| back EPISODE #6, OCTOBER 2000 (Sorry for the lapse, the dog days had me melting. words@bendpress.com) BIG MONEY INDUSTRY Date: 6/26/00 I would have thought you to be much younger. Perhaps the nature of your work keeps you young. —Scott Pommier, Toronto, Canada VALUABLE BOOK Date: 7/10/00 I’ve been keeping a stash of cash in [my copy of] “Check The Mail” from selling CDs to the used record store. Mostly used for printing film, guitar strings etc. but couldn’t get past the “checking” aspect of it all, the allusion to marginalia, and the fact I’m certain I’ll find $$ when I peel open the pages. Although it’s been awhile since I restocked it. I think I’m down to like $40. —Greg Barbera, Durham, North Carolina BUSY Date: 7/11/00 Subject: Total gay johnson’s Vag rounded, Long time no communikata. I’ve seen evidence of your recent work, fresh footprints of creative weight—a good sign you are alive and well and kicking out the jams. Fighting the good fight, god damn it. Does this find you in good health? In the last 6 weeks I’ve driven cross country, jumped out of a plane for the first time, written a screenplay, bought a new car, nearly burned down two houses, turned 25, thrown up in New York, blacked out in DC, surfed Malibu, skated Koreatown, abused sundry chemicals in shady situations, done push ups every day, Sakebombed, booty whomped, karaoke jammed, karate chopped—the last three weeks of which riding valiantly upon the infamous wagon, getting my wag on. The friend who cracked my head open a few years back is getting married next week on the Oregon coast, which will celebrate my departure from aforementioned rickety vehicle, and most likely return me back aboard the night train we all know so intimately. Might as well ride it to East Asia—it’s not hot and wet enough in Los Angeles these days. Hurt me. —Greg Shewchuk, Los Angeles, California JUST SEND THE GUY STICKERS Date: 7/14/00 Hi, could you please send some stickers to; Thank you. THE EASY MEDS Date: 7/14/00 A few nights ago I read Richard Brautigan’s "An Unfortunate Woman," the last book he wrote before he killed himself. Somewhere in the last few pages he writes about how there’s a spider crawling up his arm, and how he’s not squeamish of spiders so he lets it explore him for a little bit. Eventually he blows it off. I finish the book and go out to get a drink from the fridge. On the way back to my room I feel something on my arm. Look down and discover it’s a spider crawling up it. Seriously. I, however, AM squeamish of spiders... so I blew it off my arm right away. —Bob [Kronbauer, Oceanside, California] EARL PARKER PRAISE Date: 7/18/00 Mr. Jenkins, I was at work today, and during my lunch break I was flipping through some old copies of Wired, and in the August ‘95 they had a feature about the Girl people [actually, it was the Dirt people—Andy]. That’s cool. I noticed that you said you lived in Pedro... are you a Minutemen fan? I’ve been listening to Mike Watt a whole lot lately. —Zack Bastian SMOKING Date: 7/19/00 Last night my girlfriend and I had a bitter fight. Some of it was my fault, but I threw away a years worth of commitment because of pure frustration. I waited for her to call. She didn’t. I also thought she might send an email, but not as of yet. —Don Pendleton, Dayton, Ohio JUMPING STREETLAMPS Date: 7/20/00 When I was a little kid, I started doing this thing while driving in the car with my parents. Every time we’d pass by a streetlamp I’d pretend in my mind that the car was jumping over it. I’d do it all the way to where we were going and all the way back, and at first it was kinda fun, like a little game I’d play to pass the time. Then I started doing it every time I was in a car. Like every day. I’d close my eyes, try to think about other things... but I couldn’t make it stop. Like something that you’d be stuck doing if you were sent to hell for eternity you know? Well, not that bad, but it got pretty annoying. Eventually, I stopped doing it altogether. I don’t remember how or why. Maybe it just went away. I never really knew why I was doing it either, but I did it. I just did it. More than a decade later, after I had been told about my borderline case of OCD, I was flipping through a book about the condition at the public library. A patient was relating a story from their childhood to a doctor, and it was the same story. It was really interesting to read, because ever since I stopped doing it as a kid, I never really thought about it ever again. Then it all came back to me. I don’t know if it helped to read that or what, but it felt good knowing that I wasn’t crazy or something. Yeah. —Bob Kronbauer RELIC IN NEW YORK Date: 7/21/00 Subject: