seven day weekend

This month has been pretty awesome so far

2011-08-02T01:57:00.010-04:00

I would think of a topic, but my brain is fried for the week.

Moved a few blocks east to the tail end of Bloomingdale, and I love it. Except that the AC is currently in a crap state so I've been sleeping elsewhere, in a cold room with a warm body. Can't say it's the worst idea I've ever had.

I ride my bike everywhere, although I highly recommend being fully awake before doing so. I started doing Muay Thai with my coworkers twice and week and can probably fuck you up. I also started smoking again and you could definitely outrun me.

Lately I've been listening to a cosmic shit ton of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. How did I miss this, and the Birthday Party? It's so good, and even though I could never write anything as wicked and complex or random and awesome it did inspire me to front a new band.

I'm on vocals only, with members from the Electricutions, Nervous Impulse/the Reticents, and .... actually I don't know the drummer, but I heard he's good. Half stoked and half terrified. We already have 6 songs, although our first practice with everyone is happening later this week. It's pretty much the same shit I always write. Sloppy punk rock and roll. This time I get to jump around like a jacked up ferret and likely fall over and crash into things along the way.

Two days ago I went to Brooklyn to see Eric Davidson's new band The Livids-- they were sick. Definitely a band to watch out for, especially for fans of the New Bomb Turks.

I also, as always, had two slices of NYC pizza, and it made my week.

P.S. SW<B is also playing a bunch of shows and putting out a 7 inch on Big Neck Records.

Nobunny loves the bomb

2011-06-18T11:55:00.001-04:00

Awesome poster my buddy Alex Fine did for our show with Nobunny in two weeks or so. Get you tickets, this may sell out.

Break ups, Affirmations, and Power Pop

2011-06-11T08:24:00.007-04:00

This subject is personal, and I tend to shy away from such topics. I have written about "love" before (see: meatloaf) and the essential nature of it, but not my own.

A few months ago I reluctantly pushed forward in (another) breakup. Why reinvent the wheel? This song sums it up just about perfectly.

It comes down to a few factors

I made a major, life-changing decision last year: to live.
After the death of my former ego, my new self definition is in constant formation about ... well, everything.
I give less a fuck than I ever used to. In a healthy way... really.

No surprise to those that know me; a personal dogma has never dictated my actions. This hasn't changed for the most part, except for the aspect regarding personal welfare. Taking care of myself and my loved ones is now the intrinsic motivational drive that consumes my life. And there's really no room for anyone else right now but the closest, truest friends. And music, of course.

In other words... It's not you, it's me. And will always be just so. Because I've learned that it's okay to be a selfish motherfucker sometimes, and do what's best for yourself. So I'll do what I always do (exactly what I want) until someone comes along to shatter my heart.

Alright, that's my vaguely personal post for the year. Back to the carnage!

Memorial Day

2011-05-29T23:05:00.003-04:00

My Grandfather, Carl "Goldie" Goldenberg

Taken from The Ringmasters - A History of the 491st by Allen Blue (1964)

D-Day dawned early for the 49lst — CQ’s woke the crews at 0030 for briefing. The frustrations of the ensuing hours are perhaps best described by quoting the diary of a participating EM:

"At the war room everything was in a state of confusion. For the first time MP’s were stationed at the doors checking everybody. Inside, the briefing officers had covered the target map with a sheet and a guard was there to dissuade peekers. After a while Col. Goldenberg came in and walked briskly up to the platform. The room grew really quiet, and he stood there for a minute looking at us. His eyes were tired, he was unshaven, and his clothes appeared to have been slept in. The men loved him, and when he spoke, the affection he had for ‘his boys’ was uncontrolled. ‘Gentlemen, a day you will be able to tell your children and grandchildren about: D-Day. Time is short so all I have to say is good luck and give ‘em hell.’ He walked from the room and out the door of the pilots’ briefing room, a tired man with the lines of responsibility plainly etched upon his face.

Sweating out a return, Parmele, Merrell, Goldenberg, Goff, and Shy watch landing operations from the upper deck of the Metfield tower. (Photo-USAF)

Both 1st Lt. James C. McKeown and his B-24 were seriously mauled by flak on the same mission. McKeown, badly hit in the ankles and groin and bleeding profusely, was laid out on the flight deck and given what aid the crew could accomplish, including several injections of morphine, while the co-pilot, Lt. Bob McIntyre, took over and brought the Liberator home on three engines. Arriving over the base, McIntyre found he would have to land the crippled aircraft in a strong cross wind -- something he had never done before. The first pass was unsuccessful -- at which point McKeown got up off the floor and, in spite of a serious loss of blood and the intense pain in his ankles brought about by the strong rudder pedal pressures required, landed the plane safely. McIntyre claimed later that his pilot couldn't wait to get down to collect his Purple Heart while McKeown (who was actually awarded the Silver Star) claimed he was afraid if they stayed airborne any longer the crew would give him more morphine -- and, according to Mac, a needle in the hands of a nervous gunner was as bad as the flak.

Without doubt the June loss that was felt most keenly by the crews occurred, not in the air, but in the chain of command; on the 26th Lt. Col. Goldenberg left the 491st for the 339th Fighter Group, It was a great blow to the air echelon who had learned their trade under "Goldy", and these men openly speculated among themselves as to the wisdom, sanity and other qualifications of those responsible for the decision. But the pace of the war was too fast to allow much time for reflection. Without a break in the mission schedule, the new CO, Col. Frederic H. Miller, took over the 491st.

By the end of June the Group could look back on an eventful month with no small amount of satisfaction. The assembly problem had been cured and in the air the Group looked good. The overtime spent on formation flying back at Pueblo was paying off and already the 491st was being credited with flying "the best B-24 formations in the ETO." They had completed 29 missions in 29 days for a total of 895 sorties, more than any other B-24 outfit in the Eighth and exceeded only by three veteran B-17 groups -- the 303rd, 379th and 384th. During the last two weeks of the month the 491st led the Second Bomb Division (all 8th AF B-24 groups) in tonnage of bombs dropped, hours of combat flown, number of sorties per assigned crews, number of sorties per assigned aircraft, lowest loss of aircraft and lowest loss of personnel.

Some Rough Cthuhlu Concept Art from an Undisclosed Project

2011-04-02T11:10:00.003-04:00

Too much ink burned hole in his face. Ink, speedball pen, pencil on too soft sketchbook paper

Rawr. Corel Painter X, Cheap 3004 Wacom Tablet.

