Accidentally Coolly Cropped Cat Eye

Guitar Karma is Real

The inherent goodness of the human spirit prevails!  Peter got his Rick back!!!

Actually, he got it back a couple days ago while I was looking the other way.  Probably at Captain Slow...

Now, to the person who is hanging onto Robyn's pretty blue Telecaster - wouldn't you like to clean up your karma?  

It Was Like Being in a Snow Globe

...except the 'snow' was black and was really thousands of very fast little birds.

I've been meaning to go check out the Vaux's Swifts roosting at Chapman Elementary School for years now and finally got over there Saturday night to see it for myself.  According to the school's website, "The world's largest population of Vaux's Swifts makes its home in the Chapman chimney every year in late August and early September."

This is the chimney that they all fly into at dusk.  It's no longer actually functioning as a chimney - the school was converted to gas using a different chimney - they left this one up for the birds to use.

The crowd early on.  By the time the birds turned in for the night, the entire hillside and much of the soccer field were full of swift watchers of all ages and kids sliding down the hill on cardboard.  The air was full of (no, not bird shit - though I imagine there must have been some) the aroma of pepperoni pizza which seemed to be a popular picnic item.

Lots of folks there with tripods and very professional looking cameras with very big lenses.  Shooting from the top of the hill with my trusty Nikon Coolpix 4600 all I got were blurry snow globe images.   There seemed to be fewer birds than I'd expected and they rather took their time heading in that night.  There wasn't a sudden swoop of all the birds at once down the chimney.  They sort of did it in stages.  There was a moment of drama when one of the peregrine falcons swooped in - I think he/she might have gotten a swift.  The falcon didn't make a second pass, but headed off towards the river.

There is a documentary film, On The Wing, coming out soon.  It might be too late already to get tix for the premiere, but I'll have to go see it.  Here's the trailer

Okay. Go ahead and mock me.

But I went to a great show Sunday night.  'Twas Al Stewart - he of The Year of the Cat fame - sans the Alan Parsons arrangements, saxophones and with only two guitars and intermittent electric keyboard.  

Couldn't interest any of my circle of friends to come along for the fun - oh well, their loss.   Nearly sold out show, but very few folks younger than me in attendance (and lots a bit older).

He's one of those guys that keeps turning out good music even though his glory days of the late 70s are past.  Kind of flying under the radar far as I was concerned though Year of the Cat and On the Border are probably two of my all time favorite songs.  Love the poetry, imagery of YotC.  He did both - OtB was the better of the two - with the Hobbit-y looking guitarist in the vid below (Dave Nachmanoff).

I don't think Al was ever a real 'looker' maybe to some, back in the day.  He looks a bit like Wallace of Wallace and Gromit now...

Maybe a little more hair.  His voice is still as beautiful as ever- hasn't lost much of the airy, nonchalant but lilting quality he had/has.  He sounded really good.   

     

He's got a new album out and did a few from it - was a huge line to get said cd signed - I didn't stick around.  I'll have to go get the cd though.  Perhaps.

His opening act was a young woman named Gabby Young with Stephen Ellis who was simply amazing - and very right for Portland.  What with our local acts like Pink Martini and Three Leg Torso and penchant for other "not rock, not pop, not jazz - not quite easy to categorize" acts - though Gabby's not really like either of these two bands  I'd go see her if she came back around without Al.

Lower Than a Snake's Belly

It's all over the internets, true, but I'm gonna write about it too - it's that despicable.  Someone has stolen Peter Buck's iconic Rickenbacker 360 Jetglo.  Yes.  The one with the Trucker Girl sticker on it.  The one he's had for 26 years and that has been played on every album since Chronic Town and taken around the world many, many times.  

The guitar you heard the first time you heard the R.E.M. song that made you a fan.

The one that's got Peter's DNA permanently embedded in it.

Here's Peter playing it in May in Vancouver BC - the first night of the Accelerate Tour.

And again in March 2006 at the Crocodile with Robyn Hitchcock.  The insane thing?  That pretty blue Telecaster of Robyn's - also an iconic guitar - certainly the one I most often have seen him with, was stolen last November in Toronto and not yet returned so far as I know...

What?  Do you think you can be Robyn or Peter if only you've got their axe?

Is it for the money?  

Why steal something that can never see the light of day and cannot give the world its gift of the voice of the musician whose soul is bound up in it?

