come on down to the devil’s armpit

I spent most of the morning and early afternoon trying to complete my list of Saturday chores, an endeavor made much more difficult by atmospheric conditions I can only describe as gross. I don’t know what the heck has been going on with the weather these past few days. The temperature hasn’t been too oppressive, but the levels of humidity in the air have been obscene. Even the smallest physical exertions have become exercises in stickiness (and stinkiness), and it has conspired with the record high pollen levels to maintain a steady, low level sinus headache pulsing behind my eyes.

My cats have the right idea for dealing with the current conditions. The entire brood has been stretched out and sprawled out around the house like so many clocks in a Dali painting for most of the day. I’ve been alternating between naps in the air conditioned bedroom and perspiration-heavy bouts of scrubbing, sweeping, and polishing, all the while keeping an eye on what’s shaking meteorologically. From yesterday afternoon through the present time, there’ve been hints of an incoming front, but apart from some scattered showers and distant rumbles of thunder, no real relief has materialized. It currently feels like the barometric pressure has dropped a bit, but it could just be Mother Nature toying around with my expectations again.

The experience has got me to thinking about my middle teens, when, hell or high water, I would embark on a bike trip to the comic shop in Stoneham every Saturday to pick up the new releases. Rain, lightning, high winds, blinding migraines, or that one time I slipped off the seat and crushed my jewels on the crossbar – nothing could prevent me from making the six mile round trip to find out what was going to happen in the next issue of Crisis on Infinite Earths.

Now I can’t even be bothered to do an internet search to find a synopsis of the current hot event title, much less rally myself in pursuit of some free stuff. Oh, how those fires of youthful enthusiasm have dimmed…

The March Violets – Steam (from Natural History, 1984; collected on The Botanic Verses, 2001) – Higlander wrote about the Violets a couple months back and provided some nice links for those interested in this rather underappreciated (in the U.S.) band. Non-goth enthusiasts might remember the name of the band from the Some Kind of Wonderful soundtrack, to which they contributed a baffling cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Miss Amanda Jones.”

Camper Van Beethoven – The Humid Press of Days (from Key Lime Pie, 1989) – Do you remember college rock radio? I remember the marketing push for this album on its release – the posters, the t-shirts, the endless repeat plays on music store soundsystems – but I was too busy buying lousy hardcore albums to care.

Hey, look at that! Tornado warnings in the next county over! Mother Nature, you're so naughty...

look to your soul and open your mind

It’s been a pretty gross day today. Between the heat, the humidity, the high pollen count, and the hellish commute home, I’m fairly well wrecked.

Instead of trying and failing to come up with a coherent post for today, I’m just going to pop open a can of Dr. Pepper and join Marmy Marmelstein, the twenty-pound feral cat who hangs out around our house, on the patio and watch the sun set through the trees down back.

Feel free to join me in spirit, unless you feel like trying to find the house in the maze of streets that crisscross the hillside. It also doesn’t help that there’s an almost identically named street running two blocks parallel to ours. It makes getting pizza deliveries a blast. (By “blast,” I mean “an extended exercise in frustration and ice cold congealed fat and cheese.”)

Tommy James and the Shondells – Crystal Blue Persuasion (from a 1969 single, collected on The Very Best Of Tommy James & The Shondells, 1993) – It doesn’t hold a candle to “Crimson and Clover” (which I consider to be the pinnacle of 60’s pop perfection), but makes for some great warm weather lounging music.