A Banner Sunday

Hey there. It’s raining outside. the music library is on shuffle, and I’m taking a break. Just ready to sort out the coming week’s medications, vitamins and assorted supplements. Don’t know why I crave any actual food after choking all of this crap down each day.

Notice the new YoYo-Dyne banner? Cool isn’t it? Adam over at Chowderhead offered to design a banner for the first 25 readers that snapped up his offer. Being adroit at finding all things cheap (see ex-boyfriend) Adam’s offer couldn’t be passed up. You can see ALL of the nifty banners he designed at the above link.

For those of you unfamiliar with YoYo-Dyne, here’s a quick question.
Have you ever watched Buckaroo Banzai? You know, origin of the oft-used phrase ‘no matter where you go, there you are’? If you’re familiar with this 80’s fan classic then you’re okay. No admission fee for You.
But wait! There’s another way you can sneak in under the big-top canvas. Perhaps you’ve read The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon? You’ll see YoYo-Dyne Propulsion Labs show up there for the very first time. Earl Mac Rauch, who wrote the screenplay for Buckaroo, lifted Pynchon’s mythical Rockwell/Boeing/Hughes Evil Giant Corporation (because that could never happen right?) for amusement purposes. An in joke for a very small number of fantasy genre readers.

It wasn’t until I’d begun tossing around the YoYo-Dyne name in various stories, graphics and conversations that The Crying of Lot 49 became a beloved fixture on my own bookshelf. If you get the chance, read it. Almost a novella, it is not a long read. You’ll find a slew of 1960’s pop references, all cleverly and amusingly disguised, in The Crying of Lot 49. Pynchon will take you on your own treasure hunt.
But this one is mine.

Dammit, another movie entirely

Dammit, another movie entirely

So I started to dig around a bit to see if anyone else had been using and happily abusing the Lectroids and Lord John Whorfin. The latter were all running about the YoYo-Dyne warehouses last I heard, screaming something about Planet 10.

I already knew that the YoYo-Dyne name was unavailable in any url form I wanted. Tried to lock down that baby 15 years ago. Someone I worked with at The WB mentioned that she’d seen a YoYo-Dyne Hair Salon, or Hair Something, in one of the Dakotas. Weird but cool.
My own contribution is this blog, and a Facebook page. Listed my employer on FB as YoYo-Dyne Propulsion Systems: Reno Div, Location, Grover’s Mill, N.J.
In the infinite wisdom of Mark Zuckerberg it seems that by collecting 25 ‘Likes’ your page is considered a viable location. Believe it has over 85 members now, and perhaps 15 or so are friends of mine.
My current position, listed on my personal FB page, is CEO, Writer and Fellowship Chair of Banzai Physics. I have a real employer now, YoYo-Dyne Propulsion, that comes up on the link. It must be true.

Found that there was a reference to YoYo-Dyne Propulsion on an old show called Angel, which was a spin-off of Buffy The Vampire Slayer.
Seems ABC referenced YoYo-Dyne on a website for a fictional company named PB-Sales. The site was created for the television show Lost. PB-Sales supposedly owned not only YoYo-Dyne but GeoComtex; a Company owned by Van Stratton from Dr. Who. The site’s gone now, but my fangirl neurosis cannot be quelled.

Doctor Who Rules My World

The Doctor is IN

We’ve gone through enough pointless history on YoYo-Dyne Propulsion systems that my ears have been treated to Madness, Zero7, Ella Fitzgerald, Ben Folds, Wagner and The Format. I’d die without music.
It’s all that’s left. My beautiful concert grand is in Reno, on consignment at a retail music store.
I tried to play one more time before it was dismantled and taken from my home. Still had hands like claws, so even a slow rendition of Scott Joplin’s Solace wouldn’t come.

Now I keep music, books and movies close. Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eight Dimension and John Cale singing Hallelujah, Princess Bride and Gogol Bordello. Tom Woodrell speaks to me while Kings of Leon sing Pyro.

A good friend pointed out that life is a spiderweb. Everything is interconnected. I don’t believe we’re separated by 6 degrees, but we may be 3 strands from understanding.

So that’s all I have to share today. Buckaroo Banzai is available on Netflix streaming again. Even if you don’t love the movie the end title sequence is a gem. Never seen anything like it before or since. The only versions of the credits on YouTube are a mess. Eh, get up and haul your ass over to the TV. It’s worth 90 minutes of your time to check out Peter Weller, John Lithgow, Jeff Goldblum and a cast of Lectroids in one of my fave little films.