I look at Her the Same Way I look at a Starving Animal 3/5/05

2011-02-20T00:16:00.007-05:00

What the hell was I thinking? I'd already forgotten about everything. Marked it off as a loss. Painful, sure. But the scars had healed. And now this girl, with her fucked up correspondence...

She ruined my perfect life. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't work. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I couldn't fuck. I couldn't think and most of all, I couldn't feel.

I'm a fucking wreck, I thought as I drove towards what seemed like the ends of the Earth. Through that flattened expanse of dust, of desert and cacti, camped out hippies on peyote screaming at the sky, rotted corpses of satanic sacrifices, bones of the non believers... through the empty lots of trailer parks, washed away as mudslides collided with lightning storms, as the Mississippi swallowed Tennessee to Oklahoma and crept closer to which way to Albuquerque...

I just want to fucking feel again, I told myself as my ears went deaf. Even with my most revered bands blaring on the stereo, the silence of the night was still louder. I had to stop somewhere in Nevada before my Civic's engine exploded.

Inside a mom and pop gas station, a tinny radio played Buddy Holly. A weathered old grunt behind the counter didn't look up from his copy of On the Genealogy of Morals. I took my time to survey the candy aisle. Oil and vinegar chips went in the bag. "And a pack of camel filters." I added while he rung up the pint of Jack Daniels.

"I'll need to see some ID, mister."

I lowered my head, recoiling from the savage instinct to bite a hole through his throat. "Are you serious? I don't look 22? Cause I'm not, you know... I'm fucking 27...." I went on. I'm never that rude, really. But the ride was killing me. I was a fucking wreck, like I said. My hair's falling out. I got crows feet. I haven't really slept in 5 months. My tattoos look like they're bleeding off my skin. I sweat, piss, and bleed whiskey.

He snorted and threw the cigarettes in the bag.

There I was, somewhere in southern California. I never thought I'd see the Pacific. I never had the desire to. I knew it was there. I could smell the salt water amidst the thickening stink of sweat. I heard seagulls barking, I heard waves breaking. I heard children laughing at how fat an old lady on the sand was. I knew it was there, just like I knew that older woman was there, about four blocks east of the bench I sat on. Apartment 5A. I smoked another cigarette.

I had thrown away every one of her letters. She always used a stamp of some cartoon breed of dog. They all had huge noses and mocking grins. I could it was her, because the labels were always typed out. J. LESTER ADAMS. 1454 N. JORDAN ST. ALEXANDRIA, VA.

And they always started out the same. "I know you told me never to write you again..." and then they branched off in a couple different variations.

"I wish you would write back like you used to..." or "I can't stand it anymore.." or "I just need some reassurance from you. Or advice. Or instruction. Anything." or "Things aren't too bad now, I've kept my promise but my patience is wearing thin" or "I'm sick of replacing all my favorite things. Today..." and then finally, in the last, and shortest one... "I'm desperate. You need to come here now...

"I'm going to kill him."

And I knew he was with her too, four blocks east in Apartment 5A. I knew the stairs would creak before I walked up. Just like I knew the Pacific Ocean was there, and I thought I'd never smell it.

Everything went so well after I flew back home. I got over it. My life reached perfection. I loved my job. I loved my girlfriend. I marked Oscar off as a loss. I just had to get out. I was fine now. Until the letters started. And tore me apart slowly. It ends now.

My skin bristled as I heard footsteps.

And the pitter patter of claws on linoleum as she opened the door, the look of incredulous surprise and horror fixed in her eyes.

The words I carefully chose grated my throat as I spat forth sonic venom,

"Give me my fucking dog."

Oh, victory. Compromise. Vengeance. Relief. What the fuck ever. I couldn't help but melt when I felt that sloppy tongue on my cheek again. I almost cried. I barely smiled. But she was still standing there, mouth hanging open.

"Jack... I didn't think you'd.."

But I was already halfway down the stairs and long gone with my life back.

Notes from the road... unedited... circa 2008..

2011-01-29T23:25:00.003-05:00

I used these notes to create a story for a journalism class. The story itself turned out rather well, but I find myself far more amused by the raw notes used to create it. Most of the context is long forgotten. Names have been changed to protect the innocent until proven guilty

March 2008
There is a law against a celebrity impersonating a normal person. Yellow submarine?
Marla says, "That shit was chronic, yo"
Schmitz: "Never drinking Budweiser again. Actually I prob. will if it's free."
Schmitz: "Fuck you, you crazy thing!" <--Yoda tried to kill us.
Head says Mitch went to Africa to hunt for blood diamonds and was attacked by a lion. Which he then slew heroically.

3-7-08
Schmitz's dream: "We were all pulled over and arrested cause Dong was actually Dustin Diamond in disguise."
Sargent Peppers, smoking with a three legged dog named Mitch. Show last night was Free Nathan Blondes. Tom Tom tells us where to go. 'The Voice of God', or Yoda when we want to move backwards.
It's raining. The traffic is...

3-8-08
The Soapbox in Wilmington NC. This town looks straight out of the 1950s, Cape Fear Laundromat downstairs and "green room" actually gray. Tubs of free PBR, can't complain. Kentucky Gentlemen shots. Punched Kenny in the face so hard his teeth: "CRACK!!" Projectile vomiting. Ultimate Frisbee, rat shit. Dude from Giant Tigers tells me about a place called "Rock and Roll Adventure Land", hidden deep in between the mountains with a rope bridge, elves and fireworks... ?
More than anything in my life I want to be there. I imagine a spa resort, high class, waited on, catered to by elves who have presents and toys. "Yes, I'll have the Pinot Noir." "Thank you, excellent choice, sir."

"If it's not an ice storm, it's a shitstorm." - Schmitz

Schmitz: "Don't tell Hollywood about that gallon of whiskey. Cause if I feel like it I'll just pull it out later."
Marla: "That's what she said." $84.95.

3-9-08
I am a person of low moral fortitude.
Party at ___'s house. I was horrified. "This is NOT RIGHT." "Shit happens." He said, and promptly stuck his finger up my ass. That was not sexy. How are you going to explain this?!

"That's your boyfriend." (Points to a pidgeon)

3-10-08
Chattanooga notes. This! Place is Redneck wonderland. I am impressed. Hollywood played best set last night, same with Giant Tigers. Lotsa beer $2.00 Guiness, fire in a trash can. Schmitz with the joint.... we played two songs sober. RTX sucked!! Terrible took all the cash Kev wanted to slash tires

It has come to our attention that robots have taken over the town of Chattanooga Tennessee. We believe that our PisaPizza waiter is a defective. There was a glitch in his programming that caused him to twitch:
DIGITAL
AUDIO
VISUAL
INTERFACE
DEVICE

About Sonny's place...
An old heavyset gentlemen hard of hearing slams an underage drunk kid by his neck onto the bar and chases him in the parking lot. Sonny is his dead son. Ashley is his other, who is still alive in an erratic sort of way and owns the bar.
They encourage patrons to buy whiskey from the liquor store next door and drink inside.
"Once I seen him (Ashley) riding down the street on his motorcycle in that damn penguin suit, holdin his flippers up!"