Mouth full of sea foam so thick/tongue becomes its own saltlick. Brother Jenkins, Andy, Pink is not often associated with death but that’s the color of the sunlight going out on the granite cliffs here in coastal Maine. Gulls drops clams from great heights on the rocks near where I stand trombone in hand playing “Our Day Will Come” and other elementary level remembrances. Nothing shrinks the dink quite like dipping in this drink; that the salty sea for you, eddy pools fed by Arctic floes are beyond cold but refreshing and that’s why I’m here, with my parents, Jasper the dog and Robin, my girlfriend, for what I’d hoped’d be two recuperative weeks away from the bustle of NYC and my lil office-home over the curry mine. Of course things don’t work the way intentions intend. Small cabin, folks and girlfriend makes for odd insular combo. I feel inner peace fringed with flaming touchiness. How does it happen that I can feel so many good things, even love, and yet feel the soul overcome again with a craving for solitude? Andy, sorry to wing this metaphysical frog at you clean windshield, don’t mean to use you as my service station attendant. But I’ve a bit more to pump: there are imperfections of solitude just as there are imperfections of togetherness and I am still at an age/stage/maturity level whicheverwhateverterminologyterm where the imperfections of togetherness are much more maddening than those of solitude. I felt it again this summer when going to a string of friends’ weddings (and my sister’s second try) particularly acutely. But perhaps this is what inspired me to give such jocular toasts? Speaking of dipping deep in the funnybucket here’s one I heard here in Maine: How is American beer like making love in a canoe? It’s fucking close to water. And so, Andy, I am rather well, aside from usual contusions of existence. I am working on the liner notes to a CD Best Of of a guy named RUFUS HARLEY a blessed Philly saint and the world’s first jazz bagpipe player who put out four albums on Atlantic in the ‘60s that will unraveled your most determinedly darned socks and make your brows bristle with bliss. And otherwise, I’m reading, writing, watching my metabolism slow down with every beer I drink, sometimes gorging on burnt burgers and overcooked coffee, also running all the way to the cartilage farm (new kneecaps needed) and delighting in the moment where the record on the turntable revolves at a predestined speed and then catches in a groove at the dry knock of a small drum, repeats there, and my heart seems to fall in behind it. Can it be there where my true love lies? I turn 29 on August 29th. Which is older than you were when I met you. —Peter Relic, New York, New York IN AGREEMENT Date: 7/25/00 These guys win... http://www.phonebashing.com —Tony Larson, Los Angeles, California AIRPLANES ARE BEAUTIFUL Date: 7/26/00 Andy, I was needing a break from designing an ever-impressive site for an aircraft manufacturer when I got your e-mail about your letter on Open Letters. That was beautiful—in the way that text on a screen is. Funny how we use the word that describes a visual appreciation for something that is visually plain. —Heath Balderston GOODBYE LIQUID BREAD Date: 7/26/00 I’ve decided to take a hiatus from my luxurious drinking career. I don’t think I’ve missed a single day in over a year. —Bob Kronbauer WASTE DISPOSAL DRIFTERS Date: 7/26/00 YUK YUK YUK YUK the king of beers on his hands and knees turning on the jacuzzi catcalls for umbrellas missing from the drinks but just joking Palm Springs it’s just an old fashioned love song dna evidence gathered from your bong told you not to slobber so much hitching up your bobbysocks it’s just an old fashioned love song country and western mess hall mechanical bull free-for-all everything caught on tape always been a pleasure always been a pleasure always been a pleasure always been a pleasure when in doubt repeat yourself spanish glass bought in Texas humboldt county new and used texts in a kind of countermovement consulting other methods one day I was musing on the pleasures of being idle when the thought struck me that complete idleness was hard work long live Charles Baudelaire the resources the resources if you’re considering a new turntable first consider what you need. Do you need a record changer? Do you really want a record changer? tempo markings signifying the balance between singing and dancing the language without words can you still hear the words? then you haven't closed your eyes enough conclusion the common vocabulary. technical terms, proper names, abbreviations—are in one alphabetical list you can ride down a hill sail down a river or walk down a