Metaphorical Files Baked In Cakes of Letters: Edition 2

Hey!
Okay, Wow! This is letter number Three in Two days. I know what your thinking... Buckie is scrambling to use all of his stamps before the big 2 cent increase this Sunday. No! This is simply not the case, nay I just now got into this groove, and I'm out to prove my love... Or some and such. Really though, I intended to be writing to you much more these past few months but I got really stuck when those bastards in South Dakota returned all my letters. That really chapped my hide. Honestly, like those bastards in SD have anything better to do then take a couple seconds out of there day, stop hunting for fools gold to sell tourists, and forward my damn letters. This is really an outrage now that I think of it.
On a related note but down another path... I don't suppose you picked up any fools gold for me when you were passing through South Dakota? I don't know if you had time to make any stops before your run in with those people out there, but maybe you did, I'm sure you needed gas or a slurpy or something. I really Like fools gold, it looks just like gold you know! It's shiny and pretty, but I need not take up a bunch of precious space to tell you that, you get theses types of things. I bet if you didn't have a chance to stop that they sell that sort of thing in the prison gift shop! That and post cards, "greetings From the Black Hills, We are really much more White than you'd imagine!" I remember when I was just a wee lad growing up in Kansas my cousins who lived just down the road took a family vacation to the Black Hills and they came back with these very cool pieces of fools gold, I was really impressed and green with gold envy (nice play on color huh?). I thought about their cool ass fools gold for almost a year until my family got to go on our very own Black Hills vacation. I remember bouncing up and down in my seat the entire trip, just waiting to see those dark forest fire mountains breaking up my horizon. We drove north from Western Kansas, passing through scenic Nebraska. Nebraska, which for me is normal an enchanted land of modern wonder and excitement was very nearly unbearable. I had just two things on my mind, Fools Gold and The Black Hills. Finally after hours and hours of driving those magnificent hills broke the horizon. The very hills that George Herbert Walker Washington once called "The Very Heart and Soul of Our Great Country". The very hills where the Sioux Indians first invented and practiced Christianity. Where Jesus, Elvis, JFK, RFK and John Lennon all have summer homes. The Black Hills. We drove, all of us mesmerized by the glory of Gods creation. Finally we came to a roadside Stucky's, Dairy Queen, gas station, flee market, truck wash and Indian Artifact Superstore, and we just so happened to need fuel. Father pulled over, we all bailed out of the car, trampling each other and some fat children from Missouri, fighting and pushing to get inside the Indian Artifact Superstore. I was a vile and ruthless young man of 9, and I made the door first. I passed those wonderful plastic tomahawks which on another day would have sent me begging to mother for an advance on next months allowance, past the plastic mining helmets, with one thought in mind, "There's Gold in them there hills!". Finally I found the display, wrapped in a great amount of plastic was a small leather pouch, the packaging exclaiming in gilt letters, "Gold!". I took the plunge, begged my mother to make this one purchase for me, being a kind and understanding human she of course acquiesced, and we strode up to the fabulous faux log cabin counter and made our exchange. I was a boy overjoyed. I ran back to our transport and climbed in, yanking at packaging the whole way. The rest of the family made their way inside and off we went, all the while I still struggled to loose my treasure. Finally I had that little brown leather pouch in the palm of my hand. I pulled at the strings until the whole was large enough to pass the contents, turning the pouch over I dumped it into the palm of my hand. There before me sat my fools gold. Not the pretty gold my cousins had returned with, but ugly little pebbles so obviously spray painted gold. One layer spray painted gold so thin that you could still see the grey of the rock behind. I felt ashamed, how could I have been so stupid? I was after all, the fool at last.
I guess there is really no hiding my desire for Fools gold is there. Wow! What a paragraph. I really thought about starting a new one about half way through but by that time I figured I had gone on so long that it might give un due weight to a particular section if I hit the return key too soon. Enough of that though.
How goes the big house? I'm feeling pretty good today. Last night Amy and I took 25 of our brand speaking new cds to the Virgin Megastore at Crescent Heights and Sunset, and met with the consignment buyer, who was very cool and agreed to carry them in their MEGA-store. It helps that our very good friend Marc happens to work there. The whole Virgin thing is actually going to turn out very cool because Marc does all the placement of cds there, so we will have a listening post and all sorts of other neato things. He and a friend have even talked about sneaking us into the top 30 some weekend. YAY! Sg Guerilla Style!
After that little exchange we walked across the courtyard and had a celebratory meal at CPK. Wait... NEWS FLASH! The Wolfgang Puck that used to occupy the space just across from the Virgin MEGAstore is now a CPK. Sad really as I loved the Wolfgang Puck food, good though because I HATED that cheesy decor and logo. Really, how bad was that? UCK!
Our celebration meal was your standard California Pizza Kitchen Fare.
Interesting note, as we sat looking out the window at the strip mall and WAMU across Crescent Heights, I was reminded of a bit of recent Los Angeles history. Did you know that the very strip mall that now houses the McDonald's, with the strange tunnel drive through, the parking lot and the WAMU all sit upon the sight of forgotten Hollywood history? Yes ma'am, I couldn't make this stuff up. It actually used to be a hotel, restaurant and apartment complex called, The Garden Of Allah, but don't take my word for it, get it from the mouth of Wikipedia:
Garden of Allah
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
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Alternate meaning: Garden of Allah (cabaret)
The Garden of Allah was a famous apartment complex in West Hollywood, California, on Sunset Boulevard between Crescent Heights and Havenhurst, at the east end of the Sunset Strip.
Although built in a Spanish-Moorish style of architecture, its name did not stem from Islam but from stage and screen actress Alla Nazimova, the original owner. She had built her private home there, and at the end of her film career built the complex around it. She went bankrupt, however, and sold the property, but continued to live in one of the villas on the grounds.
The Garden of Allah became home to many celebrities and literary figures. F. Scott Fitzgerald lived there for several months in 1937-38 at the beginning of his final sojourn in Hollywood. (He wrote himself a postcard while there: "Dear Scott -- How are you? Have been meaning to come in and see you. I have living [sic] at the Garden of Allah. Yours, Scott Fitzgerald.") Humorist/actor Robert Benchley was a frequent resident.
In spite of the fact that it was among the landmark buildings of the west side of Los Angeles, it was torn down in the 1960s and replaced by a bank.
and more..
The Vanished Garden of Carnal Abandon
Garden of Allah, Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood
I'll make this quick. I know it's frustrating going places with me, because I see what could have been, or what's implied, or what's missing, or what used to be there. This is a 'what used to be there'.
Our story in Hollywood starts with Alla Nazimova, silent movie star, silent movie producer, ultra-dramatic stage actress, cinematic visionary, conspicuously lesbian social magnet, former concert violinist, and accomplished international liar / effective self-publicist. When sound arrived, Nazimova perceived that financial diversification might be good, so she converted her well-situated 1921 mansion estate into a three and a half acre semi-tropical hangout. She retained a private apartment upstairs in her former mansion, with the bottom story converted into a restaurant and bar. The property became a complicated and romantic collection of Spanish-style bungalows and detached apartments, 25 villas were constructed around the pool. Cheap, yes, but designed with drama and scale. And of course Nazimova kept the pool; shaped like the Black Sea. This was January, 1927.
Nazimova's lesbian tatting circle and the financially catastrophic pursuit of her cinematic vision are tempting but off-topic. She'd played opposite Valentino as Camille! Valentino married two of her ex-girlfriends with a brief sloppy overlap for which he was jailed for bigamy! She studied in Moscow with Stanislavsky! No, no, to stay on-topic, the important thing is that her Garden of Allah was bankrupt within a year. It was taken over by an outside operator who raised the rents. Nazimova stayed. As a tenant.
Then a few people came over to stay. Uh, people like Gloria Swanson, Greta Garbo, John Barrymore, Clara Bow, Buster Keaton, Ramon Navarro, the Marx Brothers (especially Harpo), Ava Gardner, Errol Flynn, Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Ernest Hemingway, Lillian Hellman, Joe E. Lewis, Artie Shaw, Marlene Dietrich, George Kaufman, Laurence Olivier. Those people. And hundreds of other names maybe, who knows. Not everybody who went to the Garden of Allah wanted to be seen there. Orsonfalls in that category. Probably.
Somehow, among the tangle of phony marriages, the fist-fights, the volume of liquor especially all through Prohibition, high-powered and insecure and spoiled celebrities, tons of recreational sex, other tons of drugs, robberies, drunken rages (John O'Hara, to name one; there's a story that afterward, when he tried to apologize, Robert Benchley called him a shit), cross-gender liaisons, the black frustrations of writers (and others) having their souls eaten by the Hollywood system, orgies, more robberies, simmering feuds, money problems and sudden changes of plan, the Garden of Allah acquired a bohemian reputation. A reputation for hedonism. Imagine that.
That reputation grew progressively less glamorous through the property's 30-year decline, and towards the end its arcades and arched alcoves among the thick poolside tangle of orange trees, palms and hibiscus were more likely to be concealing a curled-up junky than a grinning, cursing, naked Carole Lombard. (I'll take door number two.)
Famously, F. Scott Fitzgerald lived here in the beginning of his Hollywood decline. Zelda was installed in an expensive sanitarium somewhere back east, their daughter Scotty in public school, and a recently-recovered trove of studio material indicates that Scott was really working. (Everybody seems surprised that he cranked out more than 2000 hand-written pages in pencil.) Scott lived here in those years just before dating the young pastry named Sheila Graham and trying to finish The Last Tycoon and struggling to make sense of studio employment and fighting an uphill battle to stay sober by drinking a lot of Coca-Cola. In fact, Graham wrote a book-length book about the Garden of Allah, called 'The Garden of Allah."
George Kaufmann stuffed himself in the back of a laundry truck to get from the Garden of Allah to the railroad station at the height of the Astor affair, to avoid a subpoena. (That's another story.)
Robert Benchley set up his temporary Hollywood residence in the Garden of Allah, among other east coast writers when they came out west to torture themselves with illusions of quick easy movie cash, their anxieties uncoiling in the permissive climate. Benchley was leery of traffic and called taxis to take him everywhere - for instance, to Schwab's Drugstore, directly across Sunset Boulevard. The site across the street is now a Virgin Megastore. (Hey, pick me up a couple of Mega Virgins if you go. I'm done with these.)
(And looming over the Strip out there across the street is Chateau Marmont which, come to think of it, was built in 1929 and must have always overlooked the Garden of Allah. Hmm.)
Harpo Marx moved into the Garden of Allah some time in the late 20's when he first came to make movies. Harpo had thin walls. (A lot of different people mention the thin walls.) After Harpo set up housekeeping and grew a sense of ownership, he got a new neighbor whose hours didn't coincide with Harpo's hours, and who played the piano, and who wouldn't shut up even after Harpo banged on the wall, etc. So Harpo set the alarm clock early one Saturday, tuned up his harp, and played the first 64 bars of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto #1 as loud as he could, over and over and over, until his fingers bled, probably getting it wrong because he was self-taught, over and over and over all morning and into the afternoon, until he heard his new neighbor scream in strangled anguish and bang around like he was packing up, slammed his door, and disappeared, never to be seen again. A lot of effort, Harpo thought, but well worth it to be rid of such a nuisance. Then somebody told Harpo that his new neighbor the piano player was Rachmaninoff.
Where exactly? Southwest corner of Sunset Blvd and Crescent Heights Blvd.
The site is now a Washington Mutual bank and strip mall at 8152 Sunset Boulevard. There's a full-size replica of the Garden of Allah in the Universal Studios theme park in Orlando. The Joni Mitchell's song "Big Yellow Taxi" ("pave paradise, put up a parking lot") is supposed to be about the Garden of Allah, oddly, because Buffalo Springfield's song "For What It's Worth" is partly about the closing of Pandora's Box in 1966 to widen Sunset, right across the street. Close by is also where society & S&M photographer Helmut Newton was killed in a one-car crash, rolling out of the Chateau Marmont in his silver Cadillac SRX.

