Girl Where You At

Caught in a fictional world of my own creation...I have not abandoned this blog or promised projects...but my mind pulls me a myriad of ways.

In the meantime, the top 5 Beatles bass lines:

1. "Rain"

2. "Taxman"

3. "I Want You (So Heavy)"

4. "Hey Bulldog"

5. "Something"

May I Interest You In Some Words?

Reviews of Super Group and Free Time by Shonen Knife will appear in this space this week, as the work at the factory never really ends, does it?

Daily updates on this blog have given way to more ambitious, wordier projects, and I don't see this changing anytime soon. Off-line writing is taking up most of my time (as I feel it should) so when I put something up here, it's got to be worth my efforts. Discography reviews, Peanuts reviews...big girls do things big, right?

The sequel to No Setlist will be called Spirit Desire, and two things have to happen before it can be published: I need to attend/write up 'round 20 more SY shows and I need to have my first novel published. I'll begin shopping 415 101 next month. Will it get accepted by a publisher before I reach my show goal? I dare not dream.

Where I've Been

Over a month since my last post...but I have decent reasons.

Publishing "No Setlist" did wonders for my confidence, and along with that boost in esteem came a boost in my writing. My fiction trilogy--which took a backseat while I put NSL together--regained my attention. As of now, the first of these novels--the long-in-gestation "415 101"--is done. I now am preparing to contact publishers. That's vague, and deliberately so. I don't want to get too excited about the baby steps every author must take when selling other people on their work as viable.

I'll be back Monday. No, really.

Aw, c'mon...I mean it.

The Summer of Jenn

My West Coast jaunt included seven Sonic Youth shows in six states, meeting both Lee Ranaldo and Steve Shelley (including a two-hour convo with the latter and other friends in a Portland bar), and two emotionally charged incidents registering at the extreme ends of the spectrum. Neither of which, clearly, I am ready to discuss on a public forum.

But I can tell you this...with "No Setlist" a pure hit, it's only inspired me to get my other stuff--my first novel, first volume of poetry--out there. I think it's that time.

A No Setlist Update

I've found an online publisher and am now using Microsoft Word to transfer and modify (appearance only, not the actual text...I have to live with that) my manuscript. Afterwards, I'll create the cover using the provided template and collage photo by one Patrick S.

To elucidate: I've seen 40 Sonic Youth shows since 1998. This book is a journal of those shows and times.

To give you a little insight, here are the page counts of my chapters so far:

ABOARD A LEAKY VESSEL--20 pages
THIS EXPERIENCE BLUE--8 pages
SCENE--5 pages
SHE'S ILLIN'--6 pages
BANANAFISH--6 pages
SO LONG SUCCOR--3 pages
HOT DOGS AND COOL SHEEP--11 pages
NATTY BOHS AND RATTY CLOTHES--6 pages
NOT EXACTLY HUMAN--5 pages
ON DISPLAY NOW--4 pages
PUNCH N TARTS--11 pages
MY MOM THE MULTI-INSTRUMENTALIST--3 pages
IGNOBLE CHATS--8 pages
STANDING AND STINKING--10 pages
THE OVERWHELMED UNDERGROUND--24 pages
EVERYBODY'S SWEATIN' AT ME--7 pages
THE FLYING ACE VS. THE 9:30 CLUB--12 pages
KILL TIME--45 pages (damn near a novella)
RARING ROCK--4 pages
LOVE SICK--8 pages
PIPELINE--15 pages
REBOARDING A LEAKY VESSEL--12 pages
YES SETLIST--4 pages
A DAY AT THE FACTORY--4 pages
THE LUCK OF DIRT--6 pages

So that's 247 pages so far...it looks like this will go between 300-320. Fucking coolness.

Enter the Wii-Tang: 36 Chambers--Black Belt in Determination

The Toys R Us by the Valley Mall is, by and large, weaksauce. This is less the fault of the store as it is of the toy industry in general. Too many plastic guns, WWE belts and Bratz. Don't even get me started on the "updated" board games: Monopoly with plastic cards instead of paper bills; Trouble replacing the "Pop-o-matic" dice bubble with number cards. Unthinkable, this world.

It felt every bit of the 36 degrees that various bank clocks insisted when Patrick eased his Honda into a parking space mid-lot. Only an extraordinary siren call could pull us from first a warm bed, then a warm car.

