Dance of the Invisible

Transcendence is an invisible force. It works its magic slowly, unbeknownst to the host. Commencing a transcend dance around the subject in quick, graceful strides, like Superman going back through time by flying around the Earth in a counter-rotation pattern, changing fate, changing the face of things, creating a catalyst for the next step or chapter in the essence of life.

2009 has proven to be the bringer of change. Karmath pertains to friendship and the loss of friendship. Brothers and sisters have announced their departure at the end of the summer. Karmath pertains to learning valuable lessons the hard way. Dealing with the departure not in small steps, but in one vast "up-and-adam". Karmath shows the way one must travel in order to grow. It also shows the way to hinder growth, but it doesn't announce which path is which.

The name Karmath is obviously derived from Karma and math. When pertaining to me, I view the essence of combining the two (spiritual belief and most absolute and finite logic currently possible for humanity) to be the most essential way to live my life. I have faith in a higher realm, but I don't lose sight of revision, pragmatism, and I keep my idealism in check. Math and Karma work with the blind, the religious clowns, even if they don't pick up on what these schools are dolling out. The actions you partake in in life follow you throughout your soul's existence. The acts of evil, of weakness, come back to bite you in the end. The acts are all part of a vast system of rules and guidelines, in my mind, for the universe. We are pawns in a game of chess too big to realize. Our world is merely a fraction of a square tile on a chess board. These rules are bendable, but they tend not to break in favor of pure free will. The rules are to keep us in check, to help us learn. To come out victorious over the number of years our soul is present in this realm. Karma is the ladder that we climb in order to leave this realm and visit the next.

Our realm uses math, the most pure form of fact, as a guideline. Miracles can be performed by Yogi's, but they aren't without logic. We just haven't figured out the equations. Water has been turned into wine. It's not without reason. The dead have risen, water has been walked on, liquids in glasses have moved to higher positions without so much as a single pour, flowers have bloomed on trees without the routine of celestial ruling being present (i.e. cherry blossoms blooming in January in a matter of seconds from being bare), and I was born because of one's timely remark to my father "You should go home, now" (I'll explain in person). All of these miracles have happened, it's not Christian bullshit. I've experienced them second hand. And they are the catalyst for my belief in a spiritually logical way of living, probably not unlike the way of the Vulcans.

With that said, at certain junctures of one's life, one can feel the transcendence of Karmath working. I've felt it in short bursts throughout the six preceding months. I'm currently feeling it now. The logic I've used takes the monthly fractions, each consecutive fourth has been a new step in a spiritual direction. The first fourth of this year I was stuck in my room, preparing the recordings that would be the tool for me to embark on my dream, my purpose. I was sad, depressed, alone. It was a time that taught me the importance of laziness and its effect on the human psyche.

The second fourth started out in full emotional turmoil, a carry over symptom from the previous fourth's laziness, frantically trying to realize my dream's move from abstract idea to material object. I finished recording in a fit of fever and fury, unhealthy and wrought with jitters. Patch co-producer Schuyler said, "Why the timetable? Why does it have to be done now?" His words made me relax, to settle down. I took things in stride, and embarked on getting the live form ready for lift off. Greg Strom and I have been meeting weekly, going through preparations for when the three other players join us. The wheel of activity cooled down, but not for lack of activity. It cooled down due to the nature of calm within. I've realized my friendships, I've had a tiny bit of leisure. Work has given me the gift of less responsibilty. I've had an iota of vacation.

The third fourth will undoubtedly ramp up activity while hopefully keeping the engine cool. The live band will now come together, rehearsing and learning. My recordings will be finished and sent off to the powers that be. More preparation, but closer to the stage of action, which will be the last fourth. Three stages of potential, one stage of kinetic, carrying over into the next round of stages.

From a writing standpoint, I've realized that this blog hasn't been everything that I had hoped it would be. Initially, I wanted a "smart", poetic, in depth look into the aspects of my life that I've delved into day in day out so far this year. Sometimes it's been lacking in depth due to utter tiredness and outright boredom from having to document every single day. The nature of this blog is going to change in pursuit of that goal. Entries will become a little more abstract, less candid. The last week of entries is more like the entries I hope to create in the next six months.

Keep on reading, whoever you are. It will only get more interesting as the year wanes on . . .

