Mini-Miles

I'm back at work now, having just returned from a rather gruelling 4 date road trip with Shitting Glitter, and gruel as it did it was also one of the best times I've ever had in my whole entire life. Keep in mind I've wanted to go on a tour for basically my entire life. So mini as our tour may have been it was still ultra satisfying.
I'm still beat up physically but I at least now have time to rest and recover, and reflect over what has been going on, I"ll take some time and do that now.


We kicked off the Carriage of Goods tour on Friday may 12th at the Palms, our home bar of sorts. The palms has recently been getting a bit hip and has had some work done, including a fabulous stage built by SG friend Miles Matisse. Our last show at the palms had been plagued by horrid feedback problems, so I had a major goal of having no feedback at all occur during our set. To accomplish this I decided to forgo using the Palms sound system at all, as their speakers are not at all positioned with a live band in mind. We all went in super early to set up and sound check and in the end that work paid off as our sound seemed strong, loud and feed back free. I'm always happy when we manage to do a show using only the equipment we own, it makes me feel oh so indie. I know a lot of bands that don't really know thing one about what actually makes the sound come out of the speakers they borrow from clubs or other bands and given the task of performing without the aid of knowledgeable professionals would be completely helpless. To me that just seems silly, and it seems like a person's music is far too important to not put in the time to understand how it all works. Then again there are going to be people giving the argument that they are creative artists who need not waste precious brain power learning how to hook up speaker cables and understanding minimum wattage requirements. So I'll just shut up, I don't really care to be falling off of any soap boxes today.

The show itself was ultra fun, like, amazingly fun. While playing I kept looking into the crowd and seeing people who have become extremely close friends, and they were dancing and taking photographs, but most important they all seemed to be having a lot of fun, and that really meant the most to me, and it caused me to have a major good time. Definitely in my top 5 shows of all time.

We partied until the wee hours of the morning in celebration, only to wake up far too early in order to play Santa Barbara Pride. That show was strange, really strange. On a hole though I did enjoy it. I'm starting to feel like I've blogged about this all before because I feel I mentioned the HUGE scary break failure we had on the way down. If I didn't actually mention it just be assured that it happened, it was scary, and a guy named Pedro saved our ass and allowed the show to go on, and to stop when it needed to.

I left work last Thursday in a super chipper mood, oh so excited and ready to pack and hit the road in the morning. Amy and I took the escape to the car wash directly after work, getting it pretty inside and out for the long haul up the coast. I note the car wash because who should I see washing his trademark 69 Porsch as I pull in? That is correct, Rob Dickinson, the one, the only. We spoke a bit, he remembered meeting us there before, apologized for not getting a chance to listen to it yet but promised he would very soon. I asked what was up next for him, he said he was in talks with a label to re-release fresh wine for the horses in Canada, I was able to impress him a bit with my useless Catherine Wheel knowledge by chiming in with, oh yes, CW always sold very well there did they not, to which he replied, actually yes, western Canada was our strongest market. I'm that good Rob.

After completing silly tasks including blonding my hair Devin and I took a good small break and went to spaceland to watch Ghostigital. I felt embarrassed to be from LA and have only 5 or 6 people in the entire bar to watch such a cool Icelandic band, I mean really, the guy was in the fucking Sugercubes for crying fuck loud. Anyway, the show was very fun to attend, and made me have a much better understanding/appreciation for their music.

Friday: Woke up early and loaded the car. Packed to the tits it was. Devin and Marc met us in front of our house and we were off, listening to a special tour mix made special by Devin. Devin makes special things special. We had to take two vehicles, Dylans and Amy's. Dylan ended up having to work on Saturday, so he missed out on the drive up, only to fly into Oakland on Saturday and join in on the fun.
Friday's show was in Alameda, at a bookstore. This gig was supposed to be acoustic, but the wonderful women there wanted us to really bring the electro-homo rock, so we did. I still played acoustic guitar, but we rocked out much harder than we had planned. The show to me was a whopping success and we all learned a lesson about trying to be something you ain't.

After the show we drove to Denny's to crash. Denny turned out to be a wonderful host, providing food and drinks and a nice cozy comfy place to sleep and shower. I am eternally grateful. Much Love.

Saturday: After breakfast of bagels, fruit and yogurt at denny's we headed into San Francisco. We aimed directly for the Castro, where we would spend the afternoon drinking and eating at many fine establishments.
Later that evening we scooted over to Kimo's where we would play. The Kimo's show was fun, but certainly the least attended event of the whole tour. Luckily Marc had some friends and Dylan had a pal who showed up. Marc's friend Ben made the whole shoe worth while because he hooted and hollered enough for 50 people. People like that make for great living.

After the sweaty show in the hot attic of Kimo's we hit the road for Williams, CA. Approximately two hours north. While crossing the bay bridge I noticed a green car coming into my lane, about to hit Amy's truck. I got on the brakes hard and watched as the car came full on into our lane, then I realized it was being pushed by a white ford explorer. The two cars battle back and forth like they were in a buddy cop film until the white car struck the center bridge wall and turned over onto it's side. Much shattering glass. I gunned our truck and sped around the scene as I fully expected a gun battle to follow. Later the green car passed us making a get way. Hope somebody got the license plate number and called it in...

Sunday: Waking up in Williams was hard. I was beat but excited to see Portland and Play for Church of Girl. We hit the road and saw some of the prettiest country there is to see in the United States. A good long drive, filled with rain and rush to make sound check.

When we finally arrived at the venue, in a fabulous Portland neighborhood I was very pleased. It was so super cool to meet Chris and Maryann from Church of Girl, and to see the Swallows Again. Sound check was easy and the sound girl was more than competent, which I love.

The show itself was super cool, certainly my favorite of the tour. The Highlight being the whole room dancing to "the Apple Falls". I'm thinking people really like that song.

We spent our Portland night at the more than fabulous Beauty Sleep. It's a private hotel of sorts, that provides a safe, fabulous space for good people to enjoy good living. OMG. This place rocked. Megs, who runs it and lives there was super. She even stocked our fridge with beer. We actually ended up throwing our own after party there. The party totally rocked, Portland people are good people.

Monday: On our way out of Portland we ate at the highly recommended cup and saucer, which lived up to the rave reviews. Our Waitress even bought a CD and T-shirt! How cool is that?

The drive to Seattle was easy, we arrived in the evening and easily found the Venue, which is quite certainly in the shadow of the space needle. We were able to load in at once and leave our cars in the back lot while we walked off to find dinner and to explore the city. I liked downtown Seattle, it was clean and fresh. We ate at a nice place over looking the Pikes Market thingy. We slowly made our way back to the venue enjoying the sites and drinking some coffee, as you do when you're in Seattle.

Once back at the Fun House we met the other band, Pop Slavery. They were backstage drinking the free beer provided by the club... how cool is that? Free beer! Pop Slavery were great people. It's always super cool to find a band that you can relate to, and can talk to easily. They played first, their set was fun and full of smiles and good energy. Really dig-able band. I want to spend more time and shows with them.