street winning an acid test you start to feel the daylights the same beat people that made us fat now want to cash in on making us thin now is the time... everything you need to know no slam dancing I used a box in a special way I made the outline of an unfolded box knowing it's rude to point the panels of the box contained questions questions educate your children the world’s most famous toy manufactured in the United States of America but which do you prefer? you can have all the ease and convenience of a ready-to-cook frozen space figure with two parallel faces called bases that are congruent polygonal regions it happened so fast I couldn’t stop? use the genuine plastic nothing to buy nothing to return oh, give me a home illustrate the divers in watercolor returning to where you are taught just keep your receipt solutions they have these superstitious superbeings who admitted to using marijuana during the month prior to the survey see the word hear the word feel the word aqueous humor inspired by tomorrow manic states ruminate interesting special offers of mint originating from the only peach house on the block without ever leaving your car just revel in it this is you—inhale the summary of contents then continue the same thing long torso bras in ruby preheated variations very sincerely yours or cordially yours Venus in Fur a far cry from nowhere where it was upon a mass of soil or rock on a steep slope pick up the faint signal but not with the man screaming to get out it is absolutely essential that you continue development using testing five dollars at the door if you have a flyer I didn’t have a flyer cost me five dollars anyway otherwise it cost six the camera eye does not apply smile like an intuitionist fire dying in a calm sky bride of frankenstein cold handgun and an iced tea thanks sweetie no time to see without being seen no time to know without being known no time to be without having been no time for zen no time for time this time ground zero ocean sprays of your name in grape spraypaint defacing beachfront property in light of old age from meat plant to heat lamp yellow t-shirt says The Cramps questions do not exist in isolation you make me feel brand-new you make me feel pre-viewed you make me feel real lewd like peeled fruit you make me feel felt through want to play pool? viva tequila the boy ate the candy the candy was eaten by the boy the boy ate the candy the candy was eaten by the boy the communist manifesto blew a short fuse and remember open your mouth and close your eyes at no cost to you the paradoxical moral of all this and remember who is this? I forgot the artist this is so hard next you need a place to work papers are made in several contrast grades pull the wool over your ears as fall arrives let me tell you something you can always tell that we don't need to tell you but that costumes not enough you've learned the hard way too many digital skips seagulls flying the perfect crooked smiles rib ticklers waste disposal drifters —Mike Daily, the Valley THE LITTLE SALESMAN Date: 7/27/00 Andy, Thanks for sending me a link to your posted letter. As always, terrifically written thoughts and observations. Was a great moment to break up the day. Interesting to see you portray yourself as an authoritative figure from upper management— makes me think of the Little Prince... Dealing with “Matters of Consequence” are we? Perhaps “3PO” is off showing people pictures of a Boa Constrictor who has swallowed an elephant. Did he show you a picture of a hat by chance? —Lyle Owerko, New York, New York SO LA Date: 7/27/00 Last night at the Shatto Lanes Bowling Alley bar, I heard a guy say; “I’m sick of rappin’, I’m sick of smokin’ the chronic, I gotta get out of L.A.” —Michael Leon, Los Feliz, California DAVID & GOLIATH Date: 7/28/00 Hi Andy, I was relating to your story of seeing Eric White’s work. I had a similar experience when I saw the show he had here a few months ago. I went in a good mood , but soon I became overwhelmed with this feeling that was a mixture of inspiration, jealousy, and self-loathing. I just kept staring at the paintings, and I couldn’t help but think of how, in a hundred years from now, Eric White will be dead, I’ll be dead, so will everyone else in the room, but these paintings will still be somewhere, and they will be as alive as they are right now at this moment. So amazing. And I thought about how all the “cool” little crap that I do, will have vanished from existence, and I felt, as you said... very small. —Evan Hecox, San Francisco, California IT'S NEAR DISNEYLAND Date: 7/30/00 Subject: I don’t know what to say —Bucky Fukumoto, Los Angeles, California (attachment) back |