7/23/8
(let me warn you ahead of time that this post is LONG and meanders around, you have been warned)
The first clue should have been the demise of my belt two days previous
Obviously one cannot go through the workday with a pair of unbelted trousers so it was off to the local Target (which is within walking distance of my daytime cubicle)
There was a decent selection to choose from and I decided on a $20 reversible belt which was quite similar to the one I've had the past few years
For some reason I've always owned a reversible belt although in 26 years I don't recall ever actually reversing it and wearing the brown side.
I left the store newly belted and now prepared for the Detroit bar show
Or so I thought
(I should also inform you that I bought a new pair of pants last weekend
This is a rare event in my life
So rare that I've spent the entire year owning only one pair of pants, also from Target, those black jeans in their David Bowie line which they spent millions advertising but apparently only had on a single rack for about 4 days
You see mind control does in fact work
I opened up my Spin magazine and saw an advertisement for 'Bowie jeans from Target'
'wear these and you will undeniably be as awesome as David Bowie!'
or something like that in the tag line
of course I wrote it off as lame
and then I opened up my Blender magazine and there it was again
I still didn't fall for it
but then I opened up my Rolling Stone and that was it for me
I was off to Target to track down my David Bowie jeans
I thought with all those advertising dollars they must take up half the store
But I had to go to 3 different Targets just to find them
And they were buried in the back on one single rack
You see up till that point I had been wearing all girl jeans from the thrift stores size 12
Which was an affordable way to find pants that fit
But then I'd rip my pants within a couple months without fail
It was an unfortunate cycle of pants destruction
But there has been a common theme in all the pants I've ever worn
They've all had zippers
Until my new pair that is
Asian John informed me that my days of girl pants were over if I'd just shop at Active, land of pants that fit boys
Which is true, I obtained perfect fitting pants but I now must struggle with the dreaded Button Fly)
So
There I am at Detroit bar about to use the urinal
But as I take off my belt I accidentally use superhuman strength and rip my brand new $20 belt into two pieces
This angers me
I cant wear my tie and sweater vest and newspaper hat and new gray jeans without a belt to pull it all together, and I just bought that *&$%** belt
I'm angry and I'm standing at the urinal and I realize that instead of hanging out with two broken pieces of belt in my hands I should just go sing
That's when some guy comes in and stands at the urinal next to me
I'm struggling to do up this alien button fly thing and to pull the broken belt out of the loops
The young man standing next to me begins to sweat and twitch and he keeps looking over his shoulder at me struggling with my button fly
The scene is slightly awkward
All the sudden he starts backing up with his hands extended into 'Jazz hands' position
He stammers out, 'I just cant do it man, I cant do it, I'm sorry I've got to get out of here, I cant go like this'
And then he flees
He literally runs out of the bathroom as if I'm threatening him with a revolver
Jesus man, it's a button fly
Relax..
I should have gone home at that point
Things were obviously not going to work out well
But instead I walked up to the bar beltless and with my complimentary drink ticket in hand
It is time for my pre-show Bloody Mary with extra Tabasco
An absolute necessity for a Winston and the Telescreen show
'We don't have Bloody Mary's'
How in the hell does a fully stocked bar not have a bloody mary?
'ok, then I will take anything you have that you could throw some hot sauce into'
'We don't carry any hot sauce'
what in the hell?.....
'then I will take a long island'
'that will cost you $5'
So now I'm beltless, I've scared some poor young lad out of the building with my button fly, I cant complete my bloody mary ritual, and my complimentary drink ticket is apparently worth about 35 cents
that's when I should have gone home
instead I place my billion dollar drink onto the counter to start tuning my guitar
and it is promptly knocked over by Pauls flying elbow of destruction
that's ok, by now I'm expecting all sorts of terrible things to happen
we set up on stage, for some reason they've switched out sound guys in between sets
'I'll just adjust things while you guys are playing instead of doing a line check'
sure, why not, we've done that before
so the notes begin to play and I begin to sing
'When your cynicism ends.where will you go?'