Our set there was fun. Amy was dying a bit from the travels and parties so her voice went out on her. She played the role of trooper well though and stuck it out even without her upper register. I was proud. At the end I had a nice feeling of having been alive on this little tour of ours, and a sense of pride at having worked hard for years on what I love. I also felt a sad that it was over. So many months of looking forward to the trip and in a snap like that it's over, existing only as a memory and blog entries.

So worth it.

After the show and some fellowship with Pop Slavery we hit that long hard road towards home. We planned to drive a few hours south that night to Kelso, WA and our last hotel and sleep before home. This drive was nice, Amy slept into the back and Marc kept me company.

Marc: Nothing less than our bands good luck charm. Actually he is so much more, he is a great friend to us all, and he LOVES pop music! There is so much great Pop Music from the last three decades that is just slipping away un-remembered, but not by Marc. He has already exposed us to so many great songs and artists. Marc is an influence.

On the drive from Seattle to Kelso Marc Introduced me to Nick Kershaw, sucking me in with "Wouldn't it be Good". I adore that song.

We got into Kelso around 1 am we all found a spot to sleep and slept like dead baby's until the wake up call at 8 am. From there on out we were on the road home. We drove all day stopping here and there for junk food and gas. We got in just a bit after 1 am. Long day, good scenery. Luckily I had great company in Amy and Marc, while I drove this is what they did.

carriespondace

Carrie,
I'm really long overdue in rattling off something to you. I can't imagine what it must be like waiting for letters from friends and wondering if they are ever going to come. Let me follow up my apology by stating that I am not leaving you out in the wind. The sad fact is that I just got out of the habit of writing to you and it's taken me longer than I would have thought to put the time and the inspiration together to complete the task. Hopefully now I'm back and you'll have some more frequent communication from me.
I'm sorry they decided to throw the book at you, that is really sucks. It came as a rather large surprise to me that you still had so much to go. Tell me about your new surroundings, you know how I'm interested. What are the major differences? Now that the first month is over what are they doing with you?
I've been such a slacker lately, not even blogging much. UG! I think I'm really getting a bit tired of this job. At least the band is keeping me occupied in a refreshing manner. We leave this Friday for a very short tour up to Seattle, WA, I imagine Devin has told you about it. Just 4 shows, but it's the most we've ever played with no day off. I'm looking forward to getting out of Southern California and away from the routines.
Our first show is in Alameda, somewhere in the greater San Francisco area, we will stay the night with Denny pop after the show, that should be interesting. We play the next night at a place called Kimo's in SF, funny huh? After that show we will leave and drive a few hours north to get a jump on the long drive to Portland, OR.
The Portland show is the one I'm most looking forward to. I've never been to Portland before. This show is for the fine people at Church of Girl, you should remember them from Myspace. We stay that night at this neat little bed and beerfest type place called Beauty Sleep. Some neat person has made it into a sort of retro community hotel and we'll be getting an entire floor, including two bedrooms and 3 couches. Very excited.
The last night we play at a hardcore punk club in Seattle, in the shadow of the space needle. Never been to Seattle either.
We will probably come back from all this driving broke and hating each other. Gas prices are so out of line right now. 350 a gallon out here. Never the less I'm really excited for my first ever rock and roll tour, even if it's really short.
We had a good weekend last weekend. We played a show at the palms, with a band called Hayden and the Headphones. It was their first show in 6 months or so so they had a great draw, and combined with a bunch of good friends of ours coming out it ended up being packed. We played a really high energy show and the crowd danced along with us. I LOVE when people dance, makes it all worth while :). We stayed up late partying that night, and then like idiots had to wake up early to drive up to Santa Barbara to play their pride festival on the beach. Their pride was po-dunk, but fun. The way up was very exciting. I was driving Amy's truck and and we were following Devin and Dylan in their car, traffic on the 101 started to back up so I applied my breaks... which did nothing for about 40 feet. Scary... They finally worked a little, but nothing like they should. I slowed way down and got of the freeway and pulled over. I checked the break fluid, which was totally absent. Ruh Roh. We pulled into a gas station and got some more break fluid, filled it up and tried to drive again... no improvement. We pulled around the corner and into a service station which was just closing. Keep in mind Amy and I have all the equipment in our car and we are kind of in a rush to get to the show on time.
The mechanic looks at our car and tells us we have a leak in our master cylinder and that we probably have air in our lines... Apparently he had just sent his other guy home and fixing it is a two man job. We told him our sob story so he had me drive the car onto the hydraulic lift and then proceeded to raise me to the ceiling of the shop, that part was cool. He then had me pump and hold the breaks while he bled the air out. He finished in under 15 minutes and charged us 10 bucks cash. Pedro at the 76 station in the valley rocks.
Okay, my day is wrapping up so I'll copy/paste some blog entires for you to fill out this letter. I'm sorry i took so long to dash this off. You'll get more. I owe you some love. Believe me, I still have a lot of love for you.
Your Friend,
Brandon

May Day

Okay May Day.
I just re-read the blog for May of 2005. Some fine things happened to me in may of 2005. Much of Free Alongside Ship was recorded, and the deal to mix/master was hammered out with hoagie hill. That proved to be a good move. I'm still very happy with that. I had a nice talk with Hoagie this sunday, we talked about up and coming projects and other things.
Also in May of last year Amy won our fab trip to Hawaii. That proved to be exceptional also. In a related note to that trip and may of 2005 is the song Idiot Light. Someone commented last night about how the song was sounding really good live now, which prompted me to remember that Amy wrote the words and melody for the tune on the balcony of our free Hawaii hotel room. That was grand. In reading through the blog posts about rehearsals in may of last year there was an item that mentioned our having started to jam on a new little pattern that we had forgotten. That pattern is what became the verse of Idiot Light. All tied in ain't it.

Speaking of the show this saturday night at the Cat Club, it was good. Strangely good and fun to play. The Cat Club has really improved in all ways. The sound was nice and I actually find I really enjoy playing through their backline amp now. We had good people in the crowd and they gave nice feedback which just really made for a fine feeling.

I've been away a while and somethings have now gone un-noted, such as the new york trip, which I may post the first part of in it's draft form and then pick up from there in much less detail as a Pt 2.

Tour is coming up fast. Wowza.

Our Apartment looks like downtown Baghdad.

Saddled not Addled

We were back at work on new album demos last night. Here is Devin just plugging away. Lots of new ideas and concepts in the mix. Also working on a special project for a special gay network. Hoping it works out. I've much to do. I really hope to finish my new York re-cap today. I've been really out of it this week. Trouble sleeping and feeling physically depleted. Today it appears my funk has lifted. This is very good news.

