R.I.P. Arthur Lee.

Love was one of my favorite bands when I was younger. Gonna have to bust out some Forever Changes on the drive to Maine.

Comments

[Molly]

Bring me back a snow globe with a lobster in it. And a fridge magnet. And a keychain. And a t-shirt. And little lobster barrettes. And a rock with a tiny fake seagull glued to it.

[eo]

Man. For 3 harrowing and unforgetable years I house-sat (and lived with for the summer months) for drummer-then-harpsichordist Alban "Snoopy" Pfisterer.

He was, to put it mildly, utterly shot.

Spent. Way outside and completely frayed.

And 60% of the time, a blast. (The rest of the time was spent hiding from him.)

On this sad occasion, it may be time to tell my story of Snoopy, a topsy-turvy tale of sensationalized bank robberies up and down I-5, money laundered through crunchy non-profits, smuggled Nepalese rugs (e-frickin-normous, hand-made, and custom designed-- one with Snoopy's demented grin upon it), a gorgeous house on 20 acres of wetlands-- his 15-year labor of love, hand-built structure that had not ONE right angle and floors that were COMPLETELY allergic to ANY AMOUNT water, even in the bathroom.....

Oh yes, and let us not forget the occasional after-dinner practice of stripping naked and going out the main road to bark at passing cars....

Yes, it'll take a lot to tell it, I'll have to muster every ounce of fuckedupness to accurately recollect the turbulent-yet-halcyon days of living with Snoopy.

I'm going to do it! Look for it on our website....but first, I'll have to go back to my Fever Bed..........

[casey]

Wow.

Weird Scenes Inside the Goldmine, as Jimbo would say.