Still reelin’ from the amazing weekend filled with Shaefer beer/delicious Chesapeake Bay craps/female masseuse company of last weekend. Kilmarnock, VA is a total shit hole without the wonderful Bay experience replete with canoes and fuckin’ huge jellyfish. I get creeped out so large with the fear of the unknown pain of open water. Took a Sunday morning-hung-over canoe trip out to a shit infested remote island that was completely surreal. The paddle back ended up bein’ nothin’ but a leg mutilating experience. Fuck it.
THOMAS JEFFERSON SLAVE APARTMENTS. Can I just lay it bare? This is THE band of the 90’s. Old bitter Ron House coming out of his so what folkish band Great Plains, getting straight bothered with his new band. His tales of drunken episodes in Columbus, Ohio are just perfect for this dude who is sick of talkin’ with dude freshly broken up with lame ass chicks. House throws himself into the tuneage backed by a guy that knows how to use a wah-wah pedal that doesn’t annoy the shit out of me. This is destitute music ladies and gents. Pissed off and embittered, TJSA plows through three albums of beautiful frustration. The leftover waste of this band is pretty much non-existent. NOTHING out there sounds like these dudes Thanks Siltbreeze/Bag of Hammers for the early 7 inches that opened me up to this band. No Homo.
will get to more, but wanting to lay this down. the straight desperation of Ron House, based on sexual conquest on all of the Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartment albums is hilarious and scary and enthralling all wrapped up in one grossly indulgent package of three albums. Its a bro that has put himself as the quintessential barfly that makes our weekend excursions seem like a pitiful mess that it can truly be. I can’t believe I missed out on this as an adolescent. Micky Rouke be damned, this shit it a total bummer. I LOVE IT.
“An odd, random thought entered Joe’s mind. Possibly it had emerged because of the discussion about Christ. ” ‘Worry,’ ” he said aloud, echoing the robot’s term. “I think I know what you mean. A strange thing happened to me, once, back on earth. A very small thing. I got down a cup from the cupboard, a cup I hardly ever used. In it I found a spider, a dead spider; it had died because there was nothing for it to eat. Obviously it had fallen into the cup and couldn’t get out. But here’s the point. It had woven a web, at the bottom of the cup. As good as a web as it could weave under the circumstances. When I found it — saw it dead in the cup, with its meager, hopeless web — I thought, It never had a chance. No flies would ever have come along, even if it had waited forever. It waited until it died. It tried to make the best of the circumstances, but it was hopeless. I always wondered, Did it know it was hopeless? Did it weave the web knowing it was no use?” Joe Fenwright The Galatic Pot-Healer Philip K. Dick