Apparently I have not blogged all week. Slack Ass. The weekend was good, a little exhausting. I didn't sleep but one hot minute Friday night before work. I went directly to work and worked all frickin day. I came home and slept for 20 hot minutes, then loaded up all the heavy band equipment and got dressed for the show in Long Beach. Amy and I drove down, and after getting lost three times finally found where we were headed. UG~! The blue cafe was nice, rather odd to me after being so used to LA venues. We played upstairs in a lounge type room. Of course it was a HUGE long walk up a flight of stairs with amps and heavy things to get there. We played the show which went well I thought. Even dusting off Mechanically Separated Chicken for a request. I was a bit flubbard to not have my Ultimate Overdrive Pedal.. In it's stead I had to use a 20 dollar dan electro piece of shit. Not feeling good to play through.
I handled all the heavy equipment load out after the show as I was in a bit of a hurry to get home. This was not a good Idea. I was dead fucked by the time I got home, and then I still had to carry the whole shit heap up the stairs when I got home. I was so over tired by this point that sleep was just a silly idea. Amy and I ended up talking and hanging out in the neighborhood until the wee hours of the morning, before my body could finally get a grip enough to collapse. We slept until noon or so then headed to Wacky Waffles to lick delicious wounds. That was nice. Afterwards we went home and crawled into a pile of junk food and crumbs, watching bad tv all day, only leaving the house once to go pick Marc and Devin up from a concert at the Roxy.
Sunday was odd once again. We woke up early enough to go do laundry and eat at the French Market prior to leaving for the show in Anaheim. We had already been warned by our booker that the show was a wreck and that no one would be there to watch us. Yeah! Fun. Luckily we had a nice group of friends drive down to join us, take pictures of us and drink some beer with us.
I was more so bothered by the absence of my Pedal at this gig. It was nice to realize I guess, as I'd been wondering if it was any good or if I was just kidding myself about it's importance in my life situation. In all honesty I guess I'm not pleased with the sound of my amp these days either, but there is really absolutely no way I can deal with that for the time being. Equipment, that never ending bitch. I love to get new equipment. I don't buy much for myself in the way of material items, but there is so much that must be acquired in way of equipment. It never ends. Consume. Consume. At least lately I feel like I've been patient and made some good decisions. It would be nice to not have so much financial stress in life, but I guess I don't really know what could make life best. Gotta keep in mind at all times, that this is the best it gets, no one has it easier no one enjoys it more.
After the show we all went out for Mexican food. It was fun. I felt good. Gotta keep in mind.

More to come... I will do the new York bit.

Time at a glance, RIP GVP

I been a memberin today. I was thinking about April 20th 1999. I recall it particularly well, and since the main function of my blog seems to be personal recollection I'll jot down a bit here. I'm also undertaking the task of recording my first trip to New York, but it's in depth so it may not be up and about today.

I was fresh dropped out of college in April of 1999. I lived with my brother in a small house in Hays, Kansas. We had a nice close circle of friends, and a we all enjoyed smoking lots of grass. Our house was a nice comfortable place for us to gather, smoke, play music, listen to music and watch movies. Or just drink multiple 30 packs of Keystone Light.

April 20th is a bit of a pot celebration day because it's 4/20, or 420. 4:20 has always been known amongst folks I know in the know as time to toke up, I'm not sure exactly why, but I'm online so I'll do the research just now and come back to let you know all about it. I'm so very kind. Done! After my bit of writing is done you can read all about it from snopes.com, without even bothering to go there. I'm really a nice person.

So you have my brother and I who have a house and friends and we smoke pot and then April 20th comes along. Being my first April 20th without school to get in the way I decided I would celebrate the day in high style and invite folks over to smoke the grass. Devin had some classes but he joined in on the fun when obligations were completed.

Joe, who played guitar in my band at the time was still a young high school age fellow, but a deviant at heart, he decided he'd ditch school in order to help me celebrate. Good lad. I was a bit of a sleeper in at this point, so Joe arriving just after his first class was to be my wake and bake wake up call. He showed around 10:00 am and yelled me out of bed. UG! Such a tough life I led at the time. Being forced out of bed to smoke the pot SO early in the morning.

Joe and I were really tight pals, we had been through a couple of bands together, as well as cross country runners. I admired Joe's guitar playing, still do. He learned me things, I keep relearning.

So Joe wakes me up and as we had planned, we prepared for a visit to Green Vista Point.

GVP for those really in the know. GVP was a closet in my bedroom. It was a strange closet. It ran the entire length of one wall of my bedroom. On the left there was a normal door which opened into what was basically a normal closet that ran from floor to ceiling and had space to hang clothes, but to the right of that door was a door that was only half a door, and it's bottom started about 6 feet from the floor. This door led into another section of the same closet. The elevated floor space in the smaller part of the closet was exactly the size of a twin bed. With great effort I was actually able to get a mattress up into the small space. A black shower curtain was used to make a canopy over the left side of the closet, this was meant to separate the area where the clothes hang from the area with the mattress that would become Green Vista Point. The GVP side of the canopy as well as the walls on the GVP side were then decorated with glow in the dark stars and sparse black light paint. Two black lights we installed, to complete the hippy feelin'. The center piece of GVP was then added, on top a small shelf two feet from the ceiling on the far right wall I placed an old stereo and two speakers. When completed Green Vista Point was not a a sensory deprivation chamber, as I had first considered, but a sensory overload chamber. I spent many hours with good friends, good pot and good music, listening that strange closet.
It was tradition then when one of us purchased a new album that the first listen or an early listen would be of the album, from start to finish, stoned out of our minds and watching the glowing lights in the dark of Green Vista Point.
Minds wandering, talking if needed, mainly just listening. GVP, shaped the way I listened to and thought about music in many ways. I really miss having that space.

To get back to our story in process, about April 20th. I fell asleep with the bong in my hand in GVP that morning, so Joe woke me again. I don't even recall what we were listening too. It doesn't matter. I was thinking when I started this post that it was about that day, but I guess it wasn't. I do recall going into green vista point with something like 8 people later in the day. When we came out we turned on the TV to see the horrific image of some poor dead kid laying on the street. Sitting there in stoned sympathy trying to figure out what was going on in the next state over. Some stupid fucking kids, too young to realize that high school is such a small nearly insignificant part of life, taking guns to their fellows and then themselves.

So that is what I was doing 7 years ago. If it's true that cells regenerate every 7 years then I guess I've changed completely since then. Luckily I don't really feel I have. I'm going to see if I can find out weather that 7 year cell thing is true or not.

No handy snopes.com entry for that one. I'll let it go.


Here's the bit about 420:


Claim: '420' entered drug parlance as a term signifying the time to light up a joint.
Status: True.
Origins: Odd

