DRL Echobox
pretty much a feed dump these days.Tuesday, June 29, 2004
boom boom baby
Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom
this is a book people have been asking me about. if you want to learn about wuffie, here's the place.
okokok, i decided i'm gonna post the first chapter as a teaser. you can read it here, and then go get the rest.
========
PROLOGUE
========
I lived long enough to see the cure for death; to see the rise of the Bitchun Society, to learn ten languages; to compose three symphonies; to realize my boyhood dream of taking up residence in Disney World; to see the death of the workplace and of work.
I never thought I'd live to see the day when Keep A-Movin' Dan would decide to deadhead until the heat death of the Universe.
Dan was in his second or third blush of youth when I first met him, sometime late-XXI. He was a rangy cowpoke, apparent 25 or so, all rawhide squint-lines and sunburned neck, boots worn thin and infinitely comfortable. I was in the middle of my Chem thesis, my fourth Doctorate, and he was taking a break from Saving the World, chilling on campus in Toronto and core-dumping for some poor Anthro major. We hooked up at the Grad Students' Union -- the GSU, or Gazoo for those who knew -- on a busy Friday night, spring-ish. I was fighting a coral-slow battle for a stool at the scratched bar, inching my way closer every time the press of bodies shifted, and he had one of the few seats, surrounded by a litter of cigarette junk and empties, clearly encamped.
Some duration into my foray, he cocked his head at me and raised a sun-bleached eyebrow. "You get any closer, son, and we're going to have to get a pre-nup."
I was apparent forty or so, and I thought about bridling at being called son, but I looked into his eyes and decided that he had enough realtime that he could call me son anytime he wanted. I backed off a little and apologized.
He struck a cig and blew a pungent, strong plume over the bartender's head. "Don't worry about it. I'm probably a little over accustomed to personal space."
I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard anyone on-world talk about personal space. With the mortality rate at zero and the birth-rate at non-zero, the world was inexorably accreting a dense carpet of people, even with the migratory and deadhead drains on the population. "You've been jaunting?" I asked -- his eyes were too sharp for him to have missed an instant's experience to deadheading.
He chuckled. "No sir, not me. I'm into the kind of macho shitheadery that you only come across on-world. Jaunting's for play; I need work." The bar-glass tinkled a counterpoint.
I took a moment to conjure a HUD with his Whuffie score on it. I had to resize the window -- he had too many zeroes to fit on my standard display. I tried to act cool, but he caught the upwards flick of my eyes and then their involuntary widening. He tried a little aw-shucksery, gave it up and let a prideful grin show.
"I try not to pay it much mind. Some people, they get overly grateful." He must've seen my eyes flick up again, to pull his Whuffie history. "Wait, don't go doing that -- I'll tell you about it, you really got to know.
"Damn, you know, it's so easy to get used to life without hyperlinks. You'd think you'd really miss 'em, but you don't."
And it clicked for me. He was a missionary -- one of those fringe-dwellers who act as emissary from the Bitchun Society to the benighted corners of the world where, for whatever reasons, they want to die, starve, and choke on petrochem waste. It's amazing that these communities survive more than a generation; in the Bitchun Society proper, we usually outlive our detractors. The missionaries don't have such a high success rate -- you have to be awfully convincing to get through to a culture that's already successfully resisted nearly a century's worth of propaganda -- but when you convert a whole village, you accrue all the Whuffie they have to give. More often, missionaries end up getting refreshed from a backup after they aren't heard from for a decade or so. I'd never met one in the flesh before.
"How many successful missions have you had?" I asked.
"Figured it out, huh? I've just come off my fifth in twenty years -- counterrevolutionaries hidden out in the old Cheyenne Mountain NORAD site, still there a generation later." He sandpapered his whiskers with his fingertips. "Their parents went to ground after their life's savings vanished, and they had no use for tech any more advanced than a rifle. Plenty of those, though."
He spun a fascinating yarn then, how he slowly gained the acceptance of the mountain-dwellers, and then their trust, and then betrayed it in subtle, beneficent ways: introducing Free Energy to their greenhouses, then a gengineered crop or two, then curing a couple deaths, slowly inching them toward the Bitchun Society, until they couldn't remember why they hadn't wanted to be a part of it from the start. Now they were mostly off-world, exploring toy frontiers with unlimited energy and unlimited supplies and deadheading through the dull times en route.
"I guess it'd be too much of a shock for them to stay on-world. They think of us as the enemy, you know -- they had all kinds of plans drawn up for when we invaded them and took them away; hollow suicide teeth, booby-traps, fall-back-and-rendezvous points for the survivors. They just can't get over hating us, even though we don't even know they exist. Off-world, they can pretend that they're still living rough and hard." He rubbed his chin again, his hard calluses grating over his whiskers. "But for me, the real rough life is right here, on-world. The little enclaves, each one is like an alternate history of humanity -- what if we'd taken the Free Energy, but not deadheading? What if we'd taken deadheading, but only for the critically ill, not for people who didn't want to be bored on long bus-rides? Or no hyperlinks, no ad-hocracy, no Whuffie? Each one is different and wonderful."
I have a stupid habit of arguing for the sake of, and I found myself saying, "Wonderful? Oh sure, nothing finer than, oh, let's see, dying, starving, freezing, broiling, killing, cruelty and ignorance and pain and misery. I know I sure miss it."
Keep A-Movin' Dan snorted. "You think a junkie misses sobriety?"
I knocked on the bar. "Hello! There aren't any junkies anymore!"
He struck another cig. "But you know what a junkie _is_, right? Junkies don't miss sobriety, because they don't remember how sharp everything was, how the pain made the joy sweeter. We can't remember what it was like to work to earn our keep; to worry that there might not be _enough_, that we might get sick or get hit by a bus. We don't remember what it was like to take chances, and we sure as shit don't remember what it felt like to have them pay off."
He had a point. Here I was, only in my second or third adulthood, and already ready to toss it all in and do something, _anything_, else. He had a point -- but I wasn't about to admit it. "So you say. I say, I take a chance when I strike up a conversation in a bar, when I fall in love. . . And what about the deadheads? Two people I know, they just went deadhead for ten thousand years! Tell me that's not taking a chance!" Truth be told, almost everyone I'd known in my eighty-some years were deadheading or jaunting or just _gone_. Lonely days, then.
"Brother, that's committing half-assed suicide. The way we're going, they'll be lucky if someone doesn't just switch 'em off when it comes time to reanimate. In case you haven't noticed, it's getting a little crowded around here."
I made pish-tosh sounds and wiped off my forehead with a bar-napkin -- the Gazoo was beastly hot on summer nights. "Uh-huh, just like the world was getting a little crowded a hundred years ago, before Free Energy. Like it was getting too greenhousey, too nukey, too hot or too cold. We fixed it then, we'll fix it again when the time comes. I'm gonna be here in ten thousand years, you damn betcha, but I think I'll do it the long way around."
He cocked his head again, and gave it some thought. If it had been any of the other grad students, I'd have assumed he was grepping for some bolstering factoids to support his next sally. But with him, I just knew he was thinking about it, the old-fashioned way.
"I think that if I'm still here in ten thousand years, I'm going to be crazy as hell. Ten thousand years, pal! Ten thousand years ago, the state-of-the-art was a goat. You really think you're going to be anything recognizably human in a hundred centuries? Me, I'm not interested in being a post-person. I'm going to wake up one day, and I'm going to say, 'Well, I guess I've seen about enough,' and that'll be my last day."
I had seen where he was going with this, and I had stopped paying attention while I readied my response. I probably should have paid more attention. "But why? Why not just deadhead for a few centuries, see if there's anything that takes your fancy, and if not, back to sleep for a few more? Why do anything so _final_?"
He embarrassed me by making a show of thinking it over again, making me feel like I was just a half-pissed glib poltroon. "I suppose it's because nothing else is. I've always known that someday, I was going to stop moving, stop seeking, stop kicking, and have done with it. There'll come a day when I don't have anything left to do, except stop."
this is a book people have been asking me about. if you want to learn about wuffie, here's the place.
okokok, i decided i'm gonna post the first chapter as a teaser. you can read it here, and then go get the rest.
