Skipping past Writober and Nanoblomo . . ? Shit, I dunno. I'm as bored as you are.
Friday, April 07, 2006
I apologize for the relative “silence.” It’s been a topsy-turvy week . . . lots of emotional upheaval and schedule fucked-upedness. Right now all I can think of are those lists on the right. Yeeeeeeeeaaah, buddy. I’m trackin’ that shit. It’s accurate! I’m listening to Mogwai’s Mr Beast RIGHT NOW! YOU SHOULD BE, TOO!
This weekend, we begin formal training for Atlanta (three weeks from today). It’s a pirate-themed birthday celebration. On the beach. Possibly in the rain. Invitees are encouraged to bring rum. And Michelle put another spin on things by asking, “How would you feel about sleeping in a tent?”
If nothing else, I’ll have some good stories to tell. The ones I can remember.
Monday, April 03, 2006
So . . . Sleepy . . .
Before the weekend of “rock-star” excitement began, I said that I’d be amazed if everything went according to plan. Well, I’m amazed. And now I’m also very, very tired.
Our shows went well. The Girls got to Miami and back safely (and their show was awesome, but I’ll let Michelle tell you about that). Because our camera is still missing / lost / misplaced, my snapshots are in form of bullets:
-- Our first show (Friday night) was at the Unfair, an art exhibition by non-major art students at FSU. There were paintings and drawings, videos, and some performances (including belly dancing and hula-hooping). My personal favorite was the “artist” who manipulated Andrew Wyeth’s “Christina’s World” to include dragons, one of which was setting Christina’s house on fire with its breath.
-- There was an anthropomorphic condom on stage with us with a selection of free condoms (extra-lubricated or dual-pleasure).
-- Our friend Mark’s band, Yellow Crystal Star, which included a drummer for this outing, played alongside a performance-artist (Bob), who was a middle-aged guy painted head to toe with white acrylic paint. The band played one long instrumental piece (very reminiscent of a tribal, early-70s Pink Floyd) while Bob sort-of danced in slow motion with a stage light. I should mention that Bob was naked, except for a well-placed thong-type covering.
-- I didn’t drink too much at the show, and we got out at a fairly reasonable hour. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of going out afterward.
-- I spent most of Saturday really hungover. After coming home from loading in for the second show (reuniting with Michelle, back from Miami), I had lots of half-flat Sprite and raw carrots. Hangover gone. (In fact, I felt so good, I had a beer at the show and a shot of Crown . . . with a ginger ale in between.)
-- The second show was at Tallahassee’s “new rock” haven. I think everyone who came to see us was on the guest list. And still we walked away with twice the amount of money we were promised.
-- One of the bands was from Bainbridge, Georgia, and brought along a lot of friends / fans. A number of drunk females were grinding on one another in a faux-lesbitronic way. I’m sure their boyfriends were very impressed.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Day Off (Death of Me)
I’m not at work today. I had the grand idea a week or so ago that I’d take off and get some stuff done . . . maybe relax a little. But remember how the past couple weekends have been fairly tranquil and activity-free? Well, this weekend is BOOKED SOLID. Seriously, our schedule this weekend will be to relaxing what first-time prison sex is to making sweet, sweet love in a flowery garden. In Paris. On your birthday.
In just over an hour, Michelle and the Girls are leaving for Miami where they will be playing a show. At 1 o’clock in the morning (tomorrow). A few hours earlier, my band will be taking the stage here in town at a hastily arranged art-exhibit show on campus (FSU). Tomorrow morning, just hours after leaving the stage, the Girls will depart Miami to come home. HOPEfully, they’ll make it back by the time we have to load in for our NEXT show . . . even MORE hastily arranged. (I’m not kidding that a week ago, we didn’t have a show until April 12 and then we completely tripped and fell into two back-to-back shows in one weekend. Christ’s wounds.
And then we’re taking Mia to see Dora, Dora, Dora the Explorer (DORA!) Sunday afternoon. We hope to have a little downtime on Sunday. Much-needed downtime. Because Monday, the Girls will be opening for The Fixx.