Saul Williams -- "Notice of Eviction"

Bean Bag Boner

Upon disembarking the weary walls of the school today, I happened to chance upon a group of frat boys next door engaging in one of the most puzzling activities/norms for their particular group. When I think of frats, I think of rufie laden house parties, beer pong, dude bros, popped collars, a proposed fight that never occurs . . . and bean bag tossing.

Anytime the sun is out around colleges, you see guys throwing bean bags into opposing wooden slabs with circles cut into them. How is this such a hoot that it merits a top position of "normality" for the most masculine of masculines? It's a goddamn carnival game played by children or by cute couples out and about on one of their first dates. I have nothing against the game personally. It's just a game. But how is this as prevalent as Kanye glasses in the hipster circuit? I guess for the same reason that Kanye glasses are popular in the hipster circuit. One person started it, enough people saw that enough people accepted it, and so it was written. But it's definitely not as cool as Bocce Ball or Croquet, let's be honest. It's the only game three year olds can play in our Little Olympics event at the school without our help. It's a big hit for them.

Beer and bean bags . . . there's a ton of symbolism in this comparison, I'm not gonna lie. Maybe the alcohol turns the mind into a reminiscent machine resorting to the three year old psyche hidden deep inside, crying and wetting the hypocampus, lusting for another overtake of the conscious control room. Only they have 20 year old penises.

The Beatles -- "Octopus's Garden (LOVE remix)"

Liquored Truths and Glittered Booths

Another entry in the sporadic events of The Hopeless Romantic:

Releasing reason and letting the frequencies of horny thunderclouds overtake my inhibitions, I sought a companion for summer flirtation. Suggesting helpful liquids in said massacre of inhibition, we traversed to the likely candidate for hidden, hush-hush romance, nestled tightly away in a glittering booth that takes you from the land of once comfortable monogamy to a land of confused, yet legal, polygamy. A place for dirty romance.

My romance was not dirty, but I did not heed my own goals of standing on the sidelines, waiting for my turn in the roll call between two or more candidates.

An entire bottle was consumed. And the age old standard of Vino Veritas stood true and victorious for us both.

Then the game of chess began, wrench throwers uniting. At home, defensive line tacklers supplied my lady with paint drenched brushes and she supplied us with tangible adolescent panty voyeurism.

A half drowsed cuddle (and maybe a few misplaced kisses of care later) she went home, an abode sparkling with the promise of comfort and routine, a machine for forgetting the novelty of the previous evening when mixed with the side effects of amnesia that travel with the tasty truth syrum nestled in her belly.

At least that's what I felt tonight as I heard ". . . baby . . ." on her phone home. A quiet retreat is my next course, waiting on the sidelines like I should have done in the first place.

Bon Iver -- "Skinny Love"

The Fingernail Choir

With coffee in my bowels, I set off on my yearly jaunt with a new Mars Volta record.

The Mars Volta holds a special place in my heart. Nay, it is the core, the center Ying to Nine Inch Nails being the Yang, of my musical influence. One of the most promising ways to be stunned by a new record to actually expect the worst from it. Anticipating the "sophomore slump" or "senioritis" of over the hill peakdom in popular music will most likely either bring mere satisfaction at the prospect that either it's lived up to your lackadaisical assumption of mediocrity, or it will surpass your every intuition and make you shit a ten ton brick out of sheer shock due to how awesome the record is.

The Mars Volta have made me shit a combined pile of maybe a million tons, including the shit I took today while listening to their newest effort, "Octahedron", their fifth record.

My musical compadre, Adri, said to me the other day, "The Onion gave the new Volta record a 'C'." This actually set the stage for the construction of my asshat-ed masonry of a shit brick wall. 1) I hate knowing reviews before engaging with the subject myself, it creates a self-fulfilling prophecy (If others don't like it, surely I won't, either). 2) I tend to think the writers for the A.V. Club in The Onion, in cahoots with Pitchfork, think of music in the complete opposite way that I do. Therefore, I anticipate most of the records they give B- and below ratings to to be A++ efforts in my book. Sometimes. Sometimes.

