Dear Thurston

Dear LetterI used to write my column every Sunday night, but now that both football and the Sopranos are back on TV, I’m finding that not only has the going gotten tough, but I have not gotten going.

At this point, on Sunday I frequently watch two football games, the Sopranos, Curb Your Enthusiasm (which is a great new find, a half hour comedy starring Larry Gilbert, who wrote Seinfeld; he’s very annoying, and it’s very hilarious, and it comes on HBO right after the Sopranos, before I can get up), then, the rest of another football game; at this point, I find myself ready for one thing and one thing only: Sportscenter on ESPN. Sunday has become the day that I watch television until my eyes implode.

After all that, I’m supposed to write a column that’s all erudite and stuff? Fat chance!

I’m starting to think I might be better off making it into an advice column where you all write in about your deepest, most personal embarrassing sexual problems and I reply with glib answers and ridicule. Or, if you prefer, I’ll be sensitive and caring -what the hell! It’ll be a sort of “Dear Thurston” thing… yeah! This is a great idea!

Write me some damn questions about something you shouldn’t have done to your girlfriend and I’ll agree you probably shouldn’t have done it -but gently, without completely crucifying you, usually, unless you seem to need a good kick in the pants, in which case my answer will really cut to the chase, and I’ll be quite disarming in my candor and directness. C’mon, write me some questions! It’ll be fun!

OK, don’t, then.

DATELINE: WEST HARWICH! Noted musician Bruce Maclean (aka Link Montana) has moved there, and his band the Maplewoods (who will play at the Claddagh on Rt. 28 every Saturday starting October 12) have apparently changed from a trio of forty-ish males to a trio of teenage girls, on the evidence of the cover photo on a live CD they have in limited release. Actually, they still sound like guys, though -perhaps there was some mistake at the printer’s…

Bruce was also involved in the recording of the new Greg Johnson CD, “Songs for Space”, which you may start seeing some signs of (inquiries may be addressed to Greg at 266 Tonset Rd., Orleans, MA. 02653.)

Bruce said he’d also been spending some time at the Olde Inn at West Dennis, which he’s always spoken highly of; he said both Dave Hickey (who plays there on Friday and Saturday) and Patsy Whelan (who plays Tuesdays) were well worth hearing, even though they play Irish music. (I’ve always been frightened of Irish music.)

DATELINE: ORLEANS! Noted soundman/entrepenuer/big time record executive Chris Blood reports that he just had a baby, eventually adding that wife Susan was also involved; the happy result is Lucy Amelia Blood, who is very, very small but already sports a winning smile; suitors may apply at the Trout Towers Casino.

DATELINE: EASTHAM! In desperate attempt to recover from suddenly liking James Taylor again, noted journalist Me listened to a Flaming Lips compilation of older material on Rykodisc called “The Symbolic Birth and Early Life of the Flaming Lips” (itself a compilation of material from two other Flaming Lips compilations covering the years 1983 to 1991.) They’re strange, they’re hip, they’re young, -I always like them. It was boring as hell.

The identity problem continues…

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