So, to summarize: Four shows in four days, bilingual explorers, happy toddler, sleep-deprivation, road drama, binge-drinking. The End.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Wednesdays with Mommy
I’ve settled into a semi-comfortable routine with my mother. As I’m in the business of sorting her pills and checking on her, I stop by twice a week—once on weekends to help her with groceries (and pills) and once during the week to help her with pills (and pick up lunch for her). Most of the time, the weekday visit happens on Wednesday (as she has a standing hair appointment near her house and I drop her off on my way back to work).
Besides these times I’m physically near my mother, she often calls (or IMs) me at work to “check in.” And it’s during these visits and phone calls that I find out more increasingly disturbing information. Since her second (third?) trip to Behavioral Health, she’s been getting way too honest, like when she suddenly dropped a bomb on me in the form of a family secret . . . one that had never even been hinted at.* And here I’d thought I knew everything. Now, in the past week, she’s hit me with a couple others:
-- “Now I want you to know that I’ve been using you and Mia as an excuse from time to time. Tonight, [Mr. K] wants to come over and I don’t want him to, so I’m going to tell him that you might be stopping by with Mia after work. I just want to be friends with him, but he’s been really touchy/feely lately, and I don’t like that.”**
-- “If you ever come across any naked pictures of your father and I, please destroy them.” I was stunned. “You’re not really telling me that you guys took pictures of yourselves having sex.” “Yes, with a Polaroid. You can’t see my face in most of them, but that’s me.”
Um . . . footnotes (if you dare):
Monday, March 27, 2006
Stats That Shape a Weekend: A-Big-Baby-Stole-My-Money Edition
Money Lost at Poker: $25
Hours it Took to Lose the Money: just over 1
Pictures Posted on Flickr: 11
This past weekend was one of the most thinly scheduled of the past couple years. No shows, no band practices, no parties, no traveling, no dinners. Very domestic, bordering on “relaxing.” (Our three-year-old often acts as the border.) The only semiformal event was the poker game I participated in on Saturday. (Here, “participated” does not mean the same as “competed” . . . more like “gave a lot of money away.”)* To amp up my gambling losses, I watched my bracket hopes fade away as “Big Baby” and his LSU teammates whooped some Texas ass (“Texass?”).**
I guess the good news is we got a scanner . . . one that works with our operating system. (We bet $90 on this one, and came out a winner . . . but still lost the $90. How does that work?) Anyway, both the missus and I scanned pictures into Flickr (link to mine).
Thursday, March 23, 2006
It’s a MUSIC DEBATE! (Part One of Infinity)
Let me preface this by saying that I know it’s very difficult to come up with anything original musically in this day and age. And that I’m likely unfairly biased on this subject. Also, I’m not the best spokesman for independent artists (or anything, really). Jesus. Maybe I should’ve prefaced this with “PREFACE:”.
So, we played a show a couple nights ago opening for a major-label post-punk band and their touring sidekicks (indie pop darlings who chose to name themselves using an obscure Cure lyric). To avoid boring you all to death, I’ll leave out some of the details, but let’s summarize by saying that it was an okay show (by both bands) and that I’m a petty bitch. Point is that I, in some reflexive / reactionary / impulsive moment that I can only blame on being married to Michelle, I posted about the show on our band’s MySpace blog. And now everyone (in my own band) is calling me out.
Let’s say that Joy Division is Generation One (although they were clearly influenced by Velvet Underground, who would, in this case, be Generation Zero . . . whatever). All those post-punk bands (most notably Gang of Four) from 1979 to the early 80s are Generation One. In Generation Two, we have our Interpols, Franzs, Maximos, and Killers-es; yeah, Generation Two has been around for years, right? So, NOW a band comes along like they have discovered some nugget of holy Ian Curtis’ fierce mission, seemingly spurred on by bands that they’ve heard doing Joy Division some great injustice, put aside their RAP careers, signed to a major-label, and started pimping their brand of post-punk as the sweet nectar juiced for them straight outta 1980s Manchester.