Except of course the microphone isn't turned on for anyone in the room
If you happen to be playing pool in the back lounge you can hear crystal clear through those speakers, but out in the front where we are playing
not so much
And all of our monitors are turned off for some reason
I stop the song halfway through to address the sound guy
'you do realize that half our stuff isn't actually turned on'
perhaps the people in the room yelling 'WE CANT HEAR YOU'
wasn't enough of a clue
so the sound guy comes up to the stage and starts messing around with everything intermittently exploding our eardrums with screeching decibals of wrongness eminating from various speakers he's destroying
this goes on for about 7 minutes or so
that's two songs down in our set
so sorry fans of 'Bull and Scorpion' and 'Newlyweds' this just isn't your night
I'm angry enough to rip off my sweater vest and tie and untuck my shirt
But I leave my 'Vote for Change' pin on and my hat
I wont let the night be a total loss
So eventually we get to playing
I stand in the middle of the stage and sing but instead of dancing around I just stare evil daggers into the sound man in his booth
I fill each note with despite as they fall down the microphone and drip down to the floor
My rendition of Joan of Arc would have made Lord Foul the Despiser proud
At the part near the end of the song when the time signature changes and I started singing/yelling/preaching about how I'm a Wicked man and I'll burn YOU down,
he actually peed his pants
But I forgave him after I was done singing
It must have been terribly nerve-wracking to have things go wrong and then have everyone stare at you while your trying to fix things but things just keep getting worse
So wherever you are soundman, its ok, these things happen sometimes
But as for YOU 'Merona' beltmakers of Target
You will rue the day.
This I swear
-----
Playing Spaceland and Fighting Bruce Bowen to the Death
4/15/8
I've already explained a bit about how playing spaceland was a lifelong dream
I probably havent explained my Lakers obsession
But this past Sunday I was able to combine both into one radical day of fantasticdism
(yes, sometimes one must make up words to adequately explain)
For christmas I received some tickets that allowed me to attend this event
Laker game
and my wife was kind enough to go with me and even though she hates the lakers as much as I love them
or rather, she hates how much I love the lakers
especially when they lose and I am in a bitter mood for the night
she even managed to cheer for them which brought good luck because the last game I attended was a playoff game against the spurs when I was 12 and the Lakers lost so I've never been back for fear of being a charm of ill luck
jenns cheering managed to counteract whatever ill luck my presence brings and the lakers destroyed the spurs and claimed the 1 seed in the west
so I was feeling ecstatic
but I had somewhat forgotten the strict instructions of my bandmates to not go overboard with the cheering during the game
(but this was the 1 SPOT!, MVP votes could well hang in the balance! And I had to challenge Bruce Bowen to fisticuffs when he clotheslined Luke Walton!)
I realized that there are times when I use lots of foul language, like Laker games apparently
there were a lot of "F*ck YEAH Lamar!, take it to the hole!" and lets not forget "NO F*CKING THREES JORDAN!, DONT MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE"
anyway
my throat was a bit raw
and that portended bad things
for coming up that very night was my dream show
spppaaaccccceeeelllllaaaannnnnddd
I was feeling very distressed after the game, constantly checking on the status of my throat
but my wife was kind to me and agreed to come to the show with me after already attending the Laker game in the same day
so life was good and we were on our way to dream fulfillment
we arrived and the show and were greeted by Jeffrey of "the Ivy Walls"
http://www.myspace.com/theivywalls
and he was very kind and made us feel welcome and at home
I also managed to use a tabasco laden bloody mary to soothe my throat, which I'm thinking of making a prerquisite of any nerve wracking show
so things were good
the Ivy walls put together a very nice set which really set a good tone for playing a show
it was a combination of relaxed and intense, calmly dark
they looked great on stage and really put me in a mood to go up there and sing some songs
and they were very nice people as well so that made it even better
we set up our gear and I was feeling pretty good to go
and then....
DISASTER STRIKES!