terms sneak into our language every now and then, and this is one of the oddest. Everyone who considers himself in the know about the drug subculture has heard that '420' has something to do with illegal drug use, but when you press them, they never seem to know why, or even what the term supposedly signifies.
It's both more and less than people make it out to be. '420' began its sub-rosa linguistic career in 1971 as a bit of slang casually used by a group of high school kids at San Rafael High School in California. '420' (always pronounced "four-twenty," never "four hundred and twenty") came to be an accepted part of the argot within that group of about a dozen pot smokers, beginning as a reminder of the time they planned to meet to light up, 4:20 p.m. Keep in mind this wasn't a general call to all dope smokers everywhere to toke up at twenty past four every day; it was twelve kids who'd made a date to meet near a certain statue. It's thus incorrect to deem that '420' originated as a national or international dope-smoking time, even though the term began as a reference to a particular time of day.
These days '420' is used as a generic way of declaring one likes to use marijuana or just as a term for the substance itself. Its earliest connotation of having to do with the time a certain group of students congregated to smoke wacky tobaccy is unknown to the overwhelming majority of those who now employ the term. Indeed, most instead believe one or more of the many spurious explanations that have since grown up about this much abused short form:
420 is the penal code section for marijuana use in California.
Nope. Section 420 of the California penal code refers to obstructing entry on public land. The penal codes of other states list different entries for 420, but none of them matches anything having to do with marijuana.
However, on 1 January 2004 the Governor of California signed that state's Senate Bill 420 which regulates marijuana used for medical purposes. This bill comes years after the term '420' was associated with marijuana and indeed its number likely was chosen because of the existing pop culture connection. This is the tail wagging the dog, not the other way around.
It's the Los Angeles or New York police radio code for marijuana smoking in progress.
It's not the police radio code for anything, let alone that.
It's the number of chemical compounds in marijuana.
The number of chemical compounds in marijuana is 315, according to the folks at High Times magazine.
April 20 is the date that Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, or Janis Joplin died.
Though these performers were strongly identified with drug use during their brief lifetimes and the emerging drug culture after their demises, none of them kicked the bucket on April 20. Morrison died on July 3, Hendrix on September 18, and Joplin on October 4.
The 20th of April is the best time to plant marijuana.
There's no one "best time" -- that answer would change from one part of the country to another, or even one country to another.
Albert Hofmann took the first deliberate LSD trip at 4:20 on 19 April 1943.
This was indeed the case his lab notes back this up. But this wasn't the source of "420," just an oddball coincidence. (For the pedants out there, Hofmann's first LSD trip, which was accidental, took place on 16 April 1943.)
It's the code you send to your drug dealer's pager.
Yeah, right. All drug dealers recognize a '420' page as "Please be waiting on the corner with my baggie of wildwood weed."
When the Grateful Dead toured, they always stayed in Room 420.
Untrue, says Grateful Dead Productions spokesman Dennis McNally.
Spurious etymologies and uncertain definition aside, '420' has slipped into a position of semi-respectability within the English lexicon. Various free-wheeling cities annually celebrate "hemp fests" on April 20. There's a 4:20 record label in California, and a band called 4:20. Atlanta's Sweetwater Brewing Co. sells its 420 Pale Ale in supermarkets and opens its doors to the public at 4:20 p.m. Mondays through Thursdays. New York's 420 Tours sells low-cost travel packages to the Netherlands and Jamaica. Highway 420 Radio broadcasts "music for the chemically enhanced." And in 2001, the forReal.org web site of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services' Center for Substance Abuse Prevention put out a public service document titled, "It's 4:20 Do You Know Where Your Teen Is?"
420s are routinely slipped into popular movies and television shows. In Fast Times at Ridgemont High the score of the football game was 42-0. Most of the clocks in Pulp Fiction are set to 4:20 (but not all when the kid receives the watch it's set at 9:00). And there are many other instances, so keep your eyes peeled.
However, as amusing as it is to tie 420 to pot smoking and hunt for it in popular movies, the number has its dark side. Hitler was born on 20 April 1889, and the massacre of 13 victims at Columbine High School in Colorado took place on 20 April 1999.
Barbara "4 and 20 blackbirds" Mikkelson
Last updated: 19 April 2005

What Conditions My Condition

Hearty. Hard on the person but very much worth it. The trip to New York was really a wonderful experience of life and living while in hot pursuit of happiness. I was happy to go and happy to come home, which in many ways came as a surprise. I wondered if I would want to stay or maybe not want to be there dealing in all the crazy stress but pleasantly it all seemed very right, even when it wasn't going exactly easy, it still was very obviously worthwhile.

It's nice to finally have a frame of reference for New York, even if it's maybe just a narrow sliver, I do at least feel like I've somehow got a grasp. I look forward now to a return trip, and a chance to see it from a different sliver, perhaps more under my own terms. I would like to be a bit lazy and less directed, still have some guidance, just maybe a little more open guidance.

I'd do it all again.

Thursday, a beautiful LA type day as I got up, feeling excited driving the van into work. I didn't much screw around but instead made sure all my ducks were dead in a barrel and ready for the scrutiny of eyes that pry when I say bye. Felt nice cleaning up my desk and my papers, getting rid of shit that has set for months. Papers I've shuffled a thousand times, debating weather to shred or file them. I left work just before noon, slipping out in a hail of good wishes. My employers are kind hearted supportive people, they sent me off with a very thoughtful card. I do appreciate that I work for people who lead with their heart.

The drive home from work was a fine high white note. Everything was really bright. I had the radio on, I was drivin'. Nervous, excited, expecting. I got home in no time flat, parked the van and made my way inside. Amy was already home, frantic, searching for a blue sequenced tube top, which she never did find. I realized I had forgotten guitar strings and picks, I made a fast run up to Sam Ash to pick them up, leaving Amy to toss the place in her solitary search.

I came home and changed the strings on my tele, letting the cats chase each one a bit as a I pulled them free. Our cats love guitar strings. I love to change guitar strings. We make happy camp.

Soon the D's arrived, loaded up with soda and luggage. We all waited down front for our taxi van, which arrived just fine. The airport was a happy taxi drive away. I love going on a trip, and so did the people in the van with me, all chitter chatter and excited. The driver was a good driver, he was quiet and minded his own job. Dylan opened his new tool, a digital video camera, and took the first frames of what I hope will be many fine ones. He assured the camera that it would be well taken care of, I silently and privately agreed with him. I looked out the windows of the taxi and tried to keep it all in mind for contrast, hoping to have a good moment later in the trip to try and name a few key differences.

Check in was easy. Security was simple. We were all cheerfully sitting in an airport bar in less than 30 minutes from arrival at the terminal. We were the loudest group in the establishment, which more often than not makes me feel just fine to be audibly alive. We drank doubles. We ate, some of us for what seemed like the first time in weeks. People stared. We can be such baffoons. Dylan filmed some more, we tried to talk but I doubt there was much to say.

The plane was like most others. The boys were seated well behind Amy and I, which gave us our first little break from each other. I read a bit of "A Farewell to Arms", I've read it a few times before, but those little sentences still made me feel excited and animated. There was an inflight movie, it was horrid. Fun with Dick and Jane became more like making fun of whoever made Dick and Jane. The time passed fast. Dark was upon us, I strained my neck to make out the lights of a long standing fascination of mine, the famed NYC.

I bounced off the plane. Feeling a warm glowing rush. Our way was made down escalator and moving floors. We picked up our luggage, my guitar and all 48.5 pounds of Devin's keyboard in it's flight case. Devin led the way to the air train. The air train led the way to the Howard Beach stop, where we transferred to the wrong way subway, headed not towards the L-train and Earls apartment, but to the 68th Street Beach stop, and a beautiful clear night mistake.

I discovered the mistake, because I actually bothered to look at the map and listen to the announcements on the intercom. We all got off, and for the first time I found myself out in the open air of New York. It was dark, around 1:00 am their time, but only 10:00 LA Time, so we all felt decently fresh and Excited. I bounced up and down the platform, taking in Suburban New York City. The moon was full. How nice to be alive in this life, on the move, away from home. Out on Adventure. The stuff of books or overly detailed blogs.

