July 11, 2005
Hello, my little chickadees. Miss me? I know it has been many moons since I have generated a wee missive like this, but hey, who counts such things among dear compas and friends such as we?
As is pretty normal these days, I am traveling around with tuxedomoon. This last session of my life as a singing baggage handler has taken me first to Amsterdam, then Naples, then Mestre, near Venice and now back to Amsterdam.
We are the guests of this sort of dada surrealist community group called the Illuseum. They are sponsoring a festival of events and exhibitions called “New Atlantis” to which we have been invited. We are conducting workshops and performing hither and yon, including at the perennial “Melkweg”.
I arranged and conducted arrangements of several Tuxedomoon songs, including “Jinx” which were sung by a spontaneous choir of locals at one such encounter. Steven worked with a group of local Moroccan lads on the TM number “Courante Marocaine”, but they flaked and ran when I started singing the call to prayer at rehearsal. They were offended, even though I told them I was sincere and reverent in doing so. There was also a woman who played an Alphorn onstage with us.
George Kakanakis, Peter and others went around filming for a possible film to be called “Bardo Hotel”.
I have been riding an old (circa 1920) bicycle around, lent to me for the duration by Grace de la Luna. This place is bike heaven. As you know, there are bike paths, roads really, everywhere with their own set of traffic lights and street markings and all. There is real bicycle traffic here; you have to be on guard just like driving a car. There are hundreds of thousands of bicycles on the road every day. Wow.
Today was old Blaine’s 52nd birthday. Way hey. Happy birthday to me. I’m not getting older, I’m getting…..um…well, I AM getting older. I frantically do yoga and ride a bicycle but nothing will persuade that old grim reaper to turn back the clock. Who gives a shit, finally? You don’t scare me,ese! As james whale sings in “gods and monsters” “Grave where is thy victory? Death, where is thy sting a ling a ling?” hah.
Pretty good birthday.we played for this public dinner on a footbridge over a canal. there were lots of people from the local community eating on the bridge. we played as the sun set. Pretty good.
Will go back to Athens in about a week.
In the meantime, I remain ever yours, faithful unto the end, like an old dog sleeping at your feet by the fire, humping your leg until you hit me with a newspaper, I crap on the carpet and you must put me down at last.
Yours for all time
Blaine Leslie Reininger
Born July 10 1953 at 3 am in Pueblo, Colorado, U.S.A.