========
PROLOGUE
========
I lived long enough to see the cure for death; to see the rise of the Bitchun Society, to learn ten languages; to compose three symphonies; to realize my boyhood dream of taking up residence in Disney World; to see the death of the workplace and of work.
I never thought I'd live to see the day when Keep A-Movin' Dan would decide to deadhead until the heat death of the Universe.
Dan was in his second or third blush of youth when I first met him, sometime late-XXI. He was a rangy cowpoke, apparent 25 or so, all rawhide squint-lines and sunburned neck, boots worn thin and infinitely comfortable. I was in the middle of my Chem thesis, my fourth Doctorate, and he was taking a break from Saving the World, chilling on campus in Toronto and core-dumping for some poor Anthro major. We hooked up at the Grad Students' Union -- the GSU, or Gazoo for those who knew -- on a busy Friday night, spring-ish. I was fighting a coral-slow battle for a stool at the scratched bar, inching my way closer every time the press of bodies shifted, and he had one of the few seats, surrounded by a litter of cigarette junk and empties, clearly encamped.
Some duration into my foray, he cocked his head at me and raised a sun-bleached eyebrow. "You get any closer, son, and we're going to have to get a pre-nup."
I was apparent forty or so, and I thought about bridling at being called son, but I looked into his eyes and decided that he had enough realtime that he could call me son anytime he wanted. I backed off a little and apologized.
He struck a cig and blew a pungent, strong plume over the bartender's head. "Don't worry about it. I'm probably a little over accustomed to personal space."
I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard anyone on-world talk about personal space. With the mortality rate at zero and the birth-rate at non-zero, the world was inexorably accreting a dense carpet of people, even with the migratory and deadhead drains on the population. "You've been jaunting?" I asked -- his eyes were too sharp for him to have missed an instant's experience to deadheading.
He chuckled. "No sir, not me. I'm into the kind of macho shitheadery that you only come across on-world. Jaunting's for play; I need work." The bar-glass tinkled a counterpoint.
I took a moment to conjure a HUD with his Whuffie score on it. I had to resize the window -- he had too many zeroes to fit on my standard display. I tried to act cool, but he caught the upwards flick of my eyes and then their involuntary widening. He tried a little aw-shucksery, gave it up and let a prideful grin show.
"I try not to pay it much mind. Some people, they get overly grateful." He must've seen my eyes flick up again, to pull his Whuffie history. "Wait, don't go doing that -- I'll tell you about it, you really got to know.
"Damn, you know, it's so easy to get used to life without hyperlinks. You'd think you'd really miss 'em, but you don't."
And it clicked for me. He was a missionary -- one of those fringe-dwellers who act as emissary from the Bitchun Society to the benighted corners of the world where, for whatever reasons, they want to die, starve, and choke on petrochem waste. It's amazing that these communities survive more than a generation; in the Bitchun Society proper, we usually outlive our detractors. The missionaries don't have such a high success rate -- you have to be awfully convincing to get through to a culture that's already successfully resisted nearly a century's worth of propaganda -- but when you convert a whole village, you accrue all the Whuffie they have to give. More often, missionaries end up getting refreshed from a backup after they aren't heard from for a decade or so. I'd never met one in the flesh before.
"How many successful missions have you had?" I asked.
"Figured it out, huh? I've just come off my fifth in twenty years -- counterrevolutionaries hidden out in the old Cheyenne Mountain NORAD site, still there a generation later." He sandpapered his whiskers with his fingertips. "Their parents went to ground after their life's savings vanished, and they had no use for tech any more advanced than a rifle. Plenty of those, though."
He spun a fascinating yarn then, how he slowly gained the acceptance of the mountain-dwellers, and then their trust, and then betrayed it in subtle, beneficent ways: introducing Free Energy to their greenhouses, then a gengineered crop or two, then curing a couple deaths, slowly inching them toward the Bitchun Society, until they couldn't remember why they hadn't wanted to be a part of it from the start. Now they were mostly off-world, exploring toy frontiers with unlimited energy and unlimited supplies and deadheading through the dull times en route.
"I guess it'd be too much of a shock for them to stay on-world. They think of us as the enemy, you know -- they had all kinds of plans drawn up for when we invaded them and took them away; hollow suicide teeth, booby-traps, fall-back-and-rendezvous points for the survivors. They just can't get over hating us, even though we don't even know they exist. Off-world, they can pretend that they're still living rough and hard." He rubbed his chin again, his hard calluses grating over his whiskers. "But for me, the real rough life is right here, on-world. The little enclaves, each one is like an alternate history of humanity -- what if we'd taken the Free Energy, but not deadheading? What if we'd taken deadheading, but only for the critically ill, not for people who didn't want to be bored on long bus-rides? Or no hyperlinks, no ad-hocracy, no Whuffie? Each one is different and wonderful."
I have a stupid habit of arguing for the sake of, and I found myself saying, "Wonderful? Oh sure, nothing finer than, oh, let's see, dying, starving, freezing, broiling, killing, cruelty and ignorance and pain and misery. I know I sure miss it."
Keep A-Movin' Dan snorted. "You think a junkie misses sobriety?"
I knocked on the bar. "Hello! There aren't any junkies anymore!"
He struck another cig. "But you know what a junkie _is_, right? Junkies don't miss sobriety, because they don't remember how sharp everything was, how the pain made the joy sweeter. We can't remember what it was like to work to earn our keep; to worry that there might not be _enough_, that we might get sick or get hit by a bus. We don't remember what it was like to take chances, and we sure as shit don't remember what it felt like to have them pay off."
He had a point. Here I was, only in my second or third adulthood, and already ready to toss it all in and do something, _anything_, else. He had a point -- but I wasn't about to admit it. "So you say. I say, I take a chance when I strike up a conversation in a bar, when I fall in love. . . And what about the deadheads? Two people I know, they just went deadhead for ten thousand years! Tell me that's not taking a chance!" Truth be told, almost everyone I'd known in my eighty-some years were deadheading or jaunting or just _gone_. Lonely days, then.
"Brother, that's committing half-assed suicide. The way we're going, they'll be lucky if someone doesn't just switch 'em off when it comes time to reanimate. In case you haven't noticed, it's getting a little crowded around here."
I made pish-tosh sounds and wiped off my forehead with a bar-napkin -- the Gazoo was beastly hot on summer nights. "Uh-huh, just like the world was getting a little crowded a hundred years ago, before Free Energy. Like it was getting too greenhousey, too nukey, too hot or too cold. We fixed it then, we'll fix it again when the time comes. I'm gonna be here in ten thousand years, you damn betcha, but I think I'll do it the long way around."
He cocked his head again, and gave it some thought. If it had been any of the other grad students, I'd have assumed he was grepping for some bolstering factoids to support his next sally. But with him, I just knew he was thinking about it, the old-fashioned way.
"I think that if I'm still here in ten thousand years, I'm going to be crazy as hell. Ten thousand years, pal! Ten thousand years ago, the state-of-the-art was a goat. You really think you're going to be anything recognizably human in a hundred centuries? Me, I'm not interested in being a post-person. I'm going to wake up one day, and I'm going to say, 'Well, I guess I've seen about enough,' and that'll be my last day."
I had seen where he was going with this, and I had stopped paying attention while I readied my response. I probably should have paid more attention. "But why? Why not just deadhead for a few centuries, see if there's anything that takes your fancy, and if not, back to sleep for a few more? Why do anything so _final_?"