The mistake correction train soon appeared. We boarded and I glued my eyes to the window. Watching in the night as buildings and lights passed by. I saw silhouettes of headstones in cemetery. I figured there were some long dead folks in that ground. People have been dying on the east coast for longer than they have been dying where I'm from.

One transfer and 7 stops later we found ourselves in Brooklyn, Williamsburg to be more specific. A short walk with heavy equipment. I feel sorry for Devin lugging that big mess around. I don't at the time think about all the times I've lugged both of our huge PA speakers up and down the stairs to my apartment. I only think about how hard it must be to be carrying that unwieldy case through the streets of Brooklyn.

It's not a shock that Earl is not home when we arrive. We are fortunate that his downstairs neighbor opens the door for us. Earl Arrives shortly, rather intoxicated. We stow our gear, trying our very Midwest best to be polite about waking the flat mates. Geared stowed we sit on the couch for two shakes and then decide to head out for beer and pizza.

Dylan and Devin were really hoping to take us to a bar called the alligator Lounge, they were both rather surprised to actually get to. The Pizza was heaven, and free with a drink. I had three vodka tonics in about 20 minutes, and probably 2 entire pizzas. AC/DC blared from the speakers. Overly straight boys played pool. We chatted and got on page with Earl, to whatever extent that was possible. It was mainly decided all things would be decided in the morning.

After the alligator we made our way to the neighborhood queer den called The metropolitan. It was nice. We met friendly friends of Earls and proceeded to work up a decent drunk. Soon 4 am came down the pike, and we once again crashed into the Brooklyn night.

We sought out a grocery, picked up treats and Amy and I a 6 pack of beer. Earl and Devin and Dylan fast made way to sleep. Amy and I as usual were far from that precipice. We had too much to absorb, we needed a place to drink beer and talk ourselves down. We settled out on Earls stoop, drinking heinekin from keg shaped cans.

Earl's apartment sits at the end of street where it doesn't really seem anyone would live. There are Whare-homes all around, and one end there is a freeway, I have no clue which one. The sides of the street seem empty. There are only three vehicles parked on the entire block, Two of them looked incapable of self propelled motion.

It was nice to drink beer on my first night in New York, alone on a porch with Amy. I have a fine appreciation of sitting on porches drinking beer. It made me feel connected to my entire life experience, while also making my extremely aware that I was certainly right in the middle of expanding vastly the scope of said experience.

As we motormouthed our way throughout the events of the day and the events in the days to come Amy noticed motion out of the corner of her eye. She thought she saw a cat. I hadn't seen anything move. My farm boy eyes adjust quickly once I know to look, and soon I knew what she had seen. Big FAT rats. Everywhere. Going about rat business, numerous rats, once you noticed them you couldn't not see them, scurry scurry, scavenge scavenge. Amy thought they were cute. I thought it was funny. I thought about the plague. What horrid PR for rats everywhere. Hundreds of years and people still associate with that damn plague.

The beer ended and soon our day did too. We found the open couch in the living room, and found ourselves happy that it was a fouton which could easily be folded out. A dark wave of sleep crashed down.

High heels on wooded floor. Hang over head and dry mouth. Finally the clopping recedes. Sleep again. Wake again. More hangover, not nearly as bad now. People are up. There are no towels. We will be rock and roll. Aware now that this is show day. Much to be done. The new that there is no keyboard stand nor guitar amp at the venue makes me nervous. We will have to find both items in the vast expanse.

There were to be no showers on this first morning. There were no towels. Sticky. Dirty. Rock and Roll. The road is a B. I. Itch. I assumed Brooklyn Tap water was bad, like our water here in LA. I was wrong. I went without and suffered when I didn't need to at all. Ass of you and me. It took much time for folks to gather up and get about for their day. I bounced around the apartment, looking out the windows at the strange new city around me.

The apartment itself was odd. You enter and then climb a flight of stairs, then enter the apartment proper. Directly inside is the door to the bathroom. To the left is the living room and kitchen. We all slept in the living room, on the two large couches. Two doors off both sides of the living rooms lead into the bed rooms, which are stacked. To get to bed room 2 you must walk through bed room 1. To enter bedroom 4 one must walk through bedroom 3. Earls room mates are kind scarce people. I won't see one of them ever, one i'll see once and the third I see three times.

My hangover gives out to bubbles of excitement as we all finally embark on foot at just past 2 in the afternoon, into the city in search of lunch. We find some nice strange moderate priced fare. I get tea and water from a glass bottle. Food is good. Talk is good. Earl makes business calls, then turns off his phone. Then he tries to dial a phone that is off. Laughing. The calls work out well, he locates a guitar amp. Galapagos Art Space will allow us to borrow their backline amp. Holy good fortune! I'm relieved. Devin talks to Sy from another band, who says he can borrow a Keyboard stand. He's relieved.

Next we walk through Williamsburg, making our way toward the guitar amp. I'm praying it won't be solid state. I'm a tube snob and at this point I'm nervous. The Space is really impressive, and the people are very kind. Kind enough to allow us use of their amp, which happens to be a Fender Hot Rod, not only a tube amp, but an amp I'm exceedingly familiar with. I'm now much relieved. All that remains now is the stress of getting the amp, from the art space, back to Earls then into Manhattan, across Manhattan to the Pier, hoping it all works fine, hoping the sound at the venue is ample, hoping I can hear the drums, hoping there will be time to get dressed for the show, hoping my outfit is good, hoping people come, hoping we get to play in front of as many of them as possible, hoping they like it, hoping I don't fuck up, hoping that afterwards I can safely get it all the equipment back to where it goes. Nerves make the world go round.

Earls calls a car service, they send a HUGE SUV, which takes us and the amp back to his house. We call a different, less SUVish car service to pick us up from there, along with the equipment, to take us to sound check at the venue. It arrives and we squeeze in.
We cross the Brooklyn Bridge. I'm taking it in. Finally I'm in Manhatten. I've waited a long for just such a feeling as this. I enjoy the feeling.

We arrive at the venue, it's raining but warm. The venue is bizarre. An old railroad car barge, parked I presume for the rest of it's days next to a large sports complex at the end of Pier 63. There is a strange tent built over the top, which is nice on a such a rainly day. In the light of day there is noticeable age and clutter. The stage looks fine, the PA looks basically fine. I'm relieved. The monitors exist, but the are suspended from the rather high ceiling, and aimed with no regard for the people on stage, in fact, It s my presumption that they are not so much monitors for the folks performing on stage as they are speakers for the listening enjoyment of the folks who on a nice day may choose to gather at the front of the barge, behind the stage. I keep this to myself, as the psychological effect it may have on a certain singer could be heavy. She is a pro, but I like to make it easy on her poor troubled head.