I read the interview on their bio page, and it just seemed like out-of-left-field jerkdom, prepared to diss all the other retro-revivalists (playing “spot the fakes”) because they were THERE, listening to all those Generation One bands when it was going on (and dating themselves by speaking about it). “Yeah, and there’s a hundred bands doing mediocre period/genre music, but none of it makes me feel like I did when I was a kid [sitting] in my room listening to The Queen is Dead or Purple Rain on the record player. It’s easy to capture the style of the music, but writing songs that speak to people is a very different thing.” I want to know what makes them more special than Interpol. I was there, too, fellas. And you’re no better than any other Generation Two (or Three) band.
The stinging part is that I realize I’m being pointlessly bitter about it. And the cherry on top is that I like a lot of what they do. Sure, it’s uncomplicated post-punk and the vocals have almost no range at all, but I enjoy that kind of music. I just wish they weren’t so fucking up front about how they’re going to find everyone and hose them down with their special blend of emotive (or unemotive) post-punk.
I’d actually thought of starting a debate series where I invite readers to debate me on a variety of topics, wherein I would ultimately end up losing the debate and then post excerpts from the debate here for the enjoyment of others. Bring it! I know some of you have opinions about this subject. (If you don’t have my IM address, and would like to expositionally kick my ass, shoot me an email.)
"Rock Star" • Music • (7) Comments closed • Permalink
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Slow Down, You’re Gonna Crash
When I’m (really) concentrating on something at work, I can tune out lots of things. Even the ringing of the front-desk phone being pumped through the overhead speakers (“BONG!”), one of which I can see right outside my door. Conversely, when I want to be distracted, I can hear . . . well, a lot*.
I don’t know why I mention this, other than to report that I heard two car accidents this morning. In six-plus years at my office, I don’t think I’ve heard more than one or two total. And today, it’s two crashes before lunch.
The first one was a short squeal of tires followed by a sickening crunch of metal. One of the guys working on the building’s A/C reported that a “really old woman” had attempted a turn and pulled right in front of a semi. But she was fine (reportedly). The second crash was a few hours later; I didn’t hear any tires squealing, and the crash itself sounded more brutal and/or closer to my building. As with the first crash, the second was followed a minute later by the wailing of multiple sirens.
Both times, I resisted the temptation to go outside and investigate.
* The Regional Queen of TMI works in an office 12 feet from mine. And she talks very loudly. About all matter of sinning. Which is probably appropriate, with me being a High Baron of TMI.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
That’s the Way the World Works*
Ever the “responsible” homeowner, I thought it’d be a good idea to mow the lawn this weekend in anticipation of throwing down some “weed and feed” in anticipation of the rain-promising cold front. I mowed Saturday afternoon and figured I’d spread the fertilizer when I found out what the rain forecast was. Yesterday morning, I was hearing better than 60% of some heavy rain and thunder. (Sweet!) So I promptly threw on my medium-duty gloves (with latex gloves underneath) to hand-spread the fertilizer (yes, I realize how maturbatory that reads).
So, of course, it sprinkled a few drops last night and a little more this morning. WOO-HOO! Dollar Weeds FOREVER!
As you can probably tell, our weekend wasn’t that eventful. It got off to a quick start, though, with a wedding reception Friday night, followed by much-needed potato casserole. Things slowed WAAAAAY down from there.
Tonight, my band is playing its first show in, like, two months. Opening for She Wants Revenge. Unfortunately, we’re going on at about 8:30, so we’ll be rockin’ the inattentive soundman, a couple bartenders, some bouncers, the door guy, Ms. Jazz Hands (maybe), and a handful of kids whose parents dropped them off too early. I’d take a sad picture from the stage, but we can’t find our digital camera.
* one of my favorite things to say when bad things happen, or someone falls into a patch of bad luck
Thursday, March 16, 2006
A Change in the Weather
One of the more annoying things about Florida’s weather is how the transition between seasons (both of them---summer and not-summer) is never smooth. Recently, we’d been riding the lows in the upper 50s, highs in the upper 70s thing. And then the cold front went through, and the temperature was back into the 30s/40s overnight.
I’ve probably mentioned that Michelle has almost no comfort zone when it comes to ambient temperature. When it got fairly warm recently, I turned the heat off because the temperature at night was not cold.
