Elevator etiquette

I made it all 18 floors down on my way out for lunch before realizing that I had forgotten my security badge-thingie required to get back into the building.

I quickly returned to the elevator and was joined by two other men, floors 11 and 20. Me in the back, 11 on the right and 20 on the left.

Floor 20 doesn't face forward (seriously, there are rules against that shit), but leans along the wall of the elevator gazing into the space between 11 and I, stealing the occasional glance at me. Or, mostly, me in my pants.

Floor 11. Ding. Doors open. Floor 11 leaves, probably giggling on the inside of his head. Doors close.

Floor 20 tweaks his entire torso to get a better, uninterrupted, seven-story look. He takes it all in and starts making a strange noise with his mouth, like he is trying to swallow peanut butter. I refuse to make eye contact and talk about the weather, or worse, my pants.

Floor 18. Ding. Doors. Peace.

It's been a long time since I've been checked out by a dude. At least that blatantly. Granted, I do look damned fine in these pants.

I want to hit Steven Spielberg with a stick.

First, square across the gut. Then, when he doubles-over in pain, right across the back of his neck. And finally, as he is swaying, nearly falling to the ground, I'd sweep his legs out from behind him in a move that Donatello of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles would be proud of.

Why this penchant for violence toward America's most popular director? Well, besides a string of downright terrible movies, he is exploiting my new neighborhood.

A large film shoot has taken over my entire block, as well as part of the street parallel mine, along with both of the busier cross-streets. They've moved residents, brought unnecessary noise and equipment, forced us to travel elsewhere and to park cars outside of our area. All with no reason or reimbursement aside from a snide letter duct-taped to a few trees that didn't even provide the correct movie title or production company name. While I am quite sure that changing the name is an act of vanity, it is probably best for Spielberg's mailbox and the reputation of the movie, Munich.

Apparently, it's some story related to the 1972 Munich Olympics, which certainly lends itself to some interesting plotlines. The film nerd websites (http://www.dreamworksfansite.com/munich/fullstory.php?id=2982) (many of which regard Spielberg as one of the greatest filmmakers ever) say that Fort Greene residents are simply complaining and that this movie is bound to be great. Indeed, some sources are even saying that it will be a 2006 Oscar contender, even though it is still in production. Well, if it is half as good as War of the Worlds, another plot that had incredible potential and was ruined by the greatest filmmaker ever, I'd like to skip the step of handing my money over to Spielberg via a middle man cinema and instead, walk to the end of the block and shove a ten-spot up his ass.

Each morning this week, they send some smiley, pimply-faced college intern to herd the residents to walk just so. However, aside from him or her, no one else on the crew even feigns interest or respect for the neighborhood. My personal favorite so far, besides gunning the loud, V8 engines of the 35 year-old cars on the street at 7am, was yesterday, during the daily herding, when we were asked to cut through the park on the western side of the street, forcing us away from the main intersection, and, in effect, the bus stop, coffee shop, and other local businesses. After re-directing us, we land on the sidewalk of the street parallel mine, on which the crew had the foresight to set up the breakfast spread; an insurmountable mountain of bagels, fresh fruit, hot foods, coffee and juice. The crew hugged the table and took over the sidewalk (the same one that we had been asked to vacate to) and looked at the residents snidely as we dared to squeeze by them. It was especially pitiful to see some of the poorer children walk by the table slowly, with sad eyes as big as globes, and to see the crewmembers do nothing but look the other way.

In the grand scheme of things, no, this isn't a huge deal and sure, it will be cool to see my street on film. However, causing hundreds of residents to find other parking on already overcrowded streets and to simply dominate a neighborhood like its there for no other reason that this production company's shots, is simply wrong. And hence, I am going to find a good stick.

in NY

It's incredibly muggy here, at least compared to what I am familiar with. It's gray. Sometimes the streets smell a bit like urine. I've managed to get quasi-lost on various subway lines several times already. A movie shoot on my block is causing extreme frustration.

And I am loving every moment of it.

I made it to New York in one-piece on Wednesday night. Four days, 2200 miles; two alone, two with my Dad. Favorite quote heard along the trip: An old man in a coffee shop in North Platte, Nebraska who told the young female worker, "This Cinnabon is tits-up" (referring to the Cinnabon-flavored coffee container).

I remain over-tired and am rocking a sore throat and what may be the onset of a cold, but I am here and arguably, malnourished. Not out of poverty per se, so much as my obsession of sampling every pizzeria in my neighborhood -- and now in my work neighborhood -- to make up for two years of terrible Salt Lake pizza.

I'm taking my ball and going home.

Or rather, I'm taking all this stuff (and then some) and stuffing it into my little car and heading to my new home.