Really intersting stuff huh?

So after the CPK thing Amy and I tronce on home where we fall asleep watching a DVD of season three of Columbo.

Startling discovery. I was thinking that "tronce" did not look correct, so I checked it on Dictionary.com and I'm having trouble finding the word. Are you familar with this word? I think maybe I mis-spelled it, but a further search of said website does not get me to the word I had intended. The closest I get being "Trounce"
what do you think of this?

trounce ( P ) Pronunciation Key (trouns)v. trounced, trounc·ing, trounc·es v. tr.
To thrash; beat.
To defeat decisively. v. intr.
To censure something or someone forcefully: “I was out to trounce on every digression and indiscretion conducted (or should I say semiconducted) in this performance” (Robert Maxwell Stern).
[Origin unknown.][Download Now or Buy the Book]
Source: The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth EditionCopyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.
trounce
v 1: beat severely with a whip or rod; "The teacher often flogged the students"; "The children were severely trounced" [syn: flog, welt, whip, lather, lash, slash, strap] 2: come out better in a competition, race, or conflict; "Agassi beat Becker in the tennis championship"; "We beat the competition"; "Harvard defeated Yale in the last football game" [syn: beat, beat out, crush, shell, vanquish] 3: censure severely or angrily; "The mother scolded the child for entering a stranger's car"; "The deputy ragged the Prime Minister"; "The customer dressed down the waiter for bringing cold soup" [syn: call on the carpet, rebuke, rag, reproof, lecture, reprimand, jaw, dress down, call down, scold, chide, berate, bawl out, remonstrate, chew out, chew up, have words, lambaste, lambast]

Hmm...
I woke up around 9:45 with the realization that we had promised we would stop by the Palms and drop off a cd for our good friend and DJ, Myles Mattise. It was difficult to pry ourselves from the womb but after arriving astrangelyrangly crowded palms I was glad we did. Myles was kind enough to play our song "Slut Buffet", the First time for me to have the opportunity to hear it on a large system. Not to go around tooting my own appendage, but it sounded wonderful! We even sold a cd based on it, our first sale of the new album!!
Hooty Hoo!
Okay,
I better wrap it up and stick this in the mail.
Love you Carrie, be good and they might let you out sooner,
Brandon

Introducing a new feature...

In the new year I'm going to continue to find ways to stay focused on my distracting silly blog, following is one way that I just thought of. It's an attempt at maintaining communication with an important person in my life, and a way of documenting that for both my future reminder and hers. This section will document my communication with a certain blog girl who happens to be living in the big house for the time being, more can be found out about said victim of the state at:
http://shelfindulgence.blogspot.com

Without further ramble I introduce to you a section of believable Needs entitled, Metaphorical Files Baked In Cakes of Letters

Edition number one

Hey Carrie!
Greetings. Sorry I've been taking my damn time about getting you letters, I've been a bad boy. What do you think of me occasionally airing our dirty linens on blogspot?

Your a bit of an attention whore as am I so I don't much think it will be too much of an issue.

How are things? Things are pretty ok here. We got the finished cds back yesterday, they look totally rad. Devin posted a little blog about it on shitting glitter myspace today. Imagine my surprise when I read it today and saw that you had the first comment. I think Devin was being cheeky. It did give me a great shock for a second though. I seriously can't wait for you to hear it. Can you play tapes or cds there? I'll put it in whatever format necessary if you can receive and listen to it.

This weekend was a bit crazy. We had a new years eve party at Marc and Miles' apartment. It was pretty small but it did get a little rowdy. Not that you would much care but there were some guys who felt moved enough by the moment to expose themselves to the entire party. There was some little lesbian bartender from the palms there, I could have used your help because she kept on trying to get up on my lesbian girlfriend. SHEESH... Silly people.

Also this weekend Amy and I had a silly tiny adventure (it's not really as exciting as that word adventure implies, more of a curiosity if you will). There's this tiny little bungalow for sale on Romaine street between Devin & Dylan's place and our place, Amy and I happened by it on our way home sometime around 4 a.m. last Friday night. It's a tiny little affair or at least it appears that way from the Romaine side, and in passing our attention was drawn to it due to a for sale sign and the gate being ajar. Being a bit silly we decided to explore. As we entered the wide open gate it was very easy to see into the house, and in looking in the house we could see a light on in the back and that the home was obviously empty. For kicks I tried the door, it was open. Oh Boy! We panicked a bit, closed the door and walked away. Once we had walked a few paces our courage returned. We turned back towards the place and walked in. This is the interesting part of the story (mildly) The inside was not that of a cute little bungalow but of some strange medieval castle. It was all done in strange brick one the inside, with vaulted ceilings. Every room except 2 were circles. There was a strange black dot made of stone in the center of one such rounded rooms. I touched it and thought... hmm... Sacrifice? One of the back rooms had a massive wooden bar running the entire length, you know, the good kind of bar, no liquor though. We poked around a bit then went home. So the point of the story is that the house was spooky, and not at all what you'd expect from the outside.

I seem to be writing a bit like a kindergartener in this exercise. What is it about knowing others are eventually going to peek past your shoulders that tends to inhibit the free expression? I should ask you because you seem to rise to the challenge with this public writing business... So please Carrie... What are the tips?

Maybe I'll make this section more useful to you next time. Also, if you'd like to reply to this letter in this here blog just let me know. If you would wish me not do this type of thing and just write more real letters let me know. K? K!

Love,
Buckie!!

One last thing... Remember when we sat around making poems? One person would write a line then the next person would write a line and so on and such forth? Okay, here goes, I'll start, then you go, then when i get your response I'll send it to Amy, then I'll send it to Devin and Dylan, and anyone else you would like to have included, you can of course share it with your new gal and anyone else you'd like. Here goes:

tiny smiles and cute refrains

Some Odd 5

That year 2005 is now over, I do not regret having been a part of it, but I do question many decisions which I made during the course of it, or rather I question the decisions that I didn't make, the times where I allowed myself to be carried along without proper thought to what I might be doing instead. That's okay though, I need to go a little past the edge of the darknesses on occasion if only then to get a little better idea why it's important not to move there. That said I feel better today. I have occasion once again to look back upon an entire year of my life and realize that regardless of some silly actions my life did improve.
I am now surrounded by a great family of friends, and I feel looked after by them. I feel comfortable in being most all aspects of myself in front of them, as I hope they feel with me.
I appreciate them, and they deserve it.
I had a good year of experience to boot.
Traveling to Hawaii with Amy because she is lucky, and by proxy I am lucky also. It was really nice, it was like Amy and I lived like normal people and were allowed to take a vacation. We of course though are not really normal people, so upon our arrival we proceeded to be rather nutty butterflies, making many new friends and spreading good love all around the island.
SG had a long year. Playing the Folsom Street fair and San Diego Pride provided nice road trips with the band, as well as playing club Spatuland and enjoying it to the fullest.
We had some live show fiascos again, such as this horrible little show in Long Beach and the greatest exploding nightmare of a show that didn't even show up at Arena in Hollywood. Hopefully from this we took a way a big lesson, and we know we have the guts to go through it, so in the future we can now exhibit the brain power not to.
FREE ALONGSIDE SHIP is finished.
What a process... This online collections of rambling thoughts and post markers is filled with the progression and regression of this record. From the groundbreaking to the finishing touches. Now it's only a matter of days until I can cast my gaze upon it and realize that we did it. I really owe a much larger blog to this accomplishment, and I'll do that when the time comes.
The Ladyslipper single, packaged well in dedication to my dear Grandmother Strecker. So many wonderful things came out of completing that project, the beginning of SG's relationship with Hoagie Hill, our first national magazine coverage, a great review in Frontiers and many other strange oddities.
This year also found me discovering much more about what there is to really love and appreciate about the city in which I live from wonderful parks to a rich and odd history.
Finding Wattles Garden park was a wonderful treat this year, as well as Greystone Mansion Park and Franklin Canyon Park.
I Also had the good fortune this year of meeting a Web Hero of mine, Scott Michaels of Findadeath.com, his tour Dearly Departed helped to further enrich my love of this city and the strange and bizarre people who have over the years called it home.
Due to more luck of the Amy I was also allowed to finally catch a glimpse of one of my long standing Heros, Mr. Rob Dickinson, as he performed for a silly crowd at the Beverly Hills Friar's Club.
I also made some new heros in 2005, Stan Ridgeway, Stanley Crawford and surely several other people who are not named Stan.
Anyway, I'm not the type to be real thorough about all of this so I'm going to let it go at that, let's keep it together in 2006 Buckaroo...

You're A weird Child

From Amy's Blog:
Wednesday, December 28, 2005

winning Current mood: chipper
i am one of those. A winner. A champ, champion, conquering hero, conqueror, first, hero, king, master, medal winner, medalist, number one, numero uno, prizewinner, title-holder, top dog, vanquisher, victor.i just won tickets to rob Dickinson, the private show at the friars club in Beverly hills thrown by indie 103.1. i told brandon that i was going to win them for him for christmas. i bought rob's new cd as the door prize until i could come through with the real thing. i also told him that i thought we, shitting glitter, should tour with him as support after hearing the cd. i guess you'll believe me if i win that too, now that you know.

