What's that I hear? Someone having fun?
Posts likely updated throughout the day
30-Mar-2023: Neon Knights (Heaven & Hell album)
Fam & Friends:
Home now after—what?—five days in hospital. Thanks for reaching out and sending Get Well wishes, etc. I owe most of you details, I know. I didn't feel like communicating much during the last several days. I'll say Rachel was—as always, of course—the best partner someone could ask for in such circumstances. All y'all checking in on her, too, was a great medicine for me; a balm: the knowledge she is surrounded by so much tangible, action-orientated love & support¹ should she ever need & decide to call on it.
I have several comical stories about the whole affair. (Always try & spin gold where & when you can, folks.) One I'll share here: I logged to the internet once while in hospital and used that time to correct two typos on this website I found last Friday. Sad!!
You and I, by my count, we've danced closely four times now. One day your powers will charm me away from the crowds of revelers, lure me from the merriment, out of that metaphoric gymnasium and into the backseat of that black '78 Camaro waiting in an enshadowed netherworld high school parking lot where I'll then slip into oblivion. That may be tomorrow. Or next month, or a dozen years from now. It is, apparently, however, not today. ✌
¹ not token gestures, more than simply writing or speaking the word(s)
23-Mar-2023: THE MENU soundtrack
Rarely do Rach & I watch a new film or tv show on or near its release date that captures the vocal but fleeting¹ attentions of self-proclaimed tastemakers and the Who's Who. Usually, Rach & I are a few weeks behind. Often longer. Sometimes much longer. Not so with THE MENU. We saw the movie soon after its release. I was not as enamored with the film as I thought I would be. Odd, because I regularly enjoy dark humor as means of exploration or instruction or both. (I am also a big fan² of Anya Taylor-Joy.) Over time I have come to appreciate THE MENU more & more after realizing the film's satire and commentary on class & taste easily extends beyond the setting of high-end dining, reaching towards & into the arts world more broadly.
Imagine, if you will, scenes from a similarly styled film; one with some pretentious nitwit who, in the most affected & affective vocal tones & physical mannerisms your mind can conjure, launches themself out the front door of an indie bookstore and into the middle of a street. They hold a book above their head³ and begin to preach, shout to strangers: "This is the newest necessary book for our time. Radically transgressive. Both courageous & tender, this contemporary ta—" The speaker's sermon cut short as they are cut down by a speeding rubbish truck.
Make that movie, Hollywood. Take my money as the saying goes.
Update, 7:59am, approx
A day-old glazed donut just hits different.
Update, 9:29am, approx
What if I told you repeated use of language, over an extended period of time that's intended to manipulate, entice & manufacture demand, by cultural gatekeepers & would-be tastemakers in marketing art for public consumption—that becomes, therefore, rightly open to criticisms for not living up to the manufactured expectations (i.e., the post-experiential let down) of members existing in a mass consumption society—has played maybe not so small a part in the creation of social/cultural angst, and are easily identifiable bricks (& mortar) in the construct that is this present-day, oft-called, post-truth world?
Update, 10:46am, approx
My news portal aggregator is serving me Trump-related BS. Admittedly, I don't consider Trump a serious person. If he is a serious threat then it is because he tapped into something that exists outside himself and will, I have to say, continue existing once he is "gone." As a reminder, I created the following graphic as a cautionary signal in March 2016, at a time when a lot of "smart" people seemed to be misreading or ignoring the actuality & degree of dissatisfaction alive in the minds & hearts of many Americans. Whether 100% of that dissatisfaction is or isn't earned or valid does not seem to be as important as acknowledging it exists and that it will likely continue to exist whether Trump is or isn't an active political player. (Also important: developing policies & mechanisms addressing the valid concerns & issues likely hidden under the superficial rhetoric & rage easy to rally & that plays well in the media.) Anyway, some of these same smart people were also giving Trump a pass in March 2016. I devote miniscule amounts of my life thinking about Trump and I don't invest any more or less in considering these smart people. If they all fell off a cliff, I'd never notice.
Update, 3:18pm, approx
In a successful work of alchemy, the manufacturers and distributors and retailers of sinus rinse apparatuses have somehow managed to include in a product most often used when one is alone in a private space the tinge of shameful unease typically reserved for social embarrassments. It's devilry; dark magic guided by the hand of Satan, whose fingerprints I am certain could be lifted by a crime scene unit dusting that second saline packet one is desperate to believe they told themself to use under free will and not at all because of the subtle guidance of a goat daemon using telepathy.