Pauls synth decides to internally explode
it will not turn on
it is feeling spiteful because of all our talk of buying a new one
(and by the way I think that Doris and Tara have teamed up to win the house show as long as we're talking about that)
more than half of our carefully prepared set is built upon Paul sometimes soundscapey sometimes poppy and direct synthlines
this was heading downhill fast
our brilliant spaceland performance was not to be
but then Paul insisted that he was a supergenius and could wing most of it on piano anyway
so into the set we went
and I have to say that it really started to feel rather good
the music seemed to be easier to focus on
it was almost visible to me
I could view it as an enviroment and choose my spots to traverse it
use the landscape to my advantage
and paul, trevor, james, and brian are magnificent landscape architects
greens and blues felt to me as Will filled as its ever felt
spaceland 2
our yet to be named "Vibraphone" song finally went through and felt played and sang to its potential
spaceland
it was just a good night
because when it comes to live sets I dont think we'll ever be the polished pop machine that we probably should be
but we can play honestly and skillfully and with intent
we can cut instead of slash
Musically I just want us to get to the point that we can carry wallets that are embroidered with "Bad *ss M*therF*cker"
and nights like Sunday night are definitely a step in the right direction
the silverlake spaceland crowd (that would be many of you that are receiving this e-mail as well) really made us feel at home
you were there to listen and I had been so afraid that people would be there just to be there
but to me there is no better feeling than people that are there actually listening
because if you listen I'll be happy to sing my god++mn balls off
thats what the songs are there for
so thank you for that
you all made me very happy
and we saw some members of Last American Buffalo there as well
so we'll probably put together some future shows with them as well as with Ivy Walls
it was a great day, when you put it all together probably one of my favorite days ever
and a huge thanks to my wife for being with me and being supportive the whole day because it really pushed the day over the top for me
because I love you woman and its good to be able to hang out with you outside of our parental roles
anyway
thank all of you for coming
we here in winstonland really had a fantastic time and we hope to see you again soon
and for those of you who were curious about our all synth song but had their hopes crushed by Pauls cruel Korg
the song is called "Lets Pretend We're Lovers" and you can hear it on our myspace or download it on Itunes
we will see you again soon
-david
---------
lyrics for Ernest Hemingway
1/7/8
ERNEST HEMINGWAY
It was back in 37 that I joined the war
I'd finally found a fight that was worth dying for
And when I first held my gun I was filled with such pride
and pride stayed with me till the moment that my first friend died
but if the devil wont cry then why should I cry?
if he can accept losses well then so can I
but when my people arent free then I cannot be
free to enjoy life, cannot enjoy life
cause when their planes fly by they darken the sky
and they drop down despair till it spreads everywhere
but if the sun peaks out and we're still here
stand up and shout 'we are still here, we are still here!'
cause if the devil wont die then why should I die?
after all hes made of will and surely so am I
but when my people arent free then I cannot be
free to let it go, I cant let it go
cause when their planes fly by they darken the sky
and they drop down despair till it spreads everywhere
but if the sun peaks out and we're still here
stand up and shout 'we are still here, we are still here!'
This is how you live a life in two days
here among your friends, here in this land you love
here with the one you need, oh rabbit come with me
lets live our life in two days, live a life in two days
But if the devil dont die then why should we die?
if he can rewrite his-story then so can I
till all my people are free, yes we can all be
free to enjoy life, we can stay alive
we can start again, we can stay alive
we can start again, we can shout out loud
'we are still here, we are still here!'
- I've been away a long long time those that bother to read these random ramblings, but we've made commitments to come back thanks to the influence of our newest member the salty sea captain
so I'll be rambling a bit more often
We welcome any thoughts you might have
for instance, how much of this song is' for whom the bell tolls' and how much is me being frightened that if McDonalds spends enough money on advertising they can convince me to go buy a meal deal even though I know for a fact its going to be disgusting,
mind control scares the shit out of me especially because I believe myself to be more aware of these kinds of things but even I find myself ensorceled and ensnared-
Mcdonalds advertising and how the reasons for the iraq war changed weekly but most people seemed not to notice, these are the waking daymares that haunt my daydreams
first the 9/11 hijackers were from iraq, proven to not be true
then nuclear weapons were there, proven to not be true
then we just like to spread democracy?!
