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.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, November 11, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
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.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, October 28, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
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
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
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Monday, October 17, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, October 14, 2005
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.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, October 07, 2005
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.
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.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
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.
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.
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.
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