a plea for assistance

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If anybody out there in lacunaeland has some spare space/bandwidth to host MP3s (preferably a full-on .mac account), that would be fantastic. Email me and let me know. I've got a new round of vintage '80s and '90s indie singles on hand, and I'm working on the permissions right now, but my .mac trial has expired...

And why no entries, and why no music, and why no nothing, your mother and I are getting all worried about you, you ask? Because I'm the main ingredient in some recipe that calls for me to be crunched, fricasee'd, drenched and smothered, all at once. And to continue to house-hunt. The last couple of days' worth of windowshopping and wall-tapping have just been dismal--visited one cute little place directly across the street from the Ch√Ęteau Crack-Ho (one of those vintage Route 66-type hotels that looks awfully quaint if you drive by it quickly but has clearly seen MUCH better days), another that suggested that its owners had seen I, Claudius on Masterpiece Theatre under the impression that it was a documentary about redecorating, another that we thought This Might Just Very Well Be It Perhaps until we found out the next day that what we thought was an innocuous feature of the neighborhood was actually not so innocuous, another that I know in my brain was actually a really lovely building but just had something about its aesthetic that didn't make me happy (although by that point I was frustrated enough that I don't think I'd have liked anything). I keep thinking: If only I had taken those economics classes like my parents told me to! If only I had swallowed my pride and become the assistant of the guy who got formally reprimanded for using the company helicopter too much! If only I had taken that right turn at Highway 80! etc.

On the music front: It occurred to me at a wedding I went to a couple of years ago that the songs that ALWAYS get played at big happy gatherings are songs with specific dances attached to them. Everybody: Y-M-C-A! I take a train, I take a train, I take a train! Hey macarena! etc. So, it struck me, the way to rake in publishing royalties forever is to write a song with a great and simple dance that goes with it. I am, as it turns out, not the first fool to have had this idea. Mr. Fine Wine's premium CD-R for this year's WFMU marathon just arrived in the mail the other day: The Shing-A-Ling Ain't the Thing: 28 Soul Dance Sensations That Didn't Exactly Sweep the Nation. Somebody, somewhere, thought that the Peanut Duck was totally going to catch on. Lisa and I attempted to follow Johnny Larand & the Internes' instructions on how to do the Eel in the car tonight, and collapsed into giggles.

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This page contains a single entry by Douglas published on September 18, 2004 1:07 AM.

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