Accents are thick. Teeth are scarce. Many residents have drug twitches, nervous ticks or strange gaits. The Meth Capital of the country is alive and grinding their teeth. I made our getaway at one A.M gripping the steering wheels with white knuckles

6 hours later with the fuzzy scum of 2 redbulls and 3 large coffees in my mouth I pull the car over at the Florida border. At this point the stench of our vehicle was unbearable. At high noon Orlando welcomed us unto her supple, grandmotherly bosom. A quick act of pathetic brokeness and we walked into (what we found out later was the bum hotel) room, eager to wash the scum of a thousand farts from our flesh.

(NICK FURY, AGENT SHIELD.) The neatly lettered welcome card usually propped on the bed with maybe a towel and bar of soap was not present. In it's place was a single joint, tightly rolled and most definitively not ours. Dong graciously accepted this mysterious gift.

Dong: Drummer, 21 or 22, youngest boy of 6 children born and raised in Baltimore City.

Already completely hammered, I play the majority of our set on the ground or staggering towards it. Projectile vomiting. Face hemorrhaging. Black out, tears, and nothing good.

I wish there was more but whiskey, ass and whatever else was around won out over pen and paper. This is likely a good thing.

Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb - Record Preview

2010-08-12T10:48:00.013-04:00

Last month we recorded six songs for an upcoming 12" split with our sisterband Geisha Lightning. Here's one of the songs that I wrote for it and thought it came out pretty decent.

I'm Haunted & You're a F*cking Ghost, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

All My Boyfriends are Polygons V.3

2010-04-23T09:31:00.000-04:00

Suko K. And her misadventures in 21st Century Romance... special appearance by Frank MurderJunkie Yessan!

All My Boyfriends Are Polygons V.2

2010-04-13T15:49:00.004-04:00

Suko K. Does PAX EAST

Full episode after the jump...

All My Boyfriends Are Polygons V.1

2010-04-06T10:48:00.007-04:00

I think I'm going to continue this series...
These are based on true events and no, Suko K. is not me.

Full episode after the jump...

New Year, Old Post

2010-04-03T11:42:00.007-04:00

Time to recommit and start updating this waste of bandwidth. Last year was wicked crazy. Now it's all about putting my head down and plowing through the bullshit. SO. Look out for show/record reviews, artwork, photos, and ramblings.

There's a lot going on, including a new band in which I play guitar and sing, a new distro in which I don't do much except promote it and set up shows.

These excerpts are from a journal I just found...

December 5th, 2007

I AM AN EXISTENTIALIST - I AM A NIHILIST - I AM AN ANARCHIST - I AM THE NIGHTRIDER - I AM A FUEL INJECTED SUICIDE MACHINE - I'M A ROCKER - I'M A ROLLER - I'M AN OUTTA CONTROLLER

Don't lost it now. I can tell you're on the brink of mania. One more week. Just get it done. One more week and you can fuck off and kill yourself after that. Until then you gotta maintain.

The brain struggles to slow down. The hand struggles to keep up.

WELCOME TO THE VICIOUS CIRCLE

This is an anti-personal journal - The words in here are devoid of self - Or so I say they are

Is there ever anything left of real substance. We are viruses. We are slowly becoming dead things. Artificial hearts, reconstructed retinas, artificial brains, artificial life in the marketplace

AMERICAN CULTURE - DISNEYLAND FREAKSHOW - SCREEN IN YOUR LIVING ROOM - WINDOW FOR YOUR TOMB

March 3rd, 2008

There's a red sun, blood red, sinking low behind the skyline
I'm down, watching it go
Tears in my eyes, pain in my side
My heart aches
Dirt on my face
In the place of where you used to lie
Teeth made of broken glass
Can't seem to say the things
I feel, I felt, I fell so hard
Didn't look back. I wonder
If I enjoyed the misery
If this is how I protect my heart
By giving it away to men like you
Men like you can't even see the road in front of them
Let alone know what to do
With a fragile thing like a girl's love

April 26th, 2008

Click Click Click
There's two kinds of people in this world
The ones with loaded guns, and the ones who dig
YOU DIG.

D: Distracted
I: Indiscretion
G: Grandiosity
F: Flight of Ideas
A: Activity Increase (Excessive involvement in Pleasurable activities)
S: Sleep Deficit
T: Talkative

Empty eyes/ World is Red/ Take a bottle/ To the Head / Mouth ain't clean / We're running hard / Took a torch / To my Guitar

Can't Sleep / Can't Eat / Can't Stop to Think
I got the plans / For a Time Machine

I'm gonna steal a T-REX and Stick it to the Soviets

Don't ask / Don't Tell / Fuck me / Go to Hell
I blew my cash / On speed and Hash
Discontent / Indiscretion
I got a Nasty / Sex obsession

buttons!!! are love.

2009-04-03T20:59:00.004-04:00

Don't wanna form complete sentences lately. Don't like them. Too fascist, fragments seem more democratic. Made these for my band, (Stop worrying and) Love the Bomb. We're distributing them at our show on Saturday...

Originally I wanted the olive branch to be burning behind the dove. Not enough room.

Tribute to my Grandpappy, who was a B52 pilot in WWII, back before they had power steering. True story. He told his XO to F off one night, after something like a week of no sleep bombing the shit outta Belgium. Guess that's where I get it. He got his boys the day off though.

Tribute to my somewhat cripping obsession with apocalyptic imagery, zombie warfare and desensitizing video games. Note: The N Bomb in back with the RPG.

Here's how they started out

Excerpt from The Dead Romantics...

2009-03-07T13:21:00.009-05:00

I'm going through the shoe box now. I haven't opened it in a while and there's always that fucking black book with the stupid fucking Companion Cube sticker sitting there. I want to read it, but I can't seem to open it. My brain won't let me. I'll come back in a few hours after these things kick in and try again.

(4 hours later.)

Alright, I'm ready. I know exactly which date to look for. This seems wrong. I don't know if I should. Oh well, I gotta do it sometime.

I really liked his handwriting.

February 14th, 1999

She left me a note on my car. At first I thought it was a parking ticket, since it was on this folded up pink paper. Plus I'm hungover as shit. Whatever. I said Oh fuck out loud, but no one was around so I didn't look too weird. But yeah, it was way fucking worse than a parking ticket.

