27 December 2006

New Camera

Well, I've finally got a new camera in my hands, thanks to my folks and Good Old Father Christmas.

Which means (I hope) that I will once again be a regular blogger, full of interesting and witty things to say and photos to share.

For the moment, I have little to say, except that the Christmas holiday was a great time, spent with family and friends in New Jersey. After much delicious food, musical escapades and family fun, I have returned to North Carolina...And I've already got to go back to work today.

Anyway, here are a couple of photos of the family at home, relaxing in the warmth and comfort of the family room on Christmas morning.

More soon.

19 December 2006

Musical Interludes in a Slow-Paced World

I've been playing a good deal of music down here in Asheville, a town that seems to welcome (with open arms) musicians of all shapes, sizes, abilities (thank goodness) and styles. Xavi and I are currently working on our newest project, an eclectic group named (for the moment) Black-eyed Norman and Trophoblaster.

(Note: Trophoblasts are the fetal cells responsible for an important mutation in the placenta which allows for the creation of a more effective network of blood vessels (and therefore better transfer of valuable nutrients to the fetus)).

Tonight, we will be experimenting with a possible new member of our band, a gent named Imotep (a New Orleans "refugee"). Imotep is an interesting character, and is convinced that he and I were both born on another planet, and that we are only here on Earth to "check things out". This makes us superior to everyone else.

If all goes well, we will soon be playing out more, regaling the Ashevillians with our particular and unique sound.

For a view through a cloudy window into the sort of thing that we've been doing, check out this (extremely rough--so please don't judge too harshly) recordings of some new tunes. One of them, Uncle Arnie, has been dedicated to the uncle of a good friend. The other, Bantam Hen, is my first true foray into absurdist songwriting.

Treat yourself, and enjoy.

The World of Bond Music Page

New Artistic Endeavors

Just a few photos for all to enjoy. Below you can find pictures of my Christmas tree (the first that I have purchased) as well as some small art projects. One is called "High-Five," and is a wire sculpture (using three types of wire) that depicts a man giving a "high-five." The other is called the Xavi Christmas Duck. It is a duck painted in Christmas colors, adorned with stenciled faces that sort of resemble Xavi, my housemate.


13 December 2006

The Disgusting Mattress

I have realized that my postings lately have been both rare and regrettably un-profound. My only excuse is that the schedule of work and socializing has made it difficult to engage in true blogging pursuits. In the hope of mitigating this, I present the following tale.

I was enlisted the other day to help in picking up a mattress. A friend, George, had found a mattress for twenty-five dollars in the local classifieds. Being out of work, George did not mind suffering the inconvenience of the one-hour drive toward the Tennessee border to retrieve the bedding. As I have a van (Anette Breeze), I was asked to help in the mission.

Three of us drove out in the late afternoon, heading out of town and into the surrounding mountains. We took highway 240 and then 74, and finally left the main road in a small town near the Tennessee border.

Now, as we came off the road here, the landscape drastically changed. Houses were small and garbage littered the yards. Following George's instructions, I turned up steeply graded roads, heading toward our final destination. It was at this point that I asked him, "George, are you sure these people have a mattress? Maybe they're just luring us in to kill us..."

We all laughed nervously and continued along. Soon enough, we reached the house for which we searching. The house was a large trailer surrounded by wooden porches. The porches were filled with every manner of junk and oddity. Inside the brightly lit trailer, a fat woman sat smoking cigarettes at the kitchen table. An older man walked outside.

"You must be George," he said to George. "Here for the mattress." We responded, explaining that George was, in fact, George, and that we were there for the mattress. George and the man immediately set to loading the mattress and box spring into the van. Meanwhile, I milled around, talking with the large woman (some strange conversation about having accidentally gotten two Christmas trees) and watched the progress.

After a few moments, I realized that the older man's health was not wonderful, and so I went to help carry the heavy mattress. With everything loaded into the car, I moved to the sliding side door in order to accomodate the bulky objects.

Now...at this point, I noticed, hanging from the inside of the boxspring, what looked suspiciously like the tail on a "coonskin" (Davy Crockett-style) cap. Curious, I called out to the man, "Excuse me sir, but is this a real animal here?"

The man approached me and calmly looked at the strange tail-like appendage. He nonchalantly reached out, grabbed it, and pulled, revealing a dead, frozen squirrel. "Now," he said, "how do you suppose that squirrel got in there?" With the same nonchalance, he tossed the squirrel into the street.

Our nervous laughter reappeared, and I began to reexamine the mattress. It was then that I noticed the strange marroon stain on the side of the boxspring. The stain had obviously been caused by a liquid, but the center of the circle was made up of a solid matter. I moved my nose close to the stain, inhaled, and experienced an awful stench.

I quietly elbowed George, pointing out the spot. "Does it smell?" he asked. "Damn right it does," I responded.

He smelled out and recoiled sharply. He looked at the man and pointed out the spot. The man, with characteristic nonchalance, stuck his nose against the fabric and inhaled deeply. "I don't smell nothin'," he said, "but maybe my nose is messed up...who knows."

I now looked at George, sure that he would wish for us to unload the bed and leave this place immediately. He appeared unsure of what to do, and after a few moments, said, "Well...the mattress is already in the car...I guess that I'll still take it."

To which the woman responded, "Well...I'll take off five dollars on account of the squirrel."

And he took it.

12 December 2006


So sorry for being so remiss in posting lately, but there is much to tell and so little time to tell it.

Coming Soon:

A Tale of a Disgusting Mattress
Pictures of My Vocal Folds (aka Vocal Cords)

07 December 2006

Yuppification and Vehicular Disasters

Slowly but surely, Asheville becomes yuppified. New boutique stores replace older stores and art galleries take over the streets. I have obviously seen very little of this change, having only been here a month, but word spreads quickly.

As I have mentioned before, Asheville was, until quite recently, a very economically depressed town. Only in 1977 did the town finish paying off its depression-era debts, and since then, a revival has been underway.

Today, this revival bit me in the ass. Someone bought the centrally-located, abandoned parking lot that I utilize every day here. For a town so small, there is frighteningly little free parking, and I considered this lot to be my sweet little gem...A wonderful, little known secret that has allowed me save all parking fees.

Since I was rushing to work today, I had no time to find good parking upon learning of the privatization of the parking lot. With a small amount of trepidation (but no too much), I parked in the US Postal Service lot, hoping that they wouldn't noticed. Unfortunately, they did notice, and I spent the entire morning's pay to rescue my vehicle from the scary lot to which it was brought.


04 December 2006


Pirates are all the rage these days, and rest assured that your loyal narrator of Asheville life (for the moment) has not let this trend pass him by. Below is a photograph representing a night of high-jinx face-painting here in town.

Oddly, even with my face paint I was turned away from the Jolly Rouge Bar, generally described as the "Pirate Bar" (or alternately as the "Goth Bar"). Apparently, the Jolly Rouge is not a bar, but rather a "private club" and my lack of membership prevented my access.

Those people obviously know nothing about the pirate life.