Sitting down with the record and opening up the liner notes and lyric booklit, I plugged "Octahedron" into my Windows Media Player and let 'er rip. "Since We've Been Wrong", a sort of single, a song I'm already familiar with, played first. I find pleasure in hearing the audiophiliac difference between MP3 streams/radio broadcasts and CD quality WAV gorgeousness. Singles are hence new again, as they are heard in full TECHNICOLOR.

Track 2, "Teflon", started it's sexy, sleazy groove. I started to smile throughout the entire song. In fact, I smiled throughout the rest of the other six tracks. Tears were brought to my eyes just like when I finally realized the power of "Francis the Mute", their second record, and first listened to "Amputechture", their third effort. Their first and fourth records had their effect as well, but for some reason "Francis", "Amputechture" and "Octahedron" hit my soul a little more. They're more emotional, more operatic.

A cheesy synth pad is heard throughout the record. When I first heard it a couple weeks ago while listening to an MP3 of "Since We've Been Wrong" I didn't like it. It was too 60's prog space nostalgia. But hearing it throughout the record with all of the other non-cheesy timbres I lost that cheesy grip and accepted it as a motif for calm and vast emptiness. It worked in the end.

And that's the reason The Mars Volta gets a bad rap from every "reputable" critic. No one gives them a chance to sift in the psyche for a while, let it sink in. "Francis the Mute" was my first Volta purchase. I listened to the record, knowing their single "The Widow" and that Rolling Stone liked them (at least one outfit did). It was mud. I didn't get it. It was too much noise, too much was happening.

I put it away for a little while after having listened to it through once. I took it out a couple months later after living with the structure of it for a while. Then one day it just hit me. BAM! Holy crap, nothing else could compare to their level of musicianship, knowledge, and artistry. The lyrics were never your regular brand of "bed" "head" "die" "lie" alliteration. They were lustful and poetic. Dark, sexy, and over the top in metaphor. Solos were impossible to replicate. The mix and production was spot on. Heavy, beefy, huge. Perfect for a Peter music cocktail.

The Mars Volta made me jizz yet again. "Octahedron". Give it a while. Then it'll hit you with a ton of shit bricks. Think of vocalist Cedric Bixler Zavala's last lyric in the last track "Luciforms": "My fingernail choir will make your chalkboard sing". Think about that. It'll light an empathetic fuse one day.

The Mars Volta -- "Teflon"

Here There Be Changes

Changes are afoot:

Got wind today that all of us will most likely be moving out of the Monroe House. It was bittersweet, but I got on a kick of actually having an excuse to visit other cities other than for proposed tour purposes or for visiting family. Louie will be moving to D.C. with Kristen. Taylor and Marta are doing the Seattle thing. Adri will most likely stay in town but live someplace else. Me, I won't be sticking around if no one else from the Brotherhood is sticking around either.

I'll get into changes more in my Half Year Checkpoint entry coming up at the end of the month. The tides have reached me, and I am being pulled out to sea, awaiting a current to overpower me . . .

The Cinematic Orchestra -- "To Build a Home"

A Second Licking

LIZARD PEOPLE: Live Show #2

The Acadia -- Minneapolis, MN
June 25, 2009

SETLIST:
1. Cash On Hand
2. Double D-Day
3. 16 Again
4. Snozberry Beret
5. St. Anthony
6. The Know
7. Ginger Grapevine


After agreeing to do the gig only two days ago, we had only one practice to shelve out two new songs and run through five other old ones. Tonight's show happened to be one of the best shows I've ever played onstage. Figures. It always works that way.

After taking a look at the videos of shows we've played, usually the group laments on how crappy it was to them. "Aw, there's where I fucked up. Sorry, guys." After watching tonight's video we all agreed "That was a pretty good fucking show!"

And most of you missed it. Grrrrrr . . .

And to you Mr. Jackson: you were my first hero. You'll always be the catalyst for all the other heroes, but it stemmed from you first. We'll miss you.

Michael Jackson -- "Ain't No Sunshine"

Re-emerging Eyes

The Lizard People are back! We had our one and only practice for our second show tonight. My ears are ringing like no other.

Tomorrow at 8:00pm we play at the Acadia. We just found out about it last night, so yeah. Short notice, but we're trying to meet the challenge.

