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|Monday, November 7th, 2005|
So there's lots to talk about.
I've been working at Radio Shack for months now and it's been real. It feels like my house now, but four eight hour days a week and florecent lighting drain my enthusiasm a lil bit. I make rent though at 350 a month and have my little house tucked behind a tall fence covered in vines. We call it "The Cabbage", somewhere between a cottage and a cabin, with plants everywhere and a big firepit the local crew gathers at night. It feels primal, you have an urge to huddle blankets and skins together and fall asleep curled up watching stars. You wouldn't believe what the stars look like out here, there are no clouds. You can see more stars past the bright ones and more past that, sometimes to where the entire streets are lit up brighter than with lamps.
Mom's met someone. She's been with a wonderful guy named Robert from Canada (I know) for almost a year and they seem to be perfect for each other. He's a (spiritual)psycho therapist and has his shit together. Love for her, his kids, a house, a car and stability, everything I could want for mom. Holds workshops around canada that sell out in days. It's a good situation that she deserves after all the pseudo men.
All this of course eventually leads to more semi serious life decisions. Like moving to Canada. I was told last night that she plans on moving in with Robert in Vancouver by sometime next year.
That brings lots of thought.
Such as "then why the fuck did we move to California?"
We've been out here for a few years, I've seen alot of new things and heard about lots of things changing back in VA. It's been constantly on my mind since we left, I live in my head there as much as I do consciously here. It's been difficult to understand why it was we came out here in the first place. I understand family needing our help, I'm completely head over heels for baby Kaia and Ananda. There's no two ways about that, the entire ordeal was worth it for these two incredible new souls. It feels like now though, the babies have been born and we've all found places where we're comfortable and secure. They've got their family home and Francis has steady work with his massages. Mom's finally found what she's been looking for and Lucas loves the idea of being in Canada (I know).
I'm not going to be able to keep my house when this happens because of the "family only" policy. I'm not staying in Ojai if I have to find a new place (PRICESyouwouldntfuckingbelieveit) and I'm sure as fuck not moving to Canada.
Who wants to get an apartment/house?
There's alot of things to experience out there and that's one of them. It's good to have someone at your back to roll on with and keep things interesting. It'll be INTERESTING.
|Monday, August 29th, 2005|
|Monday, August 8th, 2005|
It's been awhile. You look like you're taking care of yourself.
It's hella fucking hot. This place is always something like 30 degrees hotter than LA or Santa Barbara. It's because it's kind of like a bowl of mountains and the hot stuff settles in here I bet. It's alright, except I kind of have to get stuff done right now like get coffee and lie in the grass because I'm looking for a job and that's how you do it around here. It's also how I did it in Rappahannock, so you'd think I'd need a change of strategy. Rae's Place really sounds good right now.
So anyway, it worked this time. Guy I set up the Bluegrass show with turned into the manager of Radio Shack and called me up to come scibble an application. I was kind of loose and left a whole lot blank because I don't know what that shit means. I went to hearthstone dude, what GPA? I graduated highschool and all I got was this lousy cotton mouth.
Anyway, he was at a party here the other night and jumped in the pool naked on a dare, so he's a good guy. Mellooow. I went and got applications to Carrows (Denny's?) the other day too, because they have dishwashers. I figure that's a real good thing to experience because how could it get any worse? If you can wash dishes, you can do anything. It's full time though, and I only want to try it for an hour or something. Full time is a buuunch of hours, like sometimes half your day, and if you don't work there you can't touch the pressure washer.
I've got more shit I need to spill in here, but like three people just rolled up inHOH! DUDE, I forgot- DUBCAT and HALF PINT are putting on a REGGAE FEST in the LIBBEY BOWL. Also Bob Marley's nephew, and for yout FYI in case your not keeping your Reggae shit straight, DUBCAT is the remaining members of sublime with a new singer. This is not to be confused with the Long Beach Dub Allstars which was just an accident and we wont talk about them.
|Wednesday, June 1st, 2005|
|Wednesday, April 27th, 2005|
I shaved all the shit off my head and now I look like panthro.
I thought since mary's been working at a Salon for more than two years, she'd have the razor skills of a ninja.