I hit the road tomorrow morning. Thanks SLC.

I'm out like the gout.

Sigh, my last Friday Breakfast Jam

Available for download below, if you're interested.


Jesse Sykes

Lots of great phone calls this morning from listeners. It was pretty damned cool. I was even offered airline tickets to New York, but had to explain that I was driving. And, in an act of true wonder and miracle, I was able to record the entire program. This is the first (and only) time that the newish CD burner has accepted my attempt at putting disc number 3 into its insides and asking it to perform its duty. Sure, it's only an extra 10 minutes or so, but it allows for a lot more continuity and a more complete package. It may be the best going away gift possible.

Track 01 70.2MB (Right click, "Save Target As")
Track 02 21.3MB
Track 03 91.5MB
Track 04 11.9MB


Richard Swift

Oh, and while I anticipated being sad behind the mixing board at the station this morning and maybe even a little emotional tonight at my going away party, I was hit with it a bit early. Last night. Sugar House Park. Dusk. While the nearly-full Harvest moon made its way above the Wasatch, I had to say goodbye to one of my better Utah friends.

Playlist available here. Last week's program remains available for download here.

Seriously, why aren’t you at the record store?

Yesterday marked one of the better new music Tuesdays in quite a while. All of these fine records are now available at your local retailer.

The Rosebuds, Birds make good neighbors, Merge records.
Me likey. Check out “Blue Bird” here (mp3; right click, "Save Target As").

Sigur Ros, Takk, Geffen.
The latest from this crazy Icelandic crew leaked a while back (of course) and somehow, Scenestars has been streaming it since early August. Hear it for yourself here (stream).

Devendra Banhart, Cripple Crow, XL.
More on this record here.

The Dandy Warhols, Odditorium or Warlords of Mars, Capitol.
Heard my first cut from this record yesterday on a fine radio program called In House out of Pocatello, ID that I only discovered a couple weeks back. Check it out, it’s on from 4-5 pm, Monday – Friday, but sadly, you have to stream using Real Player, which is always a headache. Give “Down like Disco” a listen here (mp3).


Iron + WineCalexico, In the Reins, Overcoat recordings.
My favorite track is definitely “16, Maybe less” (mp3). What do you think?

Apollo Sunshine, s/t, spinART.
Second full-length from these Massholes. Several mp3s and streams are available here.

The Like, Are you thinking what I’m thinking?, Geffen.
Not completely sold on these ladies yet, but you can check 'em out live from yesterday’s KCRW Morning Becomes Eclectic podcast, something you should probably already be subscribing to anyway.

Four days and counting for DMo's SLC departure.

Emily had a bit too much fun making JPG attachments to include with my going-away party email invitations.

The good news is I seem to be less than a dork than I was two years ago

My personal assignment for the day: Compile and send the dreaded, pointless email that updates family and friends of my new Brooklyn address and happenings. I've moved a lot and hence, have had to send out a lot of these silly things. For inspiration, I turned to my last one, sent out two years ago when I moved from northern New Hampshire to Utah. After reading it, I feel less than inspired.

Hi all -
As always, sorry about the big email. I hope all of you are doing well. I haven't talked to many of you in quite a while, and I miss many of you; well, except for those of you that I don't, of course.

So to continue my recent transient fashion, I am moving to Salt Lake City, Utah. I thought that I should let all of you know this. My new info will be:
If I wasn’t afraid of you crazy internet stalkers, I would have included the old info here.

Below you will find answers to Frequently Asked Questions regarding this move to Salt Lake. You will play the part of "you," and I will be "me."

you: Hey, Dave. I heard you're moving. Where to?
me: Yep, heading to Utah.

you: Utah? Is that on the South Shore? By Braintree, right? me: Nope. Utah is in fact a state in the western U.S.

you: Oh. Well do you know anyone there?
me: Yes, in fact I do. I am moving in with two fine folks: Matty of Tewksbury, MA and Kathleen of Idaho. I know them both pretty darn well, and also know various other people out that way, including most of Matt's family that have landed in the SLC area.

you: Do you know anyone in Uruguay? me: I am not moving to Uruguay, but, no, I don't think that I do.

you: I've heard that there's a lot of Mormons in that area. What exactly is a Mormon?

me: Mormonism is a religion. Perhaps you remember those bad television commercials from the 1980s by The Church of Ladder Day Saints - they almost always featured an elderly woman and promised a free book - well, those folks are Mormons. As a general rule, Mormons tend to be pretty devout Christian-types. And, yes, there are quite a few in SLC, as they founded the city.

you: Are you a Mormon?
me: no.

