Friday, July 22

Red Rock West

Last night was bacchnal.
Today is a well-deserved headache.
I'm starting to think that my personal hubris is a belief that all female bartenders love me.
Then again -- she could have been telling the truth.
[Listening to: Joan Jett, "Fetish"]

Wednesday, July 20


A day and a night in, and there's already a sense that if I wanted to, I could actually survive in this place. It's been a whirlwind so far, mostly catching up with the tourist stuff -- Staten Island Ferry, walking the Brooklyn Bridge, wandering around the city, experiencing Times Square, catching a flick at the Ziegfeld, but at the same time the most memorable moments so far have been just soaking up the atmosphere, and letting the energy that seems to flow all around get inside me. The heat and humidity here has been oppressive, which I was kinda surprised by, but the people all around from my gracious host James to the guy I talked politics with on the subway and the army of beautiful women that apparently just walk around the city all day long have been 32 flavors of cool and then some, which has made this whole experience even better than I could have imagined it would be.

I don't know -- it's a lot to think about, a lot to just sink into and lose yourself in, and in the end I think that's what I really wanted the most. Just to shut off the reminders, take the fish out of the bowl, and start doing the crazy things I always said I was gonna do, but never actually got around to trying.
Today's the race in Central Park.
Tomorrow's MoMa and CBGB's.
But like I said, it's the simple things that surprise, and leave you with the smiles you'd never get from a tour bus or a guide. I suppose I could try to explain it to you, but I doubt it would make much sense..

Last night I stepped out on my own and bought beans at a bodega.
How cool is that?
[Listening to: Follow For Now, "Ms. Fortune"]

Saturday, July 16

Whatever Lola Wants

So I'm at the bar last night just kinda hangin' out and talkin with bartender Brenda when suddenly bartender Christina comes over and pushes a shot glass of something red into my hand
"Drink this."
Never one to refuse, I throw it back. It tastes something like red wine, except that it feels like hard liquor going down. Whatever it is, it's the third one she's given me this evening.

Then as I'm handing the glass back to her she says,
"Now show me your areola."
[Listening to: Killing Joke, "Kings and Queens"]

Tuesday, July 12

You Just Don't Get it, Do Ya Scott?

It's always the same -- You try to get some moments of peace in your secluded alpine villa when the next thing you know some British secret service do-gooder in a tuxedo is pointing a Walther PPK in your face and demanding to know your plans.
It's a hassle, you know?
Fortunately, that's why you keep around a beautiful and winsome assassin with a Russian accent and a ridiculous name who you can use to seduce the agent into believing that she'd never be the one to sneak up behind him while he's got the drop on you and knock him out cold with one vicious, perfectly-timed judo chop.
Which is exactly what she does..
Then you take the unconscious Briton, tie him to your torture devices and make him pay for all of his impertinent insolence --
Just as soon as you finish forcing him to
watch your deadly Geisha squad do this
[Listening to: Razed in Black, "A View to a Kill"]

Monday, July 11

A Decorative Apostrophe

A while back I started working on a project to add guitar tracks to songs being written by one of my favorite groups, Deep Inner Voices. And now, after some very cool work from everyone in the group, it looks like we've got something to share. Go check it out!
Shadows Lost to Light
[Listening to: Deep Inner Voices, "Shadows Lost to Light"]

Friday, July 8


Ok, new rule -- I absolutley have to stop eating dinner so late at night.

I mean sure, I had to go do some things yesterday that kept me out until like eight, eight-thirty and when I got home I really didn't want to think about much of anything at all (much less cook) -- but then an hour or so later when I realized I hadn't eaten much all day I got in one of those moods where just about anything was fair game. So I thawed a salmon filet, chopped up some mushrooms, and set the whole thing into the oven to cook for an hour.
And this was like 9:30, 10:00, you know?
The meal turned out incredible, so that at least was worth it -- but it also helped cover up the fact Aja and I were munching out at like eleven-thirty (a fact that came clear into focus like 3 hours later when I was hopelessly awake with nothing better to do than flip through channel after channel of hell looking for something to veg out with and hopefully fall asleep to).

I don't know -- I guess I finally fell out somewhere around 5:30 and woke up several hours later splayed out across my couch with a cat stretched out and snoring on my shoulder, but then I was so worn out from all the restless hours that the best I could do was crawl back to the bed and pass out dead again.

Now I find myself dragging around the apartment four cups of coffee down, wondering where the other half of my day has run off to.

But strangest of all is this feeling in my head that I can't shake, even after all the sleep I finally gave into this morning -- which is that
Taking a nap would totally
kick ass right about now.
[Listening to: Echo and the Bunnymen, "The Killing Moon"]

Thursday, July 7


Thoughts race my mind as water churns to the south and heat cascades down from above. The far away seems close and yet just out of reach, while the nearby blinds me to my own better judgement in lieu of moments that don't exist without picturebook corners holding them in.

The question that keeps finding its way to my lips is "Just what is it you're waiting for?" As if I need some sign for everything to start, commence, or coincide. I want to believe the things that are being told to me, but I can't seem to find the ways inside to make them real enough to be able to hear them without other voices.
Perhaps that's why the divergences are so appealing, the escapes all the more wanting, calling my name and beckoning my follow despite the monetary sting.

And so instead of designing for exactly rights or saving pennies for the perfect raining day, I went with the image in my head. Took it out of my house and told it aloud to the guy with the baltimore accent. He sketched, I balked, and then we bantered back and forth until it looked a way were both happy with. Simple. Clean. Neat.

He had satellite radio. It looked like it was on channel 44, but I have no way to really know for sure. I wondered aloud about the needle and it's burn, but then Killing Joke poured from the speakers and he paused for a second to turn the volume up to maximum -- and from there on out I knew I was in good hands.

The pain was surprising. It didn't hurt so much as it insisted. My skin couldn't ignore the sensation, but whenever he stopped for a second it was like I wanted it back. The still air worse than the rattling blade, the experience almost as imoportant and desired as the result, even though a day later I am shoulder-peacocking just about everywhere I go.

He was right about one thing though - the taste absolutley makes you want more. If I thought I could afford it I'd be back there right now getting it done again.

Which means the question actually isn't "Just what is it you're really waiting for?" at all. The real question is:
Why did I ever wait this long?
click to see more
[Listening to: Romeo Void, "A Girl in Trouble (Is a Temporary Thing)"]

Saturday, July 2

Ambulance vs. Ambulance

Very interesting (and late) couple of nights -- Mostly spent at this local place I dig a lot, but for a number of reasons figured I probably wouldn't be going to that much after a certain point.
One of those symbolic things, I suppose.
Fortunatley this time even I couldn't buy into it, and the results have been pretty positive.

I mean, in the end it's really only one weekend, so it's not like the entire world has changed or anything - but I'm working on making new friends (here and abroad), having good times, and if nothing else I'm spending time somewhere other than that place locked inside the choruses of my own songs that I kept going to -- which I think is a good thing.

Plus, there's somthing genuinely cool about having a bartender that you are told to consider your own.

Funny how writing that makes me think of Ebony..

Of course, closing down a bar like that a couple of nights in a row isn't cheap, so it remains to be seen how often I will be able to do it - but no matter the outcome, I still had a pretty good time this weekend.
Hell, I even got a free shirt!
Thanks Heather and Christina!
[Listening to: Dishwalla, "Bleeding Out"]

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