We took our spots in line along the front of the building, fifteenth and sixteenth bodies respectively. Directly in front of us were two older men with firefighter moustaches, one with a Boston accent and the other wearing shorts. Meanwhile everyone else is bundled up in thick coats. The people in the very front came off as white trash with white collars, and they all seemed to have familiarity beyond the expected bonding of people who've shared extensive time in a waiting line. Thankfully, they never attempted to engage us, save for the guy who proclaimed to any and all, "Does anyone want any peanuts? 'Cause we're all nuts!" Hilarity, thy name is...whatever that guy's name is.

Also tickling: the people who arrived right after us. Just a mother and two young sons. It was unspectacular until the mom--who looked rather like an anorexic Billie Jean King--asked me some pointed questions: how long has the people up in front been here? How many units is the store stocking?

I gave honest answers. The woman who represented the head of our snake had been there since 7 PM last night. (She was in a cloth folding chair wearing a large hooded coat that practically swallowed her upper body, giving the impression from a distance of a pair of legs propped up on a seat.) Further, I had heard rumors of anywhere from 10 to 40 Wii's being available. I believed not one of those figures I'd heard, and even took care to tell the woman this in a disclaiming "purple monkey dishwasher" tone.

After brief conference with her boys, she led them back to the car, off into that decent morning.

The temperature and tedium teamed to birth typical "J and P Show" shenanigans as we stood there waiting to find out the extent of our luck. Peering through the store windows became a much more enjoyable distraction than, say, gazing at the line or surveying the Valley Mall to the left.

"Look up at the top shelf. It's a Vader head. I want a Darth Vader head. A Wii and a Vader head."

"I think it's a pinata!"

"Hold your wee for a Wii. Remember that? Genius. Like a kid's worth that. 'I believe the children are the future/Teach them well and let them hold their own damn urine'."

I did in fact semi-croon that last part, but kept it soft enough so I didn't entertain/annoy beyond my intended audience. Some people though, they just can't help it.

It started at a quarter to eight. That classically peeving blare of a car alarm. Most of us in line--by that swollen to fifty bodies--were little more than bemused. After three minutes of constant scree, however, the poor car owner's problem took on "$100,000 grand prize on America's Funniest Videos" status. (I was totally ready for the small dog a couple in line brought with them to break off in a mad dash and knock over one of the kids waiting with mommy and/or daddy.) Silently, save for a few throaty chuckles, we watched as the driver fumbled first underneath the wheel, then finally under the hood. His ministrations resulted in aggravation rather than abeyance, however, as the alarm now bleated forth in a polka-esque rhythm. The end finally came when a Good Samaritan shed from the line and went over to assist. From beginning to end, the saga of Car Alarm Guy took ten minutes. Six hundred seconds closer to a Wii.

After 8, two red-shirted employees came out to exalted fanfare. They passed out tickets that would be handed in at the register for a Wii console. Once Patrick had it in his hands, my shoulders and back lost all tension, a palpable release that allowed me to breathe in the refreshing properties of the chilled air rather than guard against it.

Everyone in that line got a Wii. The store had 99 for sale, more than enough for every single person outside. Big fat Darwin Award to Billie Jean King and her sons.

They took customers in groups of five at a time. What a joy it was to step in a warm store and get what we came for. Well, almost. No Super Mario Galaxy or Twilight Princess or Wario Warez, but we did pick up the Wii Play (a bargain with the extra Wii-mote).

I'm pleased to say that based off of nothing more than two rudimentary sporting games, the Wii is a fantastic investment. I have a basic-ass Sony 23-inch TV to put the sensor bar atop, and the controls respond wonderfully.

Wii Sports comes with the console, and offers baseball, golf, tennis, bowling and boxing. Tennis is my runaway favorite, where you operate both players in a doubles match. The Wii-mote is sensitive enough to demand you treat it like a real racket, not just flail wildly. Boxing provides maybe the best overall workout, as it is the only game to require both the nunchuk and remote. Golf is, well, as infuriatingly addictive as its real-life counterpart.

Wii Play is nine short games designed to familiarize the player with the controls. The standouts are the shooting stage (Duck Hunt meets Hogan's Alley) and the billiards stage. For brain games, try Patrick's favorite, wherein you match a contorted "Mii" figure inside descending bubbles. Challenging!