He embarrassed me by making a show of thinking it over again, making me feel like I was just a half-pissed glib poltroon. "I suppose it's because nothing else is. I've always known that someday, I was going to stop moving, stop seeking, stop kicking, and have done with it. There'll come a day when I don't have anything left to do, except stop."
episode 1
cuteness. welcome debz! it's good to have you around. and the rest of oh sarah!'s site is nice, too.
i'm here at the same kitchen table desk, tapping away on mom's mac. maybe alyssa didn't leave my toothpaste behind - it could have been in her pocket. the toothpaste on the bed looked like mine, but now i have two travel tubes - it seems improbable that i would.
green is everything outside the window. must be due to this rain we've been having. i hope it lets up, the mold is making my eyes into tiny whale eyes.
i bought some things today at Breed & Co., the hardware store down the street from my house. it's fun to go in there, like i did when i was a kid, and when the helpful salesman asks if you need any help, surprise him and say yes. and lightbulbs, too.
steak for dinner - mild fear of mad cow. i've been on a paranoid germ streak lately. maybe that's the cause of my allergies.
i'm here at the same kitchen table desk, tapping away on mom's mac. maybe alyssa didn't leave my toothpaste behind - it could have been in her pocket. the toothpaste on the bed looked like mine, but now i have two travel tubes - it seems improbable that i would.
green is everything outside the window. must be due to this rain we've been having. i hope it lets up, the mold is making my eyes into tiny whale eyes.
i bought some things today at Breed & Co., the hardware store down the street from my house. it's fun to go in there, like i did when i was a kid, and when the helpful salesman asks if you need any help, surprise him and say yes. and lightbulbs, too.
steak for dinner - mild fear of mad cow. i've been on a paranoid germ streak lately. maybe that's the cause of my allergies.
Monday, June 28, 2004
that's my toothpaste!
tonight: exhausting. went to the pub with hayden after work (and cooking dinner - mashers and leftover veggies and tempeh.) met up with anthony and hank after work, then panika and her friend dropped by looking for a place to crash. next, alyssa and sunny, also looking for a place to crash. i gave the latter some bread, and sunny was into heights big time. he left with a copy of sopk. she nearly left with my toothpaste.
now i'm winding down, gonna have tea in ten minutes, read conrad and sleep.
the prospect of working on music with amy has me bathed in possibilities. but we can't do everything, although we could do anything. lake vs rhythm beds. botanical gardens or stay up all night. energy, and how to spend it.
a phrase that doesn't come up on google: "breakbeat pansy"
now i'm winding down, gonna have tea in ten minutes, read conrad and sleep.
the prospect of working on music with amy has me bathed in possibilities. but we can't do everything, although we could do anything. lake vs rhythm beds. botanical gardens or stay up all night. energy, and how to spend it.
a phrase that doesn't come up on google: "breakbeat pansy"
Sunday, June 27, 2004
snakes
poisonous snakes. just got back from a jog, down by the creek. saw Scott from work on the way - don't know why he was walking to work so early. so i took a right to avoid his work ethic meeting my leisure. down by the creek, the place i usually cross was flooded over from the rain. so i scrambled through bushes and over rocks (maybe its the conrad) to find another place to fjord. at the last outcropping, i hopped onto this rock, and to my surprise a big water moccasin slithered off and into the water. glad he was scared of me, but not too scared.
so i turned back and scrambled the rocks again and crossed at the old place, wetting my shoes. and ran all the way home.
so i turned back and scrambled the rocks again and crossed at the old place, wetting my shoes. and ran all the way home.
Saturday, June 26, 2004
party without drinking?
so last night i went ruta's shindig, and made a just great audioblog about it on the walk home. but i hit red instead of # 1, and my recording went to nowhere land.
i just got back from bartending at the granite. the same lady from last week came in and got the same thing sitting at the bar. and two other ladies talked about "farenheit 911" and i poured a few things or other. it was slow. so slow. and i strained orange juice - and made lemonaide.
but that's not what i came here to tell you about. i'm here to tell you about dancing. i danced last night -- i did air guitar to the white stripes, and sung raspberry beret, and phreaked out to "superstitious." and tonight who knows what's going to happen aside from a hot hot hott bath, to soak out my still-sore-from-jogging-yesterday muscles. maybe tonight i'll party w/o drinking.
i just got back from bartending at the granite. the same lady from last week came in and got the same thing sitting at the bar. and two other ladies talked about "farenheit 911" and i poured a few things or other. it was slow. so slow. and i strained orange juice - and made lemonaide.
but that's not what i came here to tell you about. i'm here to tell you about dancing. i danced last night -- i did air guitar to the white stripes, and sung raspberry beret, and phreaked out to "superstitious." and tonight who knows what's going to happen aside from a hot hot hott bath, to soak out my still-sore-from-jogging-yesterday muscles. maybe tonight i'll party w/o drinking.
Pixies, Modest Mouse to Play Austin City Limits Fest
Pixies, Modest Mouse to Play Austin City Limits Fest
Palm Elementary Choir to tear the roof off with unexpected "Music Is Fun" encore
Eric Marth reports:
You've seen Billy Bragg, Wilco, Ben Kweller, Jonny Lang, Beck, Spoon, and dozens (maybe hundreds?) of others grace the stage on PBS's long-running TV series, Austin City Limits. Now, dozens (pretty fucking close to hundreds, actually) of truly excellent bands have signed on to perform at this summer's Austin City Limits Festival. It's like, synergy, man.
The only details released so far are the dates and the bands, but among the mob of festival-confirmed artists are The Beta Band, Cat Power, Neko Case, The Pixies, Wilco, and Spoon. Oh shit, and also, Broken Social Scene, Modest Mouse, My Morning Jacket, Calexico and Centro-Matic. Oops-- don't forget American Analog Set, Franz Ferdinand, and... oh, just read the damn list for yourself. Set to run from September 17th through the 19th at Zilker Park in Austin, Texas, the ACLF is pretty much a guaranteed combination in quality and quantity. It's a veritable 69 Love Songs of a festival: too long, too eclectic, too hott. Here, in convenient alphabetical-type style, is the list of bands scheduled to perform:
American Analog Set
Terry Allen
Trey Anastasio
Anthropos
Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra
Asleep at the Wheel
Marcia Ball
Bobby Bare, Jr.
The Bells of Joy
The Beta Band
Big Head Todd & The Monsters
The Biscuit Brothers
The Blind Boys of Alabama
Broken Social Scene
Doyle Bramhall
Marc Broussard
Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown
Solomon Burke
The John Butler Trio
Cake
Calexico
Cat Power
Troy Campbell
Neko Case
Centro-Matic
Cooper's Uncle
Sheryl Crow
Kacy Crowley
Dashboard Confessional
Howie Day
Deadman
The Dirty Dozen Brass Band
Drive-By Truckers
The Durdens
Electric Church
Joe Ely
Endochine
Franz Ferdinand
Guy Forsyth
Donavon Frankenreiter
David Garza
The Gospelaires
The Gourds
The Greencards
G. Love & Special Sauce
Gomez
John Dee Graham
Pat Green
Patty Griffin
Butch Hancock
Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals
Earl Harvin Trio
Terri Hendrix
The Holmes Brothers
Jack Ingram
Mason Jennings
Jack Johnson
The Killers
Dayna Kurtz
Ben Kweller
Los Lonely Boys
Ray Lamontagne
Tucker Livingston
Louque
Shelby Lynne
Joe McDermott
Willy Mason
Medeski Martin & Wood
Lucas Miller
The Mighty Sincere Voices of Navasota
Monte Montgomery
Abra Moore
Modest Mouse
Mofro
Trish Murphy
My Morning Jacket
New Monsoon
North Mississippi Allstars
Old 97's
Ollabelle
Palm Elementary Choir
Papa Mali
Particle
Patrice Pike
The Pierces
The Pixies
Davis Raines
Rebirth Brass Band
Reckless Kelly
Bruce Robison
The Roots
Rose Hill Drive
Josh Rouse
The Shields of Faith
The Slip
The Soundtrack of Our Lives
Slightly Stoopid
Sloan
Mindy Smith
Spoon
Samantha Stollenwerck
Star Kid's Yoga
The Legendary Soul Stirrers
Tea Leaf Green
Toots & The Maytals
J.T. Van Zandt
Warrior
The Wailers
Walter "Wolfman" Washington
Dale Watson
Jason White
Holly Williams
Kelly Willis
Wilco
.:Austin City Limits Festival: http://www.aclfestival.com
Palm Elementary Choir to tear the roof off with unexpected "Music Is Fun" encore
Eric Marth reports:
You've seen Billy Bragg, Wilco, Ben Kweller, Jonny Lang, Beck, Spoon, and dozens (maybe hundreds?) of others grace the stage on PBS's long-running TV series, Austin City Limits. Now, dozens (pretty fucking close to hundreds, actually) of truly excellent bands have signed on to perform at this summer's Austin City Limits Festival. It's like, synergy, man.
