Day Ten (Thirty-Eight Years Later)

It's September 16th.

Happy birthday to David Copperfield, Molly Shannon, Amy Poehler, Richard Marx, Kurt Busiek, Lauren Bacall, BB King, Henry V, Peter Falk, Ed Begley Jr, Mickey Rourke, Bilinda Butcher, and Nick Jonas.




Oh, and to me too.

Day Nine (A Sad Man in a Song Part II)

Look what finally got a proper release!



Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse Present Dark Night of the Soul can be downloaded from Amazon.com for like $3.99 or something ridiculously affordable. Me being the out of control music collector that I am, I had to fork up the scratch for the lovely deluxe vinyl box version.





The box includes the album on heavy double vinyl, 2 CDs: The album and the instrumentals, 3 lobby cards, a poster, a photo, and a book. The book is a record-sized version of the original hardbound book of photos that was DNOTS's first format. Lobby cards? What the hell year is it, anyway?

I'm glad the record finally got an official release. It sounds great. It's a far cry from the low-quality source I used to have. It's just sad that two of the people involved had to die before getting to see this beautiful work see the light of day.

So now Dark Night enters the running to be my record of the year two years in a row. It's got some stiff competition though, what with Janelle Monáe and Arcade Fire and Tame Impala all putting out stellar releases this year. Guess we'll just have to see...

Day Eight (Self Love)

I started a tumblr. Stargrave Sees acts as the visual counterpoint to Stargrave Says. See what I did there?

Here is the link:

http://stargravesees.tumblr.com

The inaugural photo series consists of my record collection photographed around the house and is called "Home Recordings."

Check it out!

Day Seven (Bullet Points)

Yes, I realize it's been the age of several 'coons since I last posted. So what?


The Three Marines of Facebook:

• I've reconnected with three old Marines buddies. One of them was my boot camp pal, and we'd take the train home on weekends during Combat Training since we lived near each other. He now lives in Corona with his wife and two daughters.
  

• After Marine #1 found me I went looking for others and found a friend who was with me through all my training (Basic, Combat, and Infantry) and went to Hawaii when I went to Guam. When I was in Hawaii for surgery, he came to visit me. But since finding him on facebook all correspondence stopped when I approved his friend request. My only thought is that he saw I was gay and couldn't handle it. I was pretty devestated at first, cuz we were such close friends, but that was almost 20 years ago, and it's his loss, so fuck 'im.
  

• Marine #3 was with me the night I broke my back. He stayed with me on the roof after I passed out for as long as he could manage before retiring for the night so he could get some rest before work. I can't even begin to tell you how often I've thought of him in the 19 years since it happened. And it seems I was on his mind just as often, so finding him on facebook has been one of the most wonderful things to happen to me in some time. We've talked on the phone, assuring one another that regardless of that night our lives are pretty good. He lives in the Blue Ridge Mtns. of Virginia with his childhood sweetheart and their menagerie of animals. He hunts and plays music. He'll be in CA in July and I can't even begin to describe how excited I am to see him.

The Film Project:

• I'm currently searching for material to adapt into my first ever film project. Since the film is going to be a short, I am looking for a short story to adapt. I had thought of adapting "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson, but it's been done. I'm currently poring over a collection of Philip K. Dick stories.

• I lack the willpower/drive/motivation to sit and develop my own idea. I figure an adaptation will be a good means of priming the pump.

Miscellany:

• If you're not listening to Janelle Monáe then you are stupid and shouldn't be reading my shlog.

• I've been listening to Iggy Pop's The Idiot for several days nonstop. I guess this is the moment in my life when my ears are most receptive to The Idiot's charms. The sound of Iggy being co-oped by Bowie really is the precursor to post-punk. If Bowie and Eno's Berlin Trilogy (Low, "Heroes," Lodger) is The Lord of Rings, then The Idiot is The Hobbit. Without a doubt this is essential listening. If you're not in the know, you really are missing out. Especially if you're not familiar with "Nightclubbing" or "Funtime."

• I'm gonna see Roger Waters in November. I'm wet just typing that sentence.
  

• It's been well over a year since I've had any kind of sexual contact. Maybe I should follow Morrissey's example and just say I'm celibate? But more importantly, here's hoping I can channel all this pent-up energy into my film project. We shall see. We'll just see.
  

• Is there anybody out there?
  

Day Six (AT&T Wants to Ruin My Orgasm)

Here's a fun one.

Yesterday morning I was going about my business when I was compelled to engage in a bit of masturbation. No need for details, albeit to say it was quite a session. The deed done, I had a moment's time to stop the video file and catch my breath when there was a knock at the door. Quickly I pulled up my shorts and pulled open the door to reveal a very tall, animated man standing in the hall.

This marionette of a man seemed to bend at every point of articulation that his frame allowed, and felt that it was his duty to inform me that AT&T was in the area installing fiber optics (do you know what that is? he asked me) in the area and offered to sell me all sorts of elitist Internet speeds and AT&T U-Verse. I already have AT&T home phone/DSL service and cellphone service, and frankly, they kinda suck. I told him I wasn't interested. But he kept on.

