Amoeblog

(In which we try to beat the heat with a 2x4 with a nail stuck in the end.)

Posted by Job O Brother, July 19, 2010 09:34pm | Post a Comment
satan
Summertime greetings from LA!

Hoo boy. It’s that time of year again in the City of Angels: the Season of Heat. LA only has two seasons: warm and sunny (which is known as autumn and winter in other geographic locations) and the Season of Heat, when you never see anyone’s eyes for the sunglasses, and everyone packs the salons for pedicures for some devoted sandal wearing.

feet
"I'm thinking a simple French pedi this time. Thanks, Hoài Mi."

All of which is wasted on me. Forget sunning by the pool -- give me a frozen tundra and a copy of Cowboy Henk and I'm a happy guy. I find myself picking and choosing my activities based on what destinations have the finest air conditioners. (As an interesting side-note, if you find yourself shopping at Amoeba Music Hollywood and you’re in need of a rush of cold air, go to the classical section, then find where we keep Beethoven. That exact spot is where our powerful A.C. first blasts the room, and it’s heavenly.)

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(In which we wonder why one bothers... Hmph!)

Posted by Job O Brother, July 12, 2010 02:34pm | Post a Comment
disney dwarf
"Social Security barely covers my cost of living and Diabetes has ruined my sense of freedom and vitality!"

I’m grumpy. Not hella grumpy, mind you, just regular grumpy. I suppose it’s from a week of drinking booze and eating varieties of delicious, weird, snack food that Trader Joe’s is always inventing, getting you hooked on, then discontinuing. (“Dark chocolate covered, rosemary-seasoned aspirin, anyone?”)

Maybe it’s because the weather just became truly warm here in L.A.; the kind of warm that makes you hate wearing shirts and leaves you wanting to bear-hug an electric fan. Most folks here love this weather – in fact, many moved here specifically for it. I am not those people. I like the north aspect to North America. And if it is going to get hot, I want it to smell like baked oak trees and wild grasses – not car exhaust and Beyoncé’s Heat.

beyonce perfume
No amount of orange juice makes this stuff taste good, FYI.

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Photographic Memory, Part 3

Posted by Job O Brother, June 28, 2010 12:19pm | Post a Comment
This is another installment of music and/or movies that I’m reminded of when looking at old photos of myself, my family and my friends. It was brought to you by the letter R and the number 8. And through a generous donation from the Hindenburg Aviation Academy. And from Viewers Like You.

chad corbin

That's Chad, on your right. Next to him is him is his guitar, whose name escapes me, so I'll just call him Queezerwaroworolheethorlurl and never speak of him again. Chad remains one of the most complex and fascinating of my generation of Nevada City townies. You know how people say people never really change? Well Chad really changes, and depending on which point you select on the arc of his story, you'll see a man who bares little or no resemblance to his past or future. You could say that is the one thing that never changes about Chad: he always changes.

At the point in his life where the above photo was taken (in front of the antique store that never opened once in my entire childhood), he was a traveling minstrel with a particular fondness for Romani, Klezmer and Spanish music.


This phase is Chad's life fit perfectly with his non-musical obsession: collecting and playing board games and putting together puzzles. It was as though he wanted to get his autumn years out of the way first, so he could enjoy his senior citizenship drinking and gambling and gallivanting with prostitutes.

Father's Day (contains spoilers)

Posted by Job O Brother, June 20, 2010 09:16pm | Post a Comment

job o brother
It's a Hallmark card not yet writ

(In which we wish you were here.)

Posted by Job O Brother, June 14, 2010 11:12am | Post a Comment
 Jaime Lefcovich
Yes, please!

It’s an unfortunate reality that not everyone in the Universe can know Jaime Lefcovich. Those of us who do have the pleasure miss her awfully, as she has escaped the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave for the adventure of discovering Thailand, where she can master the art of ayurvedic medicine (which is not Thai in origin, but is what she’s practicing there) while eating all the เนื้อผัดพริก she can fit into her purdy mouth.

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