'Hey Castor,
I'm going to get our abortion tonight. Wanna throw down?
-XOXO'

Oh. No. How does she know what my car looks like. I started to panic. This instant paranoia. Every building grew eyes, each window like a pack of insects preparing to storm. Baby? What the FUCK! I never thought, I don't know what I thought. But I never thought that.

Oh God.

I can't decide what disturbs me more, the situation or her reaction. I know this girl. She's not playing around. I drove straight to---

The rest of it is scratched out. I can't read it. Maybe if I get one of those CSI kits I've seen at the Science Museum. Could probably like, use some fancy powder or some shit and get an outline.

I shouldn't be laughing about this, but the other option isn't as pleasant.

I can almost see a name but, damn, he sure didn't want anyone to know.

It doesn't fucking matter anyway. We all know where he went.

You are being watched...

2009-01-11T22:21:00.005-05:00

...Or so we'd like to think?

Another shameful disclosure. I have to admit I am fascinated by the reality TV craze. Craze isn't exactly the right word. This sludge, this crap-- it's been around long enough to be considered a staple in pop culture. 51 Minds, the production company behind such masterpieces like Flavor of Love, have come up with such a horrifically brilliant formula. They create these "celeb-reality stars" by the dozen, and each specimen has potential to spawn into a spin-off of it's own.

There is such a strange relationship these specimens have to the camera and the audience. There's an artificial haze surrounding all the events that partake, the confessionals, the over-the-top debauchery and the escalating violence. I don't know why any of these shows even pretend to hold any noble schemes. By being cast on a reality show, people objectify their identities. And it's almost a celebrated stature. Are we supposed to desire this kind of attention?

My theory is that we are being primed to welcome this 24 hour surveillance, through increasing amounts of mind numbingly dumbed down garbage, whitewashing our minds of any free thought or disobedience. We are encouraged to document everything digitally, upload our experiences into public view, use unlimited text message plans to send private information over the network. Our cultural value is determined by the amount of hits we recieve, or subscribers or friends-- is connectivity power, or is it enslavement?

I see a mix of Fahrenheit 451's televised oppression with doses of 1984. I remember in a Crit Theory class, the professor asked us if we cared that there are security cameras everywhere. No one seemed passionate, claiming to value safety over privacy. Another student went further to say that people would rather be safe than free. I feel like breaking my cellphone. (Again.)

I should have put more eyes on this, but I got lazy.

In music news, everyone should go see Phil Collins' Beat, Gentlemen Jesse, Deep Sleep show at the Talking Head on Feb 2nd. Looks like someone appreciates Photoshop's cutout filter as much as I do...

Of course it's a Monday. It's no suprise at this point that any bands I like would rather play anywhere else on a weekend. But if you're into well written, feel good powerpop, check them out.

I has a speedball pen!

2009-01-04T23:00:00.004-05:00

And I don't know how to use it.

Here were a couple early attempts before I spilled ink all over my sketchbook.

For some reason blogger didn't post thumbnails, and I'm too tired to fix it right now, so click on the scribbles to see full size.

Crucial Doodling. Ink vs. sketchbook.

The Bandit. Inspired by Fallout 3.

More Scribbling that turned into a band logo. Maybe we'll use it for the cassette tape demo insert.

Part of an ongoing "rant"/ novel about two beings from different dimensions coexisting in the same space.

This is a Cosmic Joke

2008-11-15T23:29:00.005-05:00

I had all the right beginnings of an enlightened secular human; I was never baptized, or ever sent to church, I thought bible stories were absurd fairytales, I believed firmly in the general truth of scientific fact... but sadly, I've come to realize that I'm not an Atheist.

Now, don't get me wrong-- I'm not religious. I don't believe in any written GOD, yet I find myself praying very colloquially to some fuzzy, omniscient entity when faced with the next dire situation. But this isn't much different than your average inner dialog. It's only an attempt to relinquish control, in that way, place responsibility on this imaginary being. (I learned this from AA and it can work on anything stressful. Admit you're powerless over ______ and the higher power can deal with the bullshit for you.) It frees me up psychologically. But this entry is not about praying to Imaginary Cosmic Beings.

Somewhere, about six years ago, I ended up crazy and set on devouring this new age bullshit. 99 percent of it is just that; entertaining bullshit. But I found truth somewhere in the mess of wishful fantasy. It finally made sense to believe that nothing is completely coincidental. I believe that people appear in your life to teach you a lesson, whether you learn it or not, whether they know they're teaching it or not. How you physically, socially and psychologically exist attracts those of certain substance to you, and then often the same chemistry repels them, also aided by circumstance.. Now this is commonly thought of to be a sad event, but I see it as natural. We are all in transition, forever. Clinging to the past only stunts your growth.

Some people or situations are purely symbolic and meant to bring a detail of yourself into light. You find yourself encountering them again and again, wherever you go, and you don't realize why-- but it becomes pretty apparent after a while.

Sometime along this downward spiral into mysticism I learned how to read Tarot Cards. In 78 cards they detail every aspect of human existence. Studying these symbols further, they place an emphasis on every cross section of our experience being part of a larger, renewing cycle. It got me to think about numerology across civilizations and the universal agreement on what each number (1-9, 0, etc.) mean, how advanced mathematics describe systems and most natural systems operate on cycles and... well, everything is interconnected in this way.

So I don't find it too much of a stretch to believe that there is a systematic method to our existence. Apparently the hindus and buddhists and other religions all believe this too and can explain their theories much better than I can. But I'll just end by quoting Miller in Repo Man,

"A lot o' people don't realize what's really going on. They view life as a bunch o' unconnected incidents 'n things. They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice o' coincidence that lays on top o' everything. Give you an example; show you what I mean: suppose you're thinkin' about a plate o' shrimp. Suddenly someone'll say, like, plate, or shrimp, or plate o' shrimp out of the blue, no explanation. No point in lookin' for one, either. It's all part of a cosmic unconciousness."

What would Meatloaf do for love?

2008-09-18T18:07:00.009-04:00

(Anything, but not that.)

I thought about it for a while one night. Laying there, staring at the ceiling, with a fever and a raw throat. (Love, I mean- not Meatloaf.) I wondered why every time we begin to fall in love, it feels new. "Never felt this way about anyone before." "This is different." And what eventually happens? Heartbreak. Revenge. Recovery. Rinse. Repeat.

I had a revelation, so I wrote it all down (in complete darkness) in the notebook by my bed. Here it is in it's unpolished entirety, translated from illegible chicken-scratch.

