I can't say that I's spent much time in FLA, but at this juncture in my life, it seems like a fine place to be. The times I ain't out on the links is spent runnin the beach or swimmin for a spell, then escorting El Jeffe around to help tend to his various chores & appointments. He likes to bet them dogs too, so's there the occasional trip to the track, but most times it's just Lotto action to sate his fix. The lucky spot is some mini mart place tucked away in a tired old strip mall off Stacey St. At 1st glace it could be anywhere, but after takin it in on an almost daily basis, you get to familiarize yourself w/the particulars. There a dry cleaners, a spot what does your taxes, some sort've doctors office w/a sign what reads "All Prescription Filled, No Qustions". I assume they meant, 'Questions', but out of respect, I ain't about to ask. Next to them's is a laundromat & fixed in atween that & the Quick Stop destination is one of them mind readers places. It's got all sort've neon workin, w/a red 'n blue curtains blockin the sun light from beamin in through the front window. The front door has some large strands've tired old beads runnin across what function in a similar capacity. The flashin lights read "Tarot" "Palm Reader", "ESP", then one what's printed out from a computer proclaims 'Walk In Welcome' & another what's written by hand says "fresh empanadas" (small font too, black felt tip, very humble). Now I's always fancied the notion of someone trying to peer into my brain 'n tell me how's I'd come to be & what's just 'round the corner. But honestly, if they could really do all that, I'm afraid I'd have to kill'em afterwards, out of respect to national security & all. Some temptations you fight your whole life. But a fresh empanada? I didn't need no crystal ball to tell me THAT was in my future!
So I let myself in, rustlin through them beads & into a dimly lit parlor room. Then a thin, nasal voice got to chirpin "entrez-vous! entrez-vous"! I looked to my right & seen this birdcage w/a little green parakeet just shoutin that to beat daylight. The air mingled w/various scents've incense, cooking spices & roasted meats. Then a figure emerged from presumably a kitchen. It was a woman,all gussied up in silk 'n veils. It was hard to catch a good look, but from my vantage she seemed to resemble a cross twixt Cher & Waylon Flowers sidekick puppet, Madam.
'Welcome" she said, smiling, "Please come in, won't you"? The bird was still yappin "entrez-vous"! over 'n over when suddenly she turned & shouted "Gulliver, shup up! Halt die gosche"! And all that excitable chirpin stopped.
In a rather terse tone she said "Please do not mind my little friend. He is merely doing his job. So then" her face now soft & the smile back, "are you here for a reading"?
"If it's from a menu" I replied", "then yes ma'am, I am".
For a second she looked confused, then connected the dots. "Ah, the empanadas! I am sorry, but for customers only. Funny, you don't seem Cuban" She then went to explain that since the strip mall didn't have no take out food establishment, she was constantly gettin orders from folks what passed by on theys way to frequent the spot El Jeffe hits. Seems it's Cuban run & has the best selection of rum in the area. It got so eventually some would stop by to get they's fortunes read just to eat!. Then after a bit, they'd bartered a way to pay of a readin, but would take the empanada's in exchange. It seemed logical. Not to mention a clever way've gettin around a food servin license. In the heat & humidity, them aromas what wafted out would hang there in front like invisible cloud've deliciousness.It weren't no wonder she'd have a followin. So I said to her "No ma'am, I ain't got no Cuban in me. But I am part rattlesnake w/a hint of ginseng". She laughed & fanned her face, I thought I seen her blush a bit even. She asked my name. "Roland Seward Woodbe, ma'am". And who might I have the pleasure've speakin with"?
"I am Brunnhilde von Stulpnagel. My friends call me Bunny".
"Charmed I'm sure, Bu-"
"So" she interrupted, "you may call me Ms.von Stulpnagel".
I must've looked like the crow what swallowed a rock. She was laughin uproariously, battin her eyes, rockin back 'n forth, fannin that face. Even the bird, Gulliver, was havin a snort on me, his shrill, piercin "E-E-E-E-E-E"! laugh lendin an almost sinister tone to the set up. Finally she said "Ha, I josh. I josh you Mr. Woodbe"!. She paused to catch her breath & continued "Please, come into the kitchen. I will prepare for you empanadas. And of course, call me Bunny, ja"?
So now the ice was broken & it was time for some background. I won't go into detail, but ol Bunny seemed to have led an interesting life. We's was even around the same age, so that made it a bit easier. She said she was of German extraction-not that I couldn't tell-& I don't know what it is about them people, but they will put grapes in just about EVERYTHING. Thankfully none in my pork empanada-which was spectacular-but plenty in the side salad, combined w/red onion & arugula. It almost worked too. And she'd stuck a few on this toothpick as a garnish for the marshmallow vodka 'n Dr. Pepper what paired well. So after she'd given up a bit of her back story, it was time for moi to spill some beans. All's I said was that I was a record reviewer for a computer blog. She asked which one. I told her, "Siltblog".
In that moment her face lit up & she pounded the the counter top w/her right fist almost in reflex 'n shouted:
"Scheisse!, Gewiss, gewiss. Yes, Roland Woodbe......that name! It is you! Ack, all but forgotten. I was once an avid follower of your writing. But you seemed to devote your life to other pursuits". I explained that yes, I had on occasion put record writin on the shelf, but now's that was the top priority again. Bunny seemed very excited & it was then a bright idea passed before me.