The Vines -- "Rainfall"

Nature Vs. Napalm

I've touched on the nap room aquarium before, but I had an interesting finding regarding the fish inside this afternoon. While sitting and manning the kids in their cots, there's really not much to do except watch either the clock or the fish swimming around in the tank. It's really a beautiful tank. Puts you to sleep if it's in the dark.

I started noticing a pattern in the behavior of all the fish: they hate each other. There's one alpha fish, a dark, white spotted fish that's bigger than all the other fish. All it does is chase and nibble at other fish. Every fish gets chased away from it, no matter where it is in the tank. It doesn't have it's own territory. It just threatens each fish whenever they are in its vicinity. Seriously, I've never thought this about a fish, but that fish is an asshole.

All the other fish have taken on the role this alpha asshole fish hath wrought as the code of the tank. They chase all the other fish away from wherever they are. They don't chase the asshole fish, but they chase all the others. They especially gang up on one particularly ugly fish, coming at it from all sides and nibble away. It's kind of sad.

I think it's also funny that all the kids act this way on the playground. If a kid is around another kid they'll usually steal a ball, hit, throw woodchips, they're dicks to each other. Does Miniapple harbor hostile energy within all creatures, or are all preschools like this? All fish? I have a feeling all creatures are like this wherever you go.

You want to know why war will never cease? Take a look at preschools and other animals locked up in a designated perimeter. The kids have only so far to travel in their exploration. So do we, as relegated by societal rules. Invisible fences. We're all hostile, and we are born with it.

Violence is inherent and ever present.

A Perfect Circle -- "Peace, Love, and Understanding"

Body Heat

Summer is in full force.

This weekend, after the Old Peeps Party, we went to Taylors Falls to canoe down the St. Croix river all afternoon. After that, we went to Greg's Zombie Movie Marathon (fell asleep twice, due to only three hours' worth of sleep the night before). Sunday was nothing but a crash day.

And now, the temp is the same as body temp. Sticky, wet . . . awesome.

Franz Ferdinand -- "No You Girls"

I Want My Cake

I love you Dad.



Cloud Cult -- "Fairy Tale"

GET OUTTA MY YARD!!!!

Last night we held our "Old People" themed party . . .

Fraternizin' with the first coupla' guests. From right: Saul, his daughter Mary, me (Gus, without my glasses), and Saul's adopted son Obi.
I was happy to have snagged a photo of Bob and Clarissa. Bob has a prostate problem and rarely goes out. Clarissa is glued to the slot machines down at Mystic, so seeing them show up at the Reunion was a real treat!Below, Abby and Winston Gudmenstun. They had prepared a piano rendition of "Those Were the Days", made popular by the hit show "All in the Family".The gang, back together again. As if we never left each other.(Breaking the mask) The party was in honor of these two, Taylor and Marta. Marta will be leaving on Monday for Poland for a month and a half. Taylor will be leaving for England and Poland in a couple of weeks."GET OUTTA MY YARD!!!"Dance party Round I.A huge circle gathered to sing Frank Sinatra's "My Way".Switching out the old people party mix with a past mix for Round II.Due to the unbearable heat, clothes were shed, old costumes were torn off. A strange underwear dance party started to take shape . . . The last picture taken before all hell broke loose.A video I took while the debauchery was in full swing. It didn't capture the full essence of both old people craziness and underwear fetishry, but it was the closest thing to surface. People haven't been tagged due to some "job position" worries. It actually got a little worse, as in those skirts and pants? Non existent come ten minutes later.

Frank Sinatra -- "My Way"

Mixing to the Wire

Currently putting together a party mix for tonight's "Senior Class of '39 Reunion Party". A lot goes into the mix, as any "mixer" would know:

1. You need to have an outstanding intro song. Make people notice that a musical happening is occurring in the room designated for dancing, and make them want to take part.

2. Theme the mix to whatever the theme of the party is. For this particular party I've compiled little snippets and interludes of old Tommy Dorsey tracks, Robert Johnson, Frank Sinatra, into the hullaballoo.

3. Keep a routine of playing two well known songs, then have a relatively unfamiliar song in between. If you only play songs you know, no one will dance to your mix. After your unknown song, play another well known song, then a not-so-well known one, then two well known ones. Flub the system a little, but you get the idea.

I'm trying to beat the clock on this. It's almost 9:30, and the party started a half hour ago!

