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Posted in Snippet with tags , , , , on March 22, 2017 by sethdellinger

Richard Ramirez Died Today of Natural Causes
by Sun Kil Moon

Richard Ramirez died today of natural causes. He got amped up on speed and broke into houses, bludgeoned people to death, wrote shit on their skin and left them. They finally got him and he went to San Quentin. His last murder was south of San Francisco. A guy named Peter Pan, from the town of San Mateo. The little girl in the tenderloin was his first, and in the laundry room he took a dollar from her fist. His last free days were at the Bristol Hotel. I was reading “Nightstalker” when I went and rang the bell. The doorman buzzed, said, “You’re just like them all.” He gave me a key and a black cat led me down the hall. I had a flight today from Boston to Cleveland. Got a death in the family, gotta do some grieving. Lost my baby cousin and it’s eating me up. And I’m achin’ real bad and I need a little love. Richard Ramirez died today of natural causes. These things mark time and make us pause and think about when we were kids, scared of taps on the window, what’s under the bed and what’s under the pillow. And the Jim Jones massacre got in our heads and the TV headlines, “Elvis Presley’s Dead”, and the Ayatollah Khomenei hostages and Ronald Reagan dodging bullets. One day I’m gonna stroll through the old neighborhood. Rick Stan’s my age, he still lives with his mom when he’s not in jail from menacing and stalking, writing bad checks and cocaine charges. Mark Denton had such a beautiful smile, always sat on the porch passing the time, and drinking a beer and smoking a pack until one day poor Mark had a heart attack. My friend Ben’s got a good job as an electrician, his sister married the pool shark Jim Evans. And my next door neighbors whom I love so, and they love me too, but they passed long ago. And if you walk just a few blocks down Stahl there’s a house that was the scariest of them all, a cute little palm with a sign “For Sale”. For those Sexton’s kids, life was Hell, and I’m telling the truth and if you don’t believe it, pick up Lowell Cauffiel’s “House of Secrets”. Had to fly from Cleveland to SFO. I got 3 months off until my next show. Gonna spend time with my girl, make a record this summer, fix my kitchen up and hire a plumber. The headlines change so rapidly. Today I came to the studio to work on something pretty, then I saw the news on James Gandolfini while I was eating ramen and drinking green tea. The “Sopranos” guy died at 51. That’s the same age as the guy who’s coming to play drums. I don’t like this getting older stuff, havin’ to pee 50 times a day is bad enough. I got a naggin’ prostate and I got a bad back, and when I fuck too much I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack. I woke up today, I saw the headlines, an airline crashed and 2 people died, and I’m at a barbecue in San Rafael, and everybody’s drunk and feelin’ pretty well. At 53 years Richard Ramirez died but in ‘83 he was very much alive. He was the scariest killer in the band. He had a pentagram in the center of his hand. And everybody remembers the paranoia when he stalked the suburbs of Southern California and everybody will remember where they were when they finally caught the Night Stalker. And I remember just where I was when Richard Ramirez died of natural causes.

 

Posted in Snippet, Uncategorized with tags , , on October 5, 2016 by sethdellinger

“What if you slept, and what if in your sleep you dreamed, and what if in your dreams you went to a perfect garden and there you plucked a strange and beautiful flower, and what if when you awoke you had the flower in your hand?  Ah, what then?”

–Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1817

The Oatmeal Version of a Moist Harry Potter

Posted in Snippet with tags , , , , on January 25, 2015 by sethdellinger

1.  I seem to have become obsessed with eating oat and oat-related products.  It’s no big secret that I’ve been on a big oatmeal kick on and off for a few years now (although the kick has now been “on” for about 8 months and shows no signs of slowing) but I recently starting branching out into even bigger and better oat products.  I discovered Muesli and, in a trick almost nobody saw coming, I actually put it on my oatmeal.  I also eat it dry, right out of the bag.  In addition, I now buy granola, of all kinds.  I also have been known, like the sly fox I am, to put that on my oatmeal.  Then yesterday I found this new hot cereal, “brown rice farina hot cereal”, which my genius girlfriend immediately identified over the phone as being “basically a gluten-free form of Cream-of-Wheat”.  I haven’t had it yet, but it looks delicious, and I look forward to throwing some other form of grains on top of it.

2.  I have been playing an awful lot of this hip new app game, Trivia Crack (yeah, do I hate that it’s named after a crippling and deadly addictive drug?  I sure do), which is just a trivia game you can play with your friends.  It’s mostly horrible and is a huge time waster, but yes, it IS highly addictive.  Now, any time one plays a trivia game, one is bound to have complaints about the nature of the questions eventually.  Even the best version of Trivial Pursuit eventually shows a weakness of some kind.  But can I just say, I am sick to death of Harry Potter questions.  Seriously, I get it, it actually is a pretty big event in our culture.  One should have at least a small passing knowledge of Harry Potter.  But it seems as though this app wants us to have approximately one-eighth of our general knowledge of human beings to revolve around Harry Potter.  It’s kinda sorta a little enraging.