The only details released so far are the dates and the bands, but among the mob of festival-confirmed artists are The Beta Band, Cat Power, Neko Case, The Pixies, Wilco, and Spoon. Oh shit, and also, Broken Social Scene, Modest Mouse, My Morning Jacket, Calexico and Centro-Matic. Oops-- don't forget American Analog Set, Franz Ferdinand, and... oh, just read the damn list for yourself. Set to run from September 17th through the 19th at Zilker Park in Austin, Texas, the ACLF is pretty much a guaranteed combination in quality and quantity. It's a veritable 69 Love Songs of a festival: too long, too eclectic, too hott. Here, in convenient alphabetical-type style, is the list of bands scheduled to perform:
American Analog Set
Terry Allen
Trey Anastasio
Anthropos
Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra
Asleep at the Wheel
Marcia Ball
Bobby Bare, Jr.
The Bells of Joy
The Beta Band
Big Head Todd & The Monsters
The Biscuit Brothers
The Blind Boys of Alabama
Broken Social Scene
Doyle Bramhall
Marc Broussard
Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown
Solomon Burke
The John Butler Trio
Cake
Calexico
Cat Power
Troy Campbell
Neko Case
Centro-Matic
Cooper's Uncle
Sheryl Crow
Kacy Crowley
Dashboard Confessional
Howie Day
Deadman
The Dirty Dozen Brass Band
Drive-By Truckers
The Durdens
Electric Church
Joe Ely
Endochine
Franz Ferdinand
Guy Forsyth
Donavon Frankenreiter
David Garza
The Gospelaires
The Gourds
The Greencards
G. Love & Special Sauce
Gomez
John Dee Graham
Pat Green
Patty Griffin
Butch Hancock
Ben Harper & the Innocent Criminals
Earl Harvin Trio
Terri Hendrix
The Holmes Brothers
Jack Ingram
Mason Jennings
Jack Johnson
The Killers
Dayna Kurtz
Ben Kweller
Los Lonely Boys
Ray Lamontagne
Tucker Livingston
Louque
Shelby Lynne
Joe McDermott
Willy Mason
Medeski Martin & Wood
Lucas Miller
The Mighty Sincere Voices of Navasota
Monte Montgomery
Abra Moore
Modest Mouse
Mofro
Trish Murphy
My Morning Jacket
New Monsoon
North Mississippi Allstars
Old 97's
Ollabelle
Palm Elementary Choir
Papa Mali
Particle
Patrice Pike
The Pierces
The Pixies
Davis Raines
Rebirth Brass Band
Reckless Kelly
Bruce Robison
The Roots
Rose Hill Drive
Josh Rouse
The Shields of Faith
The Slip
The Soundtrack of Our Lives
Slightly Stoopid
Sloan
Mindy Smith
Spoon
Samantha Stollenwerck
Star Kid's Yoga
The Legendary Soul Stirrers
Tea Leaf Green
Toots & The Maytals
J.T. Van Zandt
Warrior
The Wailers
Walter "Wolfman" Washington
Dale Watson
Jason White
Holly Williams
Kelly Willis
Wilco
.:Austin City Limits Festival: http://www.aclfestival.com
Friday, June 25, 2004
&!
i got up this morning and jogged. it made me SO TIRED i went back to sleep when i got home. i love heart of darkness but it makes me sleepy.
today was devoid of entertaining anecdotes, but i will say this, "MGUMGUGMMGUMGMG." which is the sound of munching an eewie gooey brownie with cheesecake parts. i did a lot of that, and i ate a bunch of other stuff today, too. maybe the running made me hungry. and last night i learned that talking about web design can be as hott as almost anything you can do on the phone.
"less than" "greater than" "ampersand"
"ooooh, ampersand!"
today was devoid of entertaining anecdotes, but i will say this, "MGUMGUGMMGUMGMG." which is the sound of munching an eewie gooey brownie with cheesecake parts. i did a lot of that, and i ate a bunch of other stuff today, too. maybe the running made me hungry. and last night i learned that talking about web design can be as hott as almost anything you can do on the phone.
"less than" "greater than" "ampersand"
"ooooh, ampersand!"
Thursday, June 24, 2004
long summer nights
i went back through my archives today, worried that a week is too short a time. i looked to see what happened to me a week ago. i went to the mall. that seems liks a Long Time Ago. i'm glad that that seems so long ago. it means a week can be a long time. a long week is what i want, but not just yet, first i want the rest of this week to be of regular length.
i was in bed, reading Jospeh Conrad (secret: i've never read heart of darkness) from my mom's old college copy, when Elliott called me and said "what are you up to?" and i said "reading Conrad." so he's gonna drop by in a minute, which ought to be fun, 'cause i'm feeling relaxed on account of the Easy Now tea i drank earlier. my tounge got burnt. i think i deserved it for being mean to Claire in my earlier post. i love you, Claire, even when you peer pressure me to blog.
tomorrow i work in the evening. my morning plans include excersize. my after work plans include Ruta's party. i wonder what Amy's doing tonight. will she call? will we have anything to talk about? we never know 'till we try it.
i was in bed, reading Jospeh Conrad (secret: i've never read heart of darkness) from my mom's old college copy, when Elliott called me and said "what are you up to?" and i said "reading Conrad." so he's gonna drop by in a minute, which ought to be fun, 'cause i'm feeling relaxed on account of the Easy Now tea i drank earlier. my tounge got burnt. i think i deserved it for being mean to Claire in my earlier post. i love you, Claire, even when you peer pressure me to blog.
tomorrow i work in the evening. my morning plans include excersize. my after work plans include Ruta's party. i wonder what Amy's doing tonight. will she call? will we have anything to talk about? we never know 'till we try it.
so
so things were going pretty good. i'm down at The Table with S and Carneal, an Hankwas here eating the yogurt i brought him, when blonde meanie #1 (coffee serf) came out the back door to have a cigarette. he said, "Hank." like that was all he had to say. Hank says "I'm not drinking, I'm just sitting with my friends, eating yogurt."
"Leave." so he did, and now S, Carneal and I are talking shit to each other and feeling like our peaceful reverie has been interrupted.
today i made as much money as i just spent at the grocery store. but i've got provisions. so i'll eat good tomorrow morning. canteloupe, cottage cheese, and garlic stuffed olives.
now were talking about greg's hypothetical cottage cheese, cauliflower, and mash potato burrito. and dan quayle.
happy, claire?
"Leave." so he did, and now S, Carneal and I are talking shit to each other and feeling like our peaceful reverie has been interrupted.
today i made as much money as i just spent at the grocery store. but i've got provisions. so i'll eat good tomorrow morning. canteloupe, cottage cheese, and garlic stuffed olives.
now were talking about greg's hypothetical cottage cheese, cauliflower, and mash potato burrito. and dan quayle.
happy, claire?
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
ok medium dogs, if you know and love me (and run into me from time to time), i probably already told you this, but At Dusk's new album Heights is avaliable for download. atduskmusic.com
work today - A OK. i walked with $55, which was nearly 30% of my sales. big tippaz. yeah yeah.
work today - A OK. i walked with $55, which was nearly 30% of my sales. big tippaz. yeah yeah.
