Before I recap December--in case you missed it, Jack Nance died the other day after being beaten up in a donut shop--PLEASE!--that much is confirmed. And bad enough. What I have NOT seen in any paper yet, but is apparently true nonetheless, is that Randy California DROWNED off of Molokai on Thursday last, and they haven't been able to find his body. How about THAT????

So, now, December: made my quotas, all of 'em--so although this is not yet official, it appears as though my bride and I get to go to Frisco for three days in February. Two days are meetings, but one is open. She's never been there and I haven't been since I was 14 years old. And as you might imagine, my parents (I was 14) weren't keen on letting me hang out at 710 Ashbury. So that'll be fun.

Of course, I only hit those numbers by buying a new computer at 6:15 PM New Year's Eve........now we're trying to decide whether or not to keep it and it's still in the box instead of being played with by a gleeful me.

Other than that, December is one big blur, way worse than usual. And I didn't even have the WBAI crafts fair to break it up for me. I cannot even imagine a December without that little piece of business, and yet I just went through it. Boo. We were considering doing that other show--that "breakaway" show that that guy Matt ("The Guy") was doing--but we couldn't get it together to go.

My band played twice--once the night before Thanksgiving and once the Saturday before Xmas--that day in particular is a total blur but we went over really well. I got myself a wireless thingie for my guitar--not so I can jump around like a retard, mind you, but just to have the freedom of not having to kick that cord out of the way every few seconds. What a difference!

And if that's not cute enough YET, imagine it going on--just like that, no changes and no "nuance", for TWENTY MINUTES without so much as a breath being taken.

Xmas was nice. Wendy got an Edward Gorey lithograph and the complete Little Rascals videos. I got the Beatles Anthology videos, some books, an electric massager shaped like a piggy--yes!--and also The Martian Popping Thing, which you may not remember by name but certainly would remember, from your childhood, if you saw it--it's that little clowny thing that you squeeze and his eyes and ears pop out.

Well, I NEEDED one.

On New Year's Eve we attempted to have our usual five-human party, but were thwarted by Bill--first of all, he broke up with Susie, so she wasn't there, and second of all, he didn't show up HIMSELF. So it was just us and Wayne and an awful lot of food. We had fun anyway.

New Year's Day I did inventory, for twelve hours. That was fun too. As it turns out, I was listening to Spirit most of the day. The first four LPs just came out on CD, with remastering, longer endings and copious bonus tracks.

Now that brings us, I believe, to this past Saturday--blissfully unaware of Randy C.'s drowning, we were hurtling toward the Bottom Line listening to what else? Spirit. We were on our way to see something billed as "Battle of the Blues--New York's Rekooperators vs. Nashville's Bluebloods." Yeah, well, anyway.

We get there with half an hour to go till showtime, and what's this?? The place is packed. We end up sitting way in the back, half behind a pole. Across from two guys in their late forties who still think it's cool to look like Michael McDonald--and the fluffy little girl-toy of one of them, whom I nicknamed Rainbow Rabinowitz. Well, that might not be too terribly funny but you didn't see or hear her. So we'll have to leave it at that.

So, these "Bluebloods" come out. Real good. Their first time in New York. The piano player is someone named Reese Wynans, whom I swear I've heard of before. Humble Al introduces them by talking about how he wishes he could play like Reese. Me too.

So then out come Al, Jimmy, Harvey, and Anton Fig--nice small band this time. Al stayed behind the Hammond and never played any guitar, and it was mainly The Jimmy Show anyway. Apparently Jimmy has a solo CD coming out soon, which is fine by me. "Non-plusses": Kooper walks out wearing, and I'm not kidding, a "Brand New Leopard-Skin Pillbox Hat," which he kept on for the whole set. Jimmy felt obliged to sing the song, or at least part of it.

So, no matter how bad it gets, don't EVER WEAR ONE OF THOSE.

Maybe a nice English Driving Cap, or even a beanie-copter, but NOT ONE OF THOSE.

So, then we're listening to Spirit all the way home too--and I have it on in the store on Monday AND Tuesday, and I've already picked out the CDs for tomorrow and laid them out on my desk and it's SPIRIT AGAIN--and for four days the guy is DEAD and we don't know it, and then I get home from this stupid meeting tonight and Bill calls with the news. This is not good.

Worse even than it would otherwise be--I'm pretty sure I told you this story, but in case not--I had the distinct displeasure, which should have been otherwise, of meeting Randy at the Bottom Line, in I think '92 or '93, between sets. He cut me dead. Must've been in the worst mood of his life. I've idolized the guy since the first time I heard him, and it really hurt.

Apparently, he drowned trying to save his 11-year-old son. Why hasn't this been on paper anywhere????

Well, this was probably no more fun to read than it was to write. But that's the way it goes. OH YEAH--here's a thing. We have a new nephew--Wendy's brother and his wife just had a baby. Here's the cool part: the kid was born with sort of a Double Head--the doctor called it a hematoma, and apparently that doesn't always mean Bag O'Blood, but also applies to any old fluid. But, as a newborn--we didn't get to see this, but we saw pictures--his head was almost double-size with a big f***ing crease up the middle of it--like somebody's butt hung upside-down with a face painted on it. Everyone was panicked, but then it started to revert to normal, and within four or five days he looked like any other baby. Figures. Now we don't get to take him to the park and scare the other kids.