So, it's been... a while. And I think you'd agree that a few updates are in order.
1. Ummm, I was in Hawaii. Alex had a business trip that required her presence in Oahu, and since her airfare was being covered by Corporate America, we simply had to spin the opportunity into a vacation! I'd originally planned a day-by-day account of every place we explored and every weird thing we ate—something in the spirit of the fanzine tour diaries that chronicled the adventures of bands like Born Against or Bratmobile in the pages of 90s-era fanzines. But sadly, my note taking turned out to be pretty abysmal, and I ultimately decided that highlighting just a few aspects of the trip would make for more desirably concise reading.
Waikiki and most of Honolulu are tourist-trap hellholes, where resort and boutique mall culture has eradicated any apparent sense of local heritage. It's overly manicured, ridiculously expensive, and filled with guys who look like Sammy Hagar. In other words, it was a place that we tolerated while we mapped out our plans for more interesting destinations elsewhere on the island. We were duly rewarded. The snorkeling at Hanauma Bay? Exquisite. The Japanese BBQ and roadside plate lunches? Sumptuous. And all of it served as a mere warmup act for our 50 minute flight over to The Big Island for a few days at the foot of an actual, live volcano! Having a rental car is key here, unless you're content just hanging around in the seemingly burnt-and-abandoned beach town of Hilo. It's a great place, but its general emptiness, the menacing stirrings of the volcano, and the shock of arriving direct from Cinnabon-on-the-Pacific (Waikiki) made us wonder if the locals harbored some terrible secret in their collective past. Anyway, the low-key vibe was a refreshing change of pace, and we hit a staggering number of trails, parks, and waterfalls and suitably primed ourselves for the unparalleled majesty of Volcano National Park. The sudden re-emergence of my long-dormant sulfur allergies prevented us from hiking out to the actual lava flow (the steam vents were enough to close up my throat and lungs), but the miles of dried and desolate lava beds were a humbling site to clamber across, especially with the ocean pounding mightily against them off in the distance. Being there made me really want to listen to the album Wildweed by Jeffrey Lee Pierce, which is a sentiment that perhaps means something to a few of you. I must remember to load the iPod accordingly in advance of our next trip!
2. I'm breaking a cardinal rule by announcing this in advance of the official press release, but early indications seem to suggest that I'll be back on WFMU with a regular slot this summer. However, it's most likely that I'll be helming one of the station's weekday 6-9 AM web-only slots. That means that while FM listeners tuned to the station's 91.1 signal enjoy the sounds of JM in the AM, I'll be simultaneously holding down the various webstreams at wfmu.org. The show will be done live, will be archived, and the realtime accuplaylist will be maintained as per usual. I don't expect too many of you NYC types to forgo your customary regimen of Morning Edition or Boomer and Carton, but please don't feel slighted by the lavish attention I'll be paying to the artists, graphic designers, and troubled writer-types of Europe, who, due to the time zone shift, predictably flock to WFMU at that hour.
3. For those who've wondered if I've abandoned all food and cooking-related posts on R:M:B, the answer is definitely no. But having been away for nearly two weeks and being forced to either dine out or exist on apples and trail mix, I've returned to the city only to find myself in something of a culinary rut. (Not to mention feeling too broke-ass-poor to bother with the exotic meats and cheeses that normally cloud my everyday imagination.) But on the upside, the replacement heat distributor I ordered for the grill arrived from Sears today, so once I get that installed, the smoke shall rise from our backyard once again, and I'll be armed with the camera and laptop when it does. If I'm not back in the saddle by mid-June, I hereby sentence myself to a month of P'Zones and microwaved cocktail weenies. So let it be written, so let it be done.