"Say Buns, I's got some little records out to the car, any chance I could bring'em in? How about I play'em w/o sayin who they is 'n you tell me if you know or not. Game"?
That Bunny! She said not only would I not have to play'em for her to know, all she'd have to do was hold'em to spill the pertinent info. She'd close her eyes, I'd hand her a record & from there she'd tell me alls I needed to know. "Like you, Roland", she said quietly, "I have forsaken my unique talents as a clairvoyant to cater to the desires of the....Abschaum. But not today! Bring in the records! Let us do this. Sieg lieber Tod"!
And so below is the transcript of how it went down.
Kraus-A Journey Through The First Dimension 7" ep (Palto Flats)
BvS-Hmmmm, I must say, my 1st detection is smell. Yes...... a potted meat....(sniffs the air) clove, anise, the onion stinging my eyes.
RSW-A rillette maybe?
BVS-Ah! But not a conventional recipe. Very strong & singular. Does the name....Muttonbird....mean anything to you?
RSW-Yes! This artist is from New Zealand. Same's as the bird.
BvS-(head weavin side to side, hands clasped HARD on the 7") Mmmmmmmm, I see the name Ilitch....and Heldon.....but this could be a trick. No, those names precede this. Perhaps as influence....
RSW-Goddamn Bunny, that's amazing!. Your right, this is Kraus. But he sure does sound like them French fellas.
BvS- (now fully out of her trance, passes back the record) Oh, and Velvet Underground of course.
RSW-Of course. Don't leave the house without'em.
contact-http://paltoflats.bigcartel.com/artist/kraus
Atelier Mediterranee- 3 song 7" ep (Bruit Direct Disques)
BvS-Again, such smells!.....(arms fanning the air, as though to absorb an aroma)....what is with these records Roland Woodbe? This one......ack, tobacco, braised beef, bitter cherry & forest underbrush...a Bordeaux perhaps?
RSW-Well zap my zit! You nailed in Buns. This bunch is French.
BVS (undeterred, rocking back & forth, hands pressed against record) Yes.....could it be there is a.....small.....pimmel, amongst?
RSW-Haha, who knows? But I bet your thinkin of Micro Penis. Close! Damn your close.
BvS-(shouts) Quiet doofi! (resumes channeling).......there is something broken here. Something ....abnormal.
RSW-(whistles) It's said that some of the participants might be mentally challenged.
BvS (smiling slightly) Yes.....yes, you would know that. It......it is like a modern take on Lucrate Milk....more unhinged....
RSW (slaps both knees HARD & interrupts) Shit Bunny! Can't fly one past you. It's Atelier Mediterranee. Lucrate Milk....that's good. I's gonna have to remember that one.
BvS (takes a slug of marshmallow vodka straight out of the bottle) Is Paris burning?
RSW (handing her another record) No idea. But that brain of yours sure is! (laughing).
contact; store@bruit-direct.org
Woollen Kits-Maths/Out Of Town (RIP Society)
BvS-Ah, muffins!. The scent of baked blueberries. So lovely. But wait.......I see a man, he is dressed....haphazardly. I am in someplace called....Olympia.
RSW-Calvin Johnson?
BvS-Would this man wear capri pants w/a hunting cap?
RSW-Yes.
BvS-So! It is him. But only in voice. The music......I am in swinging London....it is perhaps 1984. Creation...yes... Jas-
RSW-(excitedly interrupts) Jasmine Minks! Bunzo, you are a piece of work!
BvS-Shut up idiot! This is to fool me. No.......this music is from elsewhere. Another continent. I see snakes, toads, vast desert, kabobs & pasty vegans......
RSW (shakes his head in disbelief) Right AGAIN! They's called the Woollen Kits. From Melbourne,Australia.
BvS (Visibly exhausted, she tosses the record into RSW's lap. She is sweating profusely & is feebly trying to hide a hand that belies a faint but steady palsied tremor)-Mein Gott, Roland Woodbe! I am finished with this foolishness. Gulliver! Please, let Mr. Woodbe know his time is up.
Suddenly the entire space filled w/the most penetratin voice, like a talkin fire alarm what had gone off;
Gulliver the Parakeet-'Rous, Esel! Rous! Rous! Rous, Esel! Rous! Rous!' (over 'n over, over).
You don't have to tell me twice. Plus my ears was gonna start bleedin if I didn't vamoose.I gathered my records & bid farewell. Now that was a day-spent! Even El Jeffe'd won a couple bucks on a pick-four. On the way back to the complex I's tried to tell him about that scene. He wasn't havin none of it. With the lucre won, he'd 'invested' it in a bottle've Cathaca & was hell bent to get home 'n muddle some limes. I mentioned that Bunny had a gift, that she could see the future. El Jeffe retorted "I can see the future too. And it's this car in my driveway in 10 minutes"!. And so's it came to pass. We's rolled up w/time to spare. And them Caprihina's is goin down smooth. "Faith" as they's say, "is a passionate intuition".
for Woollen Kits & other Aussie releases, contact; easterbilbyrecords@gmail.com
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