I plug in my amp and hitch up my axe (I've never called it that before but it seemed oh so fun!). Sounds good. We get the sequencer and keyboard hooked up, both of which also sound good. We wait for the sound cat to come along and hook up the vocal mics, which are making no noise. He wanders off. Finally we track him down, apparently they were not working so he was putting off fixing them. Amy and I still had to trek back across town and back to Brooklyn before show time in order to get dressed for the affair, so we were of course a little anxious to get the sound check finished. Finally it's decided that we'll just forget checking and hope someone can handle it later, but as we are walking out I hear a loud pop that came from a microphone. We rushed back up checked a quick song. The strange speaker placement makes for a bit of timing problems, I defiantly had some trouble figuring out timing when my amp is 20 ft behind me and the drums are 60 ft in front of me. Fingers crossed,

The Big Apple Falls

I'm sticking it out. I've been pretending in the instant message world to hide under my desk. Not true. I'm here, handling last minute business, holding it together. The nerves are for the moment giving way to the excitement. How is it that I'm 27 and I'm just now going to New York. I would have liked to have thought of myself as cooler than that. My god. Listen to me.
Let's move on.
I had a cheese ball photo all ready to go, to express the fruity apple-ness of the situation, but blogger is being bad so you'll have to imagine it. It was actually awe-inspiring. You would really love it.

So off we are. Carriage of Goods Tour trip one. New York. I'm Babbling. Wow. Big Surprise.

I got all the way here with nothing to say, but that is where the art comes in, saying something when ya got nothing. That made me think of something, but I'll not say it here. Instead I'm going to send a myspace message to Dick Valentine and invite him to the show. HA!

Land Our Legos

If we were legos we might look like this.
I'm giddy.
I don't really have any time to say anything at all but I like the lego picture Devin made and I just wanted to document the fact that I like it and I'm giddy.

Filler Up

My first trip to New York comes in just a few days. I'm a jitter bug. I'm really excited to see this city but I'm a bit nervous about the show we are playing. I have yet to hear any actual word about the sound set up... Which bugs. At some point though I just relax and let go.

The weekend just past was for the most part productive. We had rehearsal Friday night at Satellite. The set for New York sounded tight and ready to go. Worked on some new tunes which seem to be coming together really well. All of the songs we were tossing around Friday sound like singles to me. Really exciting.
We've also been working out a stripped down set, in preparation for a quieter type show. Luscious Mag and High and Tight as well as The Amnesty Party.
Tonight we Rehearse a final time before the big trip and show! Nerves.

Out in Jail

Carrie had a court date yesterday, she had very big hopes of walking free afterwards. I've not heard a peep out of her. She could be free, maybe she isn't. In writing this I just realized she had asked me to send her my phone number, which I forgot to do. I am an asshole. I will try and stick it in the mail.

No one ever thinks the little girl with bows on her head will do time.

I've known Carrie for almost four years. If I didn't know any better I'd say it's been 8 to 10. Carrie is an absolute individual. She has the ability to be completely fearless. These traits in her are admirable and exemplary. In addition to good human stock, she has invested talents in skills which would daunt the casual learner. Honestly, the complete package for great person is here and whole. I'm better for knowing her and I think anyone else would be to.

I meant to go into my early friendship with Carrie, a sort of how we came to be pals story, but that story isn't coming out. Instead this is coming out, a sort of "why I'm still around" type of piece. I miss my friend, and hope she is free. I'm scared for my friend. It's going to be a hard road to anywhere from where she is.

I'll be honest, I'm scared for myself too. I'm not sure I'm capable of riding, driving or walking down that road right now.

Good Luck Carrie, Self contained ball of fun. Not Rude, Justified.

Worthy Word

It's really cold today. My cozy feeling of yesterday has not yet left me entirely, but there is a certain hint of another new feeling creeping in. This is the point where I believe I've got some sort of control over the whole thing, I think I could choose aspects of this new feeling to usher in.

This isn't really working. I'll be totally honest, I was working for some mood that could juxtapose innocence with evil, deliberate action with accident, and maybe some other neat things thrown in for verbal kicks. Really though a while back we found our silly cat camped out on top of this historic magazine and it was too awful not to photograph. There I've come clean. Arthur means no harm, he just got tired.



Today is easy. I'm working and thinking. Lots of things on the mind. Thinking about the travels and gigs coming up, there is a lot of thinking to be done about that. I have not gotten around to doing most of it yet but someday soon I'll need to.
I'm already filling up with ideas and concepts for the next few SG releases. I have an Idea of the direction of the The next album already, but it's far to early to go tainting about by expressing them in written words.
I'm excited to record tonight. It is my hope that we can even relax and experiment as we go, taking time to make fresh sounds that are not immediately taken as a sign of a certain decade past...

Pitter Pattering

My pretend dog is getting wet.

Another nice day for background atmosphere. A nice slosh splash juttery rhythm of cars cruising past on the avenue. I'm drinking coffee, trying to get a grasp on the day I've got ahead of me. The work day could get busy, there is the looming threat of many invoices to type. I'm okay with this, I can use the distraction from the passage of time. It's a grey day, I can dig most things on a grey day.
Last night was hard, I was very tired. Fighting through fatigue paid off though and now we have a good start at sorting out our life from the mess of it left behind in our apartment. Going to bed early last night helped also, I'm still a bit dull around the edges but I think as the day passes the rain will make me a fresh faced buckie by works end.

As it's raining and I'm thinking about passing time and what not, I think now would be an ideal day to go back and have a look at what the hell I was doing in April of last year. This should be fun. I leave you now, to reacquaint myself with me.

So I'm back from April 2005. It was a nice journey. I found that this time last year I had just mailed the first draft mixes of the Ladyslipper single to Hoagie Hill @ Seamonster Sounds. There is reference a bit later in the month to the single being basically done. I'm happy to realize that this far into the year we were still working on the single instead of the album, it makes me feel like we were maybe a bit more on the ball then I felt like at the time.

A huge mega re-occurring theme of April last month was once again, desire for self improvement mixed with obvious disregard for what makes a healthy person. I would get frustrated by the fact that I started this post, a year later with basically the same desire, except that you'll notice that I appear to be winning in today's post, this is my foot hold, and you can bet I'm dug in.
On this topic I thinks it's also important to note that I'm unnaturally biased towards normal life when I blog. You don't catch me sitting down to a computer to jot down a few lines when I'm feeling like setting the world on fire. Nope... That friends is never the case. On days/nights like that I'm generally out looking for a match. Sometimes I just get a foothold instead.

Along the lines of health and taking care of the self there is also the often mentioned walking that I seemed to be so fond of last spring. Walking to and from the subway. It is with shame that I update this year with the note that I'm not walking, nor even riding the subway. I'm currently blessed with a company van which has no better home. I do feel a bit sold out, but I let me be the first to say that after three years of dragging my ass to work through walking, busing, training and ride begging I basically feel okay with a small sell out break. Really, it's not like I bought a car or anything. It's not like I can go anywhere other than work in it. Most important though, that sell out feeling feels really nice when I'm sleeping an extra hour every morning. I work for good people.

There is a statistic thrown out in April of last year that places Free Alongside Ship at near 70% complete. I do believe this was my unwavering optimism at work yet again. It's interesting that we had been getting together on a weekend to listen to progress at this time last year, basically I think getting back into the album mode as opposed to single mode. And just this morning we all made a plan to get together tomorrow and record demos of new songs for the next album. The cycle continues. "never break the chain"

I can't help but in all this looking back to think of time way past, when I happened to live in Kansas City and I was so deeply hard at work on S no S "May April". That was a fun spring. I was working at the nursing home until 5, coming straight home and going down to the basement to record take after take. I guess I have been working hard for some years now already, and if you get me alone on a nice rainy day I might even admit it.

