Tearing Down the Continental

Oddly enough, John Hartford’s song “They’re Gonna Tear Down the Grand Old Oprey” is going through my head right now because I just found out that Buffalo’s punk landmark, the Continental, is being torn down.  The Ryman Auditorium was saved.  The Continental has been doomed to its fate for several years.

I began going to the Continental in early 1982.  My new best friend Kim dragged me there – a group called 1.4.5 was playing that night and after somehow ending up in a closet for a brief smooch with one of the band members (Ducky), I became totally hooked on going there – 2, 3, even 4 nights per week.

As more of a teetotaler than a drinker,  I began bringing my camera and I spent all of my money on film and processing and fell into documenting several of the bands that caught my fancy – how I wish I had thought to take more photos of the patrons, the staff and of course, my friends.  I believe I have a photo of Frank and one of Bear, but I do not have a single photo of Bud Burke!  I have hundreds of photos of the Fems and not one of the Goos!

Even though I was in my thirties when I started going there, I think of the Continental as my second high school – only this time I got to hang out with the cool kids.  Many graduated with flying colors from their years at the Continental School of Rock, many flunked out with equally flying colors, and way too many souls were lost along the wayside.

Most of the best friends I have today can be traced back to the Continental.  This goes for real life friends and Facebook friends.  The Continental was a marvelous motley mosaic of freaks and geeks, gays and straights, punks and poseurs, young and old.  What tied us all together was the music – live bands: local, national and international playing on the scummy little stage – and the throbbing dance music playing upstairs on the mirrored dance floor.  And of course the never-ending parade of fashion and hair and makeup and jewelry.

“Hey, did you know that guy who used to go to the Continental?  You know who I’m talkin’ about – the guy in the black leather jacket…”  “Yeah, I knew him.”

For those of us without cable TV, we got to see music videos on the big screen.  I still hunt these down on YouTube and think of the Continental.  “Smack Jack,”  “Heroes,” “Mexican Radio,” “Safety Dance.”  Talking Heads, Psychedelic Furs, Devo, Ramones, Shakin’ Stevens.

The music was so deafening that the building shook, the stench of the place was indescribable and unforgettable – the floor was sticky, the rest rooms were disgusting. I once bought slide bolts and installed them in the ladies room stall doors and Bud was so astonished and pleased he presented me with a bottle of Champagne.  These door locks lasted about a week.

The Continental rocked along for years after I stopped going there for anything but the Fems’ Christmas show.  To me it was just not the same old place anymore after the stage got moved into the back and the patio was mostly closed and of course the people were all strangers to me and everyone was so young or maybe I just got old.

I dunno, but the Continental will always be in my heart and for that I thank Kim for dragging me there, and Mark Freeland and his multitude of talented friends for the music and Bud Burke for bringing the whole thing together for as long as he did.

“Everyone is trying
To get to the bar
The name of the bar
The bar is called Heaven
The band in Heaven
They play my favorite song
Play it once again
Play it all night long”
(David Byrne & Jerry Harrison)

Fleeting Glimpses (#2)

This was photographed on an entrance ramp to the QEW in Fort Erie - for months there have been a pair of black shoes along the curb, looked to be in new-ish condition. Then suddenly one disappeared and now that remaining one has a fetching and no doubt reflective yellow stripe running perfectly down its middle.

Chinese Junk

When I was a little kid one of those things that would set my mind to wandering was the phrase "Chinese junk."  This described a marvelously different kind of little boat which could be found alongside the teeming rivers, harbors and shorelines in China.  There were people who lived on these junks and they sold merchandise and fish and vegetables and these little boats had those rakish kind of what I like to think of as "Owl and the Pussycat" sails.  Colorful, unique, tiny, safe and found on the pages of the National Geographic.

Along came the seventies and eighties and the definition of Chinese junk came to mean heroin.  Flooding this country and the world with this terribly addicting and deadly drug.

Now, it is several decades later.  Chinese junk has once again changed its definition and once again Chinese junk is deluging North America but this time instead of heroin the term denotes merely junk.  Dollar store junk.  Walmart junk.  Plastic picture frames.  Cheap blue jeans.  Toys with lead-based paint.  Carcinogens in the candies.  Deadly dog food.  The cheap crap we are all so eager to buy because it is so cheap and  we use it once and it breaks and we throw it out.  Chinese junk.

I liked the boats better.

The Power of Cat Hair

As I have been spending this Labor Day laboring with the task of washing all of my cat bedding I find it simply amazing the way cat hair insinuates itself into all kinds of fabric - plush, fleece, wool - whatever!  I know that a tornado can throw a broom-straw into a tree, but by what magic is is that a fine tiny soft cat hair twists its way into cloth?  And how can those same fine tiny soft cat hairs be so very difficult to remove?