you: Are you planning on becoming a Mormon?
me: Negative.

you: Have you ever posed for the cover of a romance novel?
me: At the time of this email, no. Quite frankly, I simply feel that my career as a male model is above lustful literature.

you: Back to the Mormons and their rules. What's the deal with alcohol?
me: There is definitely an interesting situation with alcohol, particularly in SLC. IN other areas, alcohol consumption is not as strictly guarded. The short answer: You can drink, but yes, there is some weirdness.

you: Any idea why canned olives are sometimes referred to as "pearls?"
me: None.

you: How long will you be in Utah?
me: I am not exactly sure. My gut reaction is that I will probably only be there for the winter and spring. It gets pretty damn hot in the summer, but we'll see. Things could change depending on the job situation and my attachment (if there is one) to the city.

you: Well, it sounds like you might be back on the East Coast for the summer then. Do you have any plans for next summer?
me: I really do enjoy the summers here in New England, and especially enjoyed this past summer and fall in the White Mountain National Forest. But, again, I'm not sure yet; one season at a time. Other possibilities include touring Eastern Europe in an attempt to reform the Soviet Union -- not so much as a giant Communist power, but rather to develop it as one massive theme park to rival the likes of the Walt Disney empire. Of course, one other option that would require far less effort would be to simply order one of those Russian brides online and set up a swing set in our backyard, working to spread joy on a smaller, more individual basis.

you: When exactly are you leaving? Will you be in Massachusetts (or other states) before you go?
me: I should be returning to the fine town of Tewksbury, MA on October 1. My hope is to depart October 6 (give or take a couple of days). I am considering stopping along the way to visit a couple of folks, but am otherwise anticipating a pretty direct route.

you: If you could be any animal, what would you be and why?
me: It's a tie. Either a three-toed sloth, or a flying squirrel. Both for the obvious reasons.

you: May I visit you at your new home in Utah?
me: By all means! I would love to have you visit, and in fact welcome nearly all folks that I have come to know in my 23 years of existence, with the possible exception being Mr. Roger Pilot (I swear to God, that is his name), a high school math teaching guru who did not see eye-to-eye with me. Otherwise, COME ON DOWN!

Well, this concludes our Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) section. If your question was not in fact on the list, let me know, and I will do my darndest to answer it. Hope you are all doing wonderfully.
-Dave

9.09 FBJ mp3

New Friday Breakfast Jam mp3. Half of it anyway.


Emiliana Torrini, Fisherman's Woman, Rough Trade

In addition to 101 other frustrations that come along with community radio -- poor equipment, a lot of people to please, no attention from the big labels -- you end up with a lot of low-tech volunteers at the station, such as myself, pushing buttons. The difference between me and them is that if something is working properly or if a piece of equipment is vastly beyond my grasp, I don't screw with it. Sigh. That cannot be said for everyone else though and in particular for the jackass who messed with the settings on the CD burner.

The result of said jackass' shenanigans: I was only able to record the second half of the program. It's too bad, too, because the first half was arguably the best radio ever broadcast. The second half, the one available for download below, not so much.


Acid House Kings, Sing Along with Acid House Kings, Labrador/twentyseven records, in stores in the U.S. this Tuesday

9.09 FBJ 91.4 MB (right click, "Save Target As")

Playlist from today's program available here.

Last week's show remains available for download here.

Only one more DMo FBJ to go!

Caribbean Azure vs. Blueberry

Really, I'm trying to be productive.

One can only be expected to do so much though with a permanent (?) cross-country jaunt planned for just over a week away. So, instead of putting together clever-sounding email headlines, I admit it, I put together an Excel spreadsheet comparing Vermont and New York ski season passes. The very detailed document included drive times from Brooklyn, cost per pass, goodies that may come with it and more, and was then sent to Adam, another who made his way to the borough via the snowy Wasatch Mountains and is going through serious ski withdrawal. (He was nice enough to add an extra column to the document: Days needed to break even on pass price. Silly Finance major.)

That was this morning. Fine, I said. After lunch, it's only work! Only work. Compelling copy creation for crazy colleges. Nothing else.

Well, the better part of the afternoon -- thus far, anyway -- has been spent painting fictional walls on benjaminmoore.com, narrowing the color choice down to Caribbean Azure or Blueberry for the new bathroom with the new roomie on the other end of an AIM connection. Then, of course, I had to design my "dream bedroom" on ikea.com. Could this shit be more cliche?