So apparently she works as the receptionist and does not in fact, have the razor skills of a ninja.
|Wednesday, April 6th, 2005|
Fuck yeah, spring time.
The drum circle's getting bigger man. Word's spreading or something, because two hours after it starts the whole "center square" of the park is filled with people. Someone tell me how to post pictures on this shit, I'll show you some REAL hippys.
It draws connections, way more than I could hope to get applying for auditions or playing bars. The latest is a modern dance class with two hour classes at $15 an hour, and a 5 day drum/dance summer camp run by the same dude.
The more I think about it, the more it trips me out how fortunate I've been to have always stayed indipendant with enough money to get by comfortably without ever getting a "real" job or into anything undesireable. Fuck, didn't even really finish school, but I'm looking at the diploma.
Moving into the house at the end of this week too, which is the only reason I really need any of this money. Except the ticket, and I don't know what happened to that. I think forgetting my address saved my ass, because apparently he can't do shit unless he knows where I live. Awwww yeah.
|Tuesday, March 22nd, 2005|
|That's what I make of it
I attract everything I need. I intend to have unlimited abundance for the rest of my life, and so I plan on returning to VA for a time this summer to share my abundance and the sinning that comes with my package. The good kind.
What remains to be seen is where I'll call home for the stay.
For those who may have room, there's some things you should know:
I can fit in most 6'4" X 3' spaces, and smell good.
I'll be buying my own food and generally stay in my own head space.
I practice drums for 1-3 hours a day, regardless of wether or not you have drums. I'll keep it away from the house.
|Tuesday, February 15th, 2005|
Got a ticket for "throwing a burning item (cigarette) from a moving vehicle".
Had just finished a deal with Dual Sport News and had a $225 check in my pocket. To 'celebrate' the closure, my associate suggested a hand rolled "American Spirit powow pipe blend" cigarette. The shit was all organic and had little tobacco content (the rest was sage, spearimint and red willow or something) so I didn't feel all nasty about it. Was feeling good.
Well while we were driving, I had my arm resting on the window. It was nighttime, some ash fell from the cigarette and was wooshed out the window, with a couple sparks. The cigarette NEVER left the car. Since it was dark, I assume he just saw the sparks. Next thing I know, we're being pulled over and I was taken out of the vehicle to sit on the edge of the police car after explaining my ID's at home. Asked if I'd been in trouble, hair, height, weight, etc... and I forgot my fucking address. It would have been funny had I not been so mixed up trying to remember if I had anything on me. I was informed that if he had thought I was lying about anything, he'd have taken me to jail due to lack of ID. This was after everything, but I wasn't about to argue what had happened and get fucked since he explained while I signed the ticket that I'm not admitting to any guilt, just promising that I'll appear in court.
Fuck that cigarette shit. Got in heavier shit with a flick of my wrist than I've ever touched with anything else.
Calling the ticket number tomarrow to find out what I do to fight it.
|Sunday, January 23rd, 2005|
|I'm not dead
Life's moving quick. Starting a buisness, motorcycle parts, hooked up with Dual Sport News http://www.dualsportnews.com
, 50/50, lots of drums, many gigs, 100 man drum/reggae fest to form, moving into my house in three months, creating art website, Ebuisness website, maintaining the calm.
I've never felt more drive to become the best I can. I want to go to the garage to practice, but the pillow is pretty loud. It's not enough to tap on your legs, all the money I have, aprox $111, is going into the LP compact conga. I've got my backcase and snare stand. That way there's no excuse to not be playing all the time, unless I've forgotten the pack. You might think that for obvious reasons this would happen all the time, but it's a drum. If I forget my drums, I'll quit smoking and start taking Ginko shit. I've quit everything else. You just get to a point. By point I mean heart attack.
|Wednesday, November 3rd, 2004|
I can't believe the fucking monkey won. I really just don't understand the American people.
Everything hangs on Ohio. I've turned off the TV so I can just wait.
God help us
|Sunday, October 24th, 2004|
|Gadgets boogie down
I just got back from setting up a goddamn SMOKIN bluegrass concert with a local dude. That's right, respect the bluegrass.
I never cared much for the madolin, but this big fucker tore the box up. Reggae rythms and bluegrass uptimes are very similar, but I hadn't noticed until lately.