Monday, June 21, 2004
the 3am psych-out
last night as conversation with my special ladyfriend was winding down. i heard a ker-thunk outside somewhere. not sure what it was (sounded like a rumble), i was pretty sure it was a harbinger of dischord in my immediate area. sure 'nuff, within 5 minutes, anthony was pounding on the door. within 10, hank was using my bathroom. turns out he'd fallen down my stairs.
i call it the 3am psych-out. as in "psyched ya out that you were gonna get to go to sleep in peace. boo ya!" the 3-am psych-out is as reliable around here as smog in LA, but still hasn't lost its power to surprise. "boo ya!"
i learned a new trick: using the power of bathrobe as signifier. (if you open the door in your robe, people are less likely to assume that now is the best time to offer you a beer / joint / bright light.
i'm up early, thanks the psych-out's cousin: the 7am dumpster service. what am i doing?
i call it the 3am psych-out. as in "psyched ya out that you were gonna get to go to sleep in peace. boo ya!" the 3-am psych-out is as reliable around here as smog in LA, but still hasn't lost its power to surprise. "boo ya!"
i learned a new trick: using the power of bathrobe as signifier. (if you open the door in your robe, people are less likely to assume that now is the best time to offer you a beer / joint / bright light.
i'm up early, thanks the psych-out's cousin: the 7am dumpster service. what am i doing?
organic carrots
i was almost late for work today because i was eating pizza and reading outside of wheatsville coop. but i got there and got paid, so now i'm happy. looks like the rent is gonna come through this month.
right now i'm trying to figure out the particulars and practicalities of returning to portland, a place i only kinda sorta left at all. I want my stumptown coffee!
i've been on edge all evening b/c i wasn't feeling so social, and everything was loud - with a band playing and shit like that, and S and Hank wanting to hang out, which is nice, but i wasn't up for it, and i drank too much mate tea today, so my nerves were up, and then hank had bad news for me, and now i'm feeling a little shaken.
at least i have organic carrots and free nighttime minutes.
right now i'm trying to figure out the particulars and practicalities of returning to portland, a place i only kinda sorta left at all. I want my stumptown coffee!
i've been on edge all evening b/c i wasn't feeling so social, and everything was loud - with a band playing and shit like that, and S and Hank wanting to hang out, which is nice, but i wasn't up for it, and i drank too much mate tea today, so my nerves were up, and then hank had bad news for me, and now i'm feeling a little shaken.
at least i have organic carrots and free nighttime minutes.
Saturday, June 19, 2004
pirate loves you
night falls over the city. i've been at work for a few hours, nothing much has happened. a few frozens, some wine. suddenly jeff, his sister christine, and anthony (all dressed up in disguise) come in and sit at the bar -- at the same time, orders ring in for two martinis (one belvedere and one beefeater, both dry with an olive.) i scan the ticket, and pour two belvederes, feeling great.
enter: sarah #1. "these are both the same?" sarah #2: "lemme see that. no, i can really see how those would look the same." we all agree that the ticket would make you think so (so many drinks are the same). ignorant to the proceedings, ebullient and boisterous, jeff harangues me about my job: "wow! i've never seen you look so clean cut." the thought slices through my mind, that i dress like this every day. the same?
one vodka, one gin. i remake the martinis whilst simultaneous orders fly in for cosmos, wine, and oddly, no beer at all tonight. i'm weeded. jeff keeps talking so i tell him to shut up. sarah #2 gets her own frozen, and stacy lynne (you have to call her by both) grabs her saffire and tonic without my even noticing. i'm pouring palliser (luckily one of those newfangled screw tops, which actually keeps the wine freshher) and maybe some saintsbury garnet.
soon it's over, but the kids hang for a while. it's fun when friends come in. i break anthony's hundred, or rather have miranda do it. i've got to take a math test before they will give me my own drawer. after the kids leave, the night - slow.
more: cut, i left the building, calling cary on the phone. he'd call back. and then i remembered i'd forgotten to clock out, so i called and clocked out, inconveniencing miranda. went home, talked to cary. hung with hank on the porch. things were quiet. checked my pockets... miranda's office keys! fuck me. i put my shoes back on and hightail it back to the restaurant circa 10:30, talking with Cary on the way. had to put him on hold while i went in and returned the keys.
it looks like at dusk has a good opportunity lined up in austin, incompatible with the rest of the tour schedule. could use better coordination. central database web accessible. can you webshare from iCal? alternatively, gimme 3hrs on filemaker. diy.
i keep looking at this sexy picture on my desktop. i can't quite see her, but neither can you, it's password-protected. if only i had f11.
heights, completed but inaccessible, tickle my neurons.
anthony and i found a bunch of polaroid photos down in the creek behind ego's on congress -- scattered, some muddy. italian bike contests and cathedrals, some people, including a hipster girl everyone seemed to recognize. anthony asked around at bars "do you recognize this girl?" we were directed to T-1 biker team / bikeshop, which consists of the austinites pictured doing 360°s in italy. mystery almost solved, but the pictures still sit here in my apartment, waiting to be returned. i might appropriate them. anthony: private-eye. me: pirate.
enter: sarah #1. "these are both the same?" sarah #2: "lemme see that. no, i can really see how those would look the same." we all agree that the ticket would make you think so (so many drinks are the same). ignorant to the proceedings, ebullient and boisterous, jeff harangues me about my job: "wow! i've never seen you look so clean cut." the thought slices through my mind, that i dress like this every day. the same?
one vodka, one gin. i remake the martinis whilst simultaneous orders fly in for cosmos, wine, and oddly, no beer at all tonight. i'm weeded. jeff keeps talking so i tell him to shut up. sarah #2 gets her own frozen, and stacy lynne (you have to call her by both) grabs her saffire and tonic without my even noticing. i'm pouring palliser (luckily one of those newfangled screw tops, which actually keeps the wine freshher) and maybe some saintsbury garnet.
soon it's over, but the kids hang for a while. it's fun when friends come in. i break anthony's hundred, or rather have miranda do it. i've got to take a math test before they will give me my own drawer. after the kids leave, the night - slow.
more: cut, i left the building, calling cary on the phone. he'd call back. and then i remembered i'd forgotten to clock out, so i called and clocked out, inconveniencing miranda. went home, talked to cary. hung with hank on the porch. things were quiet. checked my pockets... miranda's office keys! fuck me. i put my shoes back on and hightail it back to the restaurant circa 10:30, talking with Cary on the way. had to put him on hold while i went in and returned the keys.
it looks like at dusk has a good opportunity lined up in austin, incompatible with the rest of the tour schedule. could use better coordination. central database web accessible. can you webshare from iCal? alternatively, gimme 3hrs on filemaker. diy.
i keep looking at this sexy picture on my desktop. i can't quite see her, but neither can you, it's password-protected. if only i had f11.
heights, completed but inaccessible, tickle my neurons.
anthony and i found a bunch of polaroid photos down in the creek behind ego's on congress -- scattered, some muddy. italian bike contests and cathedrals, some people, including a hipster girl everyone seemed to recognize. anthony asked around at bars "do you recognize this girl?" we were directed to T-1 biker team / bikeshop, which consists of the austinites pictured doing 360°s in italy. mystery almost solved, but the pictures still sit here in my apartment, waiting to be returned. i might appropriate them. anthony: private-eye. me: pirate.
texas makes more sense...
...when you've been drinking.
i spent the morning bar-hopping with anthony, hooking up at dusk gigs. the hole in the wall on the sunday the 25th, and now it's looking like punk rock BBQ on the 24th at Trophy's - a fine place to play, and great for promoting the next night's show.
tha apartment is still relatively clean, and i go into work tonight, making mostly martinis and frozens. i think i have time to sober up beforehand, as well as shower. it's been good to get out of the house. here's to making bank tonight.
i spent the morning bar-hopping with anthony, hooking up at dusk gigs. the hole in the wall on the sunday the 25th, and now it's looking like punk rock BBQ on the 24th at Trophy's - a fine place to play, and great for promoting the next night's show.
tha apartment is still relatively clean, and i go into work tonight, making mostly martinis and frozens. i think i have time to sober up beforehand, as well as shower. it's been good to get out of the house. here's to making bank tonight.