what the fuck?
and 51% of the country bought into this?!
are we so susceptible to repetition through 'talking points'?
apparently we are
when we're not in our cubicles we're watching television
we work and we entertain ourselves and we have little time for anything else including critical thinking
we're easy to manipulate
this is why we are named 'winston and the telescreen'
remember how the ministry of information would simply rewrite the history books an suddenly history would be changed?
well we in the U.S. rarely read and so instead of rewriting history books all they have to do is give the AM radio hosts, and TV talking heads different 'talking points' and people forget that last week they were saying something completely different
manipulation through repetition
seriously scares the shit out of me
and while I'm rambling in this direction
my sister says that even if the general election comes down to Clinton that I should vote anyway because the supreme court might have some spots open up, and she is possibly correct to think that way
but when I watch her Iowa speech and see that the BIG word on all her signs is EXPERIENCE and she has Wesley Clark, Bill Clinton and Madeline Albright behind her while her campaign message was Back to the Future!......
and then she loses badly because we dont want to go back to the future, and it turns out we want CHANGE after all--
It scare the HELL out of me that the next week in New Hampshire the BIG word on her signs is CHANGE and when she speaks instead of the entire old Clinton cabinet behind her suddenly theres a bunch of young people?!?!??!!
and we all BUY this?
she completed turned around everything her campaign was about and America didnt notice?!
this FRIGHTENS me, the scariest thing to me is how easily American minds are manipulated into forgetting what came before
as far as the process of manipulation and mind misdirection goes I see no difference between her campaign and the iraq war-
I turned 18 in 2000 so other then that one week in September when we all came together I have been ASHAMED and EMBARESSED to be an American my entire adult life and I sick and tired of it
-
and this is what happens when I start typing after a year of being absent
I'm not even sure if that made sense and I'm not going to read it to find out
this might be the new way
I'll sit down and thoughts will spill out and it will be messy
but feel free to spill thoughts back
on lyrics or rambling or anything at all
back to the beginning
i'm melding my favorite books to my most prominent feelings
their marriage is likely doomed to failure
but possibly some worthwhile children will be born
----------
The Most Symmetrical Girl in the World
11/21/4
And so shes there and I'm here or there or wherever we are.
And when I walked in and she was lying there with the blanket curled up below her hip in just that way and I crawled onto the bed and I placed my hand upon her hip and traced my fingertips along her side up and below the breast, curved and around to the tip of her shoulder and then back down again but this time along the arm down past the elbow and then up around the wrist only to fall through the valley between her fingers and stop at her fingertips, drop down from the tips of her French-manicured nails, down upon the soft skin of her belly- and isnt it amazing how someone so thin could be so soft?
It defies rationality this softness on her thin frame.
And its therapeutic this tracing of my fingers across her body with her in this light because she asked me to turn off the lamp if I could, and please go turn on the bathroom light instead.
And at first I was against it but after I had gone and reversed the lights from On to Off and then Off to On and had returned to get lost again in this exploration of my fingertips across the curves of her body, I thought about it and realized that yes this light is in fact better, the shadows it casts more perfect than the all encompassing light of the lamp.
So I lay and I marveled at her correctness about the lights and the shadows that they cast.
But my mind is always running commentaries in short story formats and I get lost in the endless flowing of the words I use to describe the images I see. And all the while tracing my fingertips across her surfaces and soaking her image into my mind through my senses when it occurs to me that really I was painting her then and there, that she was my masterpiece in progress. That really I am a genius painter and my technique is applied in such a way that I enter my own painting caressing the lines and shadows upon the surface of my subjects. That I become so wrapped up in my work that I begin to believe that I am truly there within the painting with this woman and I think to myself. "Well you must really be a masterful painter with excellent technique my lad, because you believe that you are actually here!" And saying it I realize that I cannot be here because the scene is too perfect and surreal. However even as I think this to myself the realization enters my mind that I actually have no discernable skill with a brush and I am wholly incapable of capturing light and shadow on a canvas, that what I must be doing with this scene is not creating it at all but instead viewing it and having an immeasurable appreciation of it.
