Job Interview A-Go-Go

So last week I had an interview, then a different phone interview and then a second different phone interview. Monday I have to go to Brooklyn for an in person interview, then Tuesday to Manhattan for a seperate in person interview (for a job I actually really, really want and am really, really qualified for - keep your fingers crossed).

We'll see how it goes. This week I just more or less hung out, wrote, and played video games. Call of Duty 3 is pretty good.

Hooray!

Anyone wanting to see a couple of pictures from my soon to be starmaking appearance in Wicked Pixel Cinema's RATLINE can click here for a set report I wrote this morning. I've got other pictures I can post later, but for now that's it, the WP guys are being fairly tight lipped about things until the movie is done and distribution is locked and I can't say I blame them.

In other news, Valentine's Day was good fun. We went with some friends to see the Friday The 13th remake, which was one of the ugliest movies (in terms of cinematography) I've seen in some time. I didn't care for it very much, and generally all I need to be happy with a movie is boobs and blood and this one had them in spades. Maybe I'm getting picky in my old age. After the movie we went for BBQ. So seeing as we didn't get any alone time on V-day itself, I'm taking Alison out for dinner tonight. Outback here we come!

Wanna know what she got me? Check it out...





Ten discs of musical history all lovingly packaged in a great hardbound case with a big fat full color book detailing Hank's life and work. Great, great stuff. There's a reason this collection won two Grammy awards. Generally the Grammy's are a bit of a joke but this time they were spot on in their choice for best retrospective collection. It's a fantastic set and an amazing Valentines Day gift. I'm stoked!

What else is new... oh, as of today I am gainfully unemployed and genuinely pretty happy about that. The last position just wasn't working out though I was able to leave on very good terms thankfully. The economy sucks right now but there are other jobs out there and I'm confident that I'll find one that suits me better than the last one soon enough. My spirits are high, my resume is polished and I'm even trying to remain clean shaven for interviews (ok, maybe that last part is a lie). In the interim, as I look, I can get caught up on some reading, more writing, and a few other side projects I haven't had time for yet. Oh, and I can finally practice on that bass I got for Christmas.

Life is good. Really, really good.

Lux Interior Has Left Us.

Known to those who 'didn't get it' as Erick Lee Purkhiser and born 10/21/46, the man we all know (or at least those of us who 'do get it' know) as Lux Interior passed away this morning from a pre-existing heart condition.

It's probably a miracle he lasted as long as he did but that doesn't numb the sting. Those who know me well know well my dedication to The Cramps. I've almost gotten into fist fights defending their merits and would gladly take a punch or two even now that I'm into my 30s should someone trash talk the titans of trash (there's some irony there, you figure it out). They were one of those few bands that spoke to me, and if that's a black spot on my record, so be it, I really don't care.

Anyone who had the privelage, and I use that term literally, knows that Lux was THE best front man to have ever walked the face of the earth. Whether he wore a leather cat suit, a mini skirt, a funeral suit or nothing at all (his natural hair color was not black) the man had presence and a voice that could rock your ass into the ground and leave it there for dead. The one two punch of his sleazy, swampy vocals and the fuzzed out guitar sludge of his wife, one Poison Ivy, taught this boy at the age of 20 what real rock and roll was all about one cold and substance abused night in Toronto, first year of college. Later that night Jim Zubkavich would get his ass kicked by security, Mark Tolch would let Lux wipe his groin sweat off with his mesh shirt (long story) and I'd sing a duet with Lux to their cover of Hasil Adkins (RIP) SHE SAID. A moment I will NEVER forget. What did she say, Lux? No one ever did answer my question.

I saw them three more times after that. Once more in Toronto and then twice in Portland (once on my birthday where I got into a fight with a dirty hippy... and won). And now I have to content myself with the fact that I got to see them four times and won't get a fifth. This hits me hard. Some people are supposed to be immortal, untouchable if you will. Lux was one of them. And now he's gone, victim to a heart condition, not even something as 'rock n roll' as choking on your own vomit or OD'ing. Not that that would have made him more impressive - the man did what he did better than anyone - but c'mon.... he was tough. A heart condition?

I prefer to think he got killed by a trio of tough talking race car driving big busted women, or maybe a chef bent on paying cannibalistic tribute to his Egytian gods, or better yet, he simply wandered into a swamp somewhere and sunk to the bottom. Any of those would be more appropriate than a f*cking heart condition.

At any rate, I have to go to work in the morning. This has hit me harder than it should have. Alison is asleep while I'm sitting here, drinking (what else?) red wine straight out of the bottle and watching the Cramps play a show in NYC from 1981. I'll sleep when I'm tired. Right now I'm paying tribute to the man whose music introduced me to the films of Russ Meyer, Herschell Gordon Lewis, Marilyn Chambers (I still wanna know what's behind the green door, Lux!) and how made me realize just what a treasure bikini girls with machine guns really are.