Tommy Dorsey and Jack Leonard -- "Blue Moon"

Larger Than Life

A strange event:

I saw myself on a movie screen for the first time tonight. Our 48 Hour Film Fest entry was shown at the Riverview Theater. Here's the finished product. Take from it what you will:



Queens of the Stone Age -- "You've Got A Killer Scene There, Man . . ."

One by One

Another song, heavy sample work. "Quotient".

Also, our first jam using electronics, drums, and guitars.

Pink Floyd -- "Echoes"

A Heart and a Leg

I don't know why, but I asked my coworker today, "How much does love cost? 'Cause love ain't free."

She said, "$12.50 an hour."

I said, "Add in another $10 and you might get a blowjob."

Gay Witch Abortion -- "Girl Pop Soda"

I Bet You Don't, I Bet You Don't

You know it's summer when you're content with just sitting out with a bunch of friends out on a front porch drinking any sort of liquid and talking about any sort of subject. And you know you're a summer sort of person when you look forward to those moments all throughout winter. Nothing complicated, just sittin' . . . thinkin' . . . SPITOON!!!





Primus -- "Jerry Was a Race Car Driver"

Duplicates (Part 3)

Day 3:

11:30am -- The team had been hard at work all night and morning long. Each person took a shift to get some shuteye. By the time Taylor, Marta, and I got to Post-HQ, they had an edit down minus one shot of a closeup on a business card. They were still doing audio recording and mixing.

12:00pm -- I recorded my voiceover lines. It was my first time doing it, plus the character was hard to guage, since he doesn't really show much emotion or have much of a backstory. Matching up what you record with the lips on camera is EXTREMELY difficult. I didn't like the way my lines came out in the end, but that's what they wanted to keep. The rest of the afternoon, Jason, the soundguy, did more foley work, all the steps the characters take, the dropping of keys, the turning on of water, the grunts, etc.


4:30pm -- Got some dinner at The Blue Door. All of us had a variation of a Juicy Lucy, a burger with cheese packed into the beef patty. We went back to HQ where they were finalizing the edits. The title was decided: "Duplicates".

6:30pm -- The file was exported and burned onto two data discs. Three of the team went to go drop the file off at the dropoff site, while Taylor, Marta, and I met up with Greg at our house to watch our copy at home.

CONCLUSION:
In hindsight, this project was more organized and had some pro people onboard. The shooting was very quick, yet very creative. Greg and Jeff, the Director of Photography, were extremely effective and on the money with their setups. I've seriously come to depend on Greg more and more with his "quick to understandness". The guy can listen to what you're saying and pretty much know exactly what you're talking about. And if he doesn't, he'll tell you how he'd be able to understand it (in Patch, he says, "Why don't you just make a sample of what you want, since I know I'm not going to do what you're looking for.").

Taylor's direction was more spot on, as well. Everybody started out strong. The project got lazy halfway through, though, as is expected when five hours or less of sleep is a factor in creativity and stamina.

In Post, I was very happy with the video editing and effecting. I had some qualms with the sound design and soundtrack. But it was too late in the game to start voicing my opinions. That was more the job of the producers/directors.

In the end, to be honest, the project still has potential to be awesome. It's not now, while in the hands of the 48 Hour Film people. The reason for this is due to a couple of very specific things, but I don't want to explain them here. We were brainstorming afterward about doing another director's cut to fix some of our issues. But I have a feeling we won't get to it.

I feel like putting too many PRO people on the plate makes for subtle egos to push through and taint projects similar to regime takeovers (picture old animations of maps of Europe explaining the Nazi's rule. The blood and Swastika filling in with the bland colors of non-Nazi occupied countries. That's how I picture PRO ego takeover). They're all nice people, but I felt like nobody wanted to burn bridges. So, direction was left unsaid. It's the fault of many different sides.

Ironically, bridges were burned on the homefront with some potential actors being given the shaft due to the script only having two characters. A group of five people were on standby, eager to work. Two of us actually got to work, three others were "laid off". Some fiery attacks were issued toward Taylor and myself (I still don't get that, I had nothing to do with the decision, I was getting drunk at the Spring Street with Greg), biting enough to really coat some gasoline on an open flame for me, sadly. I can't forgive this time.