But just as I am delighting in this newfound appreciation her eyes open and as she peers down at me I feel that searching look, it is a look that attempts to penetrate through my eyes and into my thoughts. This scrutiny unnerves me as it forces to my attention that I am very silly, slightly bent, or highly dysfunctional in some painfully apparent way.
I want to share with her each thought but I'm quite nervous that maybe she doesnt care for my thoughts at all.
"Does it bother you when I tell you what I'm thinking?"
And theres that searching look again for a moment but more quickly than I expect she replies, "No."
I see that she truly means this and perhaps its not all that dangerous to go on after all.
"I was thinking just now, that I was at this museum in Florence, and that I was walking along the halls and I saw this painting. You know, not a modern art painting but one of those old realistic oil paintings, and there was this girl in the painting. And the beauty of the girl it just struck me and I was sucked in and I've been standing staring at it for over an hour now. And that this whole scene between us is just being played out in my head in all this exquisite detail because I am that drawn into this painting.
And even thinking about it at all makes me a bit nervous because I can see how easily it might be true and that any second now someone else in the museum is going to be walking down the hall and not see me and bump into me and I'll realize that this is really all a grand fantasy I've engineered in my mind. Because the painting was so amazingly beautiful and perfect that I just wanted to be a part of it in some way."
And I bravely look up into her eyes for a moment and I think for just a second- "You see there, she likes you she does, she doesnt think youre crazy at all and perhaps even thinks that you are rather pretty yourself'" but that thought is quickly replaced with "Hold on there my lad, that is some dangerous thinking there. Thinking like that is how people start down the path of possibly being hurt and saddened and perhaps you should keep some of these fanciful thoughts to yourself."
But her presence has developed in me a reckless tendency to express myself.
"Would you like that, being a painting in a museum?"
She gives a slight nod and a smile
"What would you be titled? What would the placard say under your frame?"
And I can see that shes not dismissing the question at all, that shes really giving it some thought.
"Girl #20435B"
And for some reason this answer makes me feel both happy and sad because I can see that she is being both clever and humble, but this scene is being played out in my very own imagination and "Girl #20435B" wasnt really what I had in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of "Modern Venus de Milo"- because I've been to Florence and stood in front of the Venus de Milo and I find this scene painted here before me much more perfect than that particular piece. It is in fact an image so superb that it is deserving of acclaim and recognition in the world.
"But you know girl number whatever is really sort of clever, and as far as art goes it might be a very good name for this painting. And I might even think of a name like that myself because the commentary is the sort that I'm likely to make when creating something. But in this instance, in this entire interaction with this entire individual I am not here to write commentary but rather to enjoy and immerse myself completely within something that is beautiful, to take a rest from those few worldly responsibilities I have imposed upon myself."
But now the pattern of her breathing has changed and her eyes have tilted open and shes lying there watching me.
And I find myself drawn to that mouth which happens to be the perfect size and width to greet my own mouth, and I become fixated on the lines, curves, and shadows upon her face. They excite me in a way that goes far beyond the stimulation of seeing naked strangers in compromising positions, indeed just the motion of her lips as she breathes causes movement within my body.
My mouth moves of its own will and meets with those delicate lips that have so completely captured my attention. We become lost in movement and breathing and warmth and intoxication; lines, shapes, and shadows tangled up within each other. And just when all feeling has left my body and Im certain I am dying, I bend down and breathe in just above her neck consuming her presence and restoring my breath, and life is returned to me.
As I lie back fulfilled, instead of tracing her lines with my fingers I place my hand upon her hip and feel warmth and give warmth for minutes or hours until I shift my hand and travel down past her hip and place my hand between her thighs, but not
into that new warm place but down further to where her knees meet and skin touches skin. And I think to myself, "You know this really feels rather nice" and "I could easily grow used to this".