 

3.  How is it that every winter I refuse to acknowledge how badly I need to moisturize myself until winter is half over?  Granted, it wasn’t something I ever had to think about as a younger man, but now it’s pretty evident.  Sometime at the beginning of December I start to notice the skin on my arms getting ashy, and then a few weeks later some spots of my skin actually begin to hurt.  At this point, I know my skin has become dramatically dry and is in need of moisture, and yet I soldier on, taking long, hot showers–often two a day–and spending plenty of time outdoors.  I have plenty of lotion that I simply ignore.  Then, usually sometime mid-January, it gets to the point I can no longer ignore it, and I break down and just lotion the whole body up.  And EVERY YEAR, I just freakin’ love this.  It feel like a new man!  And every year, I say to myself, ‘Geez, why weren’t you doing this all along?  Next year, we’re gonna start moisturizing right away!’  And yet, here I am, having just moisturized for the first time last night.  It has seriously affected my whole day, in a positive way!  I feel incredible!

 

 

 

 

Stop Harshing My Groove

Posted in Snippet with tags , , , , , , , , on November 13, 2014 by sethdellinger

1.  Am I, potentially, the only person in America who said to themselves this morning, “Looks like it’s time to buy some more blank CDs!”?

2.  What do you think it would take to get this zany country of ours to do away with this whole “move the clocks back” thing?  Everyone hates it, and even those who have a full understanding of why we do it, even they don’t understand why we do it!  In a country that seems to be waking up from centuries of backward thinking (yay gay marriage! yay legal pot even though I don’t personally smoke it! yay even bigots hate Westboro Baptist!) you’d think we could find a way out of this dark-at-noon bullcrap.

3.  Those of you who are aware of the trend of men wearing fancy socks, I’d like to get your thoughts on it.  Part of me really wants to jump on that train and thinks it is very much me, and the other part of me thinks that is the opposite of me and that I should be very opposed to it.  And please, suggestions like you should do whatever you feel like are pretty pointless since I just told you I’m conflicted!

4.  I’m getting sick of dust.  I mean, when will dust just give up?  Aint nobody got time for that!

5.  Who knew there was an abandoned section of Asbury Park, New Jersey, that seems to border on “ghost town” status??? Not me, and I’ve freakin’ BEEN to Asbury Park!  Brian, why didn’t you ever tell me about this?  Geez Louise, this is right down my alley! (thanks to the lovely Karla for filling me in!)

6.  Boy howdy, do I ever freakin’ love the holidays.  I’ve blogged about this before, but I just don’t understand people’s hatred of the holiday’s “starting early”.  Oh, what’s that, you’d rather not begin feeling a kinship with your fellow man too early in the season?  Too soon for warm nostalgia, quality 50s music (that’s basically what our Christmas songs are, but mostly, as songs, they’re REALLY GOOD), eye-popping decorations, and a general air of joviality?  What is wrong with you people?? Stop harshing my groove.

Some Things I Like

Posted in Snippet with tags , , , , , , , , on January 2, 2014 by sethdellinger

Some things I like include, but are not limited to:

Dreams about dinosaurs.  Gel pens.  When fog actually rolls.  Itches you can scratch.  Falsetto.  Twine.  Cheesy films about the struggle for civil rights.  Pepperoni pizza.  A Prairie Home Companion.  Long, slow things that almost hurt.  Pointillist paintings.  My own long shadow dancing in front of me on dying summer afternoons.  Loud guitars.  White-out.  Bobbleheads.  Bubble baths in the dark.  My own horrible Jimmy Stewart impression.  Musty smell of books and basements.  Gallagher smashing watermelons.  The pop and hiss of old vinyl records, and the absence of the pop and hiss on new vinyl records.  Things that just barely tickle.  American cheese.  Cheddar cheese.  New socks.  Neil Young.  When lightning strikes again and again and again really fast but far away.  Plays by Luigi Pirandello.  Socially brazen stray cats.  Funiculars.  Regional history.  Keith Olberman. Those Easter Island statues.  Pandora Radio.  Russian nesting dolls.  Cola.  When pimples pop themselves.  Early Streisand films.  O Canada.  Major League Baseball’s National League rules.  Women wearing fingerless gloves, or who put their thumbs through self-made holes in their hoodie sleeves.  Also women who wear shower caps.  The charming and endearing music of Henry Mancini.  Cheese crackers.  The moment when you know you’re dreaming, but you’re still dreaming.  Lightning bugs.  Unexpectedly making a roomful of people laugh.  Backscratchers.  Dave Eggers.  French kissing.  A good game of hide-and-seek.  Hanging things on walls.  Sporks.  The New York Times.  Lava lamps.  Peeing when you had to pee so bad.  Those pull-down ladders that let you into crawl-space attics.  Polaroids.  Campfires.  Q-tips.  Shoe horns, although I’ve never used one.  Snuggies.  Drum solos.  Red Bull.  Sweating.  Owls.  Notebooks.  The WWII poetry of Randall Jarrell.  Text messages.  Blistex medicated lip ointment.  Umpires who scream every single strike call, all game long, and point emphatically.  Secondhand clothing.  Airplanes.  The Revolutionary War.  Summer, as hot as possible.  The United States Postal Service.  Protein shakes.  Riding my bike.  Skylines.  What people in the past thought the future was going to be like.  Kate Winslet.  The Appalachians.  Discover magazine.  Recently stained wood.  Looking up television commercials from my childhood on YouTube.  Coffee.  Those station wagons with wood paneling.  Anderson Cooper.  Pictures of my parents when they were children.  The Beatles.  Salt.  The Philadelphia concert venue The Electric Factory.  Hotel rooms, and showers in hotel rooms.  Cleveland.  The moment when you know they are bringing your food to the table.  Multi-colored thumb tacks.  The Philadelphia 76ers.  Brita filtered water.  80s movies about small, strange monsters.  When you can see the clouds overhead moving so fast, so fast.  Pennsylvania.  The free purple-ink pens that Planet Fitness gives out.  President Obama.  Flannel.  Escalators.  24 (the TV show).  Yogurt-covered pretzels.  “Boyshorts”.  Dueling pianos.  Postcards, both current and vintage.  The Johnstown Flood.  Big League Chew.  Those moments when you understand life is just life and enjoy a slice of peace.  Aaron Burr. Skinnydipping.  Hiking.  The moment the lights go down in a movie theater.   Black and white photography.  The ACLU.  Advil.  Instant mashed potatoes.  People playing instruments on the street for money.  The Golden Girls.  Pistachio-flavored anything.  The film scores of Hans Zimmer. Craft stores.  Meatloaf.  Roku.  The Philadelphia Inquirer.  Vermeer.  Putting lotion on my feet.  My mother’s lasagna.  The Erie Seawolves.  The ocean.  I’ve never been to the Cape of Good Hope, but I like it.    Netflix.  Elephants.  The Fourth of July.  Kitchen-cut green beans.  Snapchat.  Early-to-mid-90s Marvel Comics.  The Christmas music of Mariah Carey.  Ten minute naps.  Deep dark secrets.  Mall food courts.  Actually just malls in general.  FORA.tv.  Stoppage time.  Planned Parenthood.  Post-its.  Mirror Balls.  Women wearing anklets or makeup with glitter in it.  Amusement parks, even though I don’t ride rides.  Sundae bars.  Waking up four hours before your alarm is set to go off and contentedly drifting back to sleep.  Stretching.  The best poem I’ve ever read and imagine I ever will read, “Aubade” by Philip Larkin.  Sugar plums.  Newville, Pennsylvania, and its “Fountain Festival”.  The Mullica Hill Amish Farmer’s Market, of South Jersey. Gremlins, one and two.  Moments when I think I might have it all figured out.

Why don’t you get mail from me?

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on January 30, 2013 by sethdellinger

I enjoy sending mail.  Yes, physical mail, via the United States Postal Service.  Postcards, letters, little booklets or artsy fartsy projects I make.  It’s mostly pointless, meaningless nonsense, or rambling run-on sentences.  There’s just something I love about people I like or care about receiving something tangible from me, even if I’m not really saying much.  In this era of our culture, when all communication is electronic and all looks alike and is compressed and abbreviated and utilitarian, I get a kick out of harkening back to an older time, and connecting on a different level.

Over the years, I’ve built up a sizeable “mailing list” of freinds and family members who I mail these assorted missives to.  Looking over it, it comprises a fantastic cross-section of my life.  Folks from all eras of my past, as well as my present, and from a fantastic geographic array are represented.  So I ask you, dear reader, why the hell don’t you get mail from me?

It comes sporadically.  Sometimes you might get one piece of mail from me a year, sometimes two things in one week.  It depends very much upon my whimsy.  But if you’re reading this, chances are I wouldn’t mind sending you some thoughts or artistic claptrap occasionally.  You should probably give me your address.

Leave your address in the comments here (you don’t have to register to comment on this blog), or if you’re not comfortable with doing that, send me a Facebook message or e-mail me at sdellinger1978@gmail.com, or if you have my cell number you can text it to me.  I mean really, who doesn’t want mail?

 

I Told You So. Even Though You Didn’t Care Then, and You Don’t Care Now.

Posted in Snippet with tags , , , , on August 13, 2012 by sethdellinger

About two years ago, I posted this.

And now (in case you didn’t see this particular news snippet) this has happened.

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