February 2004 Archives
Willi said I needed blog therapy.
But the oscars are on.
So I will blog this -- Bill Murray better win.
Also - an apology to the boss man: I'm sorry I called you a fat ass. You are not fat and it was good natured ribbing. I could tell by the expression on your face, however, that I had hit upon a sensitive nerve. So I am sorry. You're not fat - no matter what Jonathon says.
"These were my people-- as used as I was to wanting love from nowhere, as certain as I was that almost anything desirable was likely to be booby-trapped." --
Kurt Vonnegut, Deadeye Dick
Got my check today from the CD MAP antitrust litigation. It's about enough to buy another CD with - if I search in the bargain bins...
The wind is whipping around outside. There's a winter advisory warning out that says we might get an inch of snow tonight - so needless to say there is extreme panic in Atlanta.
I miss my laptop. I miss my aggregator.
I found my phone card. Apologies for accusing nobody in particular. It had fallen between my Isaac Hayes Black Moses record and my Wynton Kelly Last Sessions record during my mad dj performance during the party. The smokes are still AWOL. And Star's christmas tree is still in our front yard. Check that - the tree is gone.
Pooter is back in the shop. This time for the video card to be tested. Since downloading the latest Windows fix my screen has been really moody -- fading to black and whatnot. Well - not really fading - just switching. Estimated completion date isn't until March 5th. So you may not see much here until then.
Good news for my brother -- somebody stole my calling card that had 450 minutes remaining on it during the party - so you won't have to listen to my rants anymore. I'm saying they stole it because I've looked for it every day since and it hasn't turned up. They also made out with a full pack of smokes -- but those are bad for you anyways.
I am very angry lately.
Gee - I hope you can make it to the party tonight. I don't think you have the faintest how much I miss you -- and I would be devastated if you didn't show. So please - come - and participate in B's post-birthday celebration.
I am almost certain that Ms. B should consider sticking with her dayjob - avoiding the temptation to become a puppeteer. But - I'll let you decide after you watch this display of what she considers her [movie removed]
I don't wanna go to bed.
Going to bed means waking up for work.
Yezbick.com may be undergoing some changes soon...
Must research multiple domain registering.
Decision time is nearing.
Just got a phone call. A rejection phone call. The day before Valentine's Day. Kaiser rejected me for insurance. Waiting to get the letter to figure out why. The wind is out from beneath my sails.
It's kinda like getting cut from varsity baseball all over again. Or failing that algebra test. Or getting rejected from your university of choice. Or the day the recount ended. What started as a promising day just became a stepping stone to the doldrums of tomorrow.
Finished Faulkner's The Reivers last night. Slow going at first, followed by quite a bit of action in the latter middle - closing out with a foot dragging summation...
Still - it was interesting the way Faulkner wrote it so that the narrator was relating the events directly to me, addressing me as "you" and whatnot.
Quickly moved on to Life of Pi, which was a gift from Willi. Gonna try to finish this one out early. I have a bad habit of letting my books stagnate on the nightstand lately. After the first few chapters I'm thinking it's gonna be a page turner. The autobio of the author at the beginning of the book has already drawn me in - noting the similarities of our shared shame in post-graduate dalliance - then offering that little flint of hope that the creative fires are not yet quashed.
Since watching Lost in Translation -- I've been feeling the push for creation. It'd been a while that a movie ripped so much out of me - leaving me feeling hollow at it's end. I'll tell you the same thing I've been saying about it to anybody who lends an ear. I thought it something of a modified Harold and Maude - and as I'll repeat - one that left me so empty inside at its end that I felt the need to bust out pen and pad and start scratching. After sharing this succint summation with a customer the other night - he replied,
"I thought the movie did nothing. I mean nothing. I did like it whenever he (Bill Murray) was on the screen, but it really didn't seem to do anything."