“Jesus, honey. Can we turn the air conditioner on? I’m burning up.” (thermostat reading: 75.5)
A couple days later:
(bundled up) “Is the heat on?” (thermostat reading: 72)
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
A week ago, I picked up Mogwai’s new CD, Mr Beast. The day of its official U.S. release, which is something I rarely do. (Much like my aversion to seeing popular movies on opening weekend. But then, Mogwai’s hardly a “popular” band, eh?)
Anyway, I’d read several reviews (and “reviews”) of the CD leading up to its domestic release, and the two most frequent descriptions were: (1) it’s bigger and louder than anything since Young Team, and (2) it seems to adequately capture what they sound like live. I can’t speak much to that second point having only seen the band once, but I’m pretty familiar with their repertoire. Personally, I find Young Team to be overrated . . . yeah, it’s huge and the songs are epics, blah, blah, but it’s not focused. I’d always preferred Come On Die Young, even though it’s one long build with very little release. I’d compare the new CD more to Rock Action (for diversity and electronics, only half the songs on the new one aren’t short interludes) and the last CD (Happy Music for Happy People; for the omnipresent use of piano).
I was telling Michelle how this spring is loaded with CDs by many bands I’ve been following (both actively and passively). Hope I have enough money to get them all. And I hope half of them are as worthwhile as Mr Beast.
Monday, March 13, 2006
You Are Here
So it was roundabout three years ago (today) that I moved my blog and started Kamikaze Lunchbreak. Back when I was still just starting out and using mix CDs to make and keep friends (like Styro, “M,” and Kerry [at the dear, departed Safeword]). Back when I was getting HTML help from Julia and Amy Choppa and Patricia. And learning that CW was some old married guy and not the reckless cock-slinger he made himself out to be.
I’m still fumbling through, but I hope to be fumbling through more often / regularly.
I want to thank Leo for hosting my comments for the past couple / few years with a fuckload less outages than Haloscan. This new site is hosted and brought to you by Patricia, who’s been nagging (read: offering) to host me for some time. And I finally took her up on it . . . about three months ago when I started making the transition. That’s right, I’ve been working on this for a quarter of a year (or more). When I say “working on,” I mean it’s taken that long for me to do a weeks’ worth of writing and template-revision. Aren’t you proud of me?*
Okay, well thanks for stopping by anyway.
* I must say that Patricia did all the hard stuff and deserves my eternal thanks. Anything that looks out of sorts is my fault.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Tagged (or Not Tagged)
So I was waiting in a median to turn left across a busy road, hitting it just at the wrong time (as a light had released a shitload of cars and they naturally began spacing themselves in such a way that I could not zip between them to cross). As I was sitting there, a police cruiser pulled in behind me.
I had renewed my tag after my birthday (in September) but have not put the sticker on my license plate to show that my registration is paid up. And now that it’s 2006, anyone can look at the tag, see the ‘05 sticker, and know that my tag is expired . . . no matter what month it is. Anyway, I was convinced that the officer was staring down my tag and was going to pull me over once we got across the road.
Finally there was a big break in the traffic and we both crossed. I was relieved that he didn’t turn on his lights. Maybe he didn’t notice. Or maybe an expired tag is a secondary offense and they can’t pull you over for it. Whatever the case, I’m tempted to drive without the sticker until I get one for 2007. Because, y’know, I’m not entirely sure I can find the one for this year.
The Bad Citizen • (1) Comments closed • Permalink
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Oh, the Irony! Siriusly.
So I was driving to work today, listening to the adult-contemporary station. (I had Mia with me.) The DJs/announcers/radio personalities were playing a clip of Mariah Carey’s acceptance speech from some awards show or other, and Mariah was prattling on about growing up wanting to hear her records on the radio and how she was “addicted” to the radio. (Ms. Carey has quite the addictive personality, doesn’t she?) Anyway, the male announcer was all, “You notice she didn’t mention subscription radio. No Sirius. No XM. Just your normal, terra-based radio. You can get it anywhere---in your basement, your car, your office . . . for free.”
And then they went into a commercial break.