I'm beginning to realize a few fundamental truths about love. It's not a catch all. Everyone has a their own definition for every different type of love. It's endless and eternal in it's variations. Sometimes people get hurt because the one they love CAN'T, I mean, literally CANNOT love them back in the same way. Because it's not in their nature, it's not how they perceive it. Love is a snowflake, it's beautiful and no two are the same and it's rare to stay the same forever. It always changes; it melts, it freezes, it steams, it rains, and pours. Makes a lot more sense to me now that the suit of cups in the tarot symbolizes emotions/wishes/dreams. What was I saying?

The awesome thing about BPD is that you get to experience fucked up mood swings that piss off and alienate your partner! I'll save that type of blog entry for livejournal.

How is this relevant to music and art? Obviously, love is the number one subject ever sung about. And I believe that love is the secret to art. Some call it passion. That's what separates the real from the fake. And also, I'm watching Meatloaf videos this week.

REVAMP

2008-08-21T01:33:00.004-04:00

I've returned with another update, and a new format for this blog. And this time I'll stick with my original subtitle "Art. Music. Life." No constraints. I never liked rules anyway.

I'm drawing up storyboards for a short animation I want to produce. The working title of it is 'There is a Sky." At first I wanted to do a very visual story about some little creature escaping from a large prison. As I did some research, I found this article from last year about a guy that escaped a North Korean prison camp. He was born and raised in the camp, and never knew there was a world outside of it. I started getting more ideas for the main character, a bird-like creature that doesn't know there is a sky and that he has wings. Anyway, it should snowball from there.

I rented the Orange Box after being very behind on new-gen games, since I just bought a 360 a few months ago. Portal is the stand out here, and now I understand why it received so much attention. You wake up in a lab, with no explanation. A creepy AI named GlaDOS directs you through a series of tests in which you use a gun that makes portals, and you navigate through deadly obstacles by entering and exiting through these wormholes, or manipulate your surroundings to advance past pits of acid, turret guns, etc. People complained that the game was too short, but I thought it was perfect.

And I found out about the nerd/folk musician Jonathan Coulton. He writes these hilarious songs about, well, nerd/geek culture related things like zombies, transformers, and so on. In other words, no I haven't mail-ordered any new records lately.

Friday... BLOWN.

2008-05-28T15:51:00.005-04:00

I've scored a bunch of records in the last few days. I've also scored a bunch and gotten busy at "work."

RTFO Bandwagon- New Jack Army EP (Dull Knife Records)
I like the boy-girl vocals, and the sleeve is cool. Jangly guitars, with a crap production sound that's not vicious or anything, laid back. The music kinda bores me, especially the B-Side, but I can listen to it more than twice. Not really sure what all the hype is about. It's a must buy if you're into that clowning on bitches clique.

Creteens - K Way Bleu EP (Boomchick Records)
Fuzzed out, dirty, this pretty much rips. Usually reverbed-to-death vocals bug the shit out of me, but they pull it off. Songs are catchy, sounds like they're worth seeing. B-Side is killer.

The World's Lousy with Ideas #4 (Almost Ready Records)
Pretty into this-- Dude puts out 7" Compilations every few months with a bunch of different covers, and an interesting mix of bands.. This one starts off with a creepy song by Touched, ("I want her more and more, the little girl in the candy store") but jams, clean guitars, snotty vocals. Coconut Coolouts finish it off with a one-riff wonder... it's alright. First song on the B-Side by El Vicio is loud, rough... I'm running out of adjectives for garage punk shit-fi, man. Fag Cop's got a dude screaming, a bouncy drum beat, walking blues riff, drunken guitar solo, and just a wicked sloppy track that really grew on me. I'm into it.

Shotgun Heard Around the World...!!!

2008-05-21T12:12:00.002-04:00

On May 24th, at 11 p.m EST, drop whatever you're doing, grab a beer, and be a part of punk rock history.

"It's going to be a bunch of house/ warehouse parties going on all over the U.S. where everyone shotguns a beer in all the different cities at the same time," says Rich, CEO of Florida's Dying Records in Orlando, "This will be completely stupid."

So far there are participants in Atlanta, Chicago, Columbus, Seattle, Orlando, Virginia, Oakland, Milwaukee, and possibly more. There is a planned conference call (which may or may not work) to have a NYE-style countdown, and pictures should be taken at each location.

Instructional Video on How To Shotgun a Beer

It's all Rock and Roll

2008-05-19T11:21:00.001-04:00

Since the Age of No Wait Online Communications, Instant Messaging while Driving and the Idolization of iTunes, what the hell is the mailbox good for? Bills you should pay... more bills you won't... pre-approved credit card offers for the low rate of 29.99%, junk, junk, crap, the occasional magazine you don't remember subscribing to, crap, junk, an unmarked porno, oh shit, a letter from the DMV, more shit... Doesn't this seem like an incredible waste of paper? Why even sort through the shit... You should cut out the middleman and attach a garbage bag to the back of your mailbox.

But then the sight of a 12" package, sitting uncertainly on your doorstep, or a 7" mailer jammed into a pile of trash makes it all better. The only reason I check the mail is for this. And the porno.

Some notes about my notes:
1. It's all rock and roll.
2. Sub-genres annoy me too, because I hate to pigeon-hole a band, but at least it helps describe something you should hear, not just read about.
3. I pretty much always say a band is better live. Maybe I should use an acronym for it, but it probably would make me sound like more of an asshole. So I'm gonna do it.*
4. If you have something to say, please comment! I want to hear back from people.

Golden Boys / Limes Split 7" (Boomchick Records)
The Golden Boys put down a pretty straight forward track on this split. I'd call it R&B influenced rock and roll. It's catchy, the vocals almost have a little soul at times, the organ makes the song (and the band) slightly more interesting. I like that the guitar leads aren't too obnoxious, and I love the restrained decomposition at the end. (Yeah TWBL*.) The Limes side spins slower, the vocals drone, and there's a psychedelic beat behind the eerie guitar hook that repeats through the song. I think I hear an organ, but, eh, it's too low in the mix to really make an impact. I dig this record enough to not regret buying it. It definitely stays true to what I'd expect from Boomchick.

The Carbonas "Euro Tour EP" (Self-Released, order from Douchemaster Records)
I love this band, so I had to pick up one of the records they brought from their European tour last month. The A-Side has two new songs, and it drags a little. It's the buried vocals, too much reverb or something and the guitar riffs are too boring to hold my attention. The second song is better though. On the B-Side they cover Love and Kisses by the Nihilistics, Move by Plugz, and Iron Dream by Kaos, all of which should be awesome... My favorite is the Kaos cover. I'm still complaining about the lack of bite on the whole record. Clean guitars? Cool, I guess, it's a change of pace... I shouldn't even have to tell you TBIBL*.