Was this project worth it? Not if those bridges remain on fire. If the fire is put out, then maybe . . .

Led Zeppelin -- "When the Levee Breaks"

Ad Nauseum (Part 2)

Filming has wrapped.

After having a few drinks with Greg at the Spring Street, I got wind of the genre and elements needed to be included in the film by a phone call with Taylor in the parking lot. We traversed home slightly drunk and were debriefed on the happenings. We were to make a thriller dealing with a psycho who has a fetish for repetition. He tortures a man constantly, drugging him up so as to have man-made amnesia. This psycho then plays cat-and-mouse games constantly with this poor victim, hunting him over and over again within the house of the victim.

I like the story. Moreso than any of the other projects we've taken on.

I was to play the psycho, so I was happy. Psychos are fun.

I went to bed . . .

DAY 2:

6:20am -- Woke up to Stormtrooper boot clangs outside my door. I texted Greg to tell him to come at 7:00 instead of 6:30. He texted me back "I'm already here." It think that's happened twice before with him. I got ready, costume in a bag. Our new friend Shannon came over and we all car pooled down to Hopkins, MN to grab some grub at Einstein Bros. Bagels.

8:00am -- Sipping coffee and eating bagels, we read the script for the first time. Nothing needed fixing. We basically just sat and talked, joked, collecting ourselves. Then we moved on.


9:30am -- We arrived at Marta's house in Eden Prairie to dress the set and figure out the shots. Me and Mark, the other actor, got into costume.




12:00pm -- We started shooting. We first started collecting shots throughout Marta's house, and ended up in the garage dressed up like a basement. Shooting took about nine hours.




9:00pm -- We all wrapped up, cleaned up Marta's garage, and drove to St. Paul to post-HQ. For the rest of the night, John's team will be editing and doing sound . . .

Eels -- "Fresh Blood"

Dirty Projectors (Part 1)

The film race of the year started thirty-six minutes ago. The process is a little different this time around.

Taylor, his partner John, and the writer are currently getting the genre and piece of dialogue that needs to be inserted into the movie. They are riding back to the writer's home to flesh out ideas, and then they will leave him to write. I'm on standby, waiting for an e-mail describing what my role will be and where I have to show up tomorrow morning. My role has not started (although I know I'm going to be acting in some capacity). I have the night off.

I'm excited . . .

(P.S.: Taylor finished the director's cut for the movie we did for the 24 hour film race in April last weekend. "False Steps", it's called.)



Dirty Projectors -- "Stillness is the Move"

Letdown High

I've weaned off coffee successfully. I only dabble in it when doing research, writing music or essays, creating music, etc. Basically, if I'm going to create, I chug a cup of joe.

Today I got a mocha at Starbucks (my coffee maker had mold in it. Yeech.). After a half hour I crashed. I thought that being off coffee I'd be freaking out with ideas. Not so much. I finished doing what I needed to be do, but I'm so tired.

Waste of $3.50 if you ask me . . . yes, this is the most interesting thing that happened today. That, and we found out that the Lizard People show on the 25th fell through. Thhhppp!

Steve Roach -- "Further Inside"

Taylor's Thirteen

A month back, Taylor had come up to me and asked, "Hey Pete, would you wanna maybe do another film race with me? The 48 Hour Film Face?"

After the bitter 24 Hour race in April, I was glad he asked to do another race. The last race didn't make me give up on the whole process, it was more like "Damn, I KNOW we can do BETTER than this!"

I think we'll have our chance this weekend. Tonight, Taylor and his partner, John Sullivan, rounded up a troop of thirteen people, complete with organized form signing, a good speech to preface the entire weekend's proceedings, and a detailed hour by hour itinerary for every day we'll be working on this project.

I'm pretty stoked. We're working with top people. People who have scored commercials, sound designers out of film school, producers from the Star Trib. We even have a clap board.

It's on.

Handsome Boy Modeling School -- "I've Been Thinking"

Poetic Justice

One of the routines I pull with the kids is getting fake hurt with a hanging rubber ball in the climber. The kids will pull back the ball and let it go at full speed. I put my hands over my face and pretend that the ball smacked me uber hard in the noggin'. I'll fall over screaming. The kids fall over screaming, but in laughter. It's a pretty popular bit.