At least you’ll understand why YoYo-Dyne Propulsion Systems: Reno Division has been invaded by aliens. Time to get back to the pills and my Fresca. The hands are getting better, so cross your fingers. I feel some ragtime creeping into my soul. It really is a banner Sunday.

                  Laugh while you can Monkeyboy!

Buckaroo Banzai Beyond the 8th Dimension

Shot from the End Credits

 ~Miss R: Fangirl Geek or Eccentric Human? Poll next week.

Owner of an original Buckaroo Movie Poster, Two original BB coffee mugs -still in use and unbroken, a shooting script (photocopy) signed by Earl Mac Rausch (not photocopy), a BB studio promo button and of course memories of the first time I saw this film: in New Jersey with friends on the night it was released. The audience stood and gave the flick a standing ovation. Not something you come across much anymore

Hooray For Hollywood

HollywoodHollywood by Charles Bukowski

The Rachael Rad Rating : 5 of 5 stars

I loved this book. See a lot of ‘eh’ reviews. Have no idea if it’s my own involvement in film, writing and Los Angeles of the past that makes this tale a spark of real life. I believe it’s the writing alone that does it.
This is Bukowski as Bukowski, not ‘Hank’.

‘Hollywood’ was and still is a pleasure to read. A must have for any screen writer, rags to riches bum, alcoholic literary being, or the real reason to read Buk or Fante.. The Clean Line.

It’s the story of ‘Barfly’ (a Bukowski book) and the making of that film. It starred Mickey O’Rourke. Bukowski had such a wonderful time seeing the project through and it shows in this work. It is a peek into the real life of an icon.

Some people never go crazy, what  truly horrible lives they must lead
Seems readers either love him or hate him. I met him in a bar, in Long Beach in the very early 80’s, and thought that he was a consummate asshole.
Based on a personal experience I refused to read any more of his work and filled myself with righteous indignation.
What an ass. Me. Not Buk.

The man could write. I feel that Bukowski is one of the Top 5 Best Writers of the 20th Century. His words could immediately sabotage the happiest fool, punch your lights out with the measure of anger at society, and stun you with his graphic and street-level view of humanity, and heighten your mind to poetic grace with his insights. Within the same piece all of these textures could be transfused. You loved with his heart and so hurt with his hurt.
He enjoyed doing live readings with a cooler on the stage next to him. Woe be to a heckler or someone foolish enough to speak too loudly. It’s true. Beer cans can fliy.

Hollywood is a personal story, filled with the real feelings and observations of an author finally revered for their work. Finally taken seriously. Finally able to let his personal side and thoughts of his life come out. It is quite different from any of his other writings. Well, so was Pulp. Pulp however… was truly the ‘eh’ Bukowski.

And Our Musical Selection For This Evening

Currently Listening:  Hollywood Madness

By:
Richie Cole
From:
The Rad Rachael Original Signed Vinyl Stack

Richie Cole: Hollywood Madness

Richie Cole plays an amazing, high energy, gorgeous alto. It’s scary-cool pure synchronicity that a sneaky little subconscious slapped this on the turntable while writing the Bukowski review.

First time I heard Richie I thought “Damn, this guy can blow.. and he’s white!” Couldn’t believe I hadn’t heard him play before. He was an L.A. fixture and his style is the combination of his be-bop roots, and late 70’s and early 80’s fusion. Richie Cole has added his raucous and heavenly talents to other musical acts ranging from Buddy Rich to Manhattan Transfer. That’s a lot of years and genres.

These were the days when my radio tastes went from punk to jazz. Oddly I could never get my punk rock friends interested in Sonny Rollins, Richie, Stanley Turentine or Weather Report. Conversely, the Jazz contingent would never end our nights with a stellar a cappella rendition of Beat on the Brat With A Baseball Bat.
Met Richie at the Queen Mary Jazz Festival in 1982 or ’83. Cool cat. Down to earth and a smile as big as the Ritz. We had a few beers and talked music, and life. Met up with him again at another festival in the early 90’s.

