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On any given Thursday night, you will find me wracked from a long day at the office, reclining on the couch before the mighty television. Staring me down from across the shag rug, my guitar sits still and quiet as if to taunt me. It rests there, leaning comfortably, grinning, almost, as if to dare…

I bow before the alter of Excedrin. I stepped out of a twelve-hour day at The MTV last night with a thundering headache, my second in as many days. Nonetheless, I turned up The Who’s “Babba O’Reilly” full-blast. I needed the release. I needed the relief. I don’t discuss my day job too often here,…

You know how it is; you’re back in the office after a long weekend and the hallway banter is a passing, “How was your weekend?” The question means different things, I think, from different people. From my boss, it means, “Are you any less stressed than you were last week?” From my colleagues it means,…

My fascination with airplanes is only half as complicated as my fascination with war. Plenty of posts here have spoken to my aversion/attraction to airplanes. In short, I love planes, but I hate to fly. WFUV’s Vin Scelsa probably best summarized the whole thing when we spoke just after September 11th (and just prior to…

In August, 1989, my friend Greg and I piled into my silver two-door, four-speed Volkswagen Rabbit, and drove 750 miles from Valley Forge, PA, to Athens, GA, for no reason whatsoever except to see the hometown of our favorite band, R.E.M. As we rolled through five states, we consumed five tanks of gas, sixteen D…

Figures that I’m dressed like some West Palm real estate agent the day I ride the elevator with Thurston Moore. Not like I would have said anything, or foisted a CD on him or anything. Still, you don’t wanna look like a total tool bag when the Godfather of Alternative Rock is in the house.…