Today a child came over to me with a smile on his face. "Peter, I've got to show you something!" I'm thinking "It's probably a bug, he's only three." He says, "Stop here!" It was in the trajectory of the ball. "Oh," I think. "I get it."

He pulls back the ball. BOOM!! I go down. Huge laughter. I'm just surprised at the way he played into the bit, by pretending to show me something.

We do the routine two more times. After the third time of falling down, a kid came up behind me and asked a question. I turned around to talk to him really quick.

I turned back . . . and was slammed in the face for real by the ball. I was down screaming real bloody murder, the kids were screaming in laughter.

Papercuts -- "Future Primitive"

Fishy Fishy Fishy

I totally figured out what my dream bedroom needs in the future: an aquarium. Today, the nap room was moved to our "Discovery Room", which happens to hold an aquarium (which also holds fish that I nearly killed by overfeeding. The fish guy apparently wanted my head, enough so that the coworkers he was directing his anger toward were a little scared of him after this fiasco. Needless to say, I don't feed the fish any longer.). The light was perfect. That purpleish glow, the hum of the filter, the bubbles.

I promise I won't kill my fish in the future.



Phish -- "Sleep"

Official Faces

Version 1.0 of www.patchband.com went live today. Image courtesy of Taylor Park with a little touchup by myself. He did really well interpreting my vision. Louis McCoy made the site functional (he works like a god).

Now, 1.1 will be the hard part . . . a fully immersive experience within "Schematics". It shall be built by Louie, Taylor, and myself. A monster. I've got the plans scribbled all over three different notebooks.

Seriously, I've been so lucky to have so many altruistic friends around me. Schuyler's mixing/mastering (what he's done so far is spectacular. I'm seriously holding out on showing anybody anything until we're all done in the fall for an ounce of anticipation to rear itself.), Greg's live playing (his enthusiasm is so welcomed, I'm constantly humming and hawing about what to have him do, and he's always happy to oblige or give input. Definitely a team player.), Taylor's graphic designing (he's also putting up with my constant revisions), and Louie's web work (again, revisions revisions revisions). The Schematics Team. Number 1's in the acknowledgements before God and Jesus.

All this stuff has been done for free, I might add. I suspect so far I've saved at least $50,000 alone by doing home recording, and another $10,000 on all of the post-production. Seriously, the world of making music has changed. I would've had a huge budget to deal with from some indie label ten years ago, and still the product wouldn't have been up to my standards.

I'll be paying everyone in the future, but for now they're all seriously my best friends. HOLY GOD, THANK YOU!!!!!!

Thao Nguyen -- "Beat (Health, Life, Fire)"

Out From the Cave, These Dwellers Came

Nursing my post-apocalyptic hangover, I traversed into the back music rehearsal space (because banging on the drums as hard as you can makes the headache go away -- fucking idiot pills, I need 'em) and started hitting some skins. I started playing some Lizard People songs, and Taylor appeared a little while later with guitar in hand. He plugged in, I turned on the mic, and we had ourselves an impromptu four hour practice session shelling out new material for Lizard People.

We've been toying with an idea for a song called "The Russel Trust", a bluesy drop D song that would be perfect with random bangs of percussion, such as steel pipe hits, tools, buckets. I rigged up a set with a pan serving as a snare, a steel C02 cartridge, and a kettle drum covered in wrenches. I have to come up with something less crude, since all of the objects were getting knocked off with certain hard hits. This will be a precursor set to the Patch Live drum setup, which will have all kinds of weird percussion elements.

It was good to be in the Lizard mindset again. We have a show on June 25th at The Beat coffee house.

(The following MP3 is from a local band, well, Eau Claire might not be local, but it's the next big city over, that went defunct a couple years ago. I saw them live at the Triple Rock and loved them. They play on a number of tools, buckets, ratchets, etc. Upon meeting them I told them they reminded me of the Home Improvement Tool Time band. They looked at me with blank stares, like I was stupid. I told Adri this story today and he gave me the same look. Well, you naysayers, here's the goddamn proof!)



