Combination Preoccupation

It seems there are two things infecting my subconscious mind. My crummy job, and the Sopranos. Dreams eventually take on a life of their own where we invent our own system of logic or in some cases, casting decisions. So last night, in my dream, I'm in a Sopranos episode, serving up latte's at my usual establishment. In walks Tony and his current Goomah, played by uber-90's vixen Valeria Golino (pictured). After serving up a fine Cappuccino, Golino proudly pays with a credit card made of red felt with an invisible magnetic strip.

Ethos, Pathos. Penny Ante Craphos

This may yet be the most petty, bitchy oversensitive and cheezy post yet. As presumed from the previous post, I'm of the mind from both sides of the employee/manager/customer dichonomy that it's best to choose your spots when to apply your theoretical boundaries of disciplinary excercise.
I can think of at least a dozen regular morning customers who get the same type of coffee, be it regular, custom latte, what have you. A bad barista can still fuck up a simple cup of coffee a thousand ways. If I'm familiar with you, and you don't always have to break a $20 bill with me, I'll serve up a damn good drink. That familiarity should pass both ways in a small but professional way. So how would you feel if after paying very nearly almost EXACT change for a drink, then get in your zen mode of anticipation of your drink made by Senor Speedy behind the counter....your change of $.01 is left at eye level, on top of the credit card printer. Now is the occasion that they want to know your name? Not for a thanks, G, great latte like always.
The rest of this morally dillema I will leave purposely vague because, yes as a rule you hand the customer their change. But if the customer is in a meditative pose and you have one cent change to offer, breaking their dream state, would precious time be better served expediting the cycle of service a wee bit?
I just gotta....mmm. rr! I just...gotta....grr! gotta.....PISS!!!!

Ruminating on the Elevators

Just thought I'd repeat this review I posted on Amazon for the 13th Floor Elevators final album, Bull of the Woods. They're from Austin, TX! The first and only true psychedelic band!

A band with a good bench, May 22, 2006

My appreciation of this band contiunes to grow by leaps and bounds. This is the Elevator's swan song, recorded under incredibly difficult circumstances. Their second album failed to land a hit single, as the first one did.PSychedlia was perhaps, on the wane, which this band with irretrievably tied to, which is fair.
Of course, the obvious circumstance of Roky Erickson's breakdown and hospitalization were the primary reason for the band's demise, but the chemistry had been upset for some time. Electric Jug-ist Tommy Hall had been the main lyricist and LSD as revolutionary tool advocate. The rest of the band were becoming more into hard escapist drugs and grew tired of Hall's philosophy.
Taking the needle and the mantle was the late lead guitarist Stacy Sutherland, truly an unsung guitar hero if I ever heard one. His playing is just enough country and Syd, not sounding overly slick,and a bit of laid-back Jerry Garcia. His lyrics a more accessable bridge abutting conventional songwriting and Hall's metaphors for the psychedelic journey to self-enlightenment. Sutherland is more grounded, down to earth, dirty and dead-end. Despite his dark nature, band members regard him affectionately. And I gotta give props to the new rhythm section of Dan Galindo and Danny Thomas, these guys chug and stammer like The Magic Band on 'Til Then.

Great Stuff

Withheld, Offered

Withheld, Offered
Originally uploaded by gragsie.

I have not altered this photo in any way, respectful of the original photographer's original artistic vision. But I was just looking for an artsy shot representative of the give and take kinda relationship I have with my manager. A minor event occurred today, some embarrasment with a purpose apparently, certainly unnecessary in my opinion. I digress...


Note the hairy arms. He's hairier than I am, has a bit of dry skin surrounding is copious beard at all times, not flattering. But this is not about hair or sexuality mind you, although I got the pic off a gay picture page. Something about bears...hmmm.
Digress I must again. Is a single small cup of regular coffee worth embarrasing a customer whose debit card was declined, and embarrass the associate that allows him to walk out of the store? You make somebody feel good, but that means somebody must feel bad? How does that make sense? Is the manager there to support his staff, vice versa or both? It is both IMHO.

Will I ever make anything resembling a reasonable income in this job relies on a bit of mutual trust and effort on both parts. See the pot? You gotta plant a seed, brotha! Just a note to the universe...Plan B is coming home to roost not quickly enough!

Any which-a-way; direction and ambiguity

DSCF0086 - coffee beans
Originally uploaded by nasebaer.

Sunday, like every day is espresso day!


Working on a Sunday feels like a direct im not sacreligious imposition on my general lifestyle or my aspirations heretofore of jamming in DuPont once again. Alas the weather was not ideal anyway so nix it I did and showed up at a convenient time for lattes and breakfasting. What struck me today was the difference between the laid-back tourist crowd and the weekday business crowd. I did see one regulat who comes in for coffee dressed in weekend warrior apparel: Mandals, cargo shorts and pirate tee, ala Target. With the tourists, it's more enlightening giving them directions to museums and suggesting items, even suggestive selling works better. Anything is better than just....the usual!

'Dillo Jammy

'Dillo Jammy
Originally uploaded by Gary Miles.

See more shots from my weekend in Houston on my flickr page!

Ben-iGn poetry

So how've I been, let's see. Felt a bit of the atmospheric allegies lately, as well as some dust-bunnies, relative to the moldy surrounding of our storage/laundry room. Briefly affected me at work, but caffeine is usually an effective antidote. I've really felt those lattes kicking me into gear. Begun some training for the Freer-Sackler museums, most prestigious in my book. Still trying to write songs, but it seems that I stumbled onto a bit of a poetry bug, which I wrote in an old book in the park (my laptop's battery doesn't work) so I will reprint it here for your permanent enjoyment...wait a moment...

Here tis.
By the way, the picture is of Ernie Kovacs, early TV personality, as my favorite character: Percy Dovetonsils, Poet Laureate

Poem 1 for Coffeeshop

Drip that coffee black and hot
Recall all that I forgot
Experience is stewed, an old life now renewed
Pass the gas and walk a few more miles
Relate, don't promulgate the efforts of other-man
Deign, not wean, not lean but stand Fat (now it gets good!)
Walk the bean in between sweat grinds
Crunch blue and siphon green
To riff it alone is solo, it's awesome!
Make paper and waste excess. It's a way!
Take patterns and keep a log.
Plans to stick to the downward path, it's slope not upstanding.
Heart battery not needed at this time, but note if so desired switch position to one less instilling.
So much sodium and other high numbers.
The table overflows with RXs, and no more or less than TEN FREE TOES!
Treat your serf to a cold omelet.
Hold lard and request a condensed mint on the side.
It's repetitious, but only in moderation.

Run Murkin, Run

Been getting good excercise lately, thus not much blogging. Took a nature hike "around the pond" in Conneticuit with th'' moms this weekend. She's 67 and making resolutions to get into shape. I just want to lower my cholesterol somehow. Today I ate 2 "TBMs" before the "elipse" . That's Tomato Basil Mozzarella, Washington Monument. I crammed in several Smithsonian activities and played real pickup Ultimate Frisbee, 7 on 7. It rotates players in and out as "suckers walk". I sucked for the most part but I enjoyed it anyway. I do not expect to look like Ah-nold by the end of summer and I sure won't turn Republican any time soon. I'm just chilling my endorphin-inundated bones and liking the fact that a day away from Baristaville, you can get a whole lot done. And I'm not done yet, 'cept I'm couch-bound.