Hollywood "Hits! An Alltime Low" LP )Big Neck Records)
First, you should know that the production on this record is brilliant. I'm convinced that Kevin at Catastrophic Sound is one of the best studio engineers in Baltimore. Of course, this record is dirty as fuck and balls-to-the-bathroom-wall-glory-hole sludge, but the guitars don't get lost, the vocals sit just right, and you don't really miss the bass. Some of the songs are catchier, (Ione Sky, Girl? and Cause I'm a Man) some go super lo-fi (Big Mouth, B&W.) Best Big Neck release I own (okay, so I don't have alot) and yes, TBIBL*, but the artwork alone is reason enough to pick this one up. You will LOLZ. They only pressed 500, so who knows how many are left.

A Midnight Chat with the Mysterious Entity Known As The Dong

2008-05-16T23:47:00.009-04:00

Here's an idea for a new feature, an interview series on local artists and musicians. There are so many talented people around that there's really no need to look elsewhere. I corner the target via email or myspace, conduct a five minute phone interview, (although this one went on for 15) post a few pictures, and they get a healthy amount of hype for upcoming or ongoing projects.

Just the thought of conducting phone interviews with strangers causes me anxiety. Actually, I have a bit of phone anxiety in general. But for now, all of the people I interrogate will be friends of mine, so I definitely will not have to drink as much. I have no experience doing these, so it should be interesting, or at least fun.

My first interview is with a man I've known for about year or so, hung out with, been on tour with twice. Matthew Pie, also known as The Dong, is Baltimore City born and raised, a drummer in several bands, and an avid watcher of horror movies. His hearty laugh is like the color of a thousand rainbows sprinkled over a crippled leprechaun. He rules!!

7DW: Can you explain the origins of your nickname?
The Dong: That will ruin the whole mythology.

7DW: Can you give me a hint?
The Dong: Uhh.. (laff) well, A hint? I can't really give a hint without explaining it completely.
7DW: So what bands are you in and what kind of music are they?
The Dong: Thee Lexington Arrows is garage. The Mandroids is punk. And The Survivors of Camp Crystal Lake is metal.
7DW: Alright, and you play drums in all of them.
The Dong: ...Yes.
7DW: Which band do you enjoy playing in the most in, and why?
The Dong: I guess I'd have to say Survivors, because all the stupid shit we do. Its the first kinda like, concept band we've talked about, then actually did. It's pretty fun. Set stuff on fire, throw blood everywhere, good times.
7DW: How did the idea for The Survivors come about?:
The Dong: Came about from me and JD hanging out all the time, watching horror movies constantly. Then we started writing songs for the movies we were watching. And then decided if we were gonna do it as a band it would have to be like, crazy, GWAR-style kind of a thing... Just to show our true love for the horror movies.
7DW: True... can you give me some names of the songs, and maybe the movies they go with?
The Dong: "What is Your Pleasure" is a song about the Hellraiser movies. Some of them are about movies, but not like directly about the movie, more about the concept. LIke, the Hellraiser one is more about the mythology of the box rather than mention any of the things that actually happened in the movies.
7DW: Do you write them together?
The Dong: Usually just JD writes the riff, then we jam on it, come up with all the parts. The lyrics are a collaborative effort between JD and Mark.
7DW: What else do you do on your spare time?
The Dong: Well with three bands there's not much spare time. I guess my point is all my spare time goes to playing music.
7DW: Yeah I feel that. So what is your favorite thing about playing music?
The Dong: i dunno, i like the, as lame as it sounds to say, the live feel of it, feeling other people's energy while you're doing it. You know what I mean?
7DW: Yeah, like the energy of a live show, that kinda shit?
The Dong: Yeah.
7DW: Aaaand... let's see. I went through all my questions already... Is there any thing you plan to do in the future?
The Dong: I dont really make plans, the future is not my forte.
7DW: Uhh... If you could be a tree what kind of tree would you be?
The Dong: (laffs) Oh man. Uh. Botany... uh, knowledge is very limited.
7DW: How much did you have to drink tonight? You don't have to answer that.
The Dong: Haha, Not much. I guess.... trees.... Now I have to go to a botanical garden and look at trees for a while.
7DW: .......okay. Cool.
The Dong: I like how your typing everything I'm saying. It's awesome.
7WD: I am. Some of it's abbreviated. But I'm also recording it. But when I listened to it earlier, it makes this weird noise, sounds like (makes robot noises)... so I dunno if it's gonna work.
The Dong: Oh. I used to do that all the time. I useds my computer to record phone conversations all the time in case I wanted to use a sound sample, but then people started getting pissed off that I was recording all the conversations.
7DW: It is kinda creepy, I mean, a little bit, just a little.
The Dong: Yeah it is. They'd be like, "Am I on speaker phone?!" And I'd be like.. "Mmmmm... No?" "Yes. I am."
7DW: What's coming up for your bands?
The Dong: Well the Arrows and Survivors are recording right now. The Mandroids recorded stuff ourselves, and we sent it to get mastered. We'll see how that turns out. (police sirens blare)
7DW: Someone die?
The Dong: Probably.. I can only hope.
7DW: What do you like the most and what do you hate the most about the Baltimore music scene?
The Dong: Uh, the overwhleming level of apathy in audiences. Pretty hard to get people actually moving around.
7DW: Yeah, sometimes it's all like, they just wanna be seen..
The Dong: Yeah its a lot of that, people just coming there to be at the show rather than to come see the show.
7DW: Ok. That's a good hate. That's healthy.
The Dong: I guess my favorite thing is that the Sidebar, lets us play whatever the hell we want, whenever.... Throw blood everywhere, they don't worry about that. I guess the raw-- (someone yells) Uh, you can climb that... dude just asked if he can get.. there's not even anybody at the Talking Head, why do you wanna go over there for?
7DW: What, on the other side of Sidebar, it's closed, dude, they're all at Sonar..
The Dong: Yeah, I know, I'm standing in the parking lot, this guy just asked if he can climb over the fence here, and I'm like... "You can."
7DW: Ha. That's cool. I think that about wraps it up. Any parting words, words of wisdom for uh, young kids, or adults, or old women looking at porn?
The Dong: Parting words... Young children are stupid, so stay in school. Older people..... stop pretending you're not older. And old ladies, in particular, should hit me up.
7DW: Okay Matt, thanks for your revealing interview.
The Dong: Haha, no problem.