Sheesh! I'm very excited now. A little background for your enjoyment.
I became acquaintances with Catherine Wheel when the video for "Way Down" found it's way into semi-heavy rotation on MTV. My first reaction wasn't HUGE, but I did enjoy the song. On a whim I purchased "Happy Days", the album that spawned "Way Down". Being a young dumb Kansas boy did not help my early appreciation of Catherine Wheel. I recall Listening to "Way Down" a fair amount, and Liking "Eat My Dust You Insensitive Fuck", and "Judy Staring at the Sun". I never really gave the album as a whole much thought and eventually the poor disk found it's way to the bottom of some stack of cds, where it sat for a great undisturbed while.
My real love of the wheel came from an excellent used cd sale at GB Records and tapes in Hays, Kansas where I thumbed across a greatly discounted promo copy of CW's "Adam & Eve", I probably would not have given the purchase much thought but it was marked down to $1 or something ridiculous. Since I had liked a few songs off "Happy Days" I decided it was a worthy purchase. I also purchased a used copy of Bob Dylan's "Time out Of Mind" that day.
I left the record store with my good friends Jason and Dan and we proceeded to take a little drive. We listened to the Dylan album first while we drove out to Horse thief Canyon, then we headed back and I dropped the others off and put "Adam & Eve" in the player for my own ride home. I didn't go directly home then, I drove around a bit listening to the album until it was finished. I was shocked, I kept thinking "How could I have a cd by this band and not realize how great they are". I listened to Adam & Eve over the next few days, while digging around in my cds trying to even locate Happy Days, eventually I found it, and started that disc from the beginning, instead of at the single... And there by I'd had it. When I revisited "Happy Days" in my new frame I heard it for what it was and is, I was assured in my love of Catherine Wheel. Within the Next two weeks I ordered every other album in the bands catalog taking my own sweet time getting to know each disk. Chrome is my favorite, but there are moments on all of them that toss my pink skirt far up above my noggin.
Chrome brings me to another blog entry all together, which I will need to touch on it's on, in it's own special places, a special post called "Green Vista Point" or GVP for those in the know. All of that will be dispensed with later.
I'll hike the short way back to this evening, and the new record from the lead singer of Catherine Wheel, Rob Dickinson.
I must admit with some guilt that I didn't have the means to purchase "Fresh Wine for the Horses" when it first became available, like a fool I let it go for months, until Amy had the sound idea to get for me as a present, just last weekend. I opened the dear package on a certain pagan holiday which I spent with Amy and her family in Albuquerque. It was on the long drive from Albuquerque to Flag Staff where I had my first opportunity to listen to "Fresh Wine for the Horses". My first reaction was odd, it was nice to hear Rob, and I could still hear approximations of the last CW record, but I was thrown a bit too. Hearing rob croon about love so openly and unabashedly was at first a tinge difficult for me. I think perhaps my mind has not bloomed in the way that Rob's seems to have bloomed in the last 5 or so years, and it took me several listens to understand this. This element, which Catherine Wheel was already heading towards, the emotional exceptional Rob is a bit at odds with my old feelings about Rob as the voice of Catherine Wheel. I always felt that in many ways Rob was a bit of a villain, even though there is much open warmth and love flowing through the entire Catherine Wheel catalog, there was in his voice an edge, a pointedness. Where other front people write spooky lyrics and yarl them with all their might in attempts to be dark, Rob more often than not restrained the overt darkness and tried to improve. There are great moments of reveal, where this darker Rob takes the fore front, and it is in these moments where I first really swallowed Catherine Wheels offer, and rather hard did I swallow at that. Where I am now, on the morning of my first ever real life glimpse at the man who's music has meant so much to me is, is right here, happy that Rob seems to be triumphant, and impressed that as an artist he was able to merge his and control both sides of the man, with a subtle hand and delicate touch, without ever making me cringe at the trite.

I'm not planning on going solo

tahitidreamin: well here we go again trying to win the tix
tahitidreamin: this sucks
tahitidreamin: i dont' like their phone system thing

tahitidreamin: guess what i just won for you baby?
buckglitter: YAY!
buckglitter: YOU ROCK!
tahitidreamin: i cannnnnot believe that
tahitidreamin: fuck
buckglitter: I just told melvena!
buckglitter: fuck what?
buckglitter: why you say fuck?
buckglitter: what?
tahitidreamin: i rock
buckglitter: yes!
tahitidreamin: that is sooo cool
buckglitter: melvena was shocked!
tahitidreamin: i'm excited
tahitidreamin: i am a winner
buckglitter: craig over heard and said, she needs to be playing the lottery!
buckglitter: you are so cool!
buckglitter: I love you!
buckglitter: I can't fucking believe you won!
buckglitter: jesus!
buckglitter: you scare me!
buckglitter: that is the best christmas present ever!
buckglitter: how many tickets?
tahitidreamin: 2
tahitidreamin: i am so blown away that was awesome
buckglitter: and for the folks in my blog, because I wanna copy and paste this whole mess just like when Amy won tickets to Hawaii, I have to let everyone know, Amy bought me Rob Dickinson's solo cd for christmas, and said that she was also going to win me tickets to a private show rob is playing at the friars club in beverly hills... well she just won me the tickets! And I hope you have enjoyed this conversation!
buckglitter: anything to add miss thang?
tahitidreamin: i dont' even know what to say
tahitidreamin: i am sooooo excited
tahitidreamin: hahahahaha
buckglitter: yay!
tahitidreamin: we are going to tour with him
buckglitter: hootie hoo!
tahitidreamin: and that is all i have to say

Ramblin' Man

Things are shifting.
Dec. 20th 16 Years ago Amy's dad Bob died. Yesterday, Dec. 20th, Amy's Band Shitting Glitter Completed it's Album, Free Alongside Ship.
Today Amy and I are driving to Albuquerque, by way of Flagstaff overnight.
I'm very pleased with the completion of the album, and the album itself.
Devin and Dylan got me a rocking Christmas Present, a neato Sandisk MP3 player, My commute to and from work just got a great deal more musical. Strangely I felt that I had been given back a part of myself, in having suddenly been handed a way to listen to music at times that I had not been able to.
I think I will start getting back in better physical condition soon.
Buck

Feelings For Electric

It has been a week since horrible unspeakable meltdown. Things seem to be correcting and restoring course. I will be vague, but things will continue to get better I hope, and more than anything I hope that I don't forget the things I've learned.
We rehearsed last night at Devin and Dylan', their apartment is decorated for the coming birth of some god's son. It was really nice. I played acoustic guitar and it felt very right. Wearing a strap so that I could stand but feeling the strings in that special way you only get from the immediate acoustic. It's harder, I had to add notes in parts where the sustain of my dead strings was not enough to fill the part, but that made it fun too. It got me thinking, and that's a thing I like, It also stopped me from thinking, and thats a thing I like even better.
The band seemed tight, as a unit, and happy as people to be in the same room. It made me appreciate a bunch of little things that are easy to forget when you heap in all sorts of stupid shit that can accompany a stressful life. It was a moment, I was in it and not even really thinking about it, I just felt like hitting strings and trying to make them one with the things the people around me were doing.
Prior to rehearsal had the good fortune of watching a DVD of our performance On Q live, a performance we had not yet seen nor heard. It was actually unbelievably amazing, and I say that not to be braggish, but because I was that astonished. It set the tone of possibility, and I think that tone blended into everything else for the rest of the night.
After the rehearsal we journeyed to a Tuesday night haunt, The Palms. Our rag tag group of pals came out, and it just felt nice. It's really nice to be happy and be around people that you trust and enjoy.
To catch up on a point that got missed in the muddle of these last weeks, it's important for me to point out that a long standing desire of mine found its way met a few weekends back. Amy and I finally had the opportunity to take a ride on the Dearly Departed Tour, driven and hosted by Scott Michaels. A three hour tour ended up a four hour tour, a truly magical event. I have wished to meet Scott since stumbling across the Findadeath.com over a year ago, so taking that wonderful tour, and meeting such an exotic bird in one afternoon turned out to be totally enchanting, and inspiring. It makes me realize again that I love this city of Los Angeles, but even more so I love the people that come here with a yearning greater than most, a yearning so bizarre that there is really no place on earth for them, but they come here because it's the closet thing to home they will ever get to find. Those people don't tend to stay around long, and in some cases they might be forgotten completely, if not for some like minded souls.

Red Beard

Here's to you Kevin. It's been one year. I need on occasion a reminder of the things that are important, I miss you.

Happy Birthday

My Mother's birthday is today. She is such a special person. Last week she emailed me a video of her playing in the snow, because I was missing snow and I asked her to do it. I'm lucky as hell to have the parents that I have.

Huckleberry Finished

I finished read "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" a week or so ago. I really did enjoy it for the most part, except the bit with Tom at the end got a bit tiresome for me. I must say though I really did enjoy the story, but I felt a great regret that as I child I had to see the silly movie that someone made, it kept cropping up into my head to great annoyance.
I'm now reading Moby Dick, I seem to be on an American lit kick.
Things are happening at the moment. I believe the Album to be very nearly completed, if not totally completed. What will happen next nobody knows.

Today in my mail box I got notice from the Rain, of the Art Ghetto, or should I say formerly of the Art Ghetto, basically stating that she was leaving the Art Ghetto. I have some sentimental feelings about all this, as in the past Shitting Glitter has had many connections with them. Things went a little sour though, and I've only been witness to their movements from afar.
Being in a band is hard work, and it takes a lot of swallowed pride and faith in your others. I commend Rain and Thor for what they accomplished in their time together, and for having the strength of character to be crazy enough to put their lives into a van and travel around the country for what they believe in.
I think Thor will continue the Art Ghetto. Amy and I saw him last week at a Barbecue restaurant. I wanted to say hello but I didn't know if it was appropriate. Politics gets the better of us some days.

My Heart Wants to Sleep at the Wheel

I have not bothered to write here in a far long while. I've been up and down and this morning I am smack down as it comes. I don't really wish to record for my future self the feelings I am having today but expressing them is about the only thing I can do right now, or rather I should say try to do right now. I can already tell that I don't have it in me to recount the events of last night, and even if I did it would only make a mocking joke of the high points that have been lived in between my last post that went by un noted.
If things fall apart when you don't see it coming how do you decided which pieces you should scramble to clutch to your chest?

Caught in the Pump

I will not begin with an empty blogger apology. I've been thinking and I've been not, so in the middle there hasn't been any writing here. I did jot down an actual journal entry, in an actual journal, one that used to belong, but not see actual use by my Grandmother. I have been to parks that I had never before been to.
Franklin Canyon Park is Stunning. It is hidden up above Beverly Hills, I am smitten with it. I want to go more often to sit by the pond and eat she she grocery food. I have been to the Park at Greystone Mansion, and reflected about wealth by a fountain.
Shitting Glitter played show number 100 in a room that sounds terrible. We played a new song and Amy swears no one clapped at all, she is always wrong when she speaks in absolutes, but some parts of it is right, maybe people clapped...Less... But I would notice if no one clapped at all.
It's been getting colder here, and people swear we have no winter. People from L.A. who swear we don't have winter don't realize that homes and cars a climate controlled. These people don't walk, the people don't wait for busses or rides.
I have a lot of ideas, and other people have been having my ideas also. I have been dealing with one stupid thing that I am tired of dealing with. I want to get a tattoo of a line in the sand. I would more than appreciate someone drawing a suitable symbol for a line in the sand. It must clearly resemble sand... Otherwise it may confuse it's purpose.
I've been feeling rather silly about being a big pig of an American. I deny my person very little. It's disgusting to me.
I have been proud of myself. I have been reading and thinking. I have been working on creation. We are almost done with our album and I can't imagine how the release of this energy is going to effect me and those I love.
I am grinding the organ.
Amy and I met a stranger, who as we got to know him became even more so. Animals need healed but people find themselves neglected. I am overcome with how I feel about what I'm feeling.
I have reveled, yet not danced as much as I would like.
I am grinding the organ.
My brother has taken on a second job, his labor of love is impressing me, making me nervous and leaving me feeling a bit wanting for my own impression of myself. I have done well to have him for direction and check.
All these things are going at once, and I'm happy about them all. Let us not make any mistakes about who has what lives to live, and about this talk I've indulged of destiny. There are any number of ways to regret a life, but they are out numbered and cornered by the beauty and stark immensity of the multiplied options in which we all have to live one.

