Another weekend shot to shit. Not too much went down. Well, a couple things worth mention, and here they are, just because:

01. Almost went to Mudhoney with Molly, then, realized they were old and ugly, and all that. I saw them in 1993 at the height of their Piece of Cake tour. Great, great stuff. “Suck You Dry” just might be my favorite song of that year, upon giving it a little thought. Great bass line. That Matt guy was my favorite that year. All tall and drunk, wailing that big Gibson Firebird. Good memories. (Link photos by Goo. Thanks.)

02. Went skating with Lovejoy and Kass at Newberg. Carved a couple walls and even slammed once. Scary shit. I remember the old days of not really thinking about the mechanics of all it. I found myself very, very nervous, and shaky, and thinking about shit like twisted ankles and swellbows and shit. I will say this much: I thoroughly enjoyed watching my friends skate, as well as some little grommets puttin’ around. The kids have it good these days. Rip it up.

03. Hung with Gary and Dot. Goo and Frannie Freud were in Bend relaxing. Dottie is pretty quiet and mellow. I wish some of it would rub off on the little hellion. It didn’t. Gary would get to barking, and Dottie would join in, and man, the place would be a real mess of bedlam suddenly. Fuckers.

04. Had a cool drink with April up at the Mock Crest Tavern in North Portland. Enjoyed good conversation, a pint of PBR and even watched this thickheaded motherfucker punch the bathroom door, possibly in the throes of heartbreak or confusion, or, both. Hard to say. Let’s do it again, Ms. Cottini.

05. Got a little sad and watched the fabulous Flaming Lips documentary, “The Fearless Freaks.” Amazing. A triumph of the human spirit. Lessons to be learned. Tunes to live a life to. To the readers of this half-ass blog, this is “required viewing.” So get on it, and turn it on. It lifts my spirits something fierce, each time.

06. Found this and enjoyed it a bunch. “1975” is our pick. So good.

07. Thought about my Gramma Leo on St. Paddy’s Day. She was Irish, and let you know it. Full of piss and vinegar, and, Budweiser. God love her.