The simple softness of her body strikes me so I again examine her surfaces. Luckily her eyes are closed because she really can become quite uncomfortable when I sit here and stare at her but for now her eyes are shut tight and she'll not notice and I can get away with staring as much as I want to. And so I see for the first time these two freckles on the front of her thigh precisely three inches apart and there on her opposite thigh the exact same placement of freckles reflected. And I think, "Youve found yourself a rather symmetrical woman my friend, rather symmetrical indeed"
And then I think back to before when I was standing in that museum in Florence, right after that gentlemen accidentally bumped into me and I was broken from my intense fascination with that one painting that I had admired so intensely until I seemed to have jumped right inside of it, when I look down at the placard and it says, "The Most Symmetrical Girl in the World".
----------
the mentality of the impoverished traveling ronin, minstrel, family man
6/23/6
I initially wrote this the day after a weekday show at 'the vibe' while residing in my cubicle. I initially posted it under my personal myspace but received not a single response, so I figured people liked it not at all. But its recently come to my attention that while random muggles find it confusing and silly other performers apparently understand. So I've now posted it here to peruse at your leisure.
(Im going to have to drop you into the middle of the night here, with very limited explanation because Ive grown tired of typing. Just know that working full time and playing weekday shows takes its toll on this rapidly aging musician- and we became delayed from starting at 11pm to 11:45pm which made me more tired- I fell asleep leaning on my elbow at a patio table twice before the show started- we enter the story now as Im called to the stage to set up and perform. The purpose of this exercise is to provide some sort of window into my brain, because I dont discuss such things with anyone ever and perhaps one day I myself will forget things so I better start writing things down every once in a while. You can tell me whether or not its a good or bad idea to share such things with you.)
And I take the yawns and the weariness and I bring them with me onto the stage as I tune my guitar and set up my amplifier. But this is no way to perform, no chance of singing well- the concert doomed before its begun. What would Ogammi Itto do? What would Miyamoto Musashi do? And it all goes back to the training. The training begun back when I first learned that the wandering samurai was the only worthwhile perfectionist, the book of five rings, the Slash and the Cut. In the world of performance it is always a night for Cutting. The time comes to Focus, concentration for the amateurs and Focus for the samurai. Who is your enemy? weariness is my enemy Who seeks to destroy you? exhaustion is my enemy Who would let you be less than you are? indifference and laziness are my enemies Will you succumb to your enemies, would you let them destroy all that you might have been? No, I will destroy each enemy as they have come to destroy me. I will Cut. I will sing without growing tired. I will dance without feeling silly. There is no crowd that is loving and there is no crowd that is indifferent, there is only the Song and the Voice. The weariness, the stress, they all cease to exist- they all melt into the Song and the Voice. Here exists the world where one must never Slash and only Cut and only then when the Mu is achieved and victory assured- then we are ready to began.
The tap count of four and then the chords come in and the voice appears- when your cynicism ends, where will you go? And despite the preparation the Mu dissipates- the mind strays to the timing of the tambourine thats tapping against my thigh Im not in time- get to time- my voice is sliding, an off note in the phrase And I have to regroup and start again. the bitter the used, my bottomless shoes, where will they take you The song keeps on and the song exists and lives within itself and the song ends. And Im unhappy, it was off from the start. I was able to regroup and song salvaged itself but it had been performed much more lovely a hundred times before. The weariness still exists somewhere inside and is destroying the performance, but here each song is a chance to began again. The four count tap and then the chord progression plays through. I need to attack from new footing, keep the enemy guessing- control the location of the battle- and so I take the microphone out from the stand and stand exposed at the front of the stage.
Hello madame nice to meet you, lets find out what I might teach you and its different, the Song and the Voice have come to life and have brought to life the dance that exists within the body. There is no crowd that is loving, there is no crowd that is indifferent, there is only the song and the voice, here I will sing without growing tired and will dance without feeling silly.
And from then on out it all falls together- I pick up my guitar and pick some notes well its been one of those nights I cannot sleep its hard to breathe, I put on clothes I take a walk I guess Ill bring my problems with me to the street and all the pieces fit, the rhythm pulsating out onto my back- the bass notes swelling up through my legs- the piano swirling around my head and the song is there inviting me in and I step inside it and perform it from the inside out.
