Norm

And of course he's referring to Norm Abrams of New Yankee Workshop and This Old House fame.

You want someone who's either rich or losing a screw

E-word,

I'm working on a short story. It's taking a life of its own, which is a good thing, and I'll have something for you a little early, since we're going on a trip this May. I'll also send you a more detailed critique of your short story.

In the meantime, I'm forwarding you an email my brother just sent me, because it is hilarious. I can't believe he's my brother sometimes, I mean he's like from another planet from me. His handiness has rubbed off on me a little, but I am nothing like him. I have exactly one power tool, a cordless drill that I really only use for screws and things like that.


Toe,

You can never and I repeat never have enough power tools or equipment with internal combustion engines. It's simply not possible. Although it does become a pain to tune up and change the oil on so many things. I really don't have too many toys yet. Let's see:

4-stroke air cooled:
riding mower
5500 watt generator
push mower
pressure washer

2-stroke:
25 cc blower
52 cc backpack blower
string trimmer/edger
chainsaw

electric:
5 gallon pancake compressor
staple gun
brad nailer
nailer
miter saw
table saw
fixed/plunge 2 1/4 hp router
18V cordless drill
palm sander
dremel

Okay, maybe that is more than average. I'll give you that. I am hoping to become more like Norm and really want to get into woodworking as I get older.

My brother has a brad nailer and a regular nailer. Well, he had to I guess since he installed the floor in his living room. He must have been adopted.

Love,

Toe

Heaven knows....

Toe,
I embrace your love of covers. Check out this one. They are from fricking Hong Kong. It cracks me up how widely the Smiths are known and loved. I can't be sure through the layers of reverb, but he sounds remarkably like Morissey, but not in a way the suggests he is just aping the sounds on the record.

I like the other cover of this song that you submitted as well. That guy's voice is amazing. It makes me realize how difficult it would be to sing a Smiths song.

I've been working on my story tonight. I am definitely going to be down to the wire this month.
Love,
E-word

Heaven know I'm miserable now

cover!

God, ridiculous, but so good.  I'm impressed, I would think that this song is almost uncoverable because it's so weird, but this guy does a credible job.

Boys don't cry

E-word,

I've developed a new obsession of finding cover songs on youtube.  I'm listening to this version of 'Boys Don't Cry' by the Cure.  It's both hilarious and heart warming.  Actually, almost all of these covers fall into that category.  Here are some 'Only You' by Yaz covers.  The second one is hilarious because the singer is a goof in a Raiders t-shirt with a crazy like Welsh accent or something, and all of the sudden comes out this incredibly powerful and good voice.  The first one is cute- it kind of reminds me of the times we'd drink and play guitar.

Holy shit- check out this 'Just Like Heaven' cover.  Basically totally unexpected how good this is, just based on looking at the guy.  Like, who the hell is this guy?  He looks like a hack, but wow, he's got chops and a voice.  Dang, and it turns out he's like a professional musician.

Love,

Toe

Fast Car

E-word,

I've decided I'm a closet lesbian.  I've been digging on 'Fast Car' by Tracy Chapman, and this awesome Jonatha Brooke song called 'West Point', recommended by Jer.

I think I've decided above all things that I love is road trips.  I wonder if I could convince El that a nice long road trip to maybe like North Dakota or Montana would be worthwhile.

Love,

Toe

Blinded

Toe,
I am thinking of a specific time when I had a similar experience where a song was locked into an experience of being drunk or sick. This goes back to 1994, when I was living in a different house in the same neighborhood, with 3 other housemates. My friend T. was in town then, back from Hungary, and his friend Stevedore was in DC for the weekend with his girlfriend, who would later become my sister-in-law. We had a little party. First we started out hanging out, talking, drinking vodka and tequila, and then Stevedore and I had a jam session on guitar. Stevedore was kind of a showboat, playing all his recently-learned labor and folk songs, non of which I knew, but I could could play along anyway on my guitar because they were pretty simple. Well, I got drunker and drunker as we played. Stevedore ended up playing this song, which I had always loved--at least up to that night. Unfortunately, over the course of the evening I had started to really dislike Stevedore, and he ruined this song for me, because by the time he played it I had grown tired of hearing his voice.

So, I stood up, rallied my housemate B and did pickle-shots with her. Now, pickle shots are big in Russia, apparently, where they don't have much in the way of mixers. They do a shot of vodka, then take a bite of a pickle. B. and I stood around the long bar we had in the kitchen and did a number of these shots as I tried to ignore the annoying Stevedore and his loud singing voice.

By the time I sat back down I was quite drunk. Stevedore had put down his guitar and my housemates and friends--and I think even my future sister-in-law--were asking me to play a song and sing. Finally, I had my chance! Everyone wanted to hear what I could do! But I was so drunk, I could barely even do a chord. I tried to play "Freebird," because someone requested it, but I couldn't even do a simple open G.

The next thing I remember, I was in the bathroom with my housemate, on whom I had always had a little crush, and she was holding me around the shoulder as I vomited into the toilet. It was kind of awkward. I was so drunk, painfully drunk, and I just wanted to get it all out. I think I might even have been crying a little. I had slept with her friend the week before, and now my housemate was telling me that her friend told her how I had a big cock. I was so drunk, I didn't realize she was probably coming onto me. All I could think was, no, I do not have a big cock, what are you talking about?

Anyway. This has been a rather incoherent memory. I tried to type this as I listened to the song I linked to, and I think the frenetic, hyperverbal nature of the song inspired me. I like this song, never stopped liking it--not even that night could ruin it.

Love,
E-word