We started at 12 and went till 3 covering the mirrors, setting up some 55 chairs, hookin' up lighting, etc... and about three people walked in at showtime. One of em was a tough ol' Kentucky wrassler. I spent a good chunk talking to him, mostly because he wouldn't shut up. The man was 80 years old (fact) and looked like he was made out of beefjerky. Four fingers on one hand too. None of that stopped him from mackin' on every young lady within his near sight. Grooosss. I kept imagining a pacemaker with a viagra dispenser. Like Pez.
Even with such a small crowd (bout 5 or six altogether at this point) they still played like hell and the crowd/gathering more than made up for the other seats in applause and cat calls. Then BAM, an A.A. meeting finished and we got the party started. I get along with alcoholics awful well. You could smell the bottle being passed from the bathroom, those sneaky swiggers. The group didn't grow much after that, but it was a comfortable feeling with such loose jiggin' people. In my eyes, the show was a success, even if there were some 46/47 seats empty. It was good practice and I'm much better at setting up chairs.
Don't drink pink.
|Monday, September 20th, 2004|
I got up at 12 to meet these bullatin musicians at the park. Nice laid back happy people. I was afraid I was going to meet a couple hippies that played folk music, but they looked more like spiritual punks in their 20's. Just hit it off and got to talking, finding his brother was an actor that played the bass player in 'That Thing You do', which I've almost memorized. I'm not worried about his guitar ability, he toured with Jane's Addiction. After a brief week and a hlaf visit to Mary's, I'll come back for some real time play and we'll see how it goes.
|Wednesday, September 15th, 2004|
|Jare Krishnas left and right
Alriiight, the boat's movin' slow and steady.
I've got ahold of a Thom (wicked stand up bass/guitar/keys, must be 40's) who's coming tomarrow to scope out the garage and figure out how we're going to soundproof the whole deal, being the first step towards creating the studio. It's got space, a cable connection, shelves and it's all made out of cement.
I got a call earlier from Morgan, who said the end mix of his song we tracked sounded great, and I'll have it by next sunday. He got me up to speed on almost all of the musical hot spots around here and plays at just about every one, or MC's. That's excellent info for when I can pull the drums out. Right now I'm leaving the cymbals/hat stand/snare at a nearby friends place. They've got a Japanese kit ($300) that sounded like paintbuckets, so over three days we took it apart, tuned it and replaced the hardware with mine for now. I trust them... If something does happen to any of it, I'm sure they'll replace it. I know where they live.
While at the market, we came by a little flyer on the bulletin board with some crazy art and an ad for a band singer/songwriter deal that's looking for a drummer, bass and something else. "Are you a: Drummer? A Bass player? A free spirit? Peace loving? diddydoom? Then contanct us here!" Weird shit. We were looking for some paper to write the numbers down, but right below it there was a whole sheet with all the info already on it. Someone had just upped and left without it or something, but I'm taking it as a sign and'll hit em up, see how it flows.
Also, talking to an art store manager, mom found out about a local tradition of celtic music that had gone on every year, with a stong base of people that attended. It happened every year in the holidays, and was always great, but the band started getting darker and instead of dancing and such inbetween songs, they'd talk about how shitty the world was getting. No one wants that shit and eventually the band stopped playing. This store owner happened to organize the whole deal and booked the venues ($14,000 for the band generally, with $20 per head entrance fee) and was just pouring the whole story at mom, which is great because Celtic music is mom's forte, as she played it for years at wedding and any other special event that wanted it in VA. So, she wants to put together a group for a more energetic feel than tin whistle and harp. Thom the bassist is very interested (he plays anything. Just tell him the key.) and there are other friend musicians that would no doubt, be interested in the gig. I've got to start checking out Bourons (Celtic drum) and researching the playing styles just in case. I don't know what's happening with the whole deal, but I do know that the area's in dire need of better musicians, in both skill and attitude.
It's not my prefered style of music, but it's practice, something challenging and money in the pocket.
There's a LOT of homeless people man. Smart ones, drunk ones, completely belligerant ones.