¹ the current it thing... always transient... in our culture, always fleeting... the next it thing... trailing always... close behind the previous thing... so near to the end of a fiscal quarter.
² as much of a BIG fan I am able or allowed to be according to my nature & character; strangers reading this, please note:: I don't (can't?) do "fandom" the way it is regularly practiced today; there are/have been only a few exceptions (e.g., Buckethead, RUSH) over the decades I have lived.
³ originally typed as heads; given the scene, the image of a hydra-like figure coming to the forefront of my consciousness made me laugh. there are both pleasures & dangers to my evergreen (post/edit/edit..., post/edit/edit...) approach to this website. mostly pleasures... allowing for brief but productive distractions from other work throughout the day.
22-Mar-2023: FEELING THAT WAY radio
Me, present age, listening to "Feeling That Way", thinking to myself:
Man, this would be a great song to be playing when Rach & I next visit Mělník, Czechia, viewing the few boats on the Elbe, or noting the state & condition of the vineyards below; or playing on the stereo in a passing automobile of someone who drove up while Rach & I rest on the big rock¹ & enjoy a picnic after hiking Cadillac Mountain during an extended stay in Bar Harbor/Acadia/MDI; or playing on an 80s era jambox a CA artist brought to the tented stall where they sketch tourists in Mendocino for twenty bucks a pop; or leaking through those three speakers clinging for dear life to the ceiling in that shop in Calistoga...
Me, as a teenager, having an hour ago convinced my friends to abandon D&D for Gamma World by volunteering to be GM/DM and "Feeling That Way" suddenly airs on the radio, saying to my friends:
OK; you enter the cantina of the Spacedock; it's Retro-night, and everyone in the bar is dressed in old Earth-era attire; a LIVE band is on a stage in the far corner, [points to mapped graph paper] here, and is playing this song ("Feeling That Way"); all human male characters temporarily roll at -4 points on their machismo-related rolls!!
Update, 10:33am, approx
I love how Ted Nugent's "Free-For-All' suddenly entered the chat that is today's playlist, like the gentle stream of lovemaking suddenly passing over submerged rocks creating the whitewater conditions of rapids shouting: Tenderness be still; enter thee, ye animal of passions; it's now time to fuck!!
Thinking about Maine earlier reminded me how Covid-19 robbed us of a shared memory-making event by forcing the cancellation of the Boothbay summer house reservation Rach & I made to share with friends. To those who were part of the troupe: we need to reschedule this, we know; we want to show y'all Maine as we've come to know it over the years as regularly visiting outsiders. In the meantime, continue gifting appropriately to ensure you remain on the list.² ;-)
¹ there are many large rocks at the summit of Cadillac Mountain; Rach and I have one we specifically seek out
² I am refining my skills in the more gentile tit-for-tat acts of milking & bleeding, the subtle & polished grifts of the sophisticated upper-class. I mean, you never know, right? I may serve as a foreign service officer one day; or, who knows, perhaps a traveling necromancer raises my father from the dead and the media coverage allows him to sweep the elections on a bipartisan basis, propelling him into the White House as the first (officially recognized) undead POTUS, and I'll be in position to trade promises of access & influence for participation in schemes of self-enrichment. Sidenote: Dear H: understand there's no way in Hell I'm not now going to write up this idea in story form; maybe pepper it with coded references to some of our childhood adventures; thinking maybe I've your next birthday present!!
21-Mar-2023: BADGE radio, playlist inspired by the Cream song (& also the title of a story)
Excerpt (from BADGE by Geoffrey Allison)
Paulie had stopped first, having been the first of us to round the corner at 17th & Vine, a block from where we had been instructed to meet the old man, the center of the fabled Jazz District. Once a scene, once having made a mark on history. Twice, in fact. Now erased as many times. There the brick wall of a building had collapsed in a jagged diagonal pattern; its top edge appearing like the outline of one-half a lightning bolt electrifying our discovery, and amplifying the abruptness in the message. A few feet above ground level, the bottom edges of spray-painted letters appearing as though tickled by swaying tall grasses, the words read in faded colors:
Welcome to the MODERN Police State, bb!!
