Solonor's Inkwell

Got up this morning to make coffee and spilled some of the grounds on my wife’s new mandolin. Thinking that I’d better not leave it like that, I took it over to the sink to brush it off…

Those of you who know what a mandolin is are already wincing, aren’t you? You know that I almost sliced my finger off.

Yeah, I don’t mean this kind of mandolin. I mean this kind of mandolin.

Owie.

Proving once more that I should never do anything (including making coffee) without first having coffee. (It’s hard to type without your middle finger, too.)

Thank God, no “Seasons in the Sun.”

I am both relieved and oddly disappointed by the bulk of the tapes, as nothing too embarrassing is revealed. Sadly, no radio tapes turned up. It’s mostly stuff I recorded from my LP’s. (Yes, Michele, there’s Frampton in there for you.) I just wanna know how the hell The Knack got in there (much less being on the same tape with AC/DC)! And why do I recall hating REO Speedwagon so much? They ain’t so bad.

Gah. I am old.

(Check out the odd mix on Tape 20…)

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Oh. My. God.

I hit the motherlode of teen angst (or “emo” as the kiddies call it these days). The next tape was recorded on the next to last day of school (1978?) by a kid who was moving away. He did one of these for each of his friends. On it, he lovingly (and semi-depressed) presents himself singing along with and explaining the deep inner meaning of some of his favorite songs… “Bohemian Rhapsody”…reading the lyrics and comparing the ones about dying to his imminent departure…ANGST!!… “You’re My Best Friend”… “I Can’t Stand the Rain” (Eruption??)… “Baby What A Big Surprise”… “Johhny B. Goode,” “California Girls,” and “Put Your Head On My Shoulder” by Leif Garrett!! AIEE!! This is followed (for some unfathomable reason) by a slowed-down, then speeded-up, then slowed-down playing of “My Little Town” by Paul Simon. WTF??

Then comes the kicker… he plays me a surreptitiously-gotten recording of a pair of girls yakking… one of them was someone I’d crushed on since elementary school… he wanted me to hear the specific reference to me and my pimply pursuit of her (and their OMG! *giggle* ick! reaction). Of course, this was all to help me understand what a dweeb I was being and that she wanted to be… wait for it… “just friends.”

Gee, thanks, buddy.

More heart-tugging tracks… “I Was Only Joking” (Rod Stewart)… then describing photos and reminiscing about stuff that I wasn’t even involved in… then, a terse “See ya tomorrow. Goodbye.”

I’m not sure that I want to hear what’s on the next tape… yikes.

You’re about to get a rare peek inside the mind of a teenage dweeb from the 70’s, as I delve into the sarcophagus. It’s going to be scary. I would suggest that those of you with weak constitutions (I’m looking at you, Serbia!) go out and enjoy your Saturday. The rest of you, please, keep the tittering and finger-pointing to a minimum.

Here we go! (Please, God, no K.C. and the Sunshine Band.)

Tape One: Written in scratchy pen strokes are words that make my heart sink–Neil Diamond. It also has a pair of small notes that say, “Recorded in J.F.-B.W. Studios, 1979” and “Re-mixed courtesy of Steve Moor”… and “Styx cont.” is alongside the Neil Diamond label. Very odd. Why would I have a tape from Ric the Schmuck’s private collection? Oh well, at least I can blame him for this one. I pop it in the daughter’s boombox and prepare for the worst.

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Here’s something for you to look forward to this weekend… remember that little hippy-flowered box of cassettes I mentioned yesterday? Well, though I gave them a cursory listen 4 years ago when I brought it back from Maine, I really didn’t delve into what’s on them. Since they are mostly tapes from a geeky teenager in the 70’s, I’m sure they contain all manner of embarrassment for your author should he decide to spend time listing their contents and publishing them on his blog.

(If I find Seasons in the Sun or Afternoon Delight, I’m killing myself, just so you know.)

My evil twin has posted an annotated photo of her desk junk. (Yes, I am proud to be represented among the flotsam and jetsam in her Pile O’Crap.™)

You can tell a lot about a person from the contents of the junk on their desk. I think that if you get a candid picture of desk junk, it’s one of the most revealing photos you can take. It represents all the stuff that we’re working on, pretend to be working on, ought to be working on, or think about working on but set aside to play City of Heroes (or insert your favorite time sucking monster).

I can’t find my camera right now, or I’d treat you to a pic of this disaster zone that surrounds me. However, for those that are interested (which I am told by my publicist is a really huge number so I don’t get depressed and fire him), here is a detailed description of all the junk on my desk. You’re welcome.

-pile of empty envelopes
We don’t need no stinking address book! We gots our pile of Christmas card envelopes with the return addresses right on ’em. (So, if you didn’t send me a Christmas card, don’t expect a letter from me any time soon.)

-CD label stomper (for stomping CD labels, duh)

-several manila folders with notes, character sketches, family trees, etc., for the book that I promised to write 20 years ago and have finally realized will never be completed but can’t bear to throw out

-a rabbit with big pointy teeth

-more miscellaneous bits of computer than I can identify (a ribbon cable here, an old video card there…)

-a Cleveland Indians spring training cap (‘cuz they didn’t sell Boston ones there, duh)

-a fiery looking “Nassau” baseball cap that Pepperkat brought back for me from her Girl Scout cruise ship trip (I almost never wear hats, btw)

-a broken set of expensive headphones (alongside a cheap pair with mic)

-a church directory (so I can call up people and beg them to let me borrow tools that I wind up not using for months)

-more CD’s than I can possibly enumerate (99-percent of them being games or game magazine samplers)

-books
The Autobiography of Charles Darwin (as boring as it sounds)
Eragon (which I haven’t read)
The Glorious Cause
The Writer’s Journey
The Writer’s Guide to Everyday Life in the Middle Ages

-a box of cassette tapes that was rescued from the obscurity of my past during a trip to Maine a few years ago… the box is rectangular, cardboard, and covered in the kind of flower-power pattern you see covering Goldie Hawn’s torso on a Laugh-In rerun… it contains about 30 tapes of awesome music that I recorded off the radio during Casey Kasem’s end-of-year countdown or from scratchy Led Zeppelin albums… it also was where I found a party tape wherein some yokel band named Revolver was featured

-a pile o’ blank cd’s, a 3-hole punch, used AA batteries, pizza coupons, sticky notes, a used phosphorescent glowy bracelet thingy, pens, pencils, sharpies…

On second thought, I think I’m just a pig who needs to clean his desk.