologize for using his soft drink fountain to fill up the contraband soda cups of itinerant, inarticulate children.

The man smiled and waved it off. "It's no big deal, buddy," he said.

And that's the end of my story.

Last Chance for a Trance Dance

Hello, friends. I know it has been a few days, and though I've had lots of hard-hitting and hilarious blogs lined up, I wanted the monkey thing to get maximum exposure. Aside from that jerk who wrote in saying he was going to get a stuffed one to hang his keys on, the response was really positive and I think things are looking up for the species.

If you ever click on here and are frustrated to see that I didn't post anything new, you can always check out the links I added to the sidebar. I'm also contributing to the Editors' Blog at my syndicate, which is at the top of that list. There's some pretty funny stuff up there, and it'll give you a window into the wild world of comics syndication. The design is pretty no-frills, though, so if any of you with any design talent want to help make some kind of banner, let me know.

Also, Jennifer and I put together a travel article that is featured in the newest issue of Urban Times KC. You can pick up a copy at newsstands around downtown or the Plaza, or read it online. It might not be the most cutting edge piece about Berlin, but it was written more as an intro to the city than a guide to the freakish and offbeat.

Whether I'm writing a straightforward piece or something more unusual, I've noticed that I tend to focus on the exciting or positive aspects of a place. My story about the Southmoreland neighborhood (I'd link to it, but the link with photos is dead so I might just scan that in at some point) was about how happy and creative things are. So it is kind of fun when I come across something like this piece by Midtown Miscreant, which presents an entirely different side of life in the art neighborhood.

I'll post more tomorrow, probably some music-related stuff and maybe a super-short story about drinking soda with a 3-year-old, but for now I'm heading out to see my friend Blue's short film. After that, we're picking up brother James at the Aeropuerto. As many of you know, he's been studying design, architecture and the art of historically charged sound installation sculpture in Berlin, but he's heading back to Kansas City for a spell to resume his position in the popcorn industry.


See you soon.

LW

Save the Tonkin Snub-Nosed Monkey!

According to Science Daily's report from just a few hours ago (I get a direct feed to any breaking news about rare monkey conservation efforts), a new population of extremely rare snub-nosed monkeys has been discovered in the forests of North Vietnam.

From the article:

"When I saw the Tonkin snub-nosed monkeys in Tung Vai Commune I was overjoyed. This new discovery further underlines the importance of learning more about the Tonkin snub-nosed monkeys' range and distribution. There is still time to save this unique species, but with just 200 or so left and threats still strong, we need to act now."

-- Conservation biologist Le Khac Quyet, who made a name for himself as one of the few people in the world who can claim to be an expert on this mysterious species

While I can not claim to be an expert on the species, which in some respects look eerily similar to Ewoks, they are one of my favorite species of primate, right up there with humans, Yunnan Golden and Proboscis monkeys.

Thursday Tracks: Voodoo Funk

In the shifting sands of music blogs, which are usually little more than links, promotion and piracy, "Voodoo Funk" is an exceptional operation. Voodoo Funk is run by a German DJ named Frank, whose goal was to find as many vintage African records as possible during his three years living and traveling in West Africa. Right now I think he's DJing in New York.

There's a lot of great mixes up on his site, which I find exceptionally fun to listen to while doing my favorite activities around the house like washing the dishes, rearranging papers and pacing back and forth down the hallway. The above video is a trailer for a documentary someone is making about his record-buying journeys, and the one below is some shaky cell phone video he shot while riding around Cotonou on the back of a Zemidjan. The song is from the Psychedelic Man EP by De Frank & His Professionals. Keep up the good work, Frank.

A Very Bahamian Christmas

Since we're already being inundated with Christmas carols in public places, I thought I'd share this clip of my new favorite Christmas song: Joseph Spence's live rendition of "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town." Spence was a folk singer and guitar player from an island in the Bahamas. He was known for his unique finger-style method of playing guitar and also for his distinctive growling vocals, which in a way are reminiscent of Tom Waits or Thelonious Monk. One time I put on a CD of his and Jennifer started looking outside the windows and all over the apartment to identify where the raspy voices were coming from, not realizing it was part of the music. Joe more than just growls his way through this one -- he straight-up sings.

Even if he doesn't know the words.

Images for December

Some photos, postcards and found art to kick off the new month. Feel free to post your own captions, questions or interpretations in the comments section.


Bischofsreut Blizzard


The Last Unicorn by Liz Gardner


Make A Wish


White Rhino by JLW


De Ballenman by Ben van Eck


Missing


Cape Monster by LDHW


Old Man Winter


May You Live in Interesting Times, by LDHW

I Care About Detroit

In light of all the talk about bailing out the big automakers, this song by Smokey Robinson sounds particularly humorous. To hear the track, click here, and to read a bit about the background and hear a bunch of other odd finds from all genres, check out the amazing (and unfortunately no longer updated) Office Naps site.

325 doodles and counting...