Some Words on Words and Reading

I have been reading a bit more these days and greatly enjoying it. I finished not but a few weeks past "Middle Sex" enjoyed it a great deal. Then I stumbled for a few days with nothing until I came smack into the strange notion, inspired by Amy, of reading "The Wind in The Willows", my mind was blown out hard by this book. Never read it as a child, but it seems to be part of our collective children's stories, for I knew many aspects of it and seemed even to recall some of the art work.
I enjoyed my read for words alone, and the way they flow, but more attractive to my emotional self was the depiction of winter in all it's glory, yet further than the depiction of winter was the presence of cozy on the inside, surrounded by winter on the out, this stirs in me such a strong affirmative feeling that I associate with my child hood, further more with particular memories of our farm house, and looking out the windows at the cold outside, and feeling the cold on the glass and the warmth around me. I enjoyed feeling my self through the thought trains of the characters enveloped in warmth in small spaces, having just been a bit uncomfortable, only to find food and warmth to be a panacea within reach. I enjoyed the book so much that I started to read it again from the top upon finishing it, and got maybe half way through it before being struck by a whim on my way to the door where perched by the book case to see if any gems could appear which had not appeared before.
"A Separate Peace" jutted out at me in a way like it never had before. I've read the title when looking at the shelves many times, and even recall picking it up, but I cannot recall why I never chose to read it. Almost at once the character Finny had me eating from the palm of his hand. I enjoyed much about this fine story. I finished it the day after I plucked it from the shelf. I'm not one to go further into literary snobbery, so take this as a glowing review. If you want yet to to talk still of parables and meaning then join one of those priggish book clubs, if not I'll get to the crux of what is actually important to me about this exercise of reading.
I have been over it and over it, and I have certainly not arrived at my final thoughts on he subject by any means, nor would I like to have any final thoughts just yet, but I do think I'll share this with you. While on breaks from my readings of late I was thinking about reading for deeper meaning, and if maybe I should be trying harder at some of the more obscure symbolism and allegory of what I read, because there are at times thoughts in me that make me question if that is not where the reading being good for the soul idea comes from. In a word, No! I don't feel this to be the benefit of reading as part of ones life, I have another idea entirely on what I see to be of grave importance when it comes to reading. I'll take you now to the very root of where my idea did begin.
In "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72" the recently relieved Doctor Hunter S. Thompson introduced me to a concept called "Rhythm Logic". In the book Hunter was covering a presidential campaign between George McGovern and Hunter's nemesis, Richard Milhouse Nixon. There came a point where Hunter was deep in strategy trying to figure out what Tricky Dick would do next, to do so Hunter employed what he called "Rhythm Logic". Hunter's theory was that in order to predict Dickies movements he had to be able to think like him, and in order to think like him he had to lock his mind into the rhythm of his thoughts, basically to be in his inner narration and dialogue. To do this with Nixon, Hunter employed drinking scotch and hatefully watching football, or something similar, truth be told it's been nearly 10 years since I've read it, but the point stood with me and was re-enforced by Hunter's own strong writing style. I would often find while deep in a HST reading jag that I would adopt the rhythm of his logic, and I would be in my own life relating to it through his thoughts, or my idea of what his thoughts may be.
I have carried this idea of rhythm logic around with me since reading "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72" and as I have thought about it from time to time I have come to relate rhythm logic to what I feel to be a major aspect of the importance of reading as a part of life, more specifict than that would be reading novels (for non-fiction can at times become to staunhc of view). My thinking is this, people get to walking around pretty goddamn sure of themselves, and while there are times that this type of thinking can be effective and highly useful it can also narrow the point of view to a dangerous focus, and when view points narrow to far they tend to become much like the scope on top of a gun, and we all know what guns do. So my point is that frequent reading of novels allows a person to step outside of their own logic, and gives them the added benefit of relating to life through they eyes of a character in a book, thus adding depth and alternate points of views, and through doing so, maybe even helping people to not be so goddamn pig headed about things, and this could help us all to get a long with each other and ourselves and our world a little better. So please for my sake and your own lets all read a little more. k?

Today I started reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, watch out for my strange way of thinking in the coming days.

Painted up your Spatula?

After A fine Friday night spent with James and Ginny, doing things not proper to speak of in polite society such as this, I awoke along with Amy and began preparing to leave town. Head once again down to San Diego from Los Angeles to play at a night club called recognize, on a night dedicated to a land of Spatulas. Odd?
First we ran a few errands, stopping first at what used to be Manny's music for cables, strings and picks, then on to Famima for road snacks.
As a fast side bar, I am obsessed with Famima in West Hollywood. It is this very well put together shop that crosses all lines between quick stop, upscale grocery store, deli and coffee shop. Apparently of Japanese Descent. They have delicious grilled sandwiches, which the mere mention of them here have cause me to salivate. They have all manner of chipy things and what nots, thingamajigs, widgets, journals, sushis, cheesys, crunchies, munchies and yummys. I'm in love. End side bar.
We took two vehicles this time, Devin and Coco in one, and Amy and I in the other. Traffic, much better than a pride weekend was not an issue at all.
It should be mentioned that this day of our travel and this day of our show happened to fall upon Amy's day of birth. Amy being the kind take charge birthday person that she is was kind enough to book the all of us into a Hotel for the evening. We arrived at the hotel, the Sommerset Suites, just a bit over two hours after leaving LA. The room itself was fabulous, a one bedroom suite with a nice kitchen and large balcony, a fold out couch and two double beds, beds which wouldn't see much use in the end. We relaxed a bit in the room, had beer at the social hour and even took a dip in the pool prior to leaving for the club.
After primping and preening we made our short way to the venue. We were allowed relative peace while setting up, and even some semblance of a line check.
Soon Lance, or Spatulance, the promoter for the evening made his way through the door. He was a kind fellow and soon his club begin to fill with people. Being such a kind fellow he happens to import absinthe for his clubs, and I watched in glee as he poured a drink for me through the sugar thingy that I am so fond of. I enjoyed my drink and waited to play.
We began the night with Static Cling, the crowd was rather stand offish in a hipster sort of way, but we just turned it out. We followed Static Cling with Guerilla, and still the crowd maintained their distance. Amy then decided to tell the crowd that it happened to be her birthday, and soon we learned of two or three other birthdays in the house. It was then decided that we'd play our signature birthday song, a cover of Altered Images "Happy Birthday". This finally brought the crowd into control and underneath Amy's spell.
The remainder of the gig went well, with a strong finish of several more tunes. Folks purchased cds and we began to switch into the mode of being at a club instead of playing at a club.
The night ended a long while later, after Amy and I had found ourselves at an after hours party some 20 minutes away. We made two great new friends in a girl named Celina and the promoter himself Lance. We got back to the hotel in the early mid morning and enjoyed our balcony for a bit before catching a couple of winks prior to check out. I could say more, but this is polite society.

A Note about the Vote

For historical purpose I have to make a fast note. I looked over my blog from this time last year and I found there was a large gap that came from depression over the election. This Tuesday I voted in the ridiculous special election that the guy from the first Predator movie forced us to waste money on. Special elections normally do not get the left voters out, but this year we all went, everyone I talked to, and we handed that guy from the movie where he is a robot an ass kicking to rival the one he received in the second movie about him being a robot, and ass kicking delivered by Ed Furlong, and that woman who's name I forget. I always had a crush on Ed.

More Lovely Grey

It's nice to sit here this morning with my coffee and they rain intermittent, thinking lightly and catching up on blogging and emails; details. This afternoon I intend to square away some work I have been successfully putting off. I feel better, I have slept more this week than usual, it's treated me well. I have a great many things I'm thinking about, which is always nice. There are deals on the table, an album nearly finished. New songs fluttering higher than ever before. We worked last night on solid basic tracks for "The Apple Falls" demo, also made a quick sketch of the music that will become "The Collection", both of these songs amaze me, It's hard to have not yet even released Free Alongside Ship and already we have these great new songs coming. I always get a little scared with songs and bands. Though we are band is solid I know that all partnerships are precious and they can end without warning, I have a HUGE Phobia of bands breaking up leaving no record of some songs. When Plaything, my second band, broke up, we had several songs we had no recordings of, one called "Peel" and one called "Wrapped around your middle finger" They were both not all that great, but I regret to this day not having any recordings of either, with particular regret for "Peel". I didn't think that band would break up, in the end I'm glad it did, but it took a few years to get there. If I had recordings of those songs, like I do the others from that band, I might wish I didn't, so possibly they are more precious in memory, but I don't like not having the choice.

Traipsing About, Day Three Runs Into Four then Five

It has now been a while since our return, and I think some details have slipped a bit in my mind. I'll attempted to pick this up after Amy and I had a nice big sleep Friday morning, awaking around 2 p.m., from there we went and had some sort f snacky type lunch, before of heading out to a Martini bar in downtown Honolulu that our HOT bartender at Hula's had told us about the night before. We grabbed a bus after we ate only to find out that we had grabbed the wrong bus, the driver quickly corrected us and we were on our way.
The place we ended up at was a rather popular local haunt, we had some very cheap strong drinks that were to die for, I believe they were made from the lichi fruit, but I can't even come near spelling it. Our hot bartender was not in attendance so we enjoyed a few drinks and then started back toward Waikiki.
Enroute to our room while waiting for our return bus a magician approached us and bedazzled us with several amazing tricks. We got the strange sense that offering to tip would be some kind of an insult, so we allowed the performance to go on without getting in to such embarrassing items as hand outs.
Back in the room we took a breather on the balcony, listened to a band somewhere far off playing random Beatles songs, and prepared ourselves for our night on the town. We started off by walking and chatting, winding our way down the beach toward north shore. Finally picking ourselves up from a top a picnic table and walking into Hula's. We found our hot bartender, who apologized at length for not making to the martini bar, then in turn told us about an afterhours bar in waikiki, just next to Angles.
While at hula's we ran into a friend from our first nights karaoke, who introduced us to a great number of his friends, we all decided that we should go enjoy this after hours bar, Amy and I stopping by the hotel room to freshen up first.
Once inside the club, the name of which I have forgotten, Amy disappeared looking for local color, and I chatted up a Midwestern fellow. I finally realized Amy was no where to be seen and excused myself from the action in order to seek her out, it was then I discovered that the bar had an upstairs, where Amy already had a whole group of new friends, one of the them a smart young lad named Steve.
Steve soon became our island guide. The bar we were at closed at 4, we waited with our new guide in an alley for his boyfriend to get off work. His sweet boyfriend was named Piku. Once Piku was released from his bar job we drove over to yet another after hours club, this one open till 6. At the end of this club we invited Steve, Piku and their friend Poma back to the hyatt for a hotel room bash that did not end until 10:00 in the morning.
at the end of our time Steve was tired, we were beat and had a guitar to return, they kindly drove us to the music store to complete our task, and were even kind enough to taxi us back to our room where we grabbed towels to go sleep by the pool.
We slept several good hours before hella rain woke us and forced us back to our room. Once in our room we slept and did not wake up until it was time for dinner. We enjoyed dinner at the cheesecake factory and then defaulted on the multiple plans we had made the night before by being far to tired to go out, this coupled with our 9 am charter to the airport pretty well ended our fun in Hawaii.
Day 5 was sad, vacation was over and we were going back to our real lives. Being so much fun and having new friends made it all that much harder to leave.
In the airport bar we met a nice older surfer from San Diego, we talked of thing Hawaiian and told him of our good fortune in winning our trip. After our hair of the dog was ingested we boarded the plan, I was surprised to see our surfer friend a few rows in front of us. The flight was longer this time, there was an emergency of sorts so food and the inflight movie was delayed. After a very long time we finally touched down, during taxi to the terminal the surfer turned around, saying with glee: "These people won their trip too!" turns out they had won a trip from the same radio station we had, a trip a day in may, and were also just returning.
Life is too fucking weird.