I thought of so many smarter questions after I was done!! But I guess that's how it goes.

The Dong's bands...
Survivors of Camp Crystal Lake
The Mandroids
Thee Lexington Arrows
See all of The Dong's bands (and my band Blondsai's last show) in one night on May 31

Get Some Head in the Back of Sonar

2008-05-13T23:57:00.010-04:00

The Talking Head on Davis St, (a.k.a The Old Ottobar) has moved down the street and around the corner, into the back room of Sonar. All shows have been moved to the new showspace, and some have been rationed off to other venues. The club was one of the best punk dives in Baltimore to play or see a show. There is something definitely lost with the building, something irreplaceable. But rather than whine and wax sentiments it's better to accept change and adapt.

So the entire staff, headed by Mr. Adam Savage, has moved and settled into their new home. This may generate better turn outs for shows at the Head. Sonar gets packed on DJ nights, and books national acts too popular to play small dives but not big enough to play shitty arena shows. There should be a good amount of people wandering in out of curiosity from the other parts of Sonar. Whether the Talking Head loses it's vibe and gets sucked into the techno-indie-dance blanket remains to be seen.

The awesome lineup would be the perfect chance to check it out. Montreal's CPC Gangbangs play an eclectic style of rock and roll, and apparently they destroy shit live. Hollywood literally destroys shit live, usually Jake's drumkit gets annihilated.
These boys are one of my favorite Baltimore punk bands-- they play dirty ass sludge rock, they're too loud, they're obnoxious, and I love them. (New LP review next Monday.) Vincent Black Shadow, Adam Savage's band, is another awesome Baltimore local. And they absolutely kill it live. In other words, all these bands are ones you definitely have to see in person, listening to the record or watching youtube videos doesn't cut it. I'm dippin out of work early for this one.

Oh yeah, and if that didn't convince you, Deep Sleep is playing instead of the Golden Boys. Another one of the best Baltimore punk bands around right now. Game over, good night!

Limited Edition, only 50 pressed on black and white cumstained vinyl! PRE-ORDER NOW!

2008-05-11T13:10:00.006-04:00

I have a dilemma. Should I really review records on this blog? Does anyone really care what I think about music? Here's why you shouldn't: I go through music phases faster than haircuts, I'm am not a record collector nerd sweating that my copy isn't first press, I'm not blowing my load on obscure ebay.uk bidding wars, I'm not a walking encyclopedia of who did what when where and what instrument they played, and most importantly, I don't care about any of that shit. I don't give a fuck even enough to Google it.

I buy new records because I like listening to bands that I can actually go see. Sometimes I buy records because the cover art is epic. I buy new records because I want my friend's band or label to keep making them. I buy new records all the time because I quit smoking and have an extra twenty dollars a week of expendable income. I'm not a seasoned reviewer, I just love music and I find myself talking about it all the time. I might as well take a shot at hyping some shit I think is worthy to check out.

So for my first required Monday post, I'll start a theme of reviewing what I picked up the week before.

Cheap Time - "S/T" LP (In The Red Records)
I loved their Handyman EP, so I was totally stoked when this got here. Most of the songs are fun and poppy. Others take on a slightly moodier tone, and I dig those ones more. It's got a retro production, and the mix is rough in contrast to the cutesy vocals and goofy guitar riffs. You hear and see the Hubble Bubble influence, although those dudes sounded much tougher than these guys. I hear Jeff Novak's vocals and imagine this bright yellow cartoon lemon singing. I may need to be stoned. Some people live and breathe this shit, but I have to be in the mood. When I am, it's a great album to listen to.

The Ladies - "Ugly's Good Enough Tonight" EP (Riff Raff Records)
This short 7" may be their entire set list. Remember when the Dwarves were awesome? Blood Guts and Pussy Awesome? It's like that but instead of popping speed these girls are speed balling. More trash in the guitars and sleazy lyrics, enough for the "garage punk" tag to be thrown at them.... do it live and Tony Bitch will throw it back in your face, spit beer on you and possibly piss on your little sister. A-side has 3 songs listed but they're all similar, the best one comes last... "You ain't good looking but you'll do alright, yeah, ugly's good enough tonight." B-Side is like the A-side except even shorter. I know I talked just shit about record collector nerds, but white vinyl is pretty sexy. Good record, get it, and go see them because they are better live.

Golden Error - 12" EP (Shandi Records)
No idea of what to expect.. pleasantly surprised. This band's sound reminds me of a video game when your health gets low. Guitar sounds very electro. Let's dance, bitch. I envision sweaty basements full of grown up punks and hipsters sipping caped cods, rhythmic head nodding, foot tapping. Or maybe it's absolute mayhem, I dunno, I haven't seen them live yet, could go either way. I thought there was a keyboard until I checked the credits. Things get a little dissonant at times. The lyrics are nerdy as fuck and must be pretty personal, or acid influenced cause I don't get it. Vocal delivery is urgent and believable. I can put this on and zone out. Into it.

The Darvocets - "Are New Wave" LP (Fashionable Idiots Records)
Now this is getting interesting. Eccentric wacked out punk rock coming out of Cleveland. Paranoid vocals rambling in a mess of warm machine gun riffs, slower drugged out progressions, and to kick off the B-Side, an A Cappella rant called Anti-Gravity Craft. It never fails to crack me up. I wish I could have seen them record this. Very happy they put in a lyric sheet since every song is sci-fi ingenuity. They've been a band for many years but no one cared until now; I was told the first press of 1000 copies sold out in 24 hours. They may be playing Baltimore this year, cross your fingers. Some people won't be able to get into this.

May Showers Bring Smashed Flowers

2008-05-09T11:17:00.007-04:00

Here we go. I made a new resolution: Post a new entry every Friday, Wednesday and sometimes Monday. After completely fudging my major story deadline in Journalism 302, I feel that I need some brushing up on this necessary evil before I can be a competent writer. More on that later. For now, here's what's going on this weekend.

Tonight at the Velvet Lounge is D.C's mostest raddest electro-stoner-rock and roll trio, the Points. I've seen these boys (and girl) many times and they never fail to bring it. Bobby and the Soft Spots from Richmond are supporting, as well as Mas Y Mas from VA Beach. All I remember about Mas Y Mas is Mike Habit, Gio, Travis and me dancing drunk as shit in a Harrisburg basement, that I was impressed by the sound... And well, the bottle of whisky was empty.

That's where you should be tonight... That's where I would be if I didn't have to slung cocktails to yuppies out in Bumfuck, VA.