Belles of Skin City -- "The Basquiat of Iowa"

We Could Be Winos Just For One Night

Today was seminal in the aspect that it was my last day teaching in the classroom that I've been in for the last year and a half. I'm now a day care staffer, due to the fact that my classroom gets closed down for the summer and is used instead for a School Age program, a summer camp sort of deal with 6-9 year olds. So, me and my coworker went to Burrito Loco and had ourselves a number of beers to celebrate our time together.

I was buzzed coming home. At this stage of buzziness, you forget that fateful poem:

Liquor before beer, you're in the clear
Beer before liquor, you've never been sicker

Every . . . fucking . . . time I forget this.

After I got home from Bro-Co, I changed and went to Ground Zero, the nearby goth club, to see Kristen's post-apocalyptic fashion show with the gang. Immediately I went for a Gin and Tonic, more beer, and a Tequila shot. Needless to say, I stumbled home shortly after, almost opting to sleep on a park bench instead of in my house which happened to only be a block away. I figured it would rain in the night, so I went home (I could have potentially been a wino for an evening).

I went straight to bed and missed what I hear was an awesome afterparty. I didn't even know people were over at the house, I was so passed out.

Grrrrrrrrrr!!!! Forgot my Idiot Pills again!!

Apocalyptica -- "Pray!"

A Found Soul

Went to my first baby shower today. My coworker is adopting a child from Ethiopia this summer, so some of the Miniapple staff thought it necessary to hold a small surprise party in the guise of a staff meeting.

I think that when it comes time for me to be a daddy I'll feel the way I do now. I don't think it will change me too, too much, having spent ten years around small children day in day out.

Yeah, I know, just wait. It'll be a complete mind fuck when the time comes. But the thing is, I want it to be a mind fuck. A new part of my life. My own kin, my true work of art.

(P.S.: Searching for something related to "storks and babies", hoping I could snag a full copy of the new Pixar short, "Partly Cloudy", I came across a Monster.com ad that almost brought me to tears.)


Stone Temple Pilots -- "A Song for Sleeping"

Roast Queef

Here's a question:

How come we can't show our private parts to others?

Is your answer "Well, because"? Figured as much.

A child in the class was hiking up her skirt, showing off her stuff. My coworker scolded: "We keep those parts for ourselves."

Why? I'm not debating, I'm just asking. I asked her. She didn't want to hear it.

While researching for the burlesque show I did a couple years ago, I came across Michel Foucalt's "History of Sexuality". In it, he discusses why homosexuality is deemed unholy (it's not for the sanctity of marriage, it's more along the lines of sexism -- males were seen as inferior if they were "on the bottom", etc.). It probably stems from this area of history. Showing weakness.

Well, answer me that question, given that history might have taught us that it would show weakness. Now, in the postmodern age, we know better. It shows empowerment, more likely, now.

Why can't we show our stuff if it might empower us? What the hell is wrong with us?

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with ME for dwelling on this?

The Dead Weather -- "Hang You From the Heavens"

Rasta Vectas

Taylor has been working hard on "Schematics" related images. Yesterday was the due date for the website intro page, but he apparently finished up the EP cover art as well!

Tricky -- "Mellow"

Unpopular Native American Name #1: Little Turds

I forgot when, but the roomies and I had a talk about a gender anomaly: there are a number of things guys put into their minds pertaining to certain aspects of life that women never meddle with. For instance, there are a certain number of women who don't poop. It just doesn't seem possible. There are a few women that I've met where I've gone "I bet she takes huge shits. Every day. In every way." Others: "Little turds." Others still: "Void of a waste system."

Another aspect: You never see women making explosion noises with their mouths. You might see them making airplane noises with kids, driving a car, something with a motor, but you never see them shooting guns and saying "PEEOOOOWWWWW!!!" (unless it's in a cute way, like Tina Fey doing Sarah Palin shooting guns in a high pitched squeal "Pew pew pew!")

If it wasn't for me making these noises, I don't think Patch would be what it is. Honestly. Listen to "Trachomanic" and most of those sounds came from my mouth. That's how I write music, too. I scat. I can't picture female artists doing this.

My ideal woman: someone who is on the cusp of "Little Turds" to "Void". Heaven help me if they make "PEWWWWWWCCHHHH" noises. I really would like to see a woman do that. My heart will melt. Well, in this case, I'll shit a brick.

Saul Williams -- "PG"