Friday, June 18, 2004
rub it.
I traversed stairs with matresses. I've only taken bath's alone for awhile. I'm experimenting with capitalization. There's a prayer-rug in the middle of my apartment. I'm so fresh and so clean.
Tried to watch Lawrence Olivier's King Lear yesterday; multitasking, I attempted to sleep. I had to turn off the movie half-way through. All yelling and no cinematography.
Amy K - all night conversation. makes me glow inside.
Dinner with mom & dad last night, booked At Dusk tonight. Do you guys want Sun the 25th, or Tues the 27th? Anthony recommends Sunday.
Had a major freak-out jam session tonight. Hayden on drum machine, me on lazer - all from the same bass amp. wicked beats. I think I might have found my instrument.
grampz@gmail.com or jchris at gmail? vote with your messages. i'm also running a test here, the exposed address grampz@gmail.com will get caught by spiders, how well do the spam filters react?
Tried to watch Lawrence Olivier's King Lear yesterday; multitasking, I attempted to sleep. I had to turn off the movie half-way through. All yelling and no cinematography.
Amy K - all night conversation. makes me glow inside.
Dinner with mom & dad last night, booked At Dusk tonight. Do you guys want Sun the 25th, or Tues the 27th? Anthony recommends Sunday.
Had a major freak-out jam session tonight. Hayden on drum machine, me on lazer - all from the same bass amp. wicked beats. I think I might have found my instrument.
grampz@gmail.com or jchris at gmail? vote with your messages. i'm also running a test here, the exposed address grampz@gmail.com will get caught by spiders, how well do the spam filters react?
911 chronolgy narrated by the London Free Press.
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
nothing really happened today
but on another note: i did talk to claire mcbabe last night. always enlightening. she called at one of the few moments she could have caught me, and we talked about digs and sibs and pot and romance.
Gmail Invites for sale on Ebay? stoopid.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
wet seal
been around town with mom today. went to central market, the gap, tarrytown pharmacy (childhood haunt), and The Mall. the same Mall where i went with Marinda towards the end of my freshman year in high school. the same mall where banana republic used to have a real khaki jeep in the window. now they have a kiosk where you can get your photo engraved on a piece of metal. and the doors are automatically sliding. me and mom both entered the contest to win a $500 shopping spree, blithely ignoring the "one entry per family" rule.
now i'm at the 'rents, drinking a spicy martini. i say it is spicy because it is. and in contains one olive of type "habañero stuffed." mom's excited that amy is coming to visit, but not as excited as I am. i just bit into the aformentioned olive, and now i think i need medical attention. hot. woooo! endorphins.
that is all.
now i'm at the 'rents, drinking a spicy martini. i say it is spicy because it is. and in contains one olive of type "habañero stuffed." mom's excited that amy is coming to visit, but not as excited as I am. i just bit into the aformentioned olive, and now i think i need medical attention. hot. woooo! endorphins.
that is all.
Monday, June 14, 2004
captain kangaroo
walking TV, talking telephone, changing socks, it's hot.
the sky blue, getting darker. coffee is popular tonight.
i came up with a new way to make sound today. my akai keyboard can be some drums, and it will arpeggiate, and then i start up the drum machine at a different tempo, and all hell breaks loose. and i wrote words for it, about the early days of honorable discharge. should be fun.
the sky blue, getting darker. coffee is popular tonight.
i came up with a new way to make sound today. my akai keyboard can be some drums, and it will arpeggiate, and then i start up the drum machine at a different tempo, and all hell breaks loose. and i wrote words for it, about the early days of honorable discharge. should be fun.
willing
i'm a little sticky from when this guy jo dropped his canned malt liquor and it burst and sprayed me. my nose tells me there's a mildew problem in my apartment - i'm gonna tear the room apart, find the cure. i ate the last viable food in the place (toast with artichoke hearts and mayo.)
what do all these things have in common? not sure, but tomorrow i'll be getting some things done. i've finished the talking heads book; next up - bulk granola, soy milk.
i'm in that mood today where i don't appreciate the prescient things people say. i don't want to be known, and when people see through me, it's vicious. at other times i want to be known - isn't that the essence of communication? but today hank kept saying nearly true things about me. i appreciate his insight and intuition, as qualities, but when someone can tell you things about yourself you don't even want to know... you figure out ways to change the subject.
maybe it's a wake-up call that i've had my head in the sand. i think waiting will not long be my main activity. i'm still trying to formulate and understand my updated set of desires. what do i want now that i've got what i want?
i sleep, read, blog, talk, listen, think, smile, work, work, joke, eat, shower, sit. i even create. collaborate. but i don't strive. i've had months and months at a time, where all my eating, sleeping, working, creating, and collaborating are strivings for a goal. for something i need.
i guess i need focus. the urge for a quieter, more focused life continues.
what do all these things have in common? not sure, but tomorrow i'll be getting some things done. i've finished the talking heads book; next up - bulk granola, soy milk.
i'm in that mood today where i don't appreciate the prescient things people say. i don't want to be known, and when people see through me, it's vicious. at other times i want to be known - isn't that the essence of communication? but today hank kept saying nearly true things about me. i appreciate his insight and intuition, as qualities, but when someone can tell you things about yourself you don't even want to know... you figure out ways to change the subject.
maybe it's a wake-up call that i've had my head in the sand. i think waiting will not long be my main activity. i'm still trying to formulate and understand my updated set of desires. what do i want now that i've got what i want?
i sleep, read, blog, talk, listen, think, smile, work, work, joke, eat, shower, sit. i even create. collaborate. but i don't strive. i've had months and months at a time, where all my eating, sleeping, working, creating, and collaborating are strivings for a goal. for something i need.
i guess i need focus. the urge for a quieter, more focused life continues.
Sunday, June 13, 2004
the beautiful hollow by the broad bay
training - next saturday i am a bartender. good hourly, decent tips. and you don't have to be everywhere at once - the inverse, you have to do everything at once. jason's friend misha and i came up with that one after i made my last drink of the evening, her frozen mint margarita. a lot of bombay saphire tonight, and a fair amount of ice.
bars close soon, i'm half-expecting anthony to bring a drunk woman here. earlier today i was sitting in the shop when a caterpiller climbed up my foot. a scary one with spines. i was ok. this evening, tweaked the template. did some image searching. listened to music for dozens radio.
ten-digit dialing, and when you're far away, and coffee cup, and reid's song, oh my! i've already brushed my teeth three times today.
bars close soon, i'm half-expecting anthony to bring a drunk woman here. earlier today i was sitting in the shop when a caterpiller climbed up my foot. a scary one with spines. i was ok. this evening, tweaked the template. did some image searching. listened to music for dozens radio.
ten-digit dialing, and when you're far away, and coffee cup, and reid's song, oh my! i've already brushed my teeth three times today.
Perfect is Boring
Sometimes that's the whole trick, is hearing the difference between pretty good and great. Between lousy and good is easy, anybody can do that. But good and great can be a fine line, and it can be hard to distinguish if you're new at this. That's essentially what we're talking about here, the difference between good and great. And people say to me, "I want it perfect." But to me perfect is boring. We can try to make it great, but perfect is boring. - Shelly Yakus, TapeOp No. 31
Saturday, June 12, 2004
just a second ago, i heard someone calling my name. i looked around and around, but saw not the source. so i yelled, "hey!?!" in my friendly way. i turned out to be Ruta down on the patio. i've decided being a confused is not embarassing as long as you're cute doing it. i felt cute, like a panda.
