Saturday, February 13, 2010


Tomatoes are my favorite of all foods. I will eat them hot, cold, cooked, raw, chopped, stewed, blended into juice or gazpacho.
I can go for days without coffee, weed, sex, or NPR. But I cannot live a day without tomatoes in one form or another.

I hate Facebook, Myspace, Twitter. It takes up too much of my time and doesn't really give anything back. Goddamn the individual who developed iPhone applications for these social abominations. They have made addicts and monsters of all of us.

I'm standing on stage. I look out into the audience. At least seven people have faces aglow from their fucking iPhones. I'm thinking "douchebags." Then I'm thinking "Fuck. Do I do that? I bet I don't even realize it when I do. Shit."

On one hand you couldn't pay me to move back to Lancaster, PA. On the other hand, I'd give almost anything to be sitting in the familiar comfort of DipCo with Loretta and Chad, drinking my home brew of Yuengling lager, and discussing the similarities of stoner rock to early 70's prog, or some mickey mouse bullshit that doesn't give me gray hair and bum me out.

I hate shopping. I have no idea what's hip or trendy and can't be bothered to give a damn. Sometimes I take the bus to the Cambridgeside Galleria because that's where the nearest Apple store is (fuckers). Once I walk through the main entrance I am bombarded by lights, noise, mall cops on Segways (I shit you not). the way, why was Polyphonic Spree such a big deal? I find that shit there are all these people in the food court, stuffing themselves on cheap renditions of Indian Food, and sandwich wraps that are advertised as being "healthy alternatives". well, compared to McDonald's or Cinnabon, pretty much anything is. A majority of these people are overweight.

There are kiosks where early 20-something males (usually black or hispanic) are wearing crisp button-down shirts with slick ties, trying to sell imitation Ray Bans, or plastic iPhone cases with Playboy bunnies on them. Or perhaps they're just trying to sign you up for some T-Mobile action. Either way, it all sucks. And yet, there they are, people lining right up, droppin' cash on this bullshit.

I'm standing on the upper level, looking around. Feeling a little overwhelmed and confused. I think about the time, a couple years ago, when I had come here to renew my license. I was high as a kite. I had spent the day recording at home, and afterward, smoked a bowl while reading steamy emails from a married man I met at a Black Angels show a couple weeks prior. Somehow this memory is very nice to me.

Certainly if I had money I'd buy timeless pieces for my wardrobe: things of high quality, made with natural fibers, made to last. At what point did Levi's completely jump-the-shark, or rather, shit-the-bed? I recently bought a pair of 504s, which, to my pleasant surprise, are the best cut of jeans for my tiny waist, wide hips, big ass, and short legs. Their weakness is that the "denim" is thin as the shitty jeans you find at places like Urban Outfitters or H&M, made in China (or Indonesia, or Sri Lanka, or fuckin' Danny the douchebag's basement) and disposable. Perfect, I suppose, for people with disposable income who don't like to do laundry. I've only had them for a couple months and there's a hole where I keep my house keys. I remember buying Levi's 501s back in the late 80's and wearing them well into the mid 90s, and loving them until they fell apart. There was enjoyment in breaking-in good jeans and good shoes. Now you pay three times as much for pieces of shit that are mass produced to look broken-in and will fall apart after 4 washes.

I miss working at PÄ“tsi Pies. I didn't make much money, but boy did I love that job. I call or text her now and then to see if she just needs a little help with an early morning scone shift. There's something so meditative and centering about baking. I loved preparing pie shells. I also loved frosting the coconut cupcakes. I loved pretty much everything I did at that bakery, including cleaning out the walk-in. I took pride in it. I loved being around Renee. I can't put my finger on it. I love baking and cooking as much as I love making music. Sometimes I like it more because I can achieve a finished product quicker. I often thought that if I couldn't make a living doing music I could be very happy working in a bakery, or running my own ice cream business somewhere warm. A big problem of mine is that I lack patience and focus (can't you tell?). Though some of my friends would say it's just because I'm a typical Sagittarius.

Oh, tomatoes.
Tomatoes on toast with goat cheese.
Sun dried tomato pesto with black pepper fettuccine from Dave's Pasta.
Stewed tomatoes with mussels, garlic and white wine.
Bloody Marys with fresh blended tomato juice.
Heirloom tomatoes with mayo, sea salt and cracked pepper on 7-grain.
Tomatoes, warm, dusty, off the vine.
Rub it on my sweaty t-shirt and make it mine.

No comments:

Post a Comment