 

Here's Robyn playing Peter's Rick - April 2007 again at the Crocodile.  He'd only busted a string on the Telecaster and Peter handed him his to finish the gig.  Both guitars went home with their owners that night.  

Please let them somehow find their way back again.

Not a Jersey Girl

Home from the customer event weekend in time to catch the last couple of hours of Top Gear.  Missed the Iceland challenge thing with the roadsters.  Oh well.  They'll repeat it - probably many times - if previous experience of BBC America's programming tendencies is any indication.  I fell asleep about halfway through the second hour anyway.

I landed in Newark just in time to catch the monsoons that Hanna brought up the coast.   Was incredibly humid.  76 degrees and pouring.  

Had a rather snarky Hertz rental car dude "helping" me.  Kept trying to get me to rent the Chevy after I'd asked six times for either a Mazda 3, a Mazda 6, a Mazda Miata (yeah, not in Jersey - and awful with the top up in the rain anyway) a  Toyota Corolla or the compact level Kia whose cutesy name I had forgotten.    I trooped out to the lot to find a Chevy Tahoe parked where a Nissan Versa was supposed to have been; again to try out a Subaru Imprezza (too big for me), found the Versa - stall 114 dude, not 214 - and it also did not do. Hair totally frizzed out from the humidity now, I stalked back in to ask why I couldn't have the red Mazda 6? Sitting.  Right.  There.  But he'd managed to come up with a Corolla so I took it to get out of there.  

Made it out onto the 1 & 9 to 78 to the Garden State Parkway and thought I'd done it right but somehow had managed to go North rather than South on the Parkway.  It's monsooning like crazy out there, visibility just about nil, so I pull off thinking I'll find the ramp to go South and all will be well.  'Cept I forgot that Northern Jersey doesn't work like that.  I could see the freakin' Parkway but couldn't get turned around the right way to get on the South lanes.  Toured some really choice neighborhoods and went through a puddle that I thought might swamp the car (didn't - whew!) before finally finding the South onramp.   But I was still nervous I'd done it wrong after about 10 miles or so.  Where were the little round green signs with the Parkway logo?  I pulled into the first services exit I found and asked the bemused Indian guys at the counter (this is going to be a very 'stupid' question) "what highway is this that I'm on anyway?"  Turned out it was indeed the Garden State Parkway South and they had no idea what happened to the signs either.    

Slogged it on to my hotel in the lovely wide spot in the road known as Neptune.  Checked in teased by the tantalizing aroma of the Indian clerk's dinner and with mouth watering for saag paneer and tandori chicken asked if there was a good Indian restaurant around.  There was, but it was a half hour away.  If the weather had been nicer it might have been worth the trip but I didn't want to chance getting lost out there in the dark and rain.   Got out the phonebook looking for something edible that could be delivered (!) but the Chinese restaurant whose menu looked appetizing and had delivery also had a disconnected phone number.  Yellow pages were from 2006.  That and my cell service was sketchy.  In some sort of a TMobile dead zone.  I got in the car and found a strip mall Chinese take away place and got hot and sour soup, twice cooked pork and some broccolli dish - all perfectly awful.  I picked the meat out of the pork, ate a couple pieces of broccolli and put the rest in the trash.  

The next morning dawned sunny and clear - and cool - next to no humidity!  I lucked out and had a perfect spot next to an open door with a beautiful breeze at the customer event, got to go walk on the beach at someplace between Brielle and Sea Girt after the event was over, and the entire rest of the trip was graced with perfect sunny and dry late summer weather.  Too bad I'd already decided to fly home Monday instead of taking the week to hang out in the city.  NYC would have been at its best

24 Hour Fitness

They've got a nice pool.  Not too crowded and it's got some sort of saline sanitary system so no chlorine.  The entire pool room reeks of chlorine, but I guess it's coming from the jacuzzi.  Note to self:  stick to the sauna.

I managed 700 or 800 meters.  Not much.  Mostly kicking with fins.  Freaked myself out swimming freestyle and forgetting how to breathe - was still a third of the way to the wall.   It's going to take a while to get up to speed.  I can't believe I used to be good at this!  

No swimsuit spin-dryer, no blow driers for your hair, gotta bring your own towel - the Metro Y had all of those things provided.   But their pool was 50% chlorine and ate suits, hair and skin.  $35.00/month plus initiation.  I wonder if I'll ever even use the machines upstairs?  

Nice sauna - coed though, gotta wear a suit - I prefer sauna-ing sans suit.

I wonder how many weeks I can go 'test driving' health clubs on free passes?