Amoeblog

(Wherein we eagerly anticipate the death of leaves.)

Posted by Job O Brother, September 28, 2011 11:04am | Post a Comment


snow
Fairfax & Melrose

I’ve lived in Los Angeles long enough now to notice a two-degree temperature drop and the standard grey, morning haze lasting an extra hour and excitedly exclaim, “Fall is in the air!” It’s what I have to work with down here.

Autumn is my favorite time of year. I’m eager to cuddle up in coats, drink steamy brews, over-do holiday cooking, celebrate Walrus Day, and frankly, I like the melancholic pallor it casts o’er humanity – makes my fellow man seem more relatable than when they’re sweating and spiking balls over nets, behavior which makes me skittish and distrustful.

Of course I know this new chill in the air may be a tease; there’s always opportunity for Mother Nature to Alan Funt the situation. I’m not boxing up my cargo shorts and ice cube collection just yet, but I am eager. To prepare, I’ve hand-selected the finest mini-marshmallows to serve in cocoa (I myself hate eating marshmallows – they’re like sugar-sweetened, antique erasers, but ironically I delight in judging and organizing them), I’ve begun psychologically manipulating the boyfriend with subliminal messages while he watches The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills to favor Douglas Firs over White Firs, and I’ve taught my cats to knit their own sweaters. (To be honest, this last effort has been a real power struggle, with both felines putting up a lot of resistance and excuses:

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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.