Update, 9:31am, approx
Have to check out of playful (CREATIVE-analytical) work mode and enter serious (creative-ANALYTICAL) work mode. Participating in my first telemedicine session & guiding someone through a surgery. Should go fine (assuming the patient doesn't look too closely at my certificate of license to practice medicine that I bought from an organization running art therapy sessions where media & entertainment industry-types suffering from TDS make various artworks using crayons held between their toes). Wish me luck.¹✌️
Update, 11:29am, approx
A self-describing shaman—owning a craft booth that's been placed among the lunch hour food trucks located in the parking lot of an office park—trying desperately to sell me patchouli incense because they recall a statement² I made when they were last here: You know senses play off each other; the sense of smell being extremely potent. Me, interrupting the shaman's pitch because my nearly lifelong indigenous American (Apache, mostly) friend is here today with his street taco truck: Yeah, I know... anytime I hear the song "Hymn 43" by Jethro Tull I smell weed.
Update, 3:16pm, approx
Client canceled the late afternoon meeting session due to a sick child. Noble, the putting of family first. I, of course, acted less nobly and kept my sudden availability from my spouse and took advantage of overcast skies and made my way to the shoreline of a local fishing lake where, as luck would have it, I caught no fish but found another Limp Dickinson Epistle.
Update, 5:48pm, approx
Preparing dinner for Tuesday's standing meal with The Moms™ and filling a bit of idle time by combining the title of a book I've read within the past few months with current news / astronomical events³ -- Coronal Hole Studies.
¹ the above update is obviously untrue; don't try this shit at home, kiddos; or, at a minimum, at least ask your parents first!! the content is however sufficient for cobbling together one, two, even three, terror story bits
² ya hear me, bro? patchouli is, like, my kryptonite, yo!
³ (22-Mar-23) link to Egypt Independent article; y'all can search coronal hole & narrow results by viewing News tab to read about the current event
20-Mar-2023: Irish Rock Mix
No, fam + friends, I'm not in denial, not trying to extend St. Patrick's Day celebrations as excuse to eat & drink. Around 4:30am this morning I read an article in the Irish Times by Sally Rooney. You should read the article and if you're in agreement with what it says maybe ask yourself if any of your favorite staid, limping-it-in-but-only-just-enough-to-garner-your-next-vote-or-your-continued-fandom-to-sell-you-something, status quo-loving liberal has written anything as direct or (actually) challenging.
I already dug Sally Rooney's stance & support of BDS.
It's 7:30am as of this writing; I'm cranking the tunes and raising a glass to you, Sally Rooney. Sláinte mhaith!!
Crushing on S. Rooney today the way I crush on S. Sarandon (for decades now).
And to the pretenders, go fuck yourselves!!
Update, 8:45am, approx
Enter the Haggis is so fun to listen to. (Updated Poem or Prose page, relatedly)
Rach and I have noticed several migratory birds in the backyard over the past few days. They are hungry and we are burning through birdseed like a porn film crew burns through condoms.¹✌️
Update, 11:13am, approx
"Long Strange Golden Road" by The Waterboys is so damn delightful!!
Artwork for Ghoultown's Life After Sundown album is wicked²
Update, 11:47am, approx
I love chthonic material; wrap me in a darkness of the Underworld (& Heaven's light, too, at times, obviously), in the gothic, with cemetery as setting, occult objects & experiences leading souls astray, down spirit-damning alleyways; it is all good... usually. But, fam, "Don't Pay the Ferryman" by Chris de Burgh just started playing and the tonal difference between it and other offerings from the day's playlist literally made me, like, LOL-WTF!?
Update, 1:49pm, approx
Hitting the books, refreshing (attempting to, at least) what little German I once knew. It's for a story & not in preparation of an upcoming biz trip that I am sure at least two of you from the Guys Night Out group will allege.
Hallo. Schönes Wetter heute Abend, ja?
Und wie viel wird es kosten?
Danke. Ich hatte eine schöne Zeit.
¹ Yes, B, R, D & R... because you know me so well, you'll be unsurprised to learn that after I typed the statement about porn crews burning through condoms I did, in fact, have a flash of inspiration and made a few notes in an ideas journal about fictionalizing a memoir, working project title: Refresh the Rubbers!! ~ a memoir of a porn industry props master.
