The Jolly Fisherman

"Is it that you never fall in love? Riding through a parish all your life. I'll be the only one undoing what you've done. Doubt if you'll come and see what has become of me." -Haircut 100, 'Milk Film'
Hey gang,

Sorry for the continued slowdown over here in Blogville. I'm grading final projects at the college, which is a little like what you might see in the new film Art School Confidential. Which I saw on Wednesday. I am a really huge fan of the comics of Daniel Clowes, but this movie...while interesting, and intermittently hilarious...is not really a good work of film for a number of reasons. Numero uno being that it is gripe driven... and I still believe art should be love driven, and failing that...sex driven.

I've also been real busy with rehearsals, and demos, and pow wows and everything surrounding starting a new band, with a new singer....which isn't so easy, when a lot of your life revolved around your old singer. So quality control, and evaluations are on-going, but I'm cautiously optimistic. It could be real good, it really could. And the picking of a name goes on. I (and you) are leaning towards The Haunted Hearts, which I'm hoping will end up seeming more like a good name for a crew of maudlin pirates, or a baroque scooter club, than a horrible highschool emo band, as one of you remarked.

Nothing else has really being happening for moi. I'm relatively obsessed with a long gone folk singer named Paul Clayton who recorded two records full of whaling songs, and has one of the most moving voices in music history. His life story is also so remarkably sad, as he was one of those immensely talented figures who the music industry often passes over to bring us people like Peter, Paul & Mary. I'm trying hard NOT to relate to him, since the poor soul killed himself by pulling an electric heater into the bath with him. How profanely beautiful is that? Or perhaps it is really just profane.

Hope you enjoy the random photos from my wandering around Long Island, which I do often when traffic back to NYC is more than I can bear. I promise to write again soon. To answer some really interesting viewer mail (Hi Daraka), and to try to orient myself to spring and weeping willow trees, and songs you hear in your head and feel in your throat, but that no one else can hear. Yet.

-MGjr