I left work yesterday at 11:45 and walked to there corner of Vineland and Sherman Way where I waited about 7 minutes for a bus. The bus took me to the subway station in North Hollywood, once there I walked into the large familiar hole in the ground and walked onto a waiting train. Less than 20 minutes after leaving work I found myself back on my turf, in Hollywood proper. As I waited for my final bus of the day I had time to acclimate, to look around and appreciate the fact that I don't normally see my world at this time of the day. Any other Wednesday and I sit in an office, looking at the very computer screen which I am looking at now. Alas yesterday I had the touch of life that comes to land upon the shoulder only occasionally, and I was out and traveling about, doing exactly what I wanted to do.
I boarded a metro bus number 217, which winds through the pretty part of Hollywood Blvd before turning to head down Faifax towards the farmers market and before that, my apartment. I sat in my favorite seat and looked out the window, my eyes felt fresh, seeing people that obviously work a different schedule than me, or don't work at all, they all looked fresh as well.
I stopped and grabbed some Sushi from Whole Foods, not hardly even pausing on the walk home to take notice of the absolute ridiculousness of it all. The thoughts that don't always cross ones mind seem to be as important as the lucky days we all get, for without going back sometimes to acknowledge what we may have missed, those lucky days are surely numbered.
Arriving at home I consumed some of my consumable consumerism and then sprang into action, gathering all equipment necessary to show up in a room and play a full shitting glitter show using only electricity borrowed from someone else, for you see, I was on my way to play live music on cable tv and they had provided us with only the warning that we should bearing "everything" that we just might need.
Soon my brother arrived, followed shortly by Amy w/ the truck. We all took our turns walking "everything" back and forth to the truck, and once loaded up we were on our way to a television studio in Burbank. The drive was odd and nervey, but fun and thrilling. We talked about things as the three of us have often done, having been forced into so many situations together all varied and unique.
The studio itself was interesting, I am farm boy, I've been around a few blocks but I can say that I had never actually been in the nuts and bolts side of a Television Studio before, so I had a bit of the ah shucks awe factor to contend with. We loaded in quickly and quietly, finding out that we rather predictably did not need "everything". Just my amp and our instruments and in we went, setting up around the house band and off we were on sound check.
The network that had invited us to play was called QTV, a brand new Queer station not yet picked up by all that many cable affiliates. The set was beautifully shiny and predictable modern post mainstream gay. Glass and hard surfaces everywhere, not a great deal of acoustic treatment. The sound had been checked, and the sound was quiet, possibly 1/4 of the volume that an average club gig contains, this though is not a problem for a band capable of rehearsing in an apartment at a volume similar to that of a K-mart stereo.
After the check we scuttled our equipment out of sight and mind and ventured to the green room to dress. While preparing our outfits and listening the check of another artist on the monitor it became scarily too familiar, we knew that voice and that voice belongs to Paul Lekakis. EW!
There is something so wrong about Paul lekakis, I won't go into here because if it's not readily and mind boggling apparent to anyone reading this then you are here reading this ranting only by accident, or you are fortunate enough to know nothing about Paul, and in that case I'll not give you the displeasure. Let it be said that we shared a small amount of time in the green room with him, and had many laughs later at his performance.
We played near the end of a 2 hour live broadcast, sitting in a pile of nerves and jumbled excitement while we waited for our 8 minutes of fame. We were not certain if Dylan would be able to leave work in time to appear as CoCo Ono, luck though was on our side and he showed up a full 40 minutes before we were slated to perform.
As the time drew near I felt some butterflies, but not all the bad kind, surging through me was a type of energy that comes only so often in my experience, usually on the approach toward the leading edge of a challenge. We were summoned to our challenge by a small man w/ a clipboard and headset, who walked us through the passageways and onto the set. While the broadcast went to commercial we promptly plugged everything in and checked to be certain that it all made noise.
The moment full upon us came as a rush of relief and pride. I was certainly unsure of my ability to rise to the occasion of performing quietly in front of the cast and crew of ON Q Live, but the experience showed me that my balls have grown a considerable amount since I last checked up on them proper.
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