April

April seems good. Things have started out well.

Saturday was adventuresome and a bit stressful at times. The adventures are worth noting.

Early in the morning I took Amy on a drive to have a look at the house which plays the roll of Fisher and Sons Funeral home in the show Six Feet Under. We had just finished watching the final season, so it was ripe in our brains. It rained softly as we stared. This show has really been good to me. I believe I have expanded my emotional connection to the world around through it. I think I have some small idea now of how much death will hurt me as I live.

Later in the morning we found ourselves way up Canyon drive and in Griffith Park. I was pleased to finally find the location of the bat cave from the original batman Television show. It's a fun and creepy little hole under a hill. I've been just shy of obsessed with seeing it for some long time now.

Saturday night we went out to Canter's, to catch some music in the Kibitz room. It was fun watching older musicians set up and take their jolly time about it. I like to see guys who can play well and don't seem to be in any damn hurry to set up for anyone. It was a relaxing thought.

Sunday was a nice day spent taking photos with Mag, Amy's ex behind the camera. She is a true pro in every sense of the word. In look at the shots after the shoot I was constantly blown away by the sense of them. Really impressive. I was concerned during the process that we were giving her nothing to work with, but the final pictures show that doesn't matter one bit. In the end I'm left wondering at what the world must look like to her.

***
Today, via UPS ground I received a a replacement speaker basket for a 15" 4 OHM Black Widow Speaker. This should complete a new set up for SG, allowing more control of reproduction of our low end. Much work to be done now.
***

Saturday night Marc gave me a sampler which contained a new track from one of my old favorite bands, Placebo. I really enjoyed the track and mentioned the fact to him on Sunday while at brunch. He was kind enough to give me the entire new album in the form of promo disc. It's really quite good. I am really hoping that I'll get a chance to listen to it well stoned and without distraction. Perhaps tonight?

hmm...

Again with the gathering wind

I feel the electric today. I am actually almost ashamed. Certainly I feel nuts or nutty. More of this business with our band is picking up and my reactions are all over the global topographic map.

I am eating much better right now. Or at least I am considerate of what I am eating. I feel better too.

Financially things are not dire at the moment. I am a successful starving artist of sorts. I just read or heard someone talking about that concept... I think it was an old high school friend telling my dad that. It's nice though, there is debt but it's going the way towards the black instead of the way towards the red.

I feel more focused. I still engage in questionable behavior, but on a whole I'm growing up.

Damn. I feel the electric.

I really want to take some time and write something here that makes a lick of sense, but it's really hard to taste with this fresh metal flavor in my mouth. My fingers are traitors. Actually they're patsies... They work for the traitor.

This is the sound of freakout. This the fork with option to breakdown.

There is a quote from a baseball player, I think it was... (fine, I'll look it up)

"When you get to a fork in the road, take it" - Yogi Berra*


So that's kind of the rub, all that mass of excited confusion. Overcoming some of those feelings that want to scream at me about not being good enough. I'm just going to take that fork when I get to it. See you guys at the house.








*from wikipedia -Yogiisms are quotations by Yogi Berra, who, besides being a baseball player, was also famous for fracturing the English language in provocative, interesting ways. Similar phrases, spoken by other people, are also sometimes called "Yogiisms".

When you get to a fork in the road, take it.
Berra insists that this is part of some driving directions to his house. In his hometown of Montclair, New Jersey, there is a fork in the road and either way you take, you will get to his house. Some people find this to be a very poignant quotation, thinking it means that when you find a challenge, overcome it.

Shake

raughtic: we are confirmed for Iceland
buckglitter: WHAT!!!????
buckglitter: OMG!!!
raughtic: he wrote today
buckglitter: forward... are we going?
buckglitter: OMG
buckglitter: i'm shakintg
raughtic: I just forwarded it to you
raughtic: don't shake silly
raughtic: I have to go to the bank. back later.
buckglitter: OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Basis

I picked out a Bass amp and cabinet for Devin last Friday night, found it on craigslist and picked it up on the way home from work. The amp is a Hartke 3500. The cabinet is an old Peavey 1516 with a blown 15 inch speaker. I got both at a really nice price, so that by the time I pay for the replacement basket for the speaker in the cabinet we will still have a nice bass rig for a really low price. We tested the head at rehearsal, and I think it proved itself worth while.
I've been working towards having the sequenced drums and bass lines treated as separate entities in the live world for some time, with the new set up we will be able to do this fairly easily. I think taking some of the watt sucking low end out of the system we use to amplify the drums will give us a much thicker fuller sound. It should also give more control to the sound man when dealing with the overall mix. There are some kinks to work out in the process, but I think it will be a good time to re-think some things.

Things Coming up

Up coming SG shows:

Apr 14 2006
8:00P
to be announced
New York City, NY
Apr 15 2006
10:00P
to be announced
New York City, NY
Apr 21 2006
9:00P
Blue Cafe
Long Beach, CA
May 6 2006
9:00P
The Cat Club
West Hollywood, CA
May 12 2006
11:00P
The Palms
West Hollywood, CA
May 13 2006
1:00P
Santa Barbara Pride
Santa Barbara, CA
May 19 2006
8:00P
Spellbinding Tales Books
Alameda, CA
May 20 2006
9:00P
Kimo's
San Francisco, CA
May 21 2006
10:00P
ACME
Portland, OR
May 22 2006
10:00P
The Funhouse
Seattle, WA
Jun 10 2006
6:00P
Albuquerque Pride
Albuquerque, NM
Jun 11 2006
12:00P
LA Pride
West Hollywood
Jul 29 2006
1:00P
San Diego Pride
San Diego, CA
Jul 30 2006
1:00P
San Diego Pride
San Diego, CA

I was going to really over-react to the gigs and dates coming up, and the lack of free time but that would have been SO silly. Posting it here has been a nice reminder. I am excited about doing all these things, I don't want to sit around the same town all the time. I want to travel and I want to play music in front of strangers.
Silly me. I was feeling stressed. I am lucky. Anything could happen at anytime, I gotta keep things like this in perspective. For instance, say august first I lose all the fingers on my right hand, I would be a pissed off fellow, but I bet that in time I would have a HUGE amount of gratitude for each and every time I got to go somewhere and play my guitar for people.

Really Buckie. Silly boy.

How it feels to be!

My self Brandon is about to turn 27, cynics say any of us could go at any time. I say this is too fine a time to go, I think it merits waiting out. I can be very flittery, easily effected and downright moody, but I have come to learn over the ages that I am for certain an optimist. I have tried on the half full glass, as a teen and young man but it never looked right to me. I will say though I dislike that metaphor for the outlook argument. I for one look at a half full glass and want to fill it up, it in fact bugs me. I'll leave the table to refill a half full soda, because I know that if I don't do it now, it may be a bad time later, and then I'll just be kicking myself, not unlike when you pass up a chance to go to the rest room.