Nearly a year after she announced the plan to create and post a drawing each day, friend and local artist/designer Elizabeth (aka T-Bit) is closing in on her goal. The drawing above is one of my recent favorites, and the lil' dracula below was plucked from the September archives to represent the countdown to completing 365 consecutive sketches, paintings and illustrations. Make sure to stop by her site, check out the art and cheer her on.

Credit-default swaps!

This is a picture of Jeremiah Tucker and I in front of the nightclub we were set to open on July 5. (Not sure what year it was, maybe 1978? 1983? Those times are still such a blur!) As you can see, we were optimistic, but unfortunately the whole thing suffered a few setbacks. For one, we didn't own (or rent) the property and the consequential lack of access prevented us from tending to certain details like decorations. I'm pretty sure we would have gotten people in the door if only we had been able to pry it open. Believe me, though, we had plenty of booze, a healthy portion of which had already been carefully siphoned into a giant watermelon. Despite that failed venture, I hope to work with Jeremiah again in the future. He's a heck of a guy, with a 14-carat mind, even though I suspect he has secretly made fun of the "Black Cat" t-shirt I wore to this year's 4th of July picnic. He's also a great writer, and his latest piece at McSweeney's is a scintillating read.

See you on the shooting range, Tucker(s)!

Back in the time it takes to break a heart

(if you'd just like to get to the song, skip to the last paragraph)

Songs about Kansas City are often a letdown. Even the most swinging of them irritate me most of the time, either because they hearken back to a jazz-age heyday that no longer exists, or because they just aren't very good. I remember how my excitement about finding a Van Morrison record with a song about Kansas City faded when I discovered all it included was a bunch of female backup singers repeating "Excuse me do you know the way to Kansas City?" which quite honestly sounds a bit absurd when listened to locally.

One Sunday I was driving around town when the James Brown version of "Kansas City" came on the radio. I was at a traffic stop just blocks away from 12th and Vine when JB sang the part about standing at that intersection. Except instead of some hep cat snapping his fingers in rhythm on the corner, there were a couple of down-and-outs sitting in a bunch of newspaper. One of them was asleep while the other looked after him and took slugs from a brown paper bag. Though I saw definite evidence of "wine and crazy little women" in the neighborhood, it didn't exactly look like the kind of drinking and craziness you'd want to celebrate in song.

I don't want to be too hard on that particular blues standard, as it has been covered by great musicians ranging from Wanda Jackson to Muddy Waters. And I've always enjoyed the Beatles take, especially when it would come on at a bar on the Reeperbahn around 4 in the morning. On the opposite spectrum is a tune like "18th Avenue (Kansas City Nightmare)" in which Cat Stevens wrestles with some vague neurosis that doesn't subside until he gets on a plane. Whether or not his problems described in that song were caused by his visit to Kansas City or just happened to occur during his stay, it's not something you'd use to promote the town on a travel brochure.

Last week, however, I discovered the Kansas City-referencing tune I've been waiting for my whole life: "The Train from Kansas City" by the Shangri-Las. Technically it isn't really about Kansas City, just a train originating from this location, but the heartbreak and tension the song builds up to are certainly not foreign to anyone who has spent a few years within this proud yet troubled municipality.

Right from the song's start, you know trouble is on the way, thanks to the rumbling piano and ominous female plea, "Baby, baby, please believe me, I would never, never do anything to hurt you..."

If you aren't a big fan of mid-1960s girl groups, this might not be the song for you. I, however, have been pretty caught up in it for the last few days, and for several reasons. 1) I like songs about trains, especially when they use sound effects. 2) I'm a big fan of catchy girl groups of all races, languages and tempos. And, 3) After having made countless futile train trips to visit old flames in faraway locations like Chicago and Jefferson City, it's nice to finally hear things from the lady's perspective. If I would have known how much she thought about and -- dare I say -- agonized over her rejection of my overtures, the last 10 years would have been a lot easier.

But alas, that's a topic for a whole different blog post. For now, enjoy the Shangri-Las' "Train from Kansas City," and feel free to check out any of the other recent posts on that mix-tape that won't die, the Lukebox. Oh, and if you've got any other notable mentions for songs that mention KC, feel free to comment.

Have a good weekend.

Jean Shin

Speaking of art, there are some really neat installations and sculptures viewable at New York artist Jean Shin's homepage. The above piece from 2007, entitled Sound Wave, "aims to physically manifest the ephemerality of music as well as one man’s musical tastes, as represented by his personal record collection."

The one below is made from broken umbrellas.

jacksonpollock.org

I remember seeing the Jackson Pollock painting at the Nelson when I was a kid and being really unimpressed with it and the Mark Rothko.

Nowadays, I'm an expert on modern art who has written dozens of important critical essays on these two artists and many others (unfortunately all of these essays are yet to be published, but just you wait!).

In the meantime, this is a really fun site that gives you a chance to create your own masterpiece. Click the mouse to change colors and space bar to erase.

Happy painting.