This is the position that I always wish to perform from- youll never have a chance to pull off a better performance than from the inside of a song. It is only when pushing it from the inside out that you can make the song a living thing that stands alone. Most bad or mediocre performances come from musicians standing on the outside of the song trying to break into it. That will never work. (a good example would be if you saw us perform at Timbos Drum Shop last Saturday- weve never looked like a more desperate group of musicians trying to break into a song) From Says shes sorry on I was able to remain inside and that made for a good show for both us the band and for the audience.
Venus on the rocks is possibly my favorite song by us, and always a pleasure to play. The defining moment for me in that song is whether or not I like the way I sing the first ooh it could go downhill or uphill from there. The combination of Venus with Miss heroin was a good time for me to gather rest for that final push at the end of the set when we would get into Lets pretend were lovers and that new song which has not yet been named but I refer to in my mind as Elton johns shiny pants. On stage you have to take rest where you can get it- my time comes during the performance of Miss heroin. Here is a lovely little song that stays within its pretty melodies and driving beat, no need for me to push here, the song is already a self contained bubble of happiness.
But then comes the new material, that which has not yet been written down but floats in little pieces in the atmosphere of my thoughts. The song where finally our Radiohead roots are revealed. Ill share what I sang as best as I remember, the trick being for the audience to never know that you are partly using pre-arranged puzzle pieces and partly making up new phrases altogether and hoping for some winners.
This song that we are about to play is a project in the works, we call it White Elephants And then the guitar notes combine with the piano melodies, harmony in dissonance.
We say good-bye, no kiss on the cheek
Well never speak again, well never speak again
Though weve still got everything to say
Thats how it will remain
Well say good-bye, an unlovely good-bye
(and then the band crashes in and I let out a lot of largely indecipherable shouting incorporating words like hate and sorry, mother, kill, please and I shout out a few sentences I no longer remember and it all falls off in to sort of a wail and the pre-ordained puzzle piece drops in with)
and the hills round here look like white elephants
(and then back to phrase tetris)
I wanted to tell you, tell you Im sorry
Tell you I miss you, and often think of you
To tell you youre perfect, and I long to hold you
Its okay to hate me, its okay to hate me
(and then more indecipherable shouting and yet angrier then before until it all falls into the keening wail)
the hills round here look like white elephants
At some point near the end the instruments all join battle and the cacophony grows and expands and expands until it suddenly ceases. And thats the end of that song.
We move on into something new, the happier song thats been recently equated to team Zissou.
This song has a bass line that could quite possibly make your head explode from joy, its indescribable and youll just have to one day listen to understand. But Im growing tired of writing all of this down, perhaps if you it all enjoy this tiny window to my mind Ill write more about shows in the future. I will say that the song is called the Bull and Scorpion and involves the incompatibility of the Bull with the Scorpion. (I being a Taurus have just married a Scorpio so dont think Ive missed the irony). All that weariness of last night has carried into today and I find myself falling asleep while typing in my cubicle- I will say that I knew the night was good when I looked over at the TV and saw Chewbacca on a drumset- I also knew I should probably sleep soon. So lets skip to the last paragraph which was really the first paragraph as it was that which began all these other paragraphs. I eventually found my way home at 1:15am- I kissed my sleeping wife, I kissed my sleeping daughter- I showered the nights sweat away and I went and slipped under the sheet of my bed next to my wife.
And then and only then does at last that concrete blanket of exhaustion descend, as I had known it would since the sun first went down this night. Heavy across my back it presses me into the mattress and sleep seeps into me.