This made me a lil uncomfortable about having recommended Baraka to him - but I've been thinking about what he had to say - Doing nothing - and I've come to the conclusion that perhaps therein lies some of the charm. I sat up in bed a couple of nights ago -- I think it was a few days after the bandnight where I resurrected the alto - going so far as to purchase some new reeds at $30 for the box - just listening to what I had played. It was horrendous to me. The prominence and the audacity of that horn was a grater on my nerves. I then started waxing philosophical. I can't even remember what I was really thinking - just that I was thinking - and it came along the lines of doing nothing naturally. It then started getting into consciousness and how unnatural consciousness is and something to do with leaky fissures of something else...whatever. It was late.
The cardinal rule for all creative writing teachers is to tell their students not to be wordy. And while I love inserting an obnoxiously precocious into my work - I suddenly could see that the same rule should be applied to the music. Thus - this past band night I tried to slip into the background - and just lay down some thick, long notes. I lacked the composure to continue this effort, however, when things started to unravel early in the evening.
There is nothing wrong with a slowly building inebriation - one that warms the conversation and cozies the creation - that type of activity usually carves out beautifully sculpted enthusiasm by the end of the evening - in perfect time. But when a stupor is brought on before the creative process has even begun - one which causes someone to insult and berate the creative efforts of others (here not just music, but lyrics or any creation) - all can be lost. All effort to remain focused - locked on to your aims of a natural process in your sound, tone, creation - is lost to distraction and humiliation.
Such was the case Tuesday night - and in all likelihood it looks like a break, a rest, breathing room will manifest next Tuesday. I'll probably spend it burning through some Pi - and leave zen music for a week.
That turned into a rant somewhere. Blog therapy.
Okay - inserting finger into nose, then inserting said finger into mouth, walking a bit down a country road - realizing the growing nausea created from this horrific, gummy taste swimming between the teeth in my mouth - then spitting out a giganto bouncy ball of flourescent green snot from unhinged jaws which comes to rest upon a zen rock garden is one thing.
Erotic encounters between the paper and plastic bags at the end of the counter with Kroger checkout girls - all because I had exact change: "Six cents and I can give you a dollar back," is another.
Perhaps eating Thai food after ten is a bad idea.
dork alert dork alert
captain - there are serious dork waves emerging from below us
abandon blog abandon blog
Oh.
She knows.
But will she?
or better yet - for the comments sake -
should she?
Finally got around to getting those photos up. Couldn't figure out how to have a pop up embedded in CSS -- just went with what I could and created this gallery of my snapshots at the Thrashers game nearly a month ago.
I gots to go to wizzity-ork - so that's about all I got for today.
Got this in my email today: "February 5th has become a great day for gourmet beer in Georgia! Today the state Senate passed the bill that will allow high-gravity, world class beers to be sold in Georgia. Many people have worked long and hard to get the old legislation changed that limited beer in Georgia to only 6% alcohol." more at Georgians for World Class Beer
Ahhh - the Democratic process...
Put me in a cramped room, surrounded by friends, amplifiers, drums, odd ambient lighting, add beer - and suddenly I think I can sing and play the sax really well.
The digital recordings disprove that.
Lotta choppy notes.
Of course -- there really wasn't a good spot for the microphone.
The guitars really lost their prominence.
Oh well. I haven't been blowing like I should. Outta practice. Gotta improve embouchure. Toughen up the bit -- callous or whatever - cause my lips really hurt this morning. And so did the head. Good lord.
Virtual weekend over. T-minus two hours before I'm back on the grind. I hear from fimoculous that Lost in Translation came out on DVD today. - Gonna see if I can pick that up after the shift.
I got nuthin.
I am sitting inside my domicile during a much needed day off.
Needless to say - it is raining outside.
I pine for the sunshine.
Why is it so imperative that I have this time to relax?
I think a musical example entitled brunch (0.9mb mp3) should explain everything. Make sure your sounds are normalized -- or at least have your volume down somewhat -- I didn't bother to set the levels because this was a creation of angst - not artistry.
Off to find something a little more blogworthy -- speaking of which - see-store - I offered you the guest spot to tell your version of your adventures on the road -- why don't you send me an email and I'll post it...I don't really have all the details -- and you would have a far more entertaining perspective.