Holy Shit Batman. Age and drugs had taken a toll. No, his entire wallet.
Heard him play then later hit an after-party at a friend’s house. Richie sat alone on a couch, towards the back of the cluttered living room. Naturally I made a bee line and plopped the ass down beside him.
Couldn’t believe that nobody else at the party was in line to shake his hand. He lit up a doob and we smoked and people watched for a while.
Mentioned that I had talked with him before. He remembered me, or at least said he did. Which was nice.
His name, and remarkable style, had faded by 1994.
It was a comfortable chat and I’ll always remember the way it felt in that room. The cigarette smoke, a fire in the old stone fireplace, musicians aplenty, a very faint smell of spilled beer in old carpet, and the quiet peace of smoking a joint with a good friend. Maybe that was it. He wasn’t a long time friend, but he made me feel that way. Left the party and took Richie’s number with me, he took mine as well. A happy ‘I’ll call you when I’m back in town’ and that was the last time I saw him.

Heard later he’d been in and out of rehab for heroin. Same drug that clipped the wings of Bird. It explained his deteriorated appearance.
Never saw Richie again, but I’ve kept his albums through all the years of marriages, divorces (Divorce: noun. Meaning ‘to lose your favorite music.’) and cross-country moves.

Bukowski and Richie Cole are two great examples of my Hollywood. As a L.A. kid, New York City grown-up, Reno, Nevada hell-if-I-know, the memories of my original home and experiences are still easily stirred. Think it’s the same for anyone with a bit of dreamer inside.
A sight, a bar of music, a phrase on paper, can fill our souls with a spate of emotions.
Can’t think of a better reason to elicit Hooray for Hollywood.

~Miss Noir

Picasso’s Last Words

If you can whistle that tune 10 points,

If you’re at a loss then shame on you. Unless you’ve the misfortune to be born within the last fifteen years. In which case what are you doing here at YoYo-Dyne?
Piss off ‘ya little phuckers and write your note to your shaved Bieber.

Band On the Run was one of the first LP’s I purchased. The day it was released. Already had Abby Road, Johnny Cash Live at Folsom Prison, and at least twenty 45’s. This was 1973, Making me 3 years old at time. Okay, may have been 12.
Life already consisted of nothing but music and film. An obsession with silent movies and a physical yearning and love for making music.

Being overweight, an A student and incredible spaz helped more than you can imagine. Oh, I had a bicycle. I could ride for miles. And I did. To see movies.

It took me at least a year to separate the musical scores from the film/dialogue and actually watch the film. That is how intrinsically interwoven these arts are to me.

Those long-ago days I walked uphill both ways to school in the snow, wearing only barbed wire on my feet, as snowshoes had not yet been invented.
In Los Angeles,

Spent the weekends at movie theaters. Movie palaces. The days before 20-plexes.
One of the wonderful things about Long Beach was that it was 30 minutes from Hollywood; virtually every film from Hal Roach shorts to David O Selznick‘s Gone With The Wind were first screened in Long Beach.
Fantastical theaters done in Art Deco, California Moorish and Art Nouveau.
None still stand. If you travel to Hollywood the closest you can find is the Chinese Theater. No longer Grauman’s Chinese Theater. Even Grauman’s Egyptian is gone.

Patron cards filled out, producers and actors present. This was still the norm into my teens. In the 70’s. Nineteen not Eighteen.
Filled out lobby cards, saw so many Hollywood legends in the seats (if I were not such a film nerd wouldn’t have noticed) and sneak peeked lots of films. Many of which had their wings clipped when officially released.

Better yet there was a theater in LA that screened Only silent films. Learned to know and love Harold Lloyd, Clara Bow, Buster Keaton, Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks and Rudolph Valentino.

Well, as a teen I didn’t hang out at the mall, go to sleepovers, call girlfriends at all hours. Certainly not boyfriends. Well unless they were gay, but not admittedly in those days.
Do you know the reason God made little fat girls? So little gay boys would have friends -smile-.

You could find me at the movies, paying for a cheap Hammer film in silver dimes (from my coin collection), watching MASH at the cheap matinee, sneaking in (ha, easily passed for 17 at age 12 with the right glasses and make-up) to view Cabaret, Clint Eastwood, The Sting -where I developed my love of ragtime and stride piano playing and a fairly worthless professional career- Chinatown and so many other movies.

And that’s a little bit of history.
Have at least 100 45’s now but most of the LP’s are gone, replaced by MP3s and CDs. Still have some classics.
Turntables are available again. Silent movies are shown on TMC. It’s not all dust.