R.I.P., Lux. You really were the hottest thing from the north to come out of the south and there are definitely some of us who will always remember you.

I haven't been hit this hard by a 'celebrity' passing since Johnny died.

Hot Sauce, Blossom, and 3-D Sex Comedies.

Wanna know what I was up to this weekend? Sure you do. I put together a blog post containing Ian Miller's fantastic interview with the stars of 90s sitcom Blossom. I know you wanna hear it. So go here and do just that. It's way more fun than it ever should have been. Kudos to you, Evil Ian.

I also went to the Fed Ex depot (which is situated besides a crazy creepy massive old Jewish cemetery in the southern part of Queens) and picked up some packages. I got Being There with Peter Sellers on Blu-ray and the Shout! Factory release of the awesome The Stewardesses In 3-D. Hard to believe this classic drive-in sex comedy is celebrating its 40th anniversary but it is. It's older than I am. That said, it's a fun movei that proves to be even more enjoyable in 3-D for reasons of a primarily anatomical nature. Zoom!

I cooked dinner for Alison and I tonight. Nothing fancy, just some corn, some fries, and some grilled ham steaks. A friend of ours, Mr. Chuck Hell, makes his own hot sauce and when he was in NYC last year visiting he gave us some. I cautiously put some on my ham tonight, figuring it would burn like the Dickens but was relieved to find out that it was time to slather it on there. Yeah, it makes you sweat, but the sauce complimented the smokey grilled ham perfectly - so much so in fact that I was tempted to go get more ham to cook up. Yum. I'm hungry just thinking about it.

Aside from that, it was a nice mellow weekend of movie watching and Strongbow. I took in Super Soul Brother, Death Promise and rewatched both Singapore Sling and Juon because Alison had never seen them. They both hold up well for different reasons. King Kong on Blu-ray is a nice treat as well. Stunning transfer.

Take this job and shove it!

That's what I said last week. Well, not in so many words, but I resigned from my current position. It wasn't working out and while they wanted me to stay on and tried to talk me out of it, I'd made up my mind. The pros were not outweighing the cons by any stretch at all and I simply couldn't travel like they wanted me to.

So soon, I'll possibly be unemployed during the nastiest recession to hit the country in half a century or more. A scary prospect. That said, I've had two phone interviews with a company that said they want to bring me in for a third interview. That could shape into something and is promising, at least. I can't put all my eggs in that one basket though, so until something is firm, I keep applying.

We'll see how it goes.

Wanted Man In Oregon...

So despite the fact that I have proof that I paid the state of Oregon the $71 I owed them for the 2007 tax year in Feb. of 2008, long before it was due, they've served me with a warrant. Over $71. And they've sent me paperwork saying they're going to garnish my US Bank checking account - which has been closed for over a year.

You know, I miss my friends back there dearly, and I miss the delicious beer and the record stores and all that rad stuff, I can't help feeling that the state, on a governmental level at least, has really got its head up its own ass.

At least I can tell people that I'm on the run from the law now. If nothing else, it makes for a good story.

Lamenting The Demise Of The Local Record Store

So a few recent trips back to Canada really hammered home for me the fact that, at least in the Niagara region, virtually all of the local record stores that I shopped at as a kid are gone. Not moved, but gone. Not just the independant stores like the late, great Poptones on Queen St. in Niagara Falls or the awesome, if snobby, Station To Station which was just off of St. Paul St. in St. Catharines but even most of the 'chain' stores like Sunrise and Sam The Record Man are gone. Sam's hurt a lot, as when Alison and I went to Toronto, the big building with the neon spinning records was still there but it was empty, gutted, and the neon had long since stopped brightening up the Young St. strip.

NYC's still got some indy stores in the East Village and the two Virgin Megastores, but rumors abound that the Virgin locations will be closing up shop this year and who knows how long the indy joints will last, what with the Village becoming a playground for the rich much like the rest of Manhattan.

While hanging out with my friend Mark in Canada, I'd hoped to find the new Hanson Brothers. In fact, I took Alison all over Toronto looking for it prior. Neither trip did the trick, I wound up having to get it online. And that's fine, I got it for half of what I would have paid for it at a brick and mortar store, but it really does take a lot of the fun out of it.

Music junkies know that half the enjoyment comes from the thrill of the hunt or from finding who-knows-what in a used bin in some dingy, stinky dirty store. Online is too easy. I held off on buying that record online until I was sure I wasn't going to find it locally. I had fun looking for it and picked up some other odd titles while zipping around Southwestern Ontario, Toronto, Hamilton, and NYC in search of the disc. But it's sad that I never actually found it, and instead, found that so many record stores were just gone. Living in Portland, I was sheltered from that. That city was, at least when I moved away last year, a veritble MECCA for record shopping - but that city is the exception and not the rule.