Effluvia

Among other places, Sonya and I went to Shangri-La Records today. It's a tiny shop, but they've got some great stuff -especially if you like Memphis music, both old and new. And they do mail order, too, for all my out-of-town readers.

The Gothic Babe Of The Week is usually sexy unless, you know, she's missing a limb or something (true story!).

My former employer. That work is all mine, basically, and it's hardly been touched since I left. They must miss me so.

Our friend Jayne (who obviously has far too much time on her hands) put up some pictures of us from the London trip.

Bygone Days
Uncensored!

75 YEARS AGO
April 16, 1925

Adolph Steuterman, organist of Calvary Episcopal Church in Memphis, who gave the dedicatory recital on the new organ in the Methodist Church of Canton, Miss., today returned to Memphis. Selections included "In A Gadda Da Vida," "Knights in White Satin," and, in a moment that brought the crowd to it's feet, a unique organ rendition of Charlie Daniel's "The South's Gonna Do It Again."

"Yee-hah!" Steuterman said after the performance.

Siobhanorama

So I read this and it just hurts my fuckin' heart, you know, 'cause a friend is obviously feeling bad. And I want to tell her that "not all guys are dicks" but I think about it for a minute and, yeah, most guys are pretty high-level pricks. I don't even like guys that much - give me a choice between hanging with the guys or the girls and I pick the girls every time. Guys, on average, just seem to have so much to prove. I don't know why that is. And most of them are perfectly happy to spend their whole life proving it. I think from this springs NASCAR racing, professional wrestling, Rush Limbaugh and..well, lots of other things that suck.

So I have no advice. I just worry.

So today worked out pretty much exactly like I thought. I visited the family and I got for lunch. We ate it and played dominos. They were amused by my trip to New York - and the fact that I never told them I was leaving. I gave my mom twenty bucks and she seemed happy about it.

Glenda retired early and I know money is a little tight. It's weird, giving your parents money. I don't resent it or anything - God knows she spent tons of money on me, sending me to overpriced schools and keeping me clothed and whatnot. If she needs something then I'm going to give it to her. And I won't miss twenty bucks. It's an odd role-reversal, though. I felt good about it. Really, it's a debt you can't repay, you know?

And Sonya and I went vinyl shopping. No major purchases, just some local music singles, Kate Bush's greatest hits, Nerf Herder's latest, Tin Machine...fun stuff. I've been dying to buy some records since I saw High Fidelity, anyway.

We stopped by Baskin Robbins on the way home. Sonya had a sundae. I wanted this straberry shortcake thing they had, like, four signs up for, but when I ordered it I was curtly informed that "we don't have that anymore." I left in a huff.

I did the taxes, too, and billed for the freelance work I've been doing. Surprisingly pleasant and boring, overall. I apologize for not being more interesting. How could I make it more interesting?

Okay, we were leaving Last Chance records when...we were attacked by space monkeys! Warrior space monkeys! With laser guns and knives and pointy teeth and spiky tails! Thousands of them, darkening the skies of Cooper-Young!

Without a moment's hesitation Sonya whipped out the Uzi she keeps in her tasteful little purse and started strafing the sky! Warrior space monkey fell like a shit-flinging hailstorm!

"Go for the big gun in the car, Harold!" she yelled, "I'll cover you!"

I dived, rolling under the razor-sharp claws of a particularly large monkey, and opened the trunk of the Eclipse. Within seconds I had the big modified helicopter doorgun on its stand, crouched, and sprayed deadly lead into the sky! More monkeys fell!

Sonya, her ammo spent, wrestled a laser-rifle from the dead and twitching talons of one of the fallen monkeys and proceeded to carve through the simian invaders, leaping to the roof of the car as she did so. I went back to the trunk and came out with a case of fusion grenades, which I merrily lobbed down the gullet of any monkey that came to close.

Sonya, the laser-rifle glowing cherry-red in her hands, took aim at the biggest flying monkey, who was commanding his troops with a series of hoots and gobbles. Direct hit! Monkey guts flew and spattered the asphalt of Cooper Street as the warrior space monkeys sounded the retreat, winging their way back to whatever alien monkey-hell had spawned them. The last one, flying east, shook his clawed fist at us before turning away. Sonya sliced him neatly in two with the laser and we watched him fall towards the fairgrounds.

"Looks like humans win the day this time," Sonya said, jumping down and blowing smoke from the barrel of her rifle.

"Yes," I agreed, nodding gravely, "but that won't be the last we hear of the space monkeys."

We drove away from the gathering crowd, humanity saved once again from its chimpanzee forbearers - but for how long?