"I want to save you money," he said. "I can get all these HD channels," he said, bending at the knees and elbows as if being puppeteered by a spastic child.

So much for an afterglow.

I asked him for a brochure and he wrote his number on it and I said I'd call if I was interested and closed the door and promptly threw the brochure in the trash.

I wish that this were all to my tale but alas, there is more. Just a few short hours ago, I was yet again compelled to engage in a bit of masturbation. And this time, dear reader, no sooner had my seed hit the floor when again came a knock at the door! Who could it be this time, I thought as I hastened to pull up my pants and hide all videographic evidence of my foul deed, all the while panting and quite frustrated.

There at the door was the same marionette. No shit.

"I'm with AT&T," he said.

"No kidding," I said. "You were just here yesterday," I said. *pant pant*

"I was wondering if you had a chance to look at the brochure I gave you."

I lost it.

"NO! I said I'd call if I was interested! What the hell, man! I'm NOT interested! In fact, I threw the brochure away. Jesus!" and I closed the door in his face.....and finally had a moment to relax and catch my breath.

I swear, it's not like he knocked at the same time both days. Here's to hoping nothing happens tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next day. Or the day after that...

Day Five (Buddha Says Bye)

"What do you mean, you're leaving?"

"Just what it sounds like it means. I have packed up what few things I can consider to be mine and I am prepared to leave this place. And never look back, I might add," Buddha said. Buddha was not his real name, but he had been called Buddha for so long now that his true name was lost.

"Do you know where you're going to go?" I asked.

"Not exactly. I thought I would just venture out and enjoy all the sensations that freedom allows. Don't worry, I'll pass word to the Farm via Bumper Message, so as to keep you all informed. Well, this is it then. Goodbye."

The rain had been pouring down all week and the Farm was a soggy, muddy mess because of it. The others were nowhere to be seen as I stood in the drive, drenched, and watched Buddha walk out of our lives. There would be no Bumper messages. There would be no word from passers-by. There would be nothing. Just the day Buddha left us, cold, wet...and alone.

Day Four (A Sad Man in a Song)

I absorb records. I tend to consume so much music that record release dates all blur together. **SNOB ALERT** I spent much of this year consuming psychedelic world music from Turkey and Latin America to be bothered keeping up with whether Vampire Weekend put a new record out. I only loosely follow musical trends and I have completely turned my back on the pathetic joke known as American Radio.

Because of all that I rarely take the time at year's end to figure out what my favorite record was for the last 365 days. But this morning, in the shower, it dawned on me what my favorite record of '09 was: Danger Mouse and Sparklehorse Present Dark Night of the Soul.







Dig if you will a record produced and performed by Danger Mouse and Mark Linkous and featuring 11 various guests ranging from the Flaming Lips to Nina Persson of the Cardigans to the late Vic Chesnutt and even David Lynch himself on two tracks and hovering over the entire production as its chief influence. Now, house that record in a lavish book of Lynch photographs and then, to top it all off, have EMI step in and prevent the music from ever being publicly released. Thankfully, it streamed on a blog a few days before the injunction, and someone was nice enough to rip it. It wasn't too hard to find.

Why is it my favorite record of 2009? Because it plays like a really dark compilation of the best songs you've heard by a bunch of bands you really, really like.

And because it didn't really come out.

Score!

Day Three (Death's Tangent)

I was going to say something about the Beatles today but the finale of "Six Feet Under" totally knocked me sideways. What a fantastic show! I wept as though I watched my own family grow old and die.

Now that's storytelling.

Day Two (Sick Things)

I wake up in a small field. Once, here, a woman was arrested for carrying on a conversation with a nearby tree. Now all the trees are dead and for sale. In the distance I see some dead, vacant buildings, left abandoned.

I'm in my house. I know it's my house because I can almost feel safe. Safe, except there are two elongated, swollen, black slugs writhing in slippery ecstasy on the couch in the front room. Their wet slapping sounds echo down the elongated hallway and fill the rooms in a dripping, carnal haze that I now find myself trying to navigate through.

Somewhere in the house is a pink piece of paper that legally declares me an utter and complete loser, and for some reason I must locate it. It feels as though this simple piece of dyed, processed wood will solve all my problems. Quiet the voice. Prove a point. But will it?

The slugs on the couch continue their soggy ritual and a voice from behind me declares safety a myth.

I wake to find I was never asleep in the first place.

Day One (And So It Begins)

Pardon the mess, we're just setting things up here.

Introductions? Call me Gideon, for the sake of fiction. You want a mission statement?

Over the course of this sparkly new year I will lay myself bare. Or semi-bare. Or maybe I won't reveal one thing. Like I said, we're just getting started here. I do know for certain that we'll be talking a whole lot about music and, consequently, the stuff that goes on while it's playing. How's that for profound?

And away we go...