long time no blog…. i know. i have been preoccupied with dismantling the iphone with the goal to build an app… or three, or five.

it’s come to my attention that pre-packaged easy listening  middle of the road cover albums are rearing their ugly heads again in a big way. that great story about lou reed forbidding susan boyle to sing ‘perfect day’  is the stuff that myths are made of. not true, but still a great story.

rumor has it that she has a new album on the way just in time for christmas brilliantly entitled, “the gift.” along with perfect day, she will MOR hallelujah which apparently has not yet been butchered enough.  also slated for death by dullness is ‘don’t dream it’s over…’…. ::::::sigh::::::  i’m praying daily that i never ever accidentally hear this record.

wouldn’t a better title for the album be ‘regift’ anyway? rhetorical.

on a more interesting note i had to go into the attic of my parents today, a place i have never been ever. it’s the sort with no stairs, just a square thing in the ceiling. creepy weird. so you need a ladder to open it and then climb up into this pandora’s box of dust and fiberglass insulation and pitch dark creepiness. i quickly wired an exhaust fan wearing a coal miner’s hat for light and tried to get out as fast as possible. just when i started coughing like an actual coal miner from the six inches of dust i was tripping over i found two boxes that were mine. i still had to rush, worried that if i stayed in there a minute longer tuberculosis would set in.

when i arrived back on earth i realized these boxes contained the seven wonders of the ancient world. ok, not seven, but definitely two. a talking ed grimley doll carefully packed in a plastic bag, working and dust free. i do believe i actually said squee! when i pulled the string and ed grimley said ‘that’s a pain that’s gonna linger.’  a treasure, rare and wonderful.

as if that wasn’t enough, box two was even better. hard to believe, but true. a box full of vintage, my own, fiorucci safety jeans. gold wide wale corduroy that i once wore when i had a root canal done. it didn’t make me love them any less. black jeans that are perfect that weren’t mine. a precious hand-me-down from a friend. one pair of jeans that has a brass token riveted on the back pocket that says ‘good for all night’ and a standard pair of fiorucci safety jeans. they’re washed, dried and perfect. and like they always did, they fit like a glove.

when i was way too young and slightly impressionable, i spent as much time as possible in the fiorucci store on 59th street. it’s where i learned about fashion, about shopping, where i met so many of my friends, it was the best party anywhere…. and you got to take stuff home in bags so nice you couldn’t ever throw them away.   it’s where i first met andy and truman and everyone.i was 15 and fiorucci was more fun than any place in the world.  right now, i wear these ‘safety jeans’ full of memories and oddly enough, they make me feel safe. they once were and they will be again, my plain old everyday clothes.

all about Fiorucci

but wait, getting back to damn sam and ‘the gift,’ why is it called ‘easy listening’ if it’s so hard to listen to?