Stuck Blog.

I am planning on unsticking my blog today.

Traipsing About, Day Two (Covering Ground)

Thursday morning we awoke early, something like 7:00 am. A big surprise came from not being hung over, I took this as an omen and looked in the hotel guide for rental car services. Luck would have two of them inside of our hotel itself. We packed a bag full of day provisions and rented a car, our only requirement being that it had a CD player.
We ended up in something small and silver. Not fun to drive but cheap and we were able to listen to the recently finished rough mix of our album, Free Alongside Ship. From the hotel we drove to a music store which I had been in contact with about renting an acoustic guitar. I essentially told them I was just looking for something to play on the island, that it need not be very nice or full of features, they told me this was good because they had a lot of not very nice guitars. I ended up with one that sounded very nice when open strings were plucked, but of course I found out later the intonation was totally fucked, thus rendering chords above the fifth fret totally useless. Getting what I paid for we drove north on H1, on our way to the north shore.
The silver cars CD player opened it's mouth and accepted our album, the first notes of Ladyslipper rang out making me feel giddy and accomplished. The lush land made me feel lucky. Crossing the island took far less than we thought, we ended up at the far north shore by about 11:00, eating half a shrimp and crab sandwich while drinking beer by the ocean.
From there we drove to the northern most point where the rental car could go, any further and we would have had to drive on dirt, thus violating the terms of our rental agreement. Flipping One Hundred and Eighty degrees we headed south down along the coast, admiring our accomplishment and the turquoise water. We followed the coast for several hours, looking for things on our map that did not exist, and marveling at things that existed that were not on our map.
At some point we hit the H3 and cut back through the island toward Waikiki. We returned the rental car, purchased beer and went back to the room to change into some beach clothes. From there we found our way to the Mai Tai bar on the beach inside the Royal Hawaiian.
The Royal Hawaiian is in my opinion a must visit for a drink while in Waikiki, and if your at all fruity, have a pink palace, they are just so.
After plying ourselves w/ drinks and what not we decided it was time for a swim.
Having been for our swim we decided to shower and head out for some more drinking and what not. We hit angles first and then headed to Hulas, the most popular gay club on the island. My bartender at Hulas was a kind fellow named Chad, I passed him a Shitting Glitter sampler, he told me the DJ would be in later and he'd give it to him.
Finally the Dj arrived, at first acting a little look warm, until he apparently played the CD, then he came over and asked us which track we wanted him to play. We had him play Mondo Di Corpo. It was rather amazing watching people dance and enjoy our song. I even heard one person sing along to the chorus on the second time around.
We ended our second evening with a little night swimming, then going back to our hotel to drink beer on the balcony and fall asleep as the sun was coming up.

Safe to Deposit Box

Dear Friends,
I find myself wanting to write down all the things you've done. I want to copy paste your entire life into multiple formats in the case of fires and floods. I know this is not possible or logical but I'm amazed and feeling alive with all of you, I see other people who don't feel their lives like this, and I don't want to find myself within their ranks.
Are all these memories only possible because we are willing to pay for them with forgetting?
I know that a precious item held close to the heart is a joy to have, but I must keep in mind that if my arms are full of too many precious items I will never have free hands with which to pick new ones up.
I rely on this blog as a means of recording things that are important to me, they don't all fit here, and the most inspiring items can not be expressed in word form. Our minds are big. Friends, lets all remember to listen to each other and to talk to one another, you never know when your going to need know something your friends have already learned.
Thanks,
Buckie

Traipsing About, Day One (The Long Way)

Cell phone alarm ensemble strikes hard at 5:15 on Wednesday morning. Springing out of bed is not an option, but movement is excited non-the-less. Memories of the evening spent before sharpen. I recall dashing about town in a last ditch to gather the supplies, to garner bits of glamour and necessaries. Hitting the special store on vine, getting belts and rings and all nature of pretty things. Then Saveon for the necessary. Amy does most of the packing, as I am not very talented at that sort of thing. I tend to throw a lot of combinations at the problem and hope for the best.
Back to my day in progress. Checking the bags. Loving the cats. Waiting for cab.
Our cab was a problem. Arrived on time, very Russian, aren't they all in Los Angeles?
There is a law in the city of west Hollywood, that if a cab is licensed to operate in the city of west Hollywood then that cab must honor a $25 dollar flat fee from any Weho address to LAX. I ask the cabbie if he will give us the flat fee, he informs us he won't. I ask if he is licensed to operate here and he says yes, but gas prices have changed and he must make a living. I could give a fuck. We are all yelling. We call his cab company and they tell us to tell him it's the law and he must. He will not! The company over our cell phones tell us to tell him CODE RED. That's right fuck face! CODE RED! No avail. He just says we will pay the meter or he will drop us off. He speeds to try and get as close to the 25 dollar rate as possible. What a jack ass. In then end we pay 35, which is what we intended to pay, $25 flat plus $10 tip. Instead he gets $31 meter and a shitty $4 dollar tip. I'm going to complain to any city official who will listen.
Check in was a breeze and the bar in the terminal opened at 6:30. Popping a valium and started to drink. The flight departed on time, Amy let me have the window.
I read from the book "Middle Sex", looked out the window, giggled with anticipation and watched "Bewitched", the in flight movie.
As the hours passed out the window in a blur of clouds and blue I finally spotted land. As welcome a sight it was for me from the air after a Five hour plane I can by no strength of imagination understand what it must have been like prior to flight to arrive somewhere by ship.
Landing 20 minutes early, we were given a cold soaking wet flower lei, and ushered eventually into a bus to our hotel.
As we were early we were not allowed yet to check into our hotel. This being a free trip won from a radio station, we were then treated to luxury that we don't understand. They actually took all our luggage, gave us a pager and told us they would page when our room was ready, we were then free to roam wherever we saw fit.
We found a local diner, directly underneath the first gay bar we could find. We ate some sort of fish salad and sandwich of some type. Beer with lunch lead us up the stairs to the above "alternative lifestyle bar". Angles is sort of the trunks of Waikiki as far as I could tell. We went up and enjoyed cheap draft beer and a little local color.
Leaving after a few we were en route to the next gay bar, which we found on a map in a fag rag, when we received the page about our rooms readiness to accept us. Happy we headed the block back to our hotel.
Walking into the room was a pay off. The furnishings beautiful, the clean feeling, and the unobstructed view of the ocean from the 23rd floor. We were going to be well taken care of and to people used to sharing a hotel room with a drag rock band this was something special. The comfort level of the bed was impressive, in such contrast to the bed at home that my neck and back pains all but went away during our stay, very nearly we had been given a start from fresh.
We readied and changed fro the beach. The sand soft and the water warm, not uckie and crowded as I had expected. Not cold like L.A. ocean.
Swimming and frolicking finished we dripped our way into an ABC store and purchased the first of a dozen or so six packs of Asian beer.
Drying on the balcony enjoying a beer we looked over the water, flipped through gay pages to decide where we would go for the evening. We found an ad for a Karaoke bar which serves tunes from 4pm till 2am, we decided this would be our activity for the early evening. The place was called "in between", and it was hidden in an alley where we almost didn't find it, when we did we were shocked at it's tiny size. At the five seat bar was a talkative old Texan and a quiet man of brown skin. Our bartender smiled more than he spoke, but he was good at finding the songs for the karoake, and quick to refill the cheap pitchers of beer. I don't know how long we ended up staying, or how much I ended up drinking. I recall singing "refugee", "Who can it be now", "The Letter", "Ordinary World", "Dancing With Myself" & "Forever in Blue Jeans". I know I sang at least 2 more songs but they are lost in the blur of the evening.
We ended the evening like dumb Americans, drunk and eating at Chili's. Amy cried a bit over something sad from the past. We found our way back to the hotel and passed out rather early.

~in~

Okay, I owe me a blog about my trip to Hawaii, but it's just daunting and I've been very tired, and not feeling right. I've decided I'll take it one day at a time, except where the lines between days got blurry. I'll break it up into separate posts for each day. We left last Wednesday and returned Sunday, it was short but a lot of fun. Since our return we spent Monday working then cleaning and re-ordering life.
Tuesday was work time then Amy and I recorded a rough demo of a new Shitting Glitter tune called "Idiot Light", it's really good in my opinion. I'm enjoying the new SG tunes, strange to be working on new songs while the Free Alongside Ship album is still getting finishing touches.

Pack My Bags, Oh Lord I'm A Travelin' Man, Man!

WOW! We leave Wednesday morning at 8:00 am for Hawaii. What Am I to do w/ myself? I have never before been an adult vacation, or on a vacation as an adult. I don't have any concept of this kind of free time. What does one do on vacation?

More Than Just Imagined

Saturday turned out even better than Buckie Expected. I was accompanied in my journey to Malibu by both Devin and Amy. The drive was nice, Amy slept and Devin bubbled with the excitement of his coming trip.
We sat down in the living room of Hoagie and Kim, with the dog Mingus there as well, and listened to the five songs we had not yet heard Hoagie's treatments of. Those songs were, dichotomy, The Amnesty Party, Slut Buffet, Grady and Lady Slipper.
The Amnesty Party blows me away, the tune is already an oddity to us because we've never played it live, nor have we even rehearsed it together. It remains virginal, furthering the purity is the recording being very spaced in time. I wrote the structure of the first part of the song one day while Amy and I still lived at Larrabee. I reverted back to my S no S methods, and used hammerhead drums, acoustic guitar and an actual bass guitar. The main sticking part for me was the guitar progression, it felt very right, I believe Amy wrote the words to it later, after I had reprogrammed the drums on the Korg ESX 1, after we had moved to Orange Grove. Devin for this part layered many beautiful keyboard parts on top. Most of the vocals were taken from the scratch track, and an amalgamation of the others, Hoagie here did brilliant work in patching together a puzzle.
Grady is another master work, I had a hard time visualizing how this song would work as a recorded piece, but it's power is apparent, and it's intention is realized.
dichotomy is coming along, I am rather happy because it contains more lead guitar than any other song on the album.
Slut Buffet is absolutely amazing! There is a totally new part in the end, making it almost twice as long as it was before, it's stunning and impressive.
I'm gushing.
Ladyslipper will be considerably different than the single version, but also true to the original meaning.
We listened to the songs we had not heard first, then we altered the states a bit and listened to the songs in an order none of us had ever heard them in before. This was the first time that Hoagie was able to listen to the songs in a purely "listening" sort of way. I am so proud of us, it's a feeling quite unlike any other, I can't wait for people to hear what we have created.
In the end Kim was kind enough to cook up a bit of nosh, and we even cracked open a bottle of Champaign, thus just reaffirming my feelings that we had just taken part in a ceremony of passage, and a furtherance of commitment.