I'd only seen a few female homeless before, but there they are, in all their rag swaddled glory. They bath in the fountain while we drum and dry off by dancing around half naked. I Love homeless people. God bless them.
|Thursday, September 9th, 2004|
|Scandinavian pride, NORTH SIIIIIDE
I'm flipping out, I can't drum at all and I've got a terrible feeling I wont be able to for a good while. The last time I went this long was when I didn't have one. Every time I tap my feet I have daymares about sitting down on the kit and not being able to pull off shit. I've been playing hand percussion and exercising all the time though, to make sure I don't fuck it up just by getting out of shape, so now I've gained a bunch of weight. Not flab or chunk, just... weight. I'd always be cautious of over exertion, because it might hinder being able to practice the next day because of soreness, but now I've got all the time in the world. It's good to look at it as not being crippled, but just having time to develop something else. Filling up sketch books too. Maybe it's a good thing for awhile, now that I really look at the situation.
Hella energy lately also, with all this balance of stuff. Maybe it's time for a tattoo.
|Sunday, September 5th, 2004|
How do you upload pictures from a scanner?
|Friday, September 3rd, 2004|
|mmm yeah. right there.
I just really love coffee.
I'd run out of half and half last night. Just a moment ago as I was watching the cream swirl into the glass, I got that heart floating feeling. The last time I felt that was playing truth or dare with the girls next door when I was 13.
|Wednesday, September 1st, 2004|
We've moved. There are boxes everywhere again and I can't practice again. I'd been able to play for about three days after picking up the drums before having to tear down, but at least I had that. It's frusterating though. My body isn't pulling off what I want it to do. The times I could play I played to Chili Peppers and the funk was laid down, with some minor foot problems due to lax pedal practice... But I felt like all the stamina I'd worked so hard to gain was rusted. Yeah that's expected, but now I've got another stretch of time with no kit.
I've really dug deeper into hand percussion, but I've missed the last two cirles (for the first time) and that's when you really feel development. My hands were just starting to take on a new playing position naturally when we stopped to move. Which was unfuckingbelievable. I've never worked so hard in my life. It takes a thorough cleaning of the entire house for one to realise just how dirty their family is.
The carpet cleaner woke me up yesterday, calling at 10am. Apparently he'd gotten to the house and no one was there. (he was early) So I explained that I had her cell phone, had no idea what the situation was, but I know she'd left much earlier to get there on time. I understand calling to make sure the appointment was to be kept, but then he started asking other questions. That shouldn't be asked to your clients children for one, but especially never to one that was just woken up.
"would you consider your mother to be a reliable woman?"
It was really early. My voice had dropped something like two octives from phlem and I left like I'd been snorting sand all night. Anyways, I let him know some things he could rely on. When mom got there not soon after, he went off all threatening to leave and shit, walking to his truck and raving. She's real good with people, so he did it all eventually, but the whole place smelled like burning dog. The carpet was a different color. It was supposed to be yellow or something, not brown.
I'm tired and've been huffing windex all day, so.
|Friday, August 27th, 2004|
I'm hitting it in a sec, getting into the habit again. I'll just have to keep staying up an hour later till I come full circle, or just accept that I'll be this far gone for the rest of my life.
So, I quit again. Not that I wasn't enjoying myself, but I can't keep the drums at other people's houses. It's just such a good way to get real shitty real fast, especially when practices are cancelled so much with only two days a week.
I took the drums back, went to Oai for the recording session with Morgan and laid his tracks. It would be so difficult and frusterating to be a sessions guy for people that couldn't keep time, I can't even imagine. Every track but one had a push in it where he'd go off the metranome for a few, coming in early or late. Every time it'd be the same place that something would sound off and weird and I was beating myself up about not being able to stay in the pocket or catch the accent. Later we disected it and found the track going completely off from the click, leaving me to decide wether to follow the click or his playing, whilst trying to ignore the other one. Either way, even without that, it's difficult playing to off shit. The good track was a softer grooving love ballad deal with washing cymbal in the back using a crash instead of a ride. The way it was supposed to work was to mix the high end out of the crash for just quiet wash in the background, with soft felt bass thumps and a sloid back beat.. but when he played it to people show showed up, he played a raw mix with all the drums way out front that I could even hear outside. It's minor, because he'll get around to it, but I'm a nitpicky fuck to have around when it comes to sound. A much as I agree that it's mostly about feel, I'll chuck a stick at an out of tune guitarist who tells me that shit again. I'm sorry to have to be the the one to inform you that you're not THAT good yet.
