While watching five hockey games in a 36-hour period over this past weekend, there were points when it was almost like I was hovering somewhere above my body, watching myself watch hockey. There were two college games at Blue Cross Arena on Friday, followed by the Sabres game on television, and then Saturday it was one more college game down at the Arena followed by another Sabres game on TV. During both Sabres games I think the realization hit us all at the same time. Someone would comment on what the rest of us were thinking, that it’s really weird to watch that much hockey. We saw 324 shots on goal. There is no way of knowing how many dump-ins, how many offsides, and how many face offs we might have seen. Weird. The NCAA tournament was great. I’m glad that Maine is representing the East. They play Michigan State in the frozen four and although Ryan Miller went there and the Spartans have three guys from Buffalo, I have to stick with Maine. Another totally surreal part of the weekend was the mascots. The Maine Black Bears have a mascot named Bananas. He’s a black bear. Named Bananas. It means that every time he does a lap around the ice during the intermissions wearing his personalized jersey you have to convince yourself over again that he’s not a gorilla. “He is a black bear and I’m not crazy… He is a black bear and I’m not crazy…”
I also hit two record shops over the weekend while the family was away. The Record Archive on East has quite a substantial record collection and a couple of experts on hand. Most of their collection you can’t even get to yourself, but the less collectible stuff is in bins by letter of the alphabet. There were quite a few people digging around getting in each other’s way and one gobshite who was trying to show the guy behind the counter how much he knew about old records. There was a box of 7-inch punk singles on the counter that I went through that made an impression on me. The artwork was all cartoons or photocopied pictures in black and white of whatever the band must have thought most gruesomely or offensively captured what they were trying to get across. The thought that bands would press these records and pass them out or sell them at shows and maybe some kid would collect them and cherish them for a week or two is so cool to me. That’s punk! I should have bought one. I picked up a Pete Townshend and a Cheap Trick album instead. On Sunday I went to Lakeside and bought a Sugarcubes record. Lakeside has more newly released stuff on vinyl. The Sufjan Stevens state-themed records for Illinois and Michigan were there and the artwork was incredible. Buying that new stuff on vinyl considering the turntable I’ve got would be senseless, but the used Sugarcubes album fit my vague criteria for something that would be particularly fun to listen to at my dining room table. I think “Life’s Too Good” came out in different colors. Mine is green.
Lest anyone think it was all fun, I finished our income tax return on Saturday morning in a quiet, peaceful, and sun-filled house. I think Mark Twain said something one time about it not being work if a body isn’t forced to do something in the middle of a chaotic and noisy house. Or maybe I’m thinking of Roger Miller when he said that you can’t change film in a car with a kid on your back wearing roller skates. Anyway, I felt so civilized going over the forms and enjoying my cup of coffee, Maxwell House should have shot the whole scene for a commercial.
I also hit two record shops over the weekend while the family was away. The Record Archive on East has quite a substantial record collection and a couple of experts on hand. Most of their collection you can’t even get to yourself, but the less collectible stuff is in bins by letter of the alphabet. There were quite a few people digging around getting in each other’s way and one gobshite who was trying to show the guy behind the counter how much he knew about old records. There was a box of 7-inch punk singles on the counter that I went through that made an impression on me. The artwork was all cartoons or photocopied pictures in black and white of whatever the band must have thought most gruesomely or offensively captured what they were trying to get across. The thought that bands would press these records and pass them out or sell them at shows and maybe some kid would collect them and cherish them for a week or two is so cool to me. That’s punk! I should have bought one. I picked up a Pete Townshend and a Cheap Trick album instead. On Sunday I went to Lakeside and bought a Sugarcubes record. Lakeside has more newly released stuff on vinyl. The Sufjan Stevens state-themed records for Illinois and Michigan were there and the artwork was incredible. Buying that new stuff on vinyl considering the turntable I’ve got would be senseless, but the used Sugarcubes album fit my vague criteria for something that would be particularly fun to listen to at my dining room table. I think “Life’s Too Good” came out in different colors. Mine is green.
Lest anyone think it was all fun, I finished our income tax return on Saturday morning in a quiet, peaceful, and sun-filled house. I think Mark Twain said something one time about it not being work if a body isn’t forced to do something in the middle of a chaotic and noisy house. Or maybe I’m thinking of Roger Miller when he said that you can’t change film in a car with a kid on your back wearing roller skates. Anyway, I felt so civilized going over the forms and enjoying my cup of coffee, Maxwell House should have shot the whole scene for a commercial.
Sunday the family was reunited and we went over to my sister’s house for my dad’s birthday party. We had the sunshine and the growlers of beer, the only thing missing on the front porch was a new mix CD and another five degrees centigrade.
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