mother's day

Happy Mother's day to y'all. That Hitler wasn't all that bad really....reaching out to the mothers of the world and making them feel special for one day. It was the one day they didn't have to think about reproduction, cooking, cleaning, and cleaning up the mess that Adolf left behind.
Arrived in New York (well Newark actually) and sailed through customs. Was most happy not to see that gimp Bush's mug on photos at custom. Was always a real downer entering the States in that manner. As I exited the arrival lounge, was accosted by a brash New Yorker who asked me if I needed a taxi. Normally I try and avoid the sharks hanging outside arrivals and head straight for the proper taxi rank, but his price for a ride to Brooklyn appealed most greatly. On taking his bait, the chap began to pound me with intimate private details about how his girlfriend had left him, and she had problems which related back to the time her uncle abused her as a child!!!! Whoa tiger....take a step back!!!! I was tired and fuzzy in my brain, and then got jackhammered with his personal life within 10 seconds. i asked him what this particular information had to do with where I was going, and our business arrangement, but he continued on his "too much information" blitz. A sharp dressed guy, in his late 30s, with dandruff and psoriasis behind his ears, with a bundle of cash in his hands which he kept counting as we drove down the highway, he began to ask me what I did for a living and how much money I earned. At this point I told him it was none of his business and the conversation was terminated.
I hit Eat Records in Brooklyn in the early evening for a night of food, buying records and listening to music. Ah hipster Brooklyn. Coolness dripping off the young 'uns like treacle and embalming all those around in their sickly entente. You can't help feeding off it and staring at those bright buttons in their instantly thrown-on apparels (which are just....well...cool), seeing them flick through the records and pull out an obscure slab of drone vinyl and watch them peer at the home made covers as if every brush stroke was a spell of genius, and see them thinking that the grooves within held magic for them to caress their earlobes back at their appartment, and hear them declare in loud and brash vocies how great it was to see the next person they embraced. You have the feeling the kids know each other, but don't really "know" each other.
Bought a bunch of great records, and heard fab performances from my friend Tom Carter (on fire this particular evening....check out his solo stuff and his other project Charlambides), Purple Haze, and Brother Raven. Drone heaven!