² Word usage of wicked in the slang of New Englanders, specifically MA folks, like that fun-loving, good-humored waitress I met a few years ago who worked at the Village Pancake House in Rowley, MA, a village known for decades now as a sanctuary for souls fleeing Innsmouth.
³ You want to call them Endnotes but this is the internet, a home to some folks who have this thing for feet. So, Footnotes it is. Don't blame me.
With Rachel only having just returned and with snow falling on our way home from the gym, we decided to blow off last night's Alberto Giacometti pre-opening exhibit at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art held for Friends of Arts members and instead enjoyed a quiet, romantic Friday night at home, including sharing a small Thai chicken pizza that made for the perfect St. Patrick's Day dinner. Plan to carve out a couple hours today or tomorrow and visit the art museum to view the Giacometti exhibit; it'll be a great way to avoid the cold, as well as present an opportunity for me to recommend we dine at a restaurant in the city we don't get to visit often.
In my opinion, the best way to celebrate St. Patrick's Day¹ is listening to the (German, ironically) band Faun's moody pagan² & medieval music. ³
¹ Let's be clear, fam & friends, the above celebratory statement does not suggest I won't return to Blind Box BBQ for another smoked corned beef reuben for today's lunch; that sandwich reaches Blessed-by-God levels of tasty!! How scrumptious?? In another timeline... in some other reality a few metaphysical degrees from our own, I can imagine an author (who is infamous in our universe for their willingness to blurb & so known in certain circles as Baron Blurbist Prolificus) putting their name and a couple promotional sentences to stories written by children, who've filled the wide spaced lines of Big Chief tablets with crayon scrawls, in exchange for this very same sandwich.
² This footnote actually has fuck all to do with the word pagan or the sentence. I am simply reminding y'all that I once thought Harvard grads a scourge but experiences during the past several years have caused me to consider the notion that Yale grads are every bit as insufferable.
³ Another obvious option is to celebrate with copious amounts of fermented drink & sexual activity that would make even druids blush. Sláinte!!
Absolute delight of a playlist. Ethereal & material. Esoteric & comprehensible. Music to write by.
Family & friends:
Had the weirdest dream last night. I dreamt I refreshed an existing Daedalus Hot Wings site and then peppered it with two specific design options and a discount code (SuckItVC)—available thru April 15, 2023—with the objective of raising funds for organizations offering financial literacy education resources to creative artists¹.
¹ Intention is to donate 100% of net adjusted commissions from sales of these two products through April 15, 2023. Net adjusted commissions being defined as net commissions earned from merchandise sales less a design/setup fee equal to the lesser amount of $50 or 10% of net commissions and less a reserve for the estimated income taxes on net commissions related to the sale of these two designs. Contact me if you want or need additional details. ✌
Fam & friends, going to catch you up on a few random activities of my temporary bachelorhood.
It is March. That means Blind Box BBQ honors the month cradling St. Patrick's Day by serving its smoked corned beef reuben daily as opposed to only on the 17th.
I enjoyed one yesterday. Tender. Flavorful. Near incomparable.
How great is this sandwich?
Let me put it to you this way: If I were a beautiful & talented poet and the smoked corn beef reuben sandwich a lamb chop, then I'd acknowledge its tasteful, delicious magnificence by nodding my head at it.
Fam & friends, I admit that may read like an odd way to describe a sublime culinary experience; however, a few people understand the honesty the imagery contains; so, please don't think the description snide or sarcastic in any way.
In fact, y'all better get comfortable with the description because it will likely serve as my signature phrase to describe delightful culinary experiences going forward.
Yes, gentlemen of my Guys Night Out group, whenever we visit a bar or restaurant, and you turn and ask Geoff, how's that pork tenderloin? or How's that gin & tonic or (rye) manhattan (or both)? be prepared for me to respond with nodding, then saying: "Couldn't be better if I was a beautiful & talented poet and it was a lamb chop."
I rewatched The Witches of Eastwick and realized that, for whatever reason, after a period of time passes, not sure how long, my mind misremembers the location of the scene with Susan Sarandon and Jack Nicholson and the cello (that eventually smokes). Apparently, I forget the location and eventually place that scene not in the New England saltbox house but as action happening in a church hall or school auditorium.
