I'll say goodbye to all my sorrow, and by tomorrow, I'll be on my way

Over the last couple of days my Harry Nilsson cd's came in the mail---Pussy Cats and the two-on-one-disc Harry/Nilsson Sings Newman--- and I'm in bliss. Pussy Cats is far better constructed than I've been led to believe. Recorded during Harry and John Lennon's famous "Lost Weekend", the album has reached legendary status, but not for the right reasons. Yes, it's a bit more scuffed and debauched than the average Nilsson offering---and that is why the people who love it, love it--- but a lot of care and craft went into the making of it. It's a real warm, deceptively casual, and beautiful record. Some great musicians played on it: Sneaky Pete, Keith Moon, Jim Keltner, Ringo Starr, Klaus Voorman. And it doesn't hurt having John Lennon producing.

Harry Sings Newman is fucking brilliant. I've always loved Randy Newman's early stuff, but his vocals didn't do it justice. Listening to Harry Nilsson, one of the best vocalists I've ever heard, singing his songs, has made my month.
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Heading up to Lake Winnipessake (I'm 97% sure I misspelled that) this weekend to see Bri, who's visiting from California. Her and Mary rented a condo for a few days and it should be a fun time. Luke Warm, Spira and Seany Boy, Mary's friend Rob, and Mara look to be the crew who'll be there. Maybe Foley and others will show their mugs.
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In Andover this morning, I drove behind an insufferable, loathsome, stupid fuck of an old codger all the way into work. His driving was fine until he had to make a turn, which unfortunately he had to do numerous times. For whatever reason, he couldn't make a turn, no matter how slight, without coming to a complete stop. This, as you might imagine, irked me a bit. After more than a few minutes of this, I was frothing and hurling insults and curses that will one day, I'm sure, hinder my chances of getting beyond the Pearly Gates. But fuck it, this clown was a hazard and needed to be screamed at. Oddly enough, I miss him. I'll have to ponder why.

Now, bitches, I must leave you. A short post, I know, but what are you gonna do. I've matters to attend to before I tuck myself into beddy by.