It’s three o’clock in the morning, I’m getting ready for bed.
You know I can’t drink any more.

~Miss R

The Semi-Annual Top 15 Halloween Tunes

As usual I’ve been busy getting Funeral for A Friend up to speed on the piano. Neighbors dig me…. Not so much last week when I pulled my fave-to-play Halloween tune out of the floorboards. Dear god my piano softly wept. The neighbors,  not so softly.

 So without further ado:

  1. Every Day is Halloween –Ministry
  2. Funeral for a Friend – Elton John
  3. Corpse Grinding Man – Harley Poe
  4. Superstition –Stevie Wonder
  5. Werewolf – The Frantics
  6. Time Warp –Rocky Horror Picture Show
  7. Werewolves of London – Warron Zevon (also playing this daily –but an easy tune)
  8. I Put A Spell On You – Screamin’ Jay Hawkins
  9. Little Drop of Poison – Tom Waits
  10. RE: Your BrainsJonathan Coulton
  11. Hell – Squirrel Nut Zippers
  12. Bad Things – Jace Everett.(True Blood theme song)
  13. Bad Moon Rising – CCR
  14. Psycho Killer –Talking Heads
  15. Ghost Town –Shiny Toy Guns

Well, it seems there are some new Samhain tunes in town since the last YoYo-Dyne list. It makes an evil girl weep tears of joy. Mind you, this list reflects the author’s opinion.

On the other hand (THING?!) feel free to nominate any others you can think of.

NOTE: any mention of Monster Mash, Twilight Zone, Friday the 13th Theme or anything by Rob Zombie or Alice Cooper will be laughed off the comments page.

Just too easy.

Let us end this fine playlist with a few atrocious pictures of Halloween costumes… that you wouldn’t be caught dead (or decaying) in.

As for Miss R? I’ll be adorned as a serial killer. The costume my usual street attire of black skirt, black stockings, FMPs and black low cut blouse.

No, it’s not Goth.  It’s just that serial killers look like anyone else on the street.

Trick or Treat my friends. Oh, and don’t shoot the piano player.

most offensive 2012 costume

Most Offensive costume of 2012

Pedo Bear Approved!

Damned furry footed freakin’ Hobbits

This is Why We Burn

You will notice my camp, Spanky’s Wine Bar, at 52 seconds in.

Notice the joy, amazement, amazing city sized art installations such as Burn Wall Street. Evidenced in this video with a shot of Bank of UnAmerica.
Happiness and laughter at seemingly bizarre sights.
Art is in the air. As is understanding, open minds, and the originality of too many people to count.. and better yet those artists who wish to remain anonymous.

Burning of the Man shows happiness, joy, laughter and party time.

The Temple Burn is about inner thoughts.
Pin drop time. Honorary time.
The Temple is shown in several shots and is the place to go and leave written, vocal, and artistic showers of love and memories to those who have passed the preceding year. When the Temple burns it is serious. And quiet.

As with the Man the Temple structure is different each year. Many people volunteer their time, money and love to build both of these edifices.

Burning Man is not a bunch of hippies taking drugs and getting naked in the desert.
Well okay it’s that too.
Burning Man is about expression, no boundaries, art, making your own music, finding others who share your fetish, love of vegetarian food, desire of bacon with every meal, yoga, home made music and what YOU want it to be.

This is a wonderful video and I’m happy to share it with you. Be well. Be crazy. Be yourself.
~Miss R

ps: Daughter is doing better and seeing her counselor starting Monday.
Weirdly enough she got an email from the BM ORG today. Her backpack was turned in.
It was thrown away by her attacker… but some good soul made sure it appeared in the vast lost and found of 60,000 people.
Not every person is bad. The playa is normally safe. Send loving thoughts to my daughter.
That’s it.

This is A Heist!

The author of Barking in the Dark is my bruthah from a different muthah.

He’s been absent the last few months. Lucky bastage has a screenwriting assignment. Which is working out quite well. As opposed to we plebes. Oh wait. I fucking resent that!

In any case this is dedicated to Tony Powers. Not only is the man an amazing writer but a kick-ass musician and actor as well. Seen Goodfellas or Catch Me If You Can recently?

Go Tony. We all miss you babe

xxx

Don’t Nobody Move… This is a Heist

Miss you Tony. Come home soon

xxx