Here's another feline observation - cats are known for their cleanliness, right?  So how is it that a cat with glowing white fur ends up dirtying bedding so heavily that the rinse water runs brown?  And my cats are not outdoor cats - they have an enclosure where they tread only upon concrete and gravel and carpet - no dirt, no soil, no earth.

The cat door itself gets itself so laden with schmutz that I have to wash it every month or the clear flap becomes opaque.

So here is my idea - forget carbon fiber and nano technology - we can build a space elevator to the stars if we can simply learn to harness the power of cat hair.  And if we go a bit further and send a passel of cats into space the dirt that they carry in their magical mystical fur can eco-form a barren planet for human (and feline, of course) habitation.

I'll bet dogs could help with this project as well and just as I would not want to go to any Heaven that did not contain cats and dogs, neither would I wish to travel to another world without their hairy companionship.

Shut Up Precious!

We have a small back alley behind the shop with a broken stockade fence between our alley and the next back yard.  There is a dog in that yard and her name is "Shut Up Precious!" as far as I can tell because she barks at everything that moves - sometimes she barks at me when I am inside the shop and I make a noise in the back room.

She sticks her head through the break in the fence and just stares and stares at me - and she is a dog with no short-term memory at all.  I can bring one bag of garbage out to the totes and she goes nuts and I say hello to her and go back inside for more stuff to bring out and when I hit the alley she goes nuts all over again.

Her mommy told me that Shut Up Precious! couldn't even remember the neighbor on the other side who used to give her treats every day.  She runs up the back steps and tries to see me over the fence but most of the time she just tries to get her head through the break.

 

I told Shut Up Precious! that I was taking her picture so I could make her famous on the Interweb but I doubt very much if she will remember our conversation.

Shopping Locally and Loving It!

Last week I came to the conclusion that I really really needed a new drafting stool if I was going to be spending even more time banging on the keyboard what with the blog and Facebook, etc. I needed something comfortable.  I love the idea of my 100 year-old wooden drafting stool but, Lordy!  The seat on it was so hard and it seemed that I spent all of my time trying to find/adjust/replace/reposition cushions on the thing.

So I went Googling for a New Drafting Stool - found thousands of websites with hundreds of stools - padded seats, casters, arms, no arms - adjustable everythings.  Decided I wanted a simple black stool with a padded seat.  Wasn't sure about needing casters.....

Found a whole whack of stools at many websites all offering FREE SHIPPING!  Prices were in the neighborhood of $119.99 and UP to almost $1000.  Well, OK, but I would really like to shop locally and I would really like to actually sit in the chair before I bought it.

So I browsed through the big office supply places and wouldn't you know, none of them actually had any drafting stools in stock - all were special order items.  So, dinosaur that I am, I let my fingers do the walking through the 5 pound Yellow Pages and I found Sutherland's Office Supply on Elm Street.

Phoned them and spoke with Scott who told me he had one black drafting stool left from a special purchase lot and that he had recently lowered the price to $89.00!

I drove there the very next morning (easy to get to, BTW) and when I walked in the door the first thing I spied was a magnificent black and white tuxedo cat curled up on top of a copier.  Well I knew I was in the right place!  The cat, Figaro, was very pleased to have a new fan and paraded around for me.

The end of the story is this - I also bought a used task chair for my office at the shop (although no one would ever be able to tell that it is used!) and together they cost less than the online drafting stool I had originally desired.

I am also really happy that I did not pay extra for casters because with my slippery painted wooden floor I would have had to tie the stool to the bench.  I had to go to Drew's yesterday to find some nice rubber feet to keep the stool from walking away.  Did you know that the opposite of "Glider" is "Gripper?"

Yeah!  Shopping locally!!!

On the Subject of Blog Comments

You may have noticed that I have turned off the "Comment" feature for this blog. I do not follow that many other blogs but I have noticed lately that a lot of them have done this as well. 

My theory is that if you want to make a comment about something I have written there are ways for a person to contact me.  No one else cares what you think.  Really!  That is what Facebook is for:  "Attagirl!" and "Me too!" and "You are an idjit!"

Wearing Fur Pajamas (1)

I photographed this guy thru the window one morning - he was on his way into the woods to rub the velvet off of his antlers.  Taken through a filthy window, a dirty screen and an old piece of plastic - didn't turn out too bad, eh?  There is a whole herd of deer wandering around in my woods. 

When Compliments Go Wrong

Before I got my hair cut this summer, I had my hair tied back into a pony tail one afternoon and I was waiting on a long-time customer - we were looking at various combinations of mats and frames.  The usual frame shop stuff.

All of a sudden he blurted out, "Oh my God what happened to your hair?!?  Did you get it cut?"

I had to give him a little lesson on how that is not the way to ask a lady if she has had a new haircut.