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5-0-alarm clocks
1/19/5
so this i s what its like to have a job to go to the next day and no place to shower-(until i snuck into this domicile that is) norms finally figured out i wasnt buying coffee before stealing a parking space for the evening somebody decided they should call the police i love it when people decide that a policeman is the only way that someone like me can be dealt with still he was a friendly policeman my favorite one so far its still not very fun to be woken up by the police no matter how nice they are they always carry those huge flashlights still this is the first one that didnt think it was brilliant idea to shine it in my face 'why are you here' i'm sleeping 'are you drunk?' oddly no, not lately 'are you homeless?' sort of i suppose 'did you go to college?' yes 'where at?' over at la sierra university 'oh, la sierra..........why are you homeless?' i dont know, i play in this band, i mean, thats not why i'm homeless, wait, sorry, you woke me up, i'm tired, not really thinking cohesive thoughts, not making sense 'well sir, this is a dangerous area, and that guy over there wants to tow you- maybe you should find another spot to sleep' ok, thank you, i will do that 'are you sure you arent drunk?' yes, quite sure 'well, have a good night, maybe i'll see you on MTV later' and i say that yes, maybe he will and he might but if he does he wont recognize me i doubt that MTV will let me on wearing this immense beard i've acquired still i felt a great appreciaton for this policeman he didnt point a gun at me yell at me make fun of me point a flashlight in my face give me a ticket he is the first policeman i've encountered who didnt do at least one of these things during the course of our interaction so mr policeman wherever you may be you have my thanks
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essential information you should know
11/5/4
so i was drinking things various things liquors wines beers drunk lazer tag that was the idea i think that was the idea but i got drunk too soon very drunk drunk as in i have no idea what happened drunk i guess i called jenn i started wandering off got separated from the group speaking nonsense apparantly 'you see matt and jaiden are like this train' having altercations with security guards (or so i'm told) getting further into corona lost confused a bit cold asking for rides 'are you inviting me into your car?, no, then fuck you get the fuck out of here, i said get the fuck out of here' 'what are you doing?' 'me?, oh i just told some people to get the fuck out of here- have i mentioned that i love you, or that matt and jaiden are like this train?' and then my phone dies and i am cut off completely and i cant call anyone to get a ride so i guess i'm stuck walking or i'm guessing i walked my first real memory is waking up at dennys everything else is hear-say 'would you like to order sir?' 'what?, oh, umm, i'll have some coffee i guess' 'sir' 'yes?' 'you already have coffee' 'i do?, oh, yeah, i guess i do- umm, nothing then' 'would you like some complimentary cheese fries with bacon?' 'sure, that would be lovely' wait i must have missed something how did i get to dennys? main street to mckinley vague memories of yelling obscenities at drivers who arent stopping to pick me up on hidden valley parkway i should call someone to pick me up oh my phones dead use a payphone i dont know any numbers cause theyre all on my phone this is a problem i'm stuck i'm tired the most direct route to my car is.... the freeway leave dennys man gives me everything for free nice man should have just thrown me out as soon as i walked in instead free food make mental note that some people are good- even if they did vote for bush, now i'm on the freeway the freeway is for cars not drunk musicians who arent wearing any socks its getting late or early what time is it? theres light lets make a concerted effort not to get hit by a car getting hit by a car looks like it hurts very badly like getting a boulder rolled on top of you lets jog down the freeway jogging on the freeway my legs hurt my legs fucking hurt how many miles is this many many miles exit the freeway dont take the long way round to the neighborhood just climb the fences climb fences look a car charcoal sleeping bag my car about fucking time lets stop sleep for awhile what time is it 6:30 thats a lot of walking oh look someone i know 'how the fuck did you get here?, we were looking for you last night- come on inside, jesus, take a fucking nap or something' i follow close my car door oh look i've just locked myself out its a beautiful day
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the poorest band in existence
12/17/4
so we're showing up at the whiskey sunday night just the 3 of us me with my guitar broken so i'm using a squire electric and plugging it directly into their PA cause i dont have an amp and paul with his synth with the broken keys sticking up at 60 degree angles one the lowest and one the highest so that it looks like a sabre toothed synthesizer no bass no guitars for most of the songs just trevor on drums paul on keys and me on the microphone wearing no socks because i dont have any and all of us are sick and all our equipments broken but just so theres no confusion you should know that we're still going to own that fucking place