Friday, June 11, 2004
santori time
i've been looking closer at small things, i think. i spent half the day half-naked on the floor, drawing and photographing things- myself, the art on the walls. a remix concept for paintings: my digi cam takes quick series 16 shot grid pictures. if i try to move the camera just so that the art i'm photographing comes out least distorted, it never works. if i just don't care, sometimes i get wonderful results. i took a lot of pictures of me in the bathtub also. kissing a light bulb. with a stuffed bunny in the other hand. the light in the bathroom is unbeatable.
also - dinner at grandma's. we made portabello sandwiches and hung out. talked about portland, talked about relations. grandma is among the few people i know that don't require my making a great effort to be understood. i think we were both a little sleepy.
- new template... yeah i know. i just got sick of the old one. too much to keep track of. too many changes, like layers in the fossil record. plus the new template bandwagon is revving up. and i'm jealous of the "previous posts" section. and sick of my music crashing the free computers at schlotsky's.
more news - hank has a blog now. the first post barely exists, but i'm sure it will grow in time. West 29th Street Blues
also - dinner at grandma's. we made portabello sandwiches and hung out. talked about portland, talked about relations. grandma is among the few people i know that don't require my making a great effort to be understood. i think we were both a little sleepy.
- new template... yeah i know. i just got sick of the old one. too much to keep track of. too many changes, like layers in the fossil record. plus the new template bandwagon is revving up. and i'm jealous of the "previous posts" section. and sick of my music crashing the free computers at schlotsky's.
more news - hank has a blog now. the first post barely exists, but i'm sure it will grow in time. West 29th Street Blues
i'm lucky to be alive
things turn out for me, i notice. tonight, bloodburning at beerland. sarah and buzz ands lauren were there, brent on bandleader.
reading about happiness with Dadaelus, interlinguistic interpretations.
talking about the present with anthony and hayden. time passes, but sometimes all is now.
oh, i'm on fire, playing in my head. remix in beta, video for satisfaction begun.
all the time.
reading about happiness with Dadaelus, interlinguistic interpretations.
talking about the present with anthony and hayden. time passes, but sometimes all is now.
oh, i'm on fire, playing in my head. remix in beta, video for satisfaction begun.
all the time.
Thursday, June 10, 2004
heaven is a place where nothing ever happens
today, yesterday, the day before. is suppose things happened. i got my TABC license. i didn't get enough sleep. hayden and i worked on a remix, but i think i've got to learn to take more of a backseat in that sort of endeavor, i think he knows more than me on what to do there, although sometimes it seems like nothing ever happens.
my chief enjoyment is correspondence. i also like sitting at outside tables with nice-looking people, eating sandwiches or not. i don't drink enough water. back to work with me.
my chief enjoyment is correspondence. i also like sitting at outside tables with nice-looking people, eating sandwiches or not. i don't drink enough water. back to work with me.
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Multiple Streams of Income
or urine. no seriously i've been reading inspirational literature lately. ahh, the power of compound interest. i'm a miser. i go to the bank almost every day - to deposit my tips. i think this is a lifestyle change, not just a strategy for getting enough $$ to get to portland. i've discovered that if i'm smart with my money, i can live and retire comfortably without ever having to get a job that demands things of me that i don't want to give. or i can even have the super-sporadic income of a fledgling record producer. and still live comfortably.
right now i have like $200 saved up. this is more than i've ever intentionally saved. i've never saved before.
in other news, i'm putting out an APB on living space in PDX. for those of you with eyes in the right place, here's where i;d love to live: someplace that is cheap and can double as a no-hassle recording space. i'm thinking someplace in the warehouse district down by Division and 99E or therabouts. any leads, let me know.
right now i have like $200 saved up. this is more than i've ever intentionally saved. i've never saved before.
in other news, i'm putting out an APB on living space in PDX. for those of you with eyes in the right place, here's where i;d love to live: someplace that is cheap and can double as a no-hassle recording space. i'm thinking someplace in the warehouse district down by Division and 99E or therabouts. any leads, let me know.
Monday, June 07, 2004
waiting
having experienced the way life can make sense for awhile, up in portland, things around here seem a little unreal. i spent the day on the couch, reading about the talking heads. later ruta and hank stopped by and we all sat and read. now i'm at the parent's house with grandma and cyrus, hoping to hear 'tired eyes' in a better context. and here it is...
listen through the mdr-7506's off the iMac, and i can hear music in there. in fact, it doesn't sound so bad. how can sony allow such bad d/a convertors on its vaio "multimedia" laptops? really, the difference is phenomenal. coming out of nero player on the PC, vs iTunes here, ahhh. mostly it sounds like i bypassed the SuperGrunge stompbox that used to live between the song and my ears.
still, i think this song is among the most challenging mixes i've had on my plate, which is part of why i saved it for later, so that i could give it the attention it deserves - a plan which backfired - but at least i got the other songs mixed, which might not have happened had i got wrapped up in unwater.
although rolling off the lows on greg's original guitar, setting the piano where it belongs in the mix, and dropping the bass a little should help, i wish i had had more time for philosophizing before jumping into the mix - what are the elements here, what's close? what's far away? hopefully you at duskers will meet with success in the tweaking sessions.
as far as the mastering goes, it sounds just fine, considering the mix. i can't wait to hear one of the other tracks mastered!
work, save, sleep, read. work, save, sleep, read. if that were all i had i would be ok with waiting. but i have the urge to create, and not quite the possibility. been trying to get jeff's songs ready to work on for ages, but no computer. frustrating. last night i told him about the move to portland. he got all upset, but seemed happier today when he found out that as long as he's in texas, tuition for him is free. go army.
listen through the mdr-7506's off the iMac, and i can hear music in there. in fact, it doesn't sound so bad. how can sony allow such bad d/a convertors on its vaio "multimedia" laptops? really, the difference is phenomenal. coming out of nero player on the PC, vs iTunes here, ahhh. mostly it sounds like i bypassed the SuperGrunge stompbox that used to live between the song and my ears.
still, i think this song is among the most challenging mixes i've had on my plate, which is part of why i saved it for later, so that i could give it the attention it deserves - a plan which backfired - but at least i got the other songs mixed, which might not have happened had i got wrapped up in unwater.
although rolling off the lows on greg's original guitar, setting the piano where it belongs in the mix, and dropping the bass a little should help, i wish i had had more time for philosophizing before jumping into the mix - what are the elements here, what's close? what's far away? hopefully you at duskers will meet with success in the tweaking sessions.
as far as the mastering goes, it sounds just fine, considering the mix. i can't wait to hear one of the other tracks mastered!
work, save, sleep, read. work, save, sleep, read. if that were all i had i would be ok with waiting. but i have the urge to create, and not quite the possibility. been trying to get jeff's songs ready to work on for ages, but no computer. frustrating. last night i told him about the move to portland. he got all upset, but seemed happier today when he found out that as long as he's in texas, tuition for him is free. go army.
Sunday, June 06, 2004
corner all day
i got to work at 9:38 today. just a little late, although it could have been worse, 'cause anthony passed out on my porch last night with my phone/alarm in his hand. i just happened to wake up on time.
free weekend minutes, my ass. i worked for 5 hours, and came home for a couple, and went back. the first shift: gay party. good tippers. fundraiser for the fag lobby. it's a good cause, and i made good money. gay guys all seem to make the same jokes about how they want me. "you mean, we ask for something, and you bring it?" "yeah, but if it's not on the menu, you'll have no idea what to expect."
got home. listened to prospective masters of 'tired eyes'. no bones. need to remix.
back to work - just a sunday night. waited on the owners, my parents came in. made $80. then dad helped me close the restaurant, and now i'm home, contemplating 'tired eyes' again.
free weekend minutes, my ass. i worked for 5 hours, and came home for a couple, and went back. the first shift: gay party. good tippers. fundraiser for the fag lobby. it's a good cause, and i made good money. gay guys all seem to make the same jokes about how they want me. "you mean, we ask for something, and you bring it?" "yeah, but if it's not on the menu, you'll have no idea what to expect."
got home. listened to prospective masters of 'tired eyes'. no bones. need to remix.
back to work - just a sunday night. waited on the owners, my parents came in. made $80. then dad helped me close the restaurant, and now i'm home, contemplating 'tired eyes' again.
