Tag: garage punk

Cloister Commentary, Day 199: Ah, Those Voiceless Volar Plosives

I sincerely hope I am in the company of many millions who are tired of chaos, calamity, callousness, and corruption. Hope, not bet. I am not a betting man.

Yesterday, I did some COVID clean-up: made a doctor’s appointment, a flu / shingles vaccination appointment, and an oil change appointment (to be clear, for my vehicle); watched a bathroom sink faucet replacement video; called three Missouri counties’ clerks for clarification; and listen to a slew of garage punk and hardcore punk albums I’d not checked out for a while (sorry for all those voiceless velar plosives–look it up, I did). It felt good.

Instead of installing the new faucet as soon as I got home, I sat on my ass and read thr new issue of The Week and listened to the first four discs of the recently released expanded version of Prince’s Sign o’ The Times. The excellence of the latter assuaged the despair elicited by the former.

As dusk fell, Nicole and I rejoiced in being able to eat fresh tomato and mayo sandwiches in October (!!!), and finished Watchmen fully satisfied that our time wasn’t wasted in the least.

Streaming for Strivers:

Regarding the above musical reference?

Cloister Commentary, Day 199: Ah, Those Voiceless Volar Plosives

I sincerely hope I am in the company of many millions who are tired of chaos, calamity, callousness, and corruption. Hope, not bet. I am not a betting man.

Yesterday, I did some COVID clean-up: made a doctor’s appointment, a flu / shingles vaccination appointment, and an oil change appointment (to be clear, for my vehicle); watched a bathroom sink faucet replacement video; called three Missouri counties’ clerks for clarification; and listen to a slew of garage punk and hardcore punk albums I’d not checked out for a while (sorry for all those voiceless velar plosives–look it up, I did). It felt good.

Instead of installing the new faucet as soon as I got home, I sat on my ass and read thr new issue of The Week and listened to the first four discs of the recently released expanded version of Prince’s Sign o’ The Times. The excellence of the latter assuaged the despair elicited by the former.

As dusk fell, Nicole and I rejoiced in being able to eat fresh tomato and mayo sandwiches in October (!!!), and finished Watchmen fully satisfied that our time wasn’t wasted in the least.

Streaming for Strivers:

Regarding the above musical reference?

Cloister Commentary, Day 199: Ah, Those Voiceless Volar Plosives

I sincerely hope I am in the company of many millions who are tired of chaos, calamity, callousness, and corruption. Hope, not bet. I am not a betting man.

Yesterday, I did some COVID clean-up: made a doctor’s appointment, a flu / shingles vaccination appointment, and an oil change appointment (to be clear, for my vehicle); watched a bathroom sink faucet replacement video; called three Missouri counties’ clerks for clarification; and listen to a slew of garage punk and hardcore punk albums I’d not checked out for a while (sorry for all those voiceless velar plosives–look it up, I did). It felt good.

Instead of installing the new faucet as soon as I got home, I sat on my ass and read thr new issue of The Week and listened to the first four discs of the recently released expanded version of Prince’s Sign o’ The Times. The excellence of the latter assuaged the despair elicited by the former.

As dusk fell, Nicole and I rejoiced in being able to eat fresh tomato and mayo sandwiches in October (!!!), and finished Watchmen fully satisfied that our time wasn’t wasted in the least.

Streaming for Strivers:

Regarding the above musical reference?

Cloister Commentary, Day 84: The Return of Ponty Apers

Nicole and I participated in two outings, one a sort of outdoor committee meeting at the Hickman labyrinth to finalize some important details, the other a catch-up, hangout, beer-slurp, wine-sip with a dear friend in West Columbia. Lawn chairs and tree-shade came in mighty handy.

We got home and my body twisted my arm (a tangled metaphor, that) and hissed in my ear through gritted teeth, “You will take a nap!” I did.

Just when I get really comfortable with Zoom, the company shuts down a celebration of the Tiananmen Square protest. Remember, the one with the man standing down the tank? We cheered that one as a nation, I think. It was so long ago. I may have to pursue an alternative teaching method.

I am closing in on finishing two series: Chester Himes’ nine-book “Coffin Ed and Gravedigger Jones” Harlem Cycle, and Gilbert Hernandez‘s Love and Rockets/Palomar Stories graphic novels. No regrets about either undertaking: those worlds are fascinating and enriching.

We played Scrabble, sipped mint juleps, cranked up the music of the great Louis Jordan, and just chilled. I cinched a win by adding an “s” to “bowel.” Bastard.

Bess, Susie, Melody, Lee, and Kendra will probably get this, but just before bed, looking out into the backyard, we spied Ponty Apers 🦊. Why yesterday? Indeed.

Streaming for Strivers:

I was once accused by a former friend when I was (politely) unimpressed by his demo tape that I “don’t even listen to rock and roll anymore.” I did, I do, I always will. Also, Black Lives Matter in garage punk!