Let's see... what else...
This morning, a friend sent me a link to a podcast episode containing discussions about Roald Dahl with an attached note I'll paraphrase as "Aren't they essentially saying what you were saying back in December ['22]?"
Umm, I think so, yes.
Fam & friends, you may recall our '22 holiday parties and certain comments I made about the silliness & ridiculous irony in the reactions & responses by certain members of the literary scene to an essay I had read. If all y'all want or need, please see 08-Dec-22 entry on the Really‽ webpage containing my initial thoughts & observations, made when I was at the gym no less, that served as the foundation for what I shared as we drank and ate and celebrated the holiday season.
Thank you to [name redacted] for sharing the link & note with me. The whole thing made me laugh. A better description would be: Listening to the discussion was sufficiently gaseous that I floated, like a naughty boy who had nicked & drank a fizzy lift beverage, toward blades of irony forcing me to burp mirthful laughs that returned me safely to ground.
Anyway, Knausgård has his life... his struggles. We all do, I guess. Stay metal (music fans), my friends.
P.S. Until further notice, avoid that sweet baby Jesus; there's a rumor going 'round; apparently, he's selling bunk K-weed as a cover while serving as informant.✌🏼
Hell, whatever; I don't know.
This morning I made the mistake of checking the IG account for the podcast. After entering search mode, I was served many posts instructing viewers like me how to properly perform certain kettlebell exercises.
It's too early.
The ancients never had to contend with such things.
Aside: The Bjarke Ingels episode of Abstract: The Art of Design is good.
If the entirety of the world perceptually shrinks because the population mushrooms or if livable space actually shrinks due to a significant ecological or environmental circumstance necessitating the cloistering of humanity, I can envision a world, a narrative, where industrial designers & architects serve the species in ways many people believe poets do today.
Trying now to discern if the above thought wants freedom or to be drunk up by the REGNUM OF COLLAPSE story project I have been working on, here & there, and that has thus far, like my CLUB HUMANITIES story project, desired to grow in a pinocytosis-like manner.
Inspired after attending yesterday's HEALTHY YARD community event and so getting a jumpstart on a favorite hobby
Morning's background music while nurturing the initial stages of the growing season and tending to the garden in pre-Spring weather. Appropriately dressed for temperatures, which coincidentally terrifies. Why? Because I realize I've inadvertently channeled a little of my paternal grandfather by wearing what, from a distance, could be considered 'good clothes.' In my case corduroy slacks and a button-down collar shirt under a Ralph Lauren cashmere sweater of a purple color embracing & celebrating Easter... but with several small holes making it awkward to wear in public.
Sorry gramps, I am not yet at your level of eagerness where I head outside to pop brave, early-season dandelions from soft soil using the proper tool but wearing a suit and so therefore soon to be reprimanded by spouse in a mix of Croatian + English:
Isus sa Draga!! Papa, that's your church suit. You change out of your good clothes, or we'll go around the mulberry bush!!
C, E & C:
This post is basically for y'all; an honoring of good memories; also, I helped mom the other day and as recompense have claimed the old hippie era buttons & pins for my own; only fair after all as I'm the one who was "born into the trauma" that is Berkely Berkeley¹, CA; see image of for a sampling of buttons for proof of life; suck it, losers ;-)
¹ A typo; found more than 24hrs after initial posting. FFS!!
Friends ('cause fam already knows, duh):
Several weeks ago, I again made one of my guitar instrumentals, "Bored Room Blues," available and shared various links to it via my Campsite.bio & in the appropriate section of the Graffiti by Geoffrey page of this website. Now I am sharing a playlist based on a song from a soon-to-be released album from a band whose membership includes one of my brothers-in-law, the one married to my "singer-actress-model-dancer" sister²—if that helps y'all to orientate.
I always enjoy the frisson when first viewing & listening to a playlist created by Spotify's algo based on a seedstock selection.
Take a listen to "Indigo" by Telefone and the rest of the playlist.
¹ Unthinking, I initially (mis-)corrected & edited to Telephone; lmfao; ffs; smdh!!
² Quotes intentional because when chatting with my sister I jokingly said "OK; I'll share, but only if you let me reference you as the sister who is the singer-actress-model-dancer."