I put alot of complaining, negative shit in here, I know. It's just what comes out when I start writing, I'm not a bad guy.
|Thursday, August 12th, 2004|
|Toast and grapefruit= clairvoiance
I haven't spit in this bitch forever.
There's been lots of time for lots of shit to happen.
I've got a wallet full of cards that was empty not but a few weeks ago, I've got a musical project that's holding my interest (oi, fucking finally), Lid came down to live in Cali for a month and I'm sick.
So it flows like this. I've been living in Cali for almost a year. I haven't met anyone I feel any real connection with outside of musically. I stopped going to all the parties once I started feeling empty and drained afterwards. Just recently though, one by one people I've been talking to have been giving me cards. One of these guys I only see at the drum circle, but we've been playing phone tag over the last week working on a date to haul the drums out to Ojai and lay some tracks. I don't know what he wants or what he has, but he's a positive minded dude and he doesn't cause any dramatic bullshit. Won't sweat it.
Back when we first moved out, a call woke me up from a dude named Rueben. He talked really ass fast, as if I'd get mad if he didn't spit it out quick enough. Just said that our his mom had ran into mine, and they traded numbers so he could call about jamming. He came over later that day, and I had to get used to the wicked slang. "wutup? right ow man." and "blaze it?". 'Wutup' and 'blaze it' made me laugh out loud. You'd have to hear it to understand. Anyway, the jams were good. I was always drenched afterwards. It had a very... Eastern(think tabla/sitar) sound to it with harcore/thrash/metal... goombaaaaa. I'm not going into that shit. I don't know, it felt great playing it, but after I listened to some of his riffs without any drums, they sounded... Thrice-y. I hadn't heard of thrice till I came out here. They've got a sound where you can't deny they can play their instruments well, but you also can't deny that violent burning in your stomache caused from the pseudo intelligent emo lyrics, and the stange femanin overtones from the singers throat. Eventually he got to talking about bringing in other people to 'audition'. Lots came and lots left... ALL thinking they were part of a band that didn't exist. I don't know what to say about this with out sounding... Man, it was so fucked up. In every jam session with a new person, something would come up where "man, I think that's awsome! He could totally sing!" was said while the auditioner was STILL THERE. I can't even start to fucki...*** Aargh, now what can I say? Fucking nothing, not without this persons feelings and hopes being CRUSHED. Thanks a fucking heap. Now I get to NOT call them. Ever. So then, I don't have to explain the shit.
It wasn't like that every time, because I'd see them again at parties lots, passed out or just blitzed. They don't give a fuck about the music anyway, they just want to get smashed up and called a singer. But there are some really shitty situations sometimes, that really could have been alot better had different action been taken in explaining the ways of an audition. One day Rueben called up one of these guys to tell him that he wasn't going to sing. It sure fucking sounds like he laid it out blunt like that, because they guy broke down crying. Then I saw him a few days later. It sucked upsidedown giraffe cock.
So I don't want to write about that anymore. I'd forgotten alot of that shit till now.
So to shorten it, I quit because it wasn't my kind of deal and Rueben was dissapointed. I didn't hear from him in a long time. So here we are now months later, and A few weeks ago I got a call from him for the first time in awhile, saying him, another guitarist, shawn (i'd jammed with briefly. Best 'tarist my age out here) and a bassist I hadn't met were trying to put together a funk/rock/metalesque group. I hauled the drums to his place and we had our first jam.
I'd been waiting for that jam forever. Shawn was exactly what I wanted in a guitarist. Solid, confident, doesn't take up too much space and knows his technique. The BIG bonus is that he also works at a small music chain where he can get ANYTHING almost half off. Fucking SICK.
I'm fading fast here. Very sleepy.
So we've been playing for a few weeks and have a schedual of weds a and thurs for practice from 4 till 8 or nine, and I'm loving every minute of it. I don't think I mentioned he also own a recording studio? Full protools rig and all around drum mikes. I can't bloody wait to play with that.
I'm going to go cough up shit and drink some tea, because that's what I do lately.