Saturday, June 05, 2004
kindergarten
last night with erica at the bowling alley, we bought sox for $3/pair. i rolled a couple of spares, and the woman at the alley addressed me by name. the Texas Union.
living on the margins. at the center of the urban sphere, is a point. the epicenter. the best queso in the world comes from the intersection of lake austin blvd. and lamar, decreases in authenticity by the block, and is unavailable even as nearby as waco. geography at work. the urban center.
strange to live here, at a center. i'm beginning to nullify the effects of it, but it's pushing me out. this city has so many centers.
listening to portishead sing 'this moment, how can it feel?'
living on the margins. at the center of the urban sphere, is a point. the epicenter. the best queso in the world comes from the intersection of lake austin blvd. and lamar, decreases in authenticity by the block, and is unavailable even as nearby as waco. geography at work. the urban center.
strange to live here, at a center. i'm beginning to nullify the effects of it, but it's pushing me out. this city has so many centers.
listening to portishead sing 'this moment, how can it feel?'
Friday, June 04, 2004
falling apart at the seams
today work was fine, a little long, but i made $50, and had a good time chatting with lauren the busser, who's bf is having a record release party tomorrow. walking home from work i got a call from my dad, who had to tell me that a) S and friend were cute and b) my rental company called bearing a complaint from the landlord about the people i associate with and their conduct. rough and tumble. perhaps the only recourse is to enforce a no beer on the porch rule. maybe then people won't hang out so much. also i guess conrad has a restraining order against hank, which makes him upset that we are friends. whatev. but the right response is the one that keeps me my deposit. i guess i should talk to conrad.
last night i spent at carneal's with S and elliott and catherine and elliot's friend katie. well some of them left early, but i still got to work on time. that S. always having something get her down. it makes me want to take her under my wing and give her the happiness that she deserves, but she may be immune to it. i try not to play to her expectations, b/c i think she's learned how to turn her woundedness into a font of attention. it's not my place or ability to "fix" people, but i can tell she's got a good heart and plenty to enjoy about life, if she could. and she does, but still. so it goes.
the eerily accurate horoscope book describes 2004 as being a good year for me and money, and september as a good month for love and marriage. marriage might be a little much, (although you never know) but love can't be beat. and career success is supposed to be mine over the next seven years (my sun is in a new house for only the second time in my life - 11 year cycles.) i don't know about you but i totally buy into that horoscope crap. like a tech-IPO. like hotcakes. like a beach house with satallite tv. like tickle-me-elmo futures.
this summer is also supposed to be a good time for me to get into something new. like moving to portland. oh did i mention? that isaac and 'tane are moving to seattle, and anthony there maybe in february. i like the idea. some don't.
last night i spent at carneal's with S and elliott and catherine and elliot's friend katie. well some of them left early, but i still got to work on time. that S. always having something get her down. it makes me want to take her under my wing and give her the happiness that she deserves, but she may be immune to it. i try not to play to her expectations, b/c i think she's learned how to turn her woundedness into a font of attention. it's not my place or ability to "fix" people, but i can tell she's got a good heart and plenty to enjoy about life, if she could. and she does, but still. so it goes.
the eerily accurate horoscope book describes 2004 as being a good year for me and money, and september as a good month for love and marriage. marriage might be a little much, (although you never know) but love can't be beat. and career success is supposed to be mine over the next seven years (my sun is in a new house for only the second time in my life - 11 year cycles.) i don't know about you but i totally buy into that horoscope crap. like a tech-IPO. like hotcakes. like a beach house with satallite tv. like tickle-me-elmo futures.
this summer is also supposed to be a good time for me to get into something new. like moving to portland. oh did i mention? that isaac and 'tane are moving to seattle, and anthony there maybe in february. i like the idea. some don't.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
One sort an angel did direct,
A star did guide the other,
And all the fairest son to see
That ever had a mother.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
When I him in mine arms embrace,
I feel my heart embraced,
Even by the inward grace of his.
Which he in me hath planted.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
And when I kiss his loving lips,
Then his sweet-smelling breath
Doth yield a savour to my soul,
That feeds love, hope, and faith.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
When thou hast taken thy repast,
Repose, my babe, on me.
So may thy mother and thy nurse,
The cradle also be.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
Grow up, good fruit be nourished by
These fountains two of me,
That only flow with maiden's milk,
The only meat for thee.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
Live still with me, and be my love,
And death will me refrain,
Unless thou let me die with thee,
To live with thee again.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
Can you pick the one word I changed in this poem by Richard Rowlands? (i also only used a few verses, and changed their order.)
i think it would be fun to arrange this into a song, provided you didn't try to make too much sense of it.
been without computer for a few hours, had blog backing up in my brain.
read some Illusions of the Post-Modern last night. an enjoyable argument, especially cause he agrees with me, i think, about the left being captains of their own disempowerment. "damn the man. rock the margins." not the vote.
blarney. time to get more things done.
A star did guide the other,
And all the fairest son to see
That ever had a mother.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
When I him in mine arms embrace,
I feel my heart embraced,
Even by the inward grace of his.
Which he in me hath planted.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
And when I kiss his loving lips,
Then his sweet-smelling breath
Doth yield a savour to my soul,
That feeds love, hope, and faith.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
When thou hast taken thy repast,
Repose, my babe, on me.
So may thy mother and thy nurse,
The cradle also be.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
Grow up, good fruit be nourished by
These fountains two of me,
That only flow with maiden's milk,
The only meat for thee.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
Live still with me, and be my love,
And death will me refrain,
Unless thou let me die with thee,
To live with thee again.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing, lullaby, my lives joy.
Can you pick the one word I changed in this poem by Richard Rowlands? (i also only used a few verses, and changed their order.)
i think it would be fun to arrange this into a song, provided you didn't try to make too much sense of it.
been without computer for a few hours, had blog backing up in my brain.
read some Illusions of the Post-Modern last night. an enjoyable argument, especially cause he agrees with me, i think, about the left being captains of their own disempowerment. "damn the man. rock the margins." not the vote.
blarney. time to get more things done.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
U know my name
the heat, the canned cool, the fam. back in austin and trying to tune it all out. mom's giving all the furniture to my brother, which is fine, (what use do i have for it?), but it will be strange to see both rooms i usually occupy when i visit, empty of couch, dresser, bed. they are all going to nashville.
i, on the other hand, am going to work, where i will be warmly received, or not, you never can tell. money, that's what i want. i've got a use for it. a reason to accumulate. also, my brother has been extolling to me the virtues of compound interest. so perhaps now it is time for me to begin to save, for that day in the future when i have so much saved i don't have to accumulate any more.
in light of my newly requited love, i've been beginning to reevaluate my interest in some of the local fauna. my attraction to these girls, even when reciprocated, is about as rewarding as a rob schneider film. that is, it don't stick, while it may be fun at the time. perhaps there's some measure of what you have to go through to win someone's heart - showing dedication there may be indicative of future dedication. or maybe not, but winning hearts has not been my interest here in texas in a long time. and my dedication to the hook-up is beginning to wane.
i, on the other hand, am going to work, where i will be warmly received, or not, you never can tell. money, that's what i want. i've got a use for it. a reason to accumulate. also, my brother has been extolling to me the virtues of compound interest. so perhaps now it is time for me to begin to save, for that day in the future when i have so much saved i don't have to accumulate any more.
in light of my newly requited love, i've been beginning to reevaluate my interest in some of the local fauna. my attraction to these girls, even when reciprocated, is about as rewarding as a rob schneider film. that is, it don't stick, while it may be fun at the time. perhaps there's some measure of what you have to go through to win someone's heart - showing dedication there may be indicative of future dedication. or maybe not, but winning hearts has not been my interest here in texas in a long time. and my dedication to the hook-up is beginning to wane.
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