Chances abound. Lots of chances. I plan on taking a lot of these chances. I'm going to New York in one month.

Cool Water

Outer space was nice! Good to be back in cyberspace!
I've had a few things to talk about but I got out of the habit of doing it here. My energy level has been low, I'm working on that. I did some re-reading of this time last year and I was certainly on a bit of a self improvement kick, I'm still the same self so I think I'll pick that up again.
More band things in the wings, but again I'm going to stick with my superstition and not mention them by name, for to intone a deep desire yet unfulfilled in a blog is at the very blackest root of bad luck.

My folks were in town over the weekend. I love when they visit! They are so adult and caring, I'm pretty pleased as punch to have them in my life, accepting and supportive of this strange motion I and my mates are on. Blessed.

I'm gonna come back around here more. This week I will eat better. I will go on a run. I will write you all a poem. I am learning to play boogie bass lines on the piano.

I wanna eat the big apple.

Google Nuggets

Dear Wisconsin Stories:
I salute you for offering this forum for Wisconsinites to share their stories or those of their ancestors. I'm a 3rd-generation military veteran, and I'd like to share the story of my grandfather, Jasper Harwood, who served in the 3119th Signal Service Battalion in WWII. I recently completed a scrapbook commemorating his Army service.
My grandfather is a lifetime Wisconsinite who served in the Pacific Theater. I recently petitioned Senator Russ Feingold to send a letter of commendation to my grandfather, recognizing his distinguished service. I volunteered for Sen. Feingold's campaign, and I know him to be among the most down-to-earth politicians in office. Senator Feingold sent a personalized letter to my grandfather, Jasper Harwood, praising his wartime sacrifice in defense of our nation.
I would be happy to send you a copy of the letter and/or provide more information about my grandpa's service. He's currently 83 years old, and his memory is not what it once was, but this official letter revived his sense of pride in his service.
In case you're curious, my dad served aboard the aircraft carrier USS Constellation during the Vietnam era, and I enlisted at age 17 in the Wisconsin Army National Guard's Company B/118th Medical Battalion. I was Honorably Discharged in 2002.
Again, thank you for providing this forum for Wisconsinites to share their proud histories. I enjoy watching "Here and Now" every Sunday and I salute the work that you do.
Thank you,Carrie Wipplinger

Posted on ArmyStudyGuide.com
by interrogatress

You posted your 97Enquiry way back in July 04, but I just joined this website today (23 OCT 04) and had to give a shout to rep the 97Es.

was National Guard, enlisting as a 91B med specialist at age 17. In my junior year of college, the Army discovered that I knew some Russian, and a new MI linguist unit was forming in Chicago, so badabing-badaboom I went from 91B to 97E. I feel very lucky to have acquired 2 very distinct MOS's during my enlistment. My awesome MI unit supported my 4-month study abroad semester in St. Petersburg, Russia. When I came back to college and my unit in Chicago, I scored a 3+/3+ on the DLPT.

I never went to school at Defense Language Institute, but I went to the Presidio of Monterey for the Language Olympics in '98 (I heard that the name of that contest has changed because the Intl. Olympic Committee deemed it copywright infringement or some such nonsense. Get a life, IOC!)

Anyhow, I'm not sure what you want to know about life as an interrogator. Obviously we have fallen under some scrutiny in the past 6 months - rightly so - and NOW when you tell people you're a military interrogator, they cover their nads so you don't attach jumper-cables. It's a sorry state of affairs.

Interrogation is a very difficult calling, and it requires an abundance of intuition, integrity and empathy. Get inside your subject's head psychologically without busting it open physically. I have done a lot of research on military interrogation: its history, theory and practice. Below is a link to the official Army field manual for Interrogation. Feel free to Email me if you want more info or links. I got a gang of 'em. my addy is: goodapple@militaryinterrogator.com

Good luck, and may your career as an interrogator be valuable and virtuous. Don't ever compromise your moral code of values.

Best wishes, SPC Carrie Wipplinger
-----------------
Official US Army Field Manual for Intelligence Interrogation (FM 34-52): http://globalsecurity.org/intell/library/policy/army/fm/fm34-52/
Interrogators do it with the lights on


.Harwood, Kathleen MaryMilwaukee Journal Sentinel, The, Sep 4, 2003
Harwood, Kathleen Mary "Kate" Thursday, September 04, 2003 Harwood, Kathleen Mary "Kate" Of Mequon, passed away Mon., Sept. 1, 2003 in Milwaukee. She was born on Oct. 27, 1946 in Milwaukee and graduated from Bay View High School and then from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. She worked at the First Wisconsin National Bank until her retirement. Kate was a classy lady who enjoyed all of her ballroom dancing friends, hiking through parks around the country and traveling to different countries. She was an active member of St. Cecilia's Catholic Church and a volunteer for Horizon Hospice. Kate was fastidious and thorough in everything she did, was a wonderful daughter, mother and sister and was a joy to know. She is survived by 2 daughters, Carrie Wipplinger, Milwaukee and Anna Wipplinger, Chicago; her parents, Jasper and Lois Harwood, Prairie du Chien; 1 sister, Dawn (James B.) Wood of Madison, WI; 2 brothers, Daniel (Sara) Harwood of Milwaukee and Steven (Nancy) Harwood of Wauwatosa; nieces, nephews, other relatives and many good friends. She was preceded in death by ex-husband Eugene Wipplinger and his parents, Otto and Mary Wipplinger of Milwaukee. Mass of Christian Burial will be Thurs. at St. Cecilia's Catholic Church (116 N. Orchard St., Thiensville) at 11 AM. Please meet at church. Entombment to follow at Wisconsin Memorial Park, 13235 W. Capitol Dr., Brookfield. Visitation at the Funeral Home Wed., Sept. 3 from 4-7 PM. In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations to the Breast Cancer Foundation or Vitas Health Care, 2675 N. Mayfair Rd., Suite 480, Wauwatosa WI 53226. SCHRAMKA-DENSOW FUNERAL HOME 423 N. Main St. Thiensville (262)242-3120

YOUR OPINIONS
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, The, Aug 24, 2005

ADULTERY
Those in uniform held to high standards
An Aug. 19 editorial brashly attacked the Army for its punishment of a four-star general who dated a civilian woman while he was separated, not yet divorced, from his wife. The editorial asked: Should adultery "be against the law? The Army says yes. The Army is wrong" ("A moldy relic in military law").
I served in the Army National Guard for six years, and I quickly learned that civilian law and military law are not identical. Those representing our country in uniform especially four-star generals are held to higher standards, and rightly so.
If nothing else, the general's affair was "conduct unbecoming." Add to that the fact that Gen. Kevin Byrnes topped the chain of command for new recruits.
Given the recent controversy surrounding shady recruiting tactics, the Army cannot afford to let this slide. It sends a message that high-ranking officers are above the law, and that's a terrible message to send to potential new recruits: Go fight in Iraq while this jerk of a general earns five times your salary, stays in the United States and cheats on his wife.
If anything, Byrnes' punishment being "relieved of command" was too lenient.
Carrie Wipplinger