Harry Blogger and the Deftly-Marketed Pt. 2

Sometime amidst the gaggle of muggles and possible nargles at Borders at midnight, the color Silver was called and Urn picked up her copy of "...The Deathly Hallows."

We got there around 9:30pm, and I immediately made a bee-line for the record department. Unfortunately, Potter-related activities were taking place (a spelling bee and of course the Great Snape Debate). So it was a bit loud and there were the local gentry in the aisles, like this guy I spotted near the True Crime section:

Also, the store record dept. has the most horrendously bright spot-lighting which left me itchy and dripping cherry-sized beads of sweat on a Buffy Saint-Marie anthology.

So while I imagined a midnight browse through a book store would be blessed, I soon found myself muttering at all the young jackanapes, battery-powered wands twinkling, whizzing past me by the Pop/Rock Music Bio shelves.

Oh well. Still, it was a literary event, and that was enough for me. A few minutes before midnight, the store employees rolled out the unopened boxes of the book.

Some mild hooting and wooing followed, but the customers emitted only a low-level of vocal enthusiasm. So Urn's reading the book now (last night read from 12:30am-4:00am, then 9:30am-1:30pm, and now from 9:30pm until she finishes or falls asleep).

I mean, it's not like she can leave the house again before she finishes it -- some ill-mannered Deatheater or uncultured muggle might spoil the ending for her!

To all Harry Potter fans, enjoy!

Harry Blogger and the Deftly-Marketed Pt. 1

So tonight I'm going down to Borders for the release of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." Not on my own! Jesus Christ, no! Going with Urn and Turv, the true fans. Should be quite an event. Like Halloween, I suspect, absent a certain nostalgia. Mostly, I'm excited about being at a bookstore at midnight. Especially a bookstore with a record section. Mmmm.

We saw the 5th movie twice last week. It was good. I joked that I was anticipating the x-rated rip-off, "Hairy Twatter and the Odor of the Penis." Well, it was funny the first time I said. Maybe it was the way I said it. Uh, yeah.

Well, a few more cups of coffee and off we go... dominus vobiscum! Or some such spell!

Elevator to Space

Holy shit! Have you ever heard about this? I guess the idea's been around since the 60s, but somehow I've never come across, nor even considered it. But I love it! Let's do it, America! Here's more!

Junkie

Mackenzie Philips on the Jackson Variety Show (1977). She and the 5 sing "Junk Food Junkie". Hmm. Remember this song? I do. Maybe life wasn't better back then, but things were.

Left is Right and I Love You

A song with signs from The Electric Company. You can really hear the New York when the kids sing "All."

Let's Learn About Seven

Sesame Street's "The Alligator King." It's how I learned about seven.

Follow These Blogs

The Feeb has launched his new blog Follow the Sound. The Feeb loves music the way you should if you could. And maybe you do, or you will. It's the best music blog ever.

For more right-on essaying on music (and so much more), you must read MOoT's A Man Out of Time. Marcus, Meltzer, MOoT... the finest in contemporary music journalism!

Walking

The classic animated film by the late Ryan Larkin. I was watching a documentary about him this morning called "Alter Egos" on community television. I'd seen it a few years ago, and just chanced on it today. Public access is the best/worst thing on TV. Anyhow, I learned that Larkin died this past St. Valentine's Day. His story is worth researching: the artist turns to cocaine, turns his back on the industry, ends of panhandling in Toronto for years, and is then rediscovered. Oh, and dies. As far as animation goes, one could not unreasonable consider him a genius. Watch!

Pope-a-Dope

A man described as "clearly deranged" attempted to jump on the Popemobile yesterday. He missed. And was taken down by a number of suits and the police.

Pope Benedict doesn't seem to notice -- no sign of Christian forgiveness or compassion as the overfervent fan (maybe he just wanted a kiss) is pummeled by his bodyguards.

Jesus had apostles. The pope had stooges. Well, sign of the times, I guess...

Real Rock is Back!

Shirtless. Drunk. 7:40pm. Wolfmother on the stereo.

Woman
You know that you're a woman
You got to be a woman
I got the feeling of love

What's to be written after that? If it was 1988, I would've thought the great Paulie V. wrote it. But, no, it was Wolfmother. I picked up their debut today. It's f-ing great. But maybe it sucks as well. The cover is a Frazetta painting. Yeah, it's f-ing great!

I just sauntered home from the Muddy Rudder, a new pub down the road from me. Guinness on nitro. Nitro! I don't know. It tasted like every other Guinness I've had. Meaning fantastic.

Friday night. The future Mrs. is out at her parents, which would explain the Wolfmother blasting out into the Southeast Portland evening...

Oh, apparently, yr not supposed to brush yr teeth with toothpaste from China. Word from the FDA -- it may contain anti-freeze. Sounds like another urban legend in the making. Still, I checked my toothpaste (I was a bit concerned since I got it at the Dollar Store. No worries -- it's from Jersey. Hmmm...

Subscribed to the New York Observer. I like the Culture section. I love New York. Moreso since I left. I don't know. I'm haunted by a certain unattainable nostalgia of it -- Ezra Jack Keats books, Sesame Street short films, Uncle Genie's Carvel Shop... (Hey, did you hear that Tom Carvel's neice thinks her uncle was murdered? Maybe Cupie the Chocolate Nut did it!)

More Carvel here!

And Captain Carvel here!

Shit. Fucking Rex Reed writes for it! Rex Reed! Talk about flashbacks! 'Member when he was in Superman?

Are you God? Are you Wad? Are you Bill?

Also, I've been reading Teenage Hipster in the Modern World, a collection of articles by New York (among other publications) scribe Mark Jacobson, who may be my favorite journalist ever.
I'm playing Camper Van Beethoven II now. A bowl would be nice.

I've heard it enough that I'm a great writer (present blog disqualified) that I believe it. Wouldn't you?