Working

I'm working on a larger blog today, it won't come round just yet, but it's in the works and it will be very difficult to pay any attention to.

Fidgets Part 2

Timing is an odd variable. The alignment and order of events in a personal history can be more important than many of the individual events themselves. As timing would have it once again an oddity of life is occurring for me and my band on this adventure we are all on. Saturday, if all goes according to plan I get to go hear our record at approximately 85% completion, and while that 15% is the most important percentage of the whole, the average listener can hardly hear that part at all. So Saturday we have a ceremony planned, where I will go to Seamonster sounds and sit in the living room with Hoagie, and listen to all the songs and make notes about the sonic qualities. Hoagie has been in the studio fullfilling his part of the previously mentioned contract, this ceremony will be the first time where he will have listened to it outside of that very small controlled environment. There will be excitement and note taking, discussion and further planning. This ceremony is a wedding of sorts, and a degree deeper into the greater contract. In leaving there I will bring with me a CDR of all the songs and sounds that will eventually make up Free Alongside Ship, I will walk up the bottom section of his driveway to Amy's vehicle and get behind the wheel. Driving back down the Coast Highway One to LA will be like leaving the chapel, from there I will head to Devin's, to hand him his copy of the songs, so that he can listen to them while he completes his packing.
As timing would have it Devin leaves for Iceland the next morning. He'll be able to take with him our songs, to enjoy and become further intimately acquainted with. Iceland will be Devins Honeymoon.
As luck and timing will have it, the following Wednesday Amy and I will board a plane, to take our Free Alongside Ship honeymoon to Hawaii. A trip already so preposterously governed by Luck and timing that Amy won it by being the 98th caller to a radio station telephone number.
Trips we all planned months ago, lined up just in time to celebrate our labor's fruit, it's strange this life.

Fidgets

I spoke last night on the phone with Hoagie who is just about finishing rough mixing our album, Free Alongside Ship. This weekend I and possibly the others will head up coast highway one to Malibu to hear the rough draft of the album in it's entirety. The excitement I feel I so foreign as to be difficult to describe.
Looking back at my musical aspirations it's amazing to see the way things work out, and how they work out differently than I could have possibly expected. The dream was always that you play the music and try and fit the part and then someone comes along and swoops you up on the wing of a recording contract, and they hire everyone to do all these wonderful things for you, and the end result would make me happy beyond all compare. What a ridiculous crock of shit! To think that my dreams as a free young man amounted to the idea of playing a very bit part in my art, my direction and my life. How sad it would have been to be on the eve of accomplishing that dream! Feeling the shackles tighten, going to listen to our record and realizing that our meant a great deal more than the three people in my band. That our included much more so than me and Devin and Amy. That our would include a sleazy A&R man or Fifty, A President of a large record company, A board of directors, Accountants, Market Research Teams, an entire Media Conglomerate, Share Holders, Bean Counters, Investors, Dirty Men in Smoked Filled Rooms all across our country cackling to themselves while ashing Cuban cigars on the floor, flicking ashes at the illegal immigrants they barely pay to follow them around and suck up the muck with dust busters which they sold to them, and require them to buy as a condition of their independent contract. Sometimes failure is the greatest success.
I have a different recording contract. I have a contract with two other people in my band, that I have signed with years of effort. My contract says that I believe in you as you believe in me, and that as long as these desires stir within us I will continue to work at what gives me pleasure. I have a contract with Hoagie who has worked so hard on mixing the results of our recording, it is based on the faith that each aspect brought to the table is good and worthy, and that hard work completed will be worth spreading to anyone who will listen. Lastly I have a contract with myself, but that's just between us.

recaptivate

Friday night's show in the valley was among the odd end of the SG spectrum. Weber's being filled with bizarre implements and strange people, with a vibe just far enough off as to make me unsettled. All of the strange beings and items in the room caused the sounds to make odd ripples as they reverberated off each of them. The stage surrounded by a large wooden railing caused the performers to feel not unlike playing from the deck of a ship, in my mind a pirate ship, we were on the main deck, the crowd on the deck below, Amy tempting them to mutiny, at the same time daring them to run it themselves. In the end they could tell she was crazy enough to be completely serious in everything she said, so when Amy wanted something thrown at her, a young man threw a $20 bill.

Saturday Amy and I were the special guests of Mr. Tiger to an art opening at the long closed Downtown MOCA gallery. The exhibit was titled ecstasy.... Something about altered states and what not, I don't really care much about the title, I just went along to dig the ride, and to try my hardest to take an active roll in the theme, I believe the three of us succeeded admirably. The highlights for me included a room w/ a DJ, which was basically and art piece that functioned much like any dance club, only with better decor than you've probably ever seen. I can't really describe the feeling so I'll cop out.
Another highlight was a large cavernous dark room with strands of equa-distant green l.e.d.s hung from the ceiling, the whole room filled with these hanging lights, and you the viewer allowed to walk through them and take part in the spectacle, seeing how with the exact measurement every direction you looked became a point in a perfect line, like being in a three dimensional lighted bar graph. Your life and your options are laid out for you in implication, it's easy then to see what is yours for the making.
After the opening the three of us went lind to a party that I had read about on myspace. The party taking place in a soon to be demolished hotel near downtown. It was dark when we pulled up, a rather unruly line had formed out front, it was obvious that people at this point were not getting in. Amy takes it upon herself to go and speak to a few young girls standing upon the porch. When asked how long the wait is to get in the girls tell her it's long, but they are a band w/ an extra plus one. Amy tells her that is very nice but I have these two boys w/ me also. She says, okay, then their names are Fury and Oil, and you are Emily's plus one.
Code names in hand we march to the front of the line and are allowed in no questions asked. Once inside we are herded to an elevator, where we waited to be taken to the top. To my horror I learn that nearly all the hotel has been chained up and that the two lobby elevators are the only way to get to and from the party location, smartly placed on the upper most floor. The elevator attendee is very kind, she warns us to never get into this elevator with more than 6 people, because it will fall, she also tells us just as we enter the party to be very careful as there are some very bad people here.
She did not even need to give this warning as I soon found out upon entering the sixth floor corridor, The atmosphere was thick and dirty, clinging to everything is that horrible psychic muck that groups of people not properly planned for nor accommodated make. I see all around me kids, nearly all of them to young and dumb to be handled the responsibility of governing themselves, multiply that by drugs and alcohol and you have an idiots Paradise. Bands are heard playing from down the hall and as you smoosh and stomp your way through the throngs of smoking children to pass by rooms you can see that bands are actually playing inside of the hotel guest rooms, feedback and ear splitting drum shots are predictably overly present. I am aghast in the horror of moronity around me. Feeling trapped and betrayed, this is not a party! Children let me tell you, you have not yet learned the art of reveling.
Finally our front door saviors swoop down upon us, telling us that we may hang out in their band room, number 614. Pushing again through the bad energy and worse decisions we finally reach the room, we are permitted in. The heat of the hallway and the smoke is gone. We are in a regular, clean, non-crowded hotel room containing people that I would probably let drive me home, all of which even appear to be old enough to legally do so. Their band name is Emily, they are an all female electro outfit, we have things in common. It's nice but I still feel what is going on in the hotel around me.
Soon there comes seeping rumors that police have arrived, that the party will be shut down. I even once heard the hotel was on fire, luckily this was not true. Eventually the rumors of the police become pressing fact and we all choose to leave while there is still a choice involved. We find that there is an unlocked staircase, it leads to the back of the hotel, from there we cut through the underground garage enroute to our vehicle. Startling crashing sounds and breaking glass. The idiots left inside are actually so short sighted as to be throwing bottles and things out of the upper floor windows.
Finally escape is made, we all decide it was interesting to see, so we were not sorry to have gone, but I would not go so far as to call it a good time.

Always been a fan

Nice day to have a little blog I guess. This week has been catch up and flea battle. Our poor kitties, they know not why they are not allowed in the bedroom. They have waited at the door and wondered for days why they are not allowed in. Henry has given up on us, he's taken to hiding out in the kitchen to prove to us that we need him more than he needs us. Unless candy or gravy is involved. Wednesday night we stepped up the battle and spent $70 and 3 hours on the offensive, signs that we will prevail are there if you look hard enough, but poor Arthur can't see that yet.
Tonight we play some bar I've never been to or heard of. I prefer to go in cold.

I have another idea that I want to start blogging about today but it will probably take a great deal of time.

A Slow Whirling Wind Pt. 2

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.

A Slow Whirling Wind pt.1

Saturday morning Amy and I came roughly into the waking hours and quickly prepared ourselves and our equipment and other personal effects. Having loaded the truck with our gear we drove a block or two to Devin and Dylan's, where we added to our pile, their pile of gear and personal artifacts. From Devin and Dylan's we traversed another few blocks to the our good friend Marc Loren's, where we added a few of his personal necessities into our pile, thus packed we hit the road for San Francisco, final Destination: Folsom Street Fair.
Our Drive was a brave and speedy thing, filled with talk of music and all things that go pop. I was a selfish road pig, and relented the wheel to no one, preferring to trust my own instincts when the speeds surpass the hundred mile an hour mark.
Arriving was glory, we happened to enter a city already headlong into festivities, the love Parade which in the past took place in Berlin was now happening state side. We saw brightly colored freaks, some on stilts. The scenery was all the more wonderful when we found that our hotel on Market street was deep in the thick of it.
We tooled around a bit that evening, taking in drinks, some of us kicking ourselves and some of us kicking each other a bit that we had not brought any further... er... Preparations...
Sunday morning the sun was out in a big way. We had iced coffee drinks in the lobby of our lodgings, then I took, off on foot to scout the path to our stage, which turned out to be around five block or so. I had a nice feeling being out there in the city walking towards a festival and stage, where we had been chosen to entertain. As I rounded the final corner and our stage came into full view my good feeling bloomed, it was large and filled with powerful speakers.
I walked back to the hotel room and joined the others in personal decoration, once completed everyone in our little party grabbed handles of equipment and swag, falling in a line we marched like we meant it to our stage.
Playing the show was interesting and exotic, and enjoyable. I enjoyed very much watching a naked man in face paint smile while jumping up an down, his tiny penis flopping in beat, growing ever so slightly erect. Seeing our recently resigned drag king dancer in the audience, singing along to more words than I thought she knew. Seeing a past bass player watch the future of a band he never fully believed in. Feeling the volume of the PA, knowing that some of those vibrations bounced for many minutes off a city that I love, bathing it and us in our arts labor. I enjoyed all those moments and still have the memory of their feeling.
The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, I can say that the festival was strange and naked, but e a little less exciting than I had hoped, or possibly for me nothing could top the performance, the rest was just a wind down. Or perhaps I had made in adequate... er... Preparations...
The blur lessened some as our party took in a strange meal at the all you can eat, or all you'd want to eat folk look buffet, followed by a brief passing out at the hotel room for Amy and I. We were awoken at 1:30 a.m. when our fags came back from their shenanigans. We needed more of the night and we rushed to take a three drink last call night cap at a strange place called the hole in the wall. After the rush of a patron shot and beer we ventured to "the end up" and all night venue, where we had a bit of a scuttle based upon a misunderstanding standing of quandary. 4 am brought about the end of our night, sinking fast and deep into the land of sleep.
Monday morning was a reaffirmation to my love of San Francisco. We checked out, loaded up and had brunch at ti couz, a wonderful crepe delight! I love this restaurant, and sitting at the table with Devin, Dylan, Marc and Amy felt like a reward for a great deal of living in a short period of time.

