This afternoon I jogged northward, out past Crestwood and up to the Leewood intersection (going southward toward Bronxville you never know who's going to drive by and mock the color of your sweatshirt). The woods got a real beatin' from last week's windstorm -- lots of fallen branches and downed trees strewn alongside the path. Makes me wish I already had a fireplace... one that didn't require several thousan dollars of repairs... oh, and a pickup truck... and I suppose I'd need a chainsaw too.

Okay, forget it. I'll do like Guido and burn chemical logs. And financial documents -- I got boxes of ancient phone bills and credit card receipts and I really need a shredder. Or a fire.

Also being discarded this weekend is a stack of old VHS tapes. Among them: the infamous tape of the Fishbone concert that was broadcast on HBO some dozen-or-so years ago. Bazzukajoe and Frylock stayed up late that night to tape it for me, and as they watched they wondered... "Why would anyone want a copy of this?"

Alas, the tape had deteriorated over the years -- the video had become too jumpy and unstable for me to capture any of it to computer file (like I did for several other choice clips, heh heh).

Next challenge: convincing Andre to do a DVD conversion of that Betamax tape we made of ourselves having that barbecue in his Queens backyard in February 1984. There's gotta be blackmail-quality footage of somebody in there... someone hopefully not me.