Saturday at The Bobby Fischer Memorial Building, my boys The Ladies from Richmond, VA play with a bunch of punk and hardcore bands from DC and Maryland-- Time To Escape, Coke Bust, Warpriest, Brain Damaged and.... So Damn Thirsty. The Ladies have a new 7" out on Tony Bitch's Riff Raff Records... I heard the inside sleeve photo is epic, bro, epic...

If you haven't been to this all-ages spot yet, here's a good show to pop your cherry. It's right off the Galledet stop on the Red Line, so even a directionally-challenged retard like me could find it. (I just followed the trail of wandering punks.) No drinking, fighting, smoking or peeing at the venue. Cops on segways roll by every hour or so to make sure the kids don't ruin the pretty street florals. The showspace itself is a claustrophobic fire-hazard, with surprisingly decent acoustics. The walls are narrow and made of bricks so when you get slammed, you feel it. What I'm trying to say is, places like these are beautiful and often not around long enough.

notes from the road...

2007-06-28T11:21:00.003-04:00

transcribed, word for word....

Notes from the road...
It's actually day 6 but since I didn't get to I'll give you a rundown of the tour so far, k ready. here we go.
Day 1 NYC show sucked, spent a lot of cash & very stressful actually getting there. After party at Crypt Records made it better, with hot mexican dude, PeeWee, Memphis Mike, Curt and the Dong. Made out w/ red t-shirt dude. Forgot his name. bedtime @ 7AM. woke up face down on the floor of the record store, worst hangover of the century

Next Day 2. Cleveland. I was sick as fuck the next day, kept throwing up & felt like total ass. the worst i've felt in several months. SGURD = DAB. we had to stop like 3 times for me to puke. We got to Cleveland and paul showed us his club, NOW THATS CLASS. it's smack dab in a strip of gay bars, (lakewood being one of the largest gay communities in the country) complete with this awesome mural of naked dudes cavorting, large portraits of oddly colored penises... anywas.. I saw Dia, Killer, KAryn, Shannon, Ross, Elton (is hot now), and a bunch of other people I havent seen in so long. Show had the best crowd, just going nuts, dancing like crazies & we got paid pretty well. stayed at shannons and hung out for a while BSin catching up.

Day 3 Detroit... Was a total bust. the night had potential but the local act left before we played. they were all kids that had graduation the next day. so we proceeded to get super shit faced since Todd (a perfect example of the detroit, cynical bartender) hooked us up w/ drinks. the soundguy bought curt 3 or 4 shots, offered him free drugs and tried to take him home. curt ends up puking in the alley outside along with matt and brett tryin to show him how its done. we went towards chicago, too far. bought a hotel at some point, curt woke up and screamed "20 MOTHERFUCKERS, FUCK YOU" then passed back out. we left him and tiff in the car cause they wouldnt wake up

Day 4 Chicago was a badass show and good company. the safes really hooked it up, brought a bunch of people out and although no one was really dancing (slightly older, more hipster crowd) everyone was pretty into it-- the owner came up and bought us several drinks. hung out with teddie and his friends, ate a shit ton of food (he cooked) got obliterated. next day was lazy and raining, we hung out and Matt brown brought over a fucking sooperdelicious feast. teriaki salmon, crushed potatos and a pork roast, vegetables and we got beer, it was the most delicious meal ever. KIDS OF WIDNEY HIGH RULE

Day 6/7 Milwaukee.. Rolled to the BBQ at eric apnea's to find a house full of punks and crusties hanging out and grillin, we drank beer and vodka, ate sausages and burgers. the show was at this place linnemans that looked like it used to be a church. they served whiskey shots in communion glasses, LAME. but the show went great, eric put us up at the 'andrew WK house', we partied w/ our boys from maaster gaiden, kids runnin around screamin and dancing like tards. beautiful. rob's shoulder is fucked (dislocated during jetgirl) so we canceled omaha, plus it was really far away. dude was real cool about it. now we're going to st louis, not sure if we can play tomorrow.

NOTE ABOUT CASINOS: WE SUCK AT GAMBLING

Day 8 Kansas City.. we ate at LJs BBQ it was so delicious.. there was a tornado warning when we rolled in and i was kinda scured.. but then the sky opened up and the clouds were an amazing blanket of dark grey and pure white, red and yellow from the setting sun. i stared at the sky for a long time. the show was okay.. they set up a projector screen and played wondershowsen during the bands which cracked us up.. people wouldnt go inside to watch the bands, or give us money-- but there was alot of beer and we actually played alright. not the whole set bleeding hands was -- WHAT? Pee circles dude that's whats up Saw way too many MFin penises in KC then it was

Day 9 STL. Love st louis man, awesome food, people, music, prices, good times had a bonfire by the riverside at the coaltrane (abandoned factory) climbed this huge ass crane, drank a lot of whiskey and set off fireworks, had a roman candle fight with the dong-- kyle (fear shirt) took a hit for me in the neck!

Day 10..Indianapolis. first we play a day show at a record store, not a very good turnout, but whatever, we left kinda late and rushed to indy, thinkin we would be too late... turned out we made it with like an hour before the show started. weird, older crowd but all punks or former punks, they took us really well. sold a bunch of shit, made the most money we made all tour and slept at the promoters house. me n tiff stayed up til 8 or so drinkin champagne and BSin with tim upton and rev. dan. he had married tiff n I earlier that night at the bar. i fell asleep spooning with a dog

Day 11.. harrisburg, we had a long ass drive to harrisburg, everyone stressin but i was pretty apathetic. then we get to this show and we find out the martini bros manager never booked it, or canceled it without telling us. piece of shit dude, i tried to get a hold of them, i was really pissed off. we could have played pittsburg or that stupid mountain town or anywhere to make some more cash. dicks! that was it, end of tour, i believe this is the perfect amount of time to go out, right when you start getting sick of each other, its over. but we broke even, made some cool friends and had fun, so it was a success as far as i'm concerned
the end

new blog, new post

2007-02-16T12:47:00.001-05:00

Sick of Myspace, sick of Livejournal, sick of Facebook... sick of the attempt to bring real life onto the internet in general. Sick of self acclaimed digital personas that posture with larger than life status, false information and page after page of you posing with your ugly friends with beers in hand making kissy faces at the camera. Sick of developing creepy infatuations with hot dudes in bands from other countries. But this is the Digital Age, after all. After a while, you grow an immunity to it. Then you adapt, then you do the ugly... you start Blogging.

The theme here will be music, art, guitars, shows, records, movies, bands, food and anything else that profoundly effects me... I'll post show reviews/previews, record reviews, and every so often a personal account of something wicked. Check back often.