As you well know, Mother's Day 2011 is fast approaching (this Sunday, May 8th) and while flowers & chocolates or taking mom out to brunch are all wonderful things to do for this once-a-year occasion, don't overlook the equally excellent idea of the gift of music -- or movies -- from Amoeba! And should you feel stumped at choosing a specific CD or DVD for mom in the store, you can never go wrong with an Amoeba gift certificate, which is good at any of the three Amoebas at any time. Additionally, you can purchase items online directly from Amoeba's web store. 

Of course, if your mom is into live music you could always swing by Amoeba Music Sunday afternoon after brunch to catch some free live music as you browse the vast aisles of varied musical selections. In the Bay Area on Mother's Day there is a free 3pm instore set from progressive hip-hop artist Blueprint, whose sharp social consciousness & political awareness, as witnessed on the new Adventures In Counter Culture, will ring through with someone from any generation. Meanwhile, at Amoeba Hollywood at 5pm on Mother's Day Ceci Bastida, who the LA Weekly described as "Imbued with the gentle smokiness of Juana Molina and the swaggering edge of Nelly Furtado, or maybe M.I.A, her voice can be a rallying call or an invitation to listen closer," will perform in celebration of her debut solo album, Veo La Marea (I See The Tide). As with all Amoeba instores, both are free to the public.

The above filmed snippet occurred on my way home after working a recent Friday. The elderly woman in the seat in front of me is flipping-off the many people, both locals and tourists, men, women and children, that swarm the sidewalks of Hollywood Boulevard at night. What everyone did that so riled the wrinkly rider remains a mystery. Later on in our journey, when the bus stopped in front of an assisted living establishment, she began gesticulating again, only this time she waved (to no-one – there was no-one standing outside the building) and crossed herself like a good Catholic. In-between these two fits of cursing/blessing, she simply sat and sniffled into her small stash of tissue, kept clutched in her claw. Aww.

If I was a smarter writer, I would simply ride these buses daily and record the many scenes I see. As it is, I stuff my Skullcandy earbuds Eustachian tube deep (often vainly), trying to block out all external noise with sweeter sounds such as these:

It was music that brought us together, which is funny when you consider we often have such different tastes. For instance, he thinks cranking some Tori Amos while taking a hot bubble bath is swell, while I find the very idea akin to suicide; when curling up with a good book, I like to listen to some classical lieder, an past-time he would typically describe as “poop-facey.”

Our first connection was made on Friendster. You young ‘uns won’t know anything about this, but long, long ago – before there was Facebook (yes, it’s true!) – there was a site called Friendster, which amounted to about the same thing: letting you maintain the illusion that you’re “in touch” with everyone you care about and simultaneously allowing you to seek out companionship with strangers based on what movies/music they list as liking.

“He’s a surgeon who looks like a young George Clooney but oh – I could never date a guy who likes 311 and Matrix Reloaded. Our babies would have webbed feet.”