Fried

About a week after I moved to Utah, two years back, I earned myself a speeding ticket. The cop was friendly and professional, even said that he was "doing me a favor" and knocked it down a bit, what with my Massachusetts plates and what not. Except, I thought the ticket itself was BS (of course) and so I brought it to court — twice, in fact, because the City had trouble with the very difficult task of scheduling — and in the end, lost. I was presented with the very unsettling choice of paying the fine and hoping that my Massachusetts insurance rate didn’t reach for the sky, or choosing the legalized traffic corruption option of paying the fine plus a little more to head to traffic school and ensuring that the incident would not be reported to those pesky insurance organizations. I chose the latter.



Traffic school was an effing joke. It was like a bad 80s comedy and I spent the hour and a half keeping an eye out for Bill Murray, John Candy or Jim Belushi, waiting for one of them to pop out, unshaven and disheveled, and recite quintessential lines from “Stripes,” “The Great Outdoors,” or “Mr. Destiny.”

Instead, I got a retired traffic cop who had “seen it all” and viewed the forum not so much as an educational experience, but as the perfect opportunity to hone his amateur stand-up comedy skills. I was surrounded by the finest people SLC had to offer, folks that got pulled over for doing 110 in a 45 mph zone, or that hit a neighbor’s dog so hard, it exploded on impact. It made my court date loss all the more bitter.

Indeed, Salt Lake City’s traffic school actually made me a worse driver because the only thing that I actually learned was this: Per Utah law, if a light at an intersection is turning red, you are legally allowed to pass through that intersection so long as any part of your vehicle is in the intersection while the light is yellow. Essentially, the state is requesting people drive like assholes.

So I did just that this morning. In desperate need of a coffee, I nudged my nose into a very busy intersection, watched the light turn to red and made a left-hand turn. I quickly took a right into the coffee shop parking lot. After getting out of my car, a motorcycle cop rolls by me, literally almost hitting me, and stops.



“Woa,” I say. He doesn’t acknowledge me, but I am pretty sure that I am getting a ticket. His lights aren’t on. He won’t look at me, but he does take out a notebook and starts writing. I give him a minute or so, mentally reciting my traffic school retort: “Sir, I was already in the intersection and Utah law states that…"

Still no sign that he realizes I exist or that he nearly ran me down like that neighbor’s dog. I shrug and decide that coffee is more important and walk away. I think I made the right decision.

While in the shop I hear him throw on his sirens and pull over someone else. A bigger fish to fry, as my mom would say. I return to a ticket-free car and a bad case of paranoia: Is that fucker going to mail me a violation?

Wedding photos, etc.

M & K celebrate on the summit of Snowbird.

A while back, I promised to post some photos and details from the wedding of my Utah best friends, Matt and Kathleen. Well, here are the photos.

These are my photos here. They span the gift-giving, Matt's bachelor's party weekend in Idaho, rehearsal dinner and the event itself, held at Alta.

Other photos from that day available here.

And here is a photo of Jess flashing Little Cottonwood Canyon. Seriously, there is nothing under that shawl.

Somewhere in middle America

"Okay, Dad, so I'll pick you up in Des Moines."

Arguably one of the strangest phrases to ever leave my mouth. I think that if my father or I actually lived in Des Moines, it would still be strange.

Anyway, two weeks from today, I'll make my way off I-80 to pick my old man up at the Des Moines airport and split the next 20 hours of driving.

Own a piece of DMo

No, findingdmo is not going public; believe it or not, I'm still a few AdSense paychecks short of that. However, I am planning for a rather quick cross-country move and need to unload some stuff ASAP. Interested? Thought you might be. So, if you live in or around SLC, buy some stuff!

You can see it at Craigslist here.

Or, if you demand a style sheet (such a pain in the ass, you are), check out the Fall DMo catalog here.

*Not responsible for spelling errors on either page, damn it.

9.02.05 FBJ MP3

This morning's show, available in two convenient, long-ass downloads! Each are about 92 MB and 1:19 in length of pure bliss. Lots of new and newish music on this morning's program. Also, I didn't mention it on-air, but potentially, this could be the second to last DMo Friday Breakfast Jam.

Update, 9.16.2005: These tracks have been removed to create space for more recent programs. If you absolutely need a copy of this show, contact DMo.

Track 1
Track 2
(right click, "Save Target As")


The Rosebuds, birds make good neighbors, Merge Records

I missed last Friday's show because of a last minute job interview in NY, hence no MP3 (the lovely Emily sat in for me). Also, the sound quality from the show before that blew goat chunks, so, I will be taking that one off. I think I will keep the August 19th program live for now. You can download that baby here.


DCFC, Plans, Atlantic

Playlist from this morning's show available here.

Dusk is the only time of each day that I second-guess the idea of getting into a tiny automobile for 2,200 miles and giving I-80 the beating it deserves.


It's almost a straight line.