Hump Day in Corporate Hell

It’s been a while – 32 days to be exact since I’ve headed into Ground Zero of Corporate Hell (aka “The Office”) – as I needed to print off a small rain forest worth of documents today.  Sadly, this also means that I had to put on pants before noon for the first time in, well, weeks.  Anyway, I’ve since plugged into some mellow Jazz Boner tunes to help the morning drift by without my stress levels escalating to critical mass, beginning with the ‘Interstellar Low Ways‘  album by Sun Ra.


‘Interstellar Low Ways’  is an album recorded by  Sun Ra and his Myth Science Arkestra, mostly recorded in Chicago, 1960, and probably released in 1966 on his own Saturn label. Originally titled ‘Rocket Number Nine’, the album had acquired its present name, and the red-on-white sleeve by Claude Dangerfield, by 1969.  The album is known particularly for the two songs featuring space chants – ‘Interplanetary Music’  and ‘Rocket Number Nine Take off for the Planet Venus’ – that would stay in the Arkestra’s repertoire for many years;

‘Rocket Number Nine’  points toward the music that the Arkestra would be playing on the lower East Side of New York City. The tenor sax solo isn’t the work of John Coltrane in 1962, but of John Gilmore in 1960. And not even Ornette Coleman’s bassists were playing like Ronnie Boykins at this date.’ Robert Campbell.

In fact, the whole album fits neatly into a more fucked up version of the Space Age Exotica genre that I’ve been interested in and dabbling in for a while.

The bottom line is that I haven’t been driven to kill anyone yet, so it’s all good in the hood for the time being…even if that hood is more of the infinite intergalactic variety.


About crazytigerrabbitman

I am a fat guy and always will be in the same way they say that “once an alcoholic; always an alcoholic”. Eventually I got upset about my poor health and ballooning body frame so I decided to change things for the better. Some people sign up for Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, or whatever fad diet program it is that happens to be occupying the majority of air time on the boob tube. Other people prefer to run out and purchase the latest, fold away, piece of shit being hawked by some celebrity has-been. Me? I decided to take up triathlon. I had abused my body over the years with bacon cheeseburgers, pints of beer and double-dipped donuts, and the time had now come to abuse my body with physical exertion, perseverance and hard work instead; penitence in it's purest form. The time had come to kick my ass. I am Terry Nash and I am the “fat and the furious”.
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