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Shitposting since 2005


And in honor of the day, the morning soundtrack:

And once again I am twenty years old, skimming over a vast sea of golden dunes in my landspeeder under a double sun in a hazy, wheat-colored sky…

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This piece of music burst into my life when I was still living in Tucson, a few months before relocating to San Francisco. There was a program of “Space Music” that aired on our local NPR FM station every Sunday night called Hearts of Space that I faithfully recorded onto cassette for later listening enjoyment. Novus Magnificat was the music I subsequently used for meditation for many years afterward, but the one instance of that mediation that really stands out in my memory was one afternoon in June or July 1986. I was floating on an air mattress in the swimming pool, my little tape walkman in a sealed plastic bag to prevent it from getting wet, headphones in place, and eyes closed.
All of a sudden I saw myself in San Francisco and I had just met Justin Banks, cover and featured model of the June 1986 issue of MEN. My heart fluttered.
It was a premonition that actually manifested about eighteen months later. The details of our meeting were very different from what I saw in my vision, but the fact that the meeting and subsequent brief affair happened at all still seems fantastical. Was that future already in place and my meditative state just allowed me a distorted glimpse into it, or did my meditation cause it? Was it all just sheer coincidence? I’ll never know. But I do know is that I came away that instant with the absolute certainty that eventually our paths would cross. I didn’t know where. I didn’t know when (especially since the actual timing and circumstances of my San Francisco move were still very nebulous), but I knew it would happen. Looking back at it all now while it’s true that our relationship that never turned into anything more than casual dating/fucking, much less the love-of-my-life thing that I’d hoped for while floating in that pool, Justin was a lesson—albeit a painful one—that I needed to learn. (And it wasn’t just “never date a porn star.”)
But back to Novus Magnificat, I had the pleasure of meeting Constance Demby in person a few weeks before I met Justin. Dave, a guy I’d been dating somehow managed to get us invited to the small recital she was holding one night at her home in Marin County.
It wasn’t a huge house, but the energy it contained was amazing. “Sparkly and Purple” are two words that even today, nearly 40 years later, best describe it. I remember several museum-quality crystals scattered around the living room, but the one that stands out the most in my memory of the evening was a three-foot-tall group of amethyst crystals that was standing off to the side of where she had her instruments set up. (Probably where the “sparkly and purple” impression came from come to think of it.)
She sat down to play and the room fell silent. When we left several hours later I won’t go so far as to say we were high, but we were definitely buzzing.
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When The Last Temptation of Christ originally opened on August 12, 1988, it was playing at the Northpoint Theater in San Francisco. This was not one of my usual movie venues in The City, but there was such buzz about the film I wanted to see it nevertheless. I don’t remember who I saw it with, although it was probably Philip, a very cute bear I was dating whom I met—at The Detour nonetheless—the night of the Pride Parade the previous June.
Philip is a story unto himself and maybe someday I’ll share it. He’s no longer with us, another victim of the early 90s, so I’ll be kind because I do have mostly fond memories of our time together.
Anyhow, the release of the film was highly controversial, drawing significant protests, which led Universal to release it six weeks earlier than originally planned. Despite opening in only 123 theaters across the United States and Canada, it grossed over $400,000 in its opening weekend.
Frankly, I’m surprised it grossed that much.
The film didn’t move me one way or another. The strongest memories I have of it (I only saw it that once) was of the dream sequence (?) Jesus was having as he hung on the cross wherein had gone on to live a “normal” life and raise a family, and the protestors who greeted us as we left the theater, threatening us with hellfire and eternal damnation.
I do remember laughing in their faces.
But the music was ambient and haunting, and that’s what prompted me to purchase (and recently repurchase) the CD. With a few exceptions, I’ve never been a fan of Peter Gabriel’s work, but for some reason Passion really captured me.
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I had a vague idea of how CDs were manufactured, having seen more than a few videos from back in the day. When this came up on my feed I almost dismissed it until I saw the date stamp. This was new. Things have changed a bit since the 80s. And it left me in awe.
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Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, I loved Orville’s album of duets, Stampede.
Cowboys Are Frequently Fond Of Each Other, Midnight Ride, the famous Glen Campbell song Rhinestone Cowboy, and You’re An Asshole I Can’t Stand You And I Want A Divorce, are probably my favorite tracks, but I have to say his latest album, Mule, grabs me in a way this one only brushes against me.
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Another lesser-known project by “The Godfather of EDM,” Giorgio Moroder. It was also the debut of Chris Bennet, whom he collaborated with on Giorgio & Chris the following year.
My two favorite tracks on the album harken from Side 2 of the original vinyl release: La Nuit Blanche and In Love With Love.
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The other day I was dusting in the Living Room and after I moved my big Yamaha (as in main component) CD player to get underneath it I went to put on some music and the drawer wouldn’t open. I know it wasn’t the belt because I had successfully changed that with the proper size and thickness a couple weeks ago and it had been working without any problem ever since. No, this was something new. I was able to pry the drawer open with my fingernail and it worked just fine afterward, but the next time I moved it the problem returned.
I finally got tired of dealing with it, so I popped the cover yesterday to see if I could determine what was happening. I had the cover off 30 seconds and I immediately identified the problem.
There’s a wide copper grounding strap that makes contact with the metal tray when it slides into place. The raised nubbin that makes the actual contact with the strap was getting snagged on the strap when the tray attempted to slide out.
When I changed the belt, I pressed down on the copper strap a little too forcefully, and since tolerances are everything in this equipment, it made contact just fine, but was too tight to let the drawer slide back out. I gently bent the piece back upward a hair’s breadth, and everything worked normally again; something I need to keep in mind in case I ever have to swap the drawer belt on this unit again.
I don’t know why this just started acting up, or why it worked fine and then stopped once the unit had been moved (probably because I haven’t used it but a couple times since I changed the belt, preferring instead to concentrate on my portable players) but it’s fixed now, and that’s good enough for me.
When I was doing some research the other day, I learned that the DAC (Digital To Analog Converter) in this player was actually made by Panasonic. Panasonic, not Yamaha itself or even Sony. Panasonic.
Why is this significant? This deck dates from the period that Technics/Panasonic were pushing their own “MASH” (“Multistage Noise Shaping,” a 1-bit digital-to-analog conversion technology developed by Technics/Panasonic to improve sound quality and reduce distortion in CD playback) chips—yet there is no “MASH” branding anywhere on this player.
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Yanni before he became YANNI and the caricature of all that was horrible about 80s New Age music. The second—and my first—of his albums holds a special place in my heart because it—along with Patrick O’Hearn’s Ancient Dreams were a gift from my ex the first Christmas we were in San Francisco. I hadn’t heard of either artist, but immediately fell in love with both.
I bought only two more of Yanni’s albums—Out of Silence and Chameleon Days—before he hooked up with Linda Evans and his music went to hell..
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Now I’ve got The Lonely Goatherd as an earworm the rest of the day.
No, not this version:

That file still makes me laugh.
I don’t remember the context under which I created it, other than the screaming goat was sort of an inside joke between myself and a coworker at DISH in response to something our horrible supervisor did.
Said coworker was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a work husband, but I cut off all contact after we moved back to Phoenix and he admitted he voted for Trump in 2016. It was kind of a surprise because he was a very liberal guy.
Gawd…I don’t even remember his name at this point.

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Chris is only one of two artists whom I’ve written (as in a handwritten, ink on paper) who has ever responded. For that reason alone, he remains one of my favorite Ambient/New Age artists
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Grace, at 78 years old, is right up there with the rest of the divas whom we embraced and provided the soundtrack of our lives in the 1980s. We can’t lose any more of them this year.
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…because these sellers are either on it, or are trying to support their habits.
$400 tops, even “new, unused” and with all the original accessories.
I want so badly to hit that “Message” button and ask,

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People don’t generally take me for a Pink Floyd fan, but oh yeah…
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Whatever happened to Pussy Tourette? An extensive internet search comes up with precious little. The most comprehensive thing I found was via grokpedia (including her real name, Mark Cliser, who, through further searching I learned is now 63 years old). Seems the last thing she released was EP1 in 2007—now only available for download via iTunes. There isn’t any physical media available for this release.
These albums prompt so many good memories of my life in SF during the 90s, including my return to The City in ’98 as I was winding my way through Oakland, just before I crossed the Bay Bridge.
I remember how scandalous the lyrics were considered at the time. Now you hear much worse on a daily basis.
And while you’re at it, GET OFF MY LAWN!
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I’m slowly backfilling my Loscil catalog and this has become one of my favorites.
And in case you haven’t noticed, this particular player, the D-EJ915 has also become my favorite portable. The overall design and choice of materials used, the build quality and the sound all contribute to that. Yeah, it uses rechargeable gumstick batteries, but even the crappy ones made nowadays still manage to keep it happily powered for a couple days’ listening sessions. And if those run out, I have the external AA battery case to connect in an emergency. (Can your music player running out of juice really be called an emergency?)
The 915 doesn’t have a built-in display but that’s proven to be less of a liability than I initially thought. The display on the supplied inline remote [one of Sony’s worst designs IMHO] supplies all the info and frankly after living with this player for a couple months now, I think if they’d designed a built-in display on the lid it would’ve really destroyed the aesthetics.
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