Tell it Iron Mountain and No Words are Safe

Last night due to my brothers day job we were invited to attend a party for the business improvement district for the Hollywood Media....er... District... It was held high a top Iron Mountain, a large film storage facility in the heart of Hollywood. You can't miss Iron Mountain, it looks less like a storage facility and more like a HUGE grain elevator pickup in a Midwestern twister and smacked down in the middle of movieville with HUGE Ipod signs stuck to the side.
I have always wanted to go to the top, I don't imagine many people ever have, fewer of which have ever had the pleasure of swilling free good beer, eating great free food and listening to their nervous older brother try their hand at public speech. I loved every moment of it, from the time I got off the subway at Hollywood Blvd and Highland, walking the few blocks south in awe of the structure I would finally conquer, to the last click click of the elevator ride down. I am proud of my brother and the way he's living his life, and I'm totally thankful for the free nosh.

This past week has been a matter of rush and recovery. Early in the week we did vocals for a Folsom Street Fair only release of a brand new song "No Safe Words", backed with a B-side of "Happy Birthday" by Altered Images. Last night and Wednesday I spent mixing them. NSW turned out well, it features my programming on the verse and Devin's on the chorus and the break, still it manages to gel well. The cover recording is a bit of a stylistic departure, I can't explain why it works so different, but I enjoy it.
More on this next week.

Is it Empty or Full?

Last Sunday night Amy and I had the pleasure of being barbecue guests in the Malibu home of the fabulous task master who is finishing our cd. The home/studio over looks the pacific in what must be called nothing less than breath taking. The food was delicious, there were small children running around speaking w/ glorious English accents, behaving themselves in ways we are lead to believe children cannot behave.
The highlight for me came from the depths of their long empty swimming pool. In the deep end they had a band called "lives of the saints" perform. These are not your average guitar Joes, they've worked with the likes of Eno. They perform using all sorts of effects and delays, and a foot controlled boomerang sampler. They make beautiful ambient music with just two guitars and these amazing effects racks.
Taking a clue from the pillows and blankets lying in a heap on the shallow end floor Amy and I crawled in and laid flat on our backs. Looking up and seeing stars while swimming in thick fluid sound was just what my little tired heart needed.

Lesbos! Leave this room to us.

Last Friday night we had a show at a club inside of the Seaport Marina Hotel in Long Beach. Sound check was slated for 6:45. Amy does not even get off work until 5:30, and leaving Los Angeles for Long Beach at 5:30 on a Friday is much greater time investment than an hour and fifteen minutes. Thus we all left work about half an hour early hoping that would do the trick. It of course didn't. Even with careful planning and rushing about we still did not manage to get on the road until 6... By then traffic was horrid. To make a long story short it was a hugely stressful drive until we hit the fabulous 110 freeway, from there it all opened up and we were allowed to feel like the happy band of a band that we are. We arrived about a half hour late, which was fine because we had told them that we would. Our sound check made me nervous, They had the hardest time even getting sound coming out of the monitors, in fact we spent so much time just trying to make it all actually make sound that very little regard was given at all to how it sounded. Finally after a very frustrating half hour we managed get on stage a volume and sound structure that seemed at least comfortable, but I had a nagging suspicion that once we left they would change everything for the acoustic guitar girl who was opening.
We decided to get a room in the hotel to make matters easy for ourselves and after sound check we headed to the room to get prepared for our show. The room was nice and everyone had a good outfit ready to go.
Earlier in the week my annoyance with a certain now resigned Drag King go go dancer had reached a peak, and rather than deal with extraneous drama in my life for the sake of drama I just let it go and took a day long communication break. I was not sure how my laspe of speaking had treated my feelings, but when I walked into the room and saw her I felt better, I didn't feel as strongly as I had I was aware that my good feelings for this person were once again stronger than my negative feelings, in short I let it go. A problem arrived when she asked me why I had been ignoring her. I thought for a moment weather I should tell her or not, but deciding I didn't want to gloss things over for the sake of it, and since it really is only fair I told her. In short it got a little dramatic in our hotel room, and she felt bad and not prepared for what unfolded, to this I say don't ask questions you don't want answers too, but that is over simplified. We tried our best to put everything back in place, but time would show that it wasn't.
A nice cherry on top of the entire event was the show itself. When we climbed onstage what I feared may happen did happen, the sound people apparently not knowing that you should take notes of all settings used during sound check, otherwise there is NO POINT IN DRIVING DOWN TO LONG BEACH FROM LOS ANGELES DURING RUSH HOUR TO SOUND CHECK AT ALL. The sound was completely different then what we had decided on during check and some the keyboard was missing completely from the monitors. This flustered me and Devin a bit, but we recovered. For our part we performed well, but for the crowd not so much can be said. As we played we watched in shock as they slowly song after song filed out the door, in the end leaving just one table of Lesbians remained.
I could rehash all the thoughts that I went through, but that took me all night, and I'm not in the place to do so any longer. My mind feels fine about what happened, after initially feeling like maybe our band actually sucks and that our songs are not good enough I came to a different conclusion. I remembered watching the audience during the opening performer, looking at them, every one of them rapt with attention as one woman with an acoustic guitar belted out the same same exact same old that they have belted out since woman kind has stood up and shouted "I am Lesbian, hear me folk!" This was not my target audience, these people do not have record collections I want to be stranded in, they are not seeking something new, they want something else from an entertainer, and that is fine, more power to them, there is absolutely nothing wrong with knowing what you like... I'm not going to feel bad if you react negatively to our music, in fact I'm now taking it as a sign of accomplishment. We are not aiming anywhere near safe, and Friday night I feel like we must have hit pretty close to our bull's eye.
Monday morning upon arrival at work Devin forwareded me an email, it was a very kind and proffesional letter of resignation from Daddy Wild. I'll miss the fun we had wish her luck in future endeavors. As for me I'm more excited about the future of our band than I've ever been and I feel like certain things happen exactly when they need to for all parties involved, life makes of relationships what it will, it's up to each person to make of their life what they do.

Wanking the Academy

This post should have appeared sometime around September 12 or 13th, whenever the vicious hangover actually subsided, if memory serves that would have been about halfway through the 13th.

My brothers boyfriend works for the Television Academy, due to this we were allowed to attended the Creative Arts Emmy Awards. The Creative Arts Emmys are used to get out all the awards that would really bore the folks at home, thus making the regular Emmys even harder to watch. They are held each year one week before the actual Emmys at the same venue, so you get all the Emmy excitement minus some celebrity munching and hassle, plus according to those in the know, a better meal.
We didn't much care to see the show, we mainly wanted the free food and open bar so we showed up for only the last 15 minutes of the show. What little we did see of the actual ceremony was nice, having never been inside the Shrine before I was rather impressed with it's grandeur.
Rapidly the show ended and we found our way to the Governor's ball. The food and drink really hit the spot. And the drink continued to hit the spot all night long. A highlight for Amy and I was being told by an Emmy nominated costume designer that we had the best outfits there... Imagine me in my 5 dollar suite and Amy a/ pink Mohawk and tie the best dressed in the lot... Amy maybe.
The night was fun, we talked to many different folk and had many different drinks. In the end we met a nice condescending couple who wanted to take us home and do terrible things to our person, we had to decline. Looking around in those last precious ballroom moments I realized that the entire event was over, and once again as it goes with open bar events, Amy and I were the last to leave.

Some to come

I've been in recovery land for a spell. There is blogging on the way. Topics include: I'd like to thank the academy, clearing the room of lesbians, a day at LACMA and music from an empty pool.

Last night and this morning it rained in Los Angeles for the first time in months, Walking towards my bus I was shocked at how gross the run off is. The dirt, grime and oil just sticks around all summer long waiting to be washed away. Sadly for human kind I don't think there is such thing as "far enough" away...

Lazy Repost

I wrote this for a message board but I'll post it so I remember it...not for your pleasure.


I had a fun thing happen to me last Friday night. I was killing some time in a dog park near my house, playing with other people's dogs when I struck up a conversation with a guy wearing a Brian Jonestown Massacre shirt. We talked for a while about BJM and the Dandy Warhols, then he asked me if I liked Catherine Wheel. I happen to LOVE Catherine Wheel as a matter of fact, and I told him so. He went on to tell me that his name was Hugo and that he was Playing drums with Rob. Apparently he played some percussion at the 2 Hotel Cafe shows and that he is slated to play the 11 or so dates coming up on the East Coast. He wasn't sure if he would be playing with Rob any more after that because it seemed like the producer wanted to bring in a friend of his.
I asked how the he came to be playing with rob and he said that he was at the Lava Lounge one night about a year ago and Rob came up and asked him for a light, to which Hugo said something to the effect of you're Rob Dickenson, and apparently Rob was rather surprised that he knew who he was. During the course of the conversation something about his being a drummer must have come up and they exchanged email addresses. He went on to tell me that he didn't hear from Rob until 6 months later when Rob out of the blue emailed him and asked him to play the shows at the Hotel Cafe.
We also talked a bit about a rehearsal he had been to with Rob on the previous night, where they worked on some of the tracks for the new album, apparently this was sort of Hugo's audition in a full band type setting. He said at the end Rob asked him if he knew any Catherine Wheel songs, which he did, apparently he know most of them. He said they played "Gasoline", "Black Metallic" and "Balloon".
All told it was a fun thing to have happen, and I enjoyed hearing some first hand info about someone I have dug for a very long time. There is always the chance that I just met a very good liar who happened to get lucky in what to lie to me about, but the odds of that are rather slim, and the motives for doing so are nothing short of mind boggling.