To make the day even greater, later on that afternoon the family got together at my oldest sister's house to throw a surprise party for my mother on her 69th birthday. All the kids pitched in to buy her a round trip air ticket to her hometown of Louisville, where the majority of her sisters and brothers still live. This was her first birthday without her husband, so it meant the world to make her smile.

Nintendo Wii Hagerstown

Enter the Wii-Tang: 36 Chambers--Approaching the Dojo

Oh mighty Wii...fifth console in Nintendo's world-altering history. So innovative, with the Wii-mote and "nunchuk" controllers demanding actual physical involvement, creating an nearly un-American situation for the average red-white-and-blue gamer, what with standing whilst playing being a frequent requirement for optimum play.

Oh mighty Wii...how dare you be $250 bucks in a world where Sony is hemorrhaging money with a Playstation 3 asking price of $600?

A dearth of the system--in Hagerstown and virtually everywhere else--was to be expected, as consoles of any considerable appeal will be popular for the holidays. Add in the recent release of Super Mario Galaxy, the latest stunner in a legendary series, and the demand for these light white barbarians in Kali's realm was comparable to that which met its initial launch. It was, in fact, the enduring Plumber of Salvation that spurred Patrick and I to participate in something I had previously never taken part in: waiting in the early morning frigid cold for a goddamn video game console. (Patrick had experience in this area several years ago re: Star Wars prequel toys, even getting a quote in the Washington Post. I'd post a scan of the article, but Patrick is experiencing reconciliation difficulties with his young nerdy days of sour cream and onion and roses.)

It started in a kiosk at the EB Games in the Valley Mall. As we walked by the store, I chanced to glance a young man in front of a station holding the telltale nunchuk. Neither 'Trick or myself had ever laid hands on a Wii before, salivating from afar. After a few minutes more shopping, the barrier was breached--only to find that an even more youthful male had taken the place of the previous figure I'd witnessed in thrall to the game onscreen. Said game being the game--Super Mario Galaxy.

It was jointly exciting and exasperating to stand behind this boy--no more than 6 years old--and gaze on as he stumbled his way through a title that held little more for his young mind than bright colors, constant motion, jaunty audio and lots of jumping. I'm not saying he was just bashing buttons and wasting time, but the learning curve is certainly a tad steeper for the small steppers, and the big children (ahem) were chomping at the bit with teeth fine-honed from years of gameplay. After a few more minutes, the lad put down the controllers and picked up his heavy orange jacket from the carpeted EB floor. Almost instantly, then, Patrick swooped in and took over, not even allowing the slightest possibility for intrusion on our rightful space.

Each of us took turns approximately 5 minutes in length. This was more than sufficient to cement SMG as a must-have gaming experience, and thus, the Wii as a necessity. The combined factors of price, improved titles, and quick comfort with the unique controls left little choice. As I did Patrick one better and mastered the trampoline jump, he went up front to inquire on the Wii.

"He said they'll have them in Black Friday, and they open at 6."

This seemed dandy, if a ways off. I mean, six whole friggin' days. Mere moments after Patrick had returned to the kiosk (right after I had blasted Mario off into outer space for more gravity-defying adventures), a woman's voice piped gently behind us.

"Are you looking for the Wii?"

It was an older woman, in her early sixties perhaps, free of gray and stoop, but possessed nonetheless of that intangible quality of certain elderly citizens which suggests that they keep Polaroid pictures of their unsuspecting neighbors in Wal-Mart bags hidden in a locked treasure chest draped with a homemade Washington Redskins quilt. Not crazy, exactly, but rather intensely unorthodox in the face of death.

"Toys R Us will be selling them tomorrow at seven o'clock", she continued, keeping her voice low enough for just the three of us. She then continued on her way, checking out the games for sale on the nearby wall. There was no moment of epiphany between Patrick and I just then, however, as I was preoccupied with the wonder of Mario walking down and around the sides of celestial bodies.

Finally, I was killed off by incidental contact with caterpillar ass. How humiliating!

In the car ride home, Sonic Youth's Goo blasting, it was mutually decided that we should partake in this upcoming madness. We should damn well go to Toys R Us and stand out for at least a couple hours in the testes-freezing western Maryland weather with freaks we don't know from a paint can for the (possible) privilege of getting face-mushed and lung-punched by some mother of three who really should have shown the same vim, vigor and determination to using birth control.

"We have to try."

So we would.

Nintendo Wii Hagerstown Super Mario Galaxy