How to show up for the show

After work last night I caught all my mass transport on time, getting off my big red bus at Fairfax and Santa Monica precisely 5:40. I didn't see him, but apparently Dylan saw me getting off my bus on his way home, had I seen him I would have taken that as a fine omen of good things in store for my night.
I had a nice stroll down Orange Grove, as always admiring the palm trees. I met Amy as she parked her car and at once we turned back up Orange Grove, walking to Kung Pao Bistro, or as we like to call it "Chinese Lido". We had a nice filling dinner and a couple of large beers, talking about all things work and then some what not. On the way home we stopped by a thrift store to see if there were any inspiring outfits for the show, there were none.
Once home I was pleased to find that I had ample time for a pre-show indulgence, a nice warm bath. I find my center in a tub of warm water, and I love to center myself before a show. I thumbed through a mail order music gear catalog and relaxed my mind.
After toweling off I selected a pair of jeans for the show, deciding to wear my favorite dark blue type 1's. I called my brother to check on his progress, he had apparently just left for a jog. I spoke to Dylan for a bit, we decided that we should leave our house no later than 8:30. I had originally wanted to leave earlier, but in reflection, this was the perfect time to leave. While speaking with Dylan on the phone I learned about the omen that I had missed, now taking it into account I decided to accept it and apply the goodness of it retroactively.
I tossed through the closet, looking for the best costume for the day. I complained a bit about having nothing to wear, but much less than I normally do. Since the show was in fine and wonderful Downey, CA I was a little less conscious about my outfit, and I mean no offence to the fine people of Downey, CA when I say that, in fact, that is a compliment. Also taken into account was the venue itself, "The Anarchy Library", having played there many times before I had a pretty good sense of what to expect. I finally decided on wearing a sleaveless pastel purple shirt, with two small flowers over the left boob. I added to the shirt a faux leather belt w/ metal studs and matching faux leather wrist band and shazaam, the perfect outfit for the day....
Next up i had to hassle with the equipment. I had a small conversation with Devin earlier in the day and it had been decided that our preference, if we could manage, was to pile the four of us, Devin, Amy, Dylan and my self plus all the equipment, into Amy's Ford Escape. So in the loading of the equipment I new I had to take into account four people and more equipment than usual, Devin usually drives himself and his keyboard gear in his own car.
Fist thing I always load my guitar amp, because it has wheels and I can use it to push one of the large speakers we use for the electronics. I rolled the guitar amp with the speaker on top of it down the walkway from our front door to the stairs, from there I hoisted the large and heavy speaker, walking backwards down the steps, I have never counted but I would approximate a total of 14 stairs make up the flight. Upon touching down I gently set the speaker out of the way and ascended again, to retrieve the guitar amp. The guitar amp is always a bit of a challenge as it weighs close to 90 pounds, but I used the railing and stepped cautiously backwards down the stars. When I completed the steps I set the guitar amp down on the sidewalk and stacked the other speaker on top of it, from there I had just a short push and roll to the car. I stuck the guitar amp in the rear driver side of the escape, adjusting the rear passenger seat a bit in order to hold the amp snug in place. On the other side of the vehicle I placed the Speaker, adjusting the seat in front of it upwards, to allow more room. Behind this large speaker and after another walk up and down stairs I paced the other large speaker, there is just enough room for both of them to fit and snap the door close. More trips up and down were made, in the middle of the area of the truck I place the large metal suitcase which contains our sampler/sequencer, piled a top of it are the many bags which contain cables and power chords. In the rear passenger area I placed the power amp, my guitar and the container with our cds for selling.
I took a few moments and enter the bathroom to sloppily apply eye-liner and Mac Studio Fix. I checked out Amy's rather awesome costume for the day and complimented her on her fine choices.
Devin and dylan arrived then and we managed to stack the keyboard on top of everything in the extreme rear of the Escape. His keyboard stand is shoved vertically between my guitar and the door in the rear passenger seat.
We pile into the car and we are off. I drrove, even though I didn't actually know anything about the freeways we need to take. Luckily everyone in the car was kind enough to drive from their respective seats in the vehicle. There was much chit chat on our way down to Downey, CA and I believe a fun time was had by all, I even caught myself feeling pleased that we all went in one car for maximum enjoyment. After a brief detour towards being lost and a long drive we finally pulled up and parked behind the club.
We milled about in the club for a drink, and to caught a bit of the first band Kingshead. Kingshead finishes right on time at 9:30, how lucky that we actually had time to set up without rushing. While they loaded out we unloaded the truck and placed our gear by the door. I found the bag which contained my over-drive pedal and opened it up. I had remembered earlier that I wanted to change the 9-volt Battery inside of it, I performed the task just in time to haul everything into the club and onto the stage.
Set up was very simple, there is a large drum riser behind the front portion of the stage which we were able to use as defacto speaker stands. I placed the Two P.A. speakers on the outside corners and my guitar amp just inside the Speaker on stage left, that way I was able to hear the drums and my guitar clearly, and to allow my guitar to mix inside of the electronics better for the audience. There were no problems at all during set up, so I was able to maintain a relaxed and comfortable mental state. I did some brief fooling with levels and finally settled on an appropriately loud volume.
Amy then came on stage and off we went.
We began the set with R.S.O., a song that is difficult for me to start on because the chorus takes a little bit of warm up time. It proved to be a fine choice to begin with, and in looking out I could see that we had the attention of nearly the entire bar.
Next up Amy decided we should do Geurilla, a song I am much more comfortable with, It goes over just as well.
Our third song was Iw6, followed by Mondo Di Corpo, which got a very good response.
Amy's fifth choice of song was Static Cling, I miffed a few lines in the verse but still felt very pleased with the performance.
Amy was then ready to end the show with Guaranteed Used, butI loked at the clock and told her it had only been 20 minutes, could we maybe do Slut Buffet next? She agreed which was nice, but there was later some talk amongst the band the the instruments were too loud during that particular number. After Slut Buffet Amy announces guaranteed Used as the last song, and we bash through it, once again it was not my most technically wonderful performance but I did feel I conveyed the emotion. At the close of Guaranteed Used the crowd, or at least the people in front were pretty adamant that we play one more, I wanted to do dichotomy, but Devin and Amy chose instead to play Mustache Rides, the Mosey version.
Good times had by all.
I realize this post is rather annoyingly written, but I'm feeling rather annoying today, but I'm happy about it and I'm not going to let a little thing like readability get in the way of more good times.

Once Again Anarchy

Tonight we head down to Downey to play another show at the Anarchy Library, with so much swirling around my head it seems to make sense to take a short break from it all and play a show.
This week itself has been subdued, filled with early to bed ethics that cover a way over-extended weekend. Friday night Amy and I chilled with Devin and Dylan and Myles in the the Romain Towers. Fun times. Amy and I ended the night with a long walk through West Hollywood, Dipping far down below Melrose and then up Larrabee To Sunset, Finally returning home to over sleep.
Saturday Devin had to make a real racket in order to wake us up for rehearsal at Satellite. Rehearsal itself was excellent. We played a few tunes we all know, like Mondo di Corpo, Slut Buffet and dichotomy, but for the most part we spent our time chasing down new ideas. We worked "No Safe Words" a great deal, touched on many ideas that have no names, brushed against a new song that might be called "Idiot Light", and reworked "Nutragen" a bit also.
Saturday night we spent hanging with Roy and keeping things chill. It was nice to fall deeply asleep at 3 a.m. with no chemicals in the blood to fight.
Sunday morning was charming, waking lazy, finally around noon getting up the nerve to go to new favorite Joey's Cafe. Devin and Dylan joined us for a nice slow paced brunch. Sunday afternoon we spent drinking Mimosas and recording a nice demo of "No Safe Words". I was really surprised at how well it fell together. There will be some touch up done to the track and the hope is that we can do it and a version of Altered Images' "Happy Birthday" as a limited edition single sold only at "Folsom Street Fair".
Sunday night Myles Matisse came through in a big way, taking the entire Sg crew, minus Wild plus Marc Loren out to a fab dinner at Falcon. Scoring the reservation itself was a minor miracle considering it was the rather triumphant return of Fuse promoted lesbian night. Our table of too many boys tucked in our little corner did well to keep our waiter busy.
Sunday night ended at around 7pm on Monday, after Amy and I and the boys spent way too much time at the "Oldcoast". I have vague memories of trying to watch an old movie through heavy eyelids at a new friends apartment, followed by fat burger in the park and deep rewarding sleep.
As stated above this week has been sedated. I've enjoyed doing a lot of resting and recovering, while putting some things back in order. Last night I spent several frustrating hours on "Happy Birthday", finally scrapping any hopes I had of coming up with a new part in favor being very true to the original. Sort of.

Bodies Without Life

Headless talking heads
past the point of pointing
bodies turn to sludge and stinking
all the while all is sinking

Figures figure
toll rode
cryptic commercials
selling sold

All the aching life

I am sick to my gut this morning, flipping through all the news all over this internet. I hate seeing this president of ours standing in front of rescue and relief workers, making a shitty political photo op speech, when those people behind him could be out getting someone off a roof top, or handing someone a fucking sandwich.
I feel gross. I am dieting because I'm carrying a few extra pounds, while people in New Orleans wait days for food and water. I'm am uncomfortable because the air conditioning in the office where I work is too cold. I feel embarrassed to be Human, I feel ashamed to be an American.
How has our world come to the state that it is in?
I see no leaders anywhere, I see power hungry opportunist that take with one hand and kill with the other. Greed and confusion reign supreme. People are not even aware of the indifference.
I have not been a very good person.
We have not been good people.
Fingers are pointing in all directions and everyone catches rubber bullets in the cross fire.

Smoking Joints

Last night was work, Amy and I had a ass heap of put of laundry to do. We treated ourselves to a dinner of Salmon Salad and Steak at La La's on Melrose, then headed home to load up all the laundry. I really dislike laundry. In the midst of the whole mess I got a call from a good friend back in Kansas, he was not all that happy. He has recently discovered that his ex-girlfriend is pregnant, and that all signs point to the likely hood of it being his, he seems very confused by the whole situation. I feel for him.
After the laundry was finally finished and put away we both took nice showers and crawled into bed on clean sheets. Fantastic.
Tonight we play at the Joint, we play early, like 9:00. I like to play the Joint, the sound is nice and loud and now it's twice as big as it was before. I hope we do well, it is a last minute show and we have not played together since the last show we played, that always makes for an interesting performance.

SG Undead @ El Cid

Today on the Shitting Glitter website we posted mp3's of a live performance at El Cid. I have always had a special place in my heart for live recordings, going back to the first bootleg cds of Nine Inch Nails shows that I was able to acquire. I loved the sound of those shows live, the cool part about the Shitting Glitter shows I have live is that due to similarity of instrumentation they have a similar sound to them, it makes me feel warm and gooey. This particular show is great fun, we were all very angry at the bands before us, they dicked around a really pushed the principal of "how long can we put off playing so we get the biggest possible crowd" to it's full potential. During the course of the evening every single person who performs in our humble outfit expressed the desire to just leave, I said no, and I had good reason, Hoagie Hill, who is doing a fine job of mixing our album, was in the audience for the first time ever, I figured if he was willing to wait it out to listen, then we should be willing to wait it out to play, and wait we all did. The show itself felt great, I felt the electricity, I felt a HUGE release from all the tension and anger that comes from believing in something and having peers disrespect it. It felt very much alive, and there it is, the songs live.