Monday, June 30, 2008

got no patience to search for peace of mind...

there is too much going on that i'm not going to get into here. when i get back to my house i'm going to dig out my alice in chains albums and try to deal.

Thursday, June 26, 2008


spent last night at a mission on the lower west side being a 'responsible adult' for a huge crew of high school kids from several different churches who've been spending the week doing all sorts of good neighborhood kind of things like painting and cleaning up trash. it was an interesting mix of kids, from that wilderness out west called minnesota, the idyllic community of bay village, and the cleveland kids from my church and the one on scranton road.

helped serve dinner, play music, play risk, hang out. paul and i were making up absurd life stories about each other for the more gullible ones.

played some 3-on-3 half-court basketball too, which felt really good. even though i took my glasses off (the guys were mostly taller than me and more aggressive), i was still making shots and rebounds and feeling somewhat competent. i guess all those driveway games with my 6-foot-something cousins paid off.

crashed out last night in the bottom of a bunk bed listening to the girls above me giggle. woke up feeling rejuvenated by the good conversation and the running around and i'm back to the regular world...

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

indian summer

me, dan, and joe's lucky streak of indians games ended last night. not that i think it was our fault in any way. when you more or less have your AAA team playing, losing is more likely to happen. still, we did get to see our beloved omar vizquel play. what a guy. he's about the only somewhat famous person i've ever met, in the lobby of the art museum when i was home for christmas break a few years ago. anyways, he got more applause than the rest of our current team combined, which is sad, but somehow makes sense.

as a lifelong resident, i don't expect too much. while people will continue to complain, i just shrug and figure we get lucky sometimes and always end up saying 'maybe next year.'

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

rumors of my death...

...have been greatly exaggerated.

being one of those darn millenials and thinking that anyone actually cares about the minutiae of my life in the Greatest City in the World, i get the feeling i'll be doing this for awhile.

unlike my previous stint on livejournal, however, the adolescent ranting will hopefully be kept to a minimum.

and you'll be left instead with this

you are never too old for dinosaurs.

so this past family vacation was a bit stressful, but i did get some good pictures out of the deal, despite the great mayfly invasion and rain and so on.

there is so much in the way of amazingly absurd signage and crazy tourist traps, and this time, actually having a functional camera, i got to capture what glory i could of prehistoric village/mystery hill, site of a "vortex" and many scale model dinosaurs.

and totally amazing murals of sweetness:

this is my favorite:

Monday, June 23, 2008

i was once sitting on top of the world...

i don't use this format to vent so much anymore. when you've already said too many things you regret, it's better not to have it around for posterity.

there's a lot of things that are the way they shouldn't be. on the small interpersonal scale and of the world as a whole.

i shouldn't be surprised by anything, i shouldn't get so fed up with everyone and how they think they know everything so well, but when it comes down to it, we're all so self-absorbed that anything outside of ourselves is profoundly subjective.

i couldn't find a youtube of my favorite song by the late great morphine, but these lyrics ring more true than they should.

"People they want to give you free advice
Well that's something that I always try
But you get what you pay for that's what I say
And now I'm paying and paying and paying
I lost everything I had
I'm starting over from scratch..."

Friday, June 20, 2008

"in short, pigeons are rats with wings"

so i totally forgot that my old circulation desk ksu partner in crime, tegan, is a blogspot kid too.

even though she lives in germany now instead of working late at night and listening to britpop with me, making inspired absurdity with the photocopier, or experiencing ernest angley's cathedral buffet, she still makes me laugh with her genius, hence the subject line of this post.

Thursday, June 19, 2008


it's my dad's birthday this weekend. he's on vacation so i'll be leaving the usual area codes and going up catawba island for a weekend of total relaxation. i'll probably spend most of the weekend in a folding chair next to the lake reading a huge pile of books.

this is probably our last summer up there, since my grandparents aren't doing as well as they were. they've rented this place since my mom was in high school, and it's been a special place for me and my cousins. we built forts down on the rocks, climbed all the trees, swam in the lake, played ghost in the graveyard, ate grapes and underripe pears from the overgrown wildness behind the cottage, dug through the rocks looking for fossils (found some amazing ones), shoot off fireworks bought in sandusky, or lay on the rocks and watch the stars. there are so many stars.

it was one of those great childhood places to be because there was nothing to distract you from being outside. no air conditioning, no internet, no sales calls, up until recently, no tv except the black and white set that my dad and i would stay up late and watch bad westerns presented by big chuck and little john.

my mom once asked me if we ever felt like we missed out because we never went on really big vacations and i told her that with what we had up there, there was nothing to miss out on.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

music rambling

not sure how this whole band thing is working out... i see certain patterns that remind me of those ill-fated ventures in high school where you got a few people in the room of varying ability and tried to make it work. sometimes it would and it was magic. sometimes you'd end up with everything being really awkward. your guitarist wants to be in symphony x and your drummer wants to do cheap trick. your leader doesn't take suggestions well because they're visionary. it just isn't going to happen.

last night we had a bunch of people in the room who come from all sorts of backgrounds. some of us are classically trained, some of us did the coffeehouse thing, others played in funk and jazz combos where the tightness of your rhythm is essential. and i'm somewhere in the middle, with a history of thrashing around in bands that played green day covers or wanting to do the U2 thing. in that middle between wanting something compositionally solid and just rocking out for the heck of it.

i stuck with that one longer than i should have because what else were you doing on the weekends, and it was fun. in this case, most of us are working full time and it's a way to chill out after work, make some noise, relax. now that people are taking it seriously, i'm not as chilled out. i'm not quite as high strung but i get uncomfortable when others get that way. i just like keeping it loose and letting it go as it will.

maybe i'm unrealistic.

Friday, June 13, 2008

90s fangirl

i missed the gutter twins when they came to cleveland, but i'm thinking they're worth the price of $4/gallon gas to see them in columbus on july 31st.

it's going to be goooood...

song of the day : john gorka

i grew up in a home where we never had cable tv, but i knew how to operate a record player at the age of five, mostly to play disney records and chipmunks records, and secondhand classical music. my sister and i used to rollerskate around the basement to "beethoven's greatest hits" played scratchily on one of those fisher-price children's record players where the arm was made of plastic and the needle was probably dull beyond belief. i never realized how crappy it sounded until i took it with me to college and realized that the MC5 does not sound good on no-fi equipment.

it's not that i hated tv, but music was way more interesting, and i absorbed a lot of music, between my dad's record collection, his friends that he played guitar with, and the sounds coming out of the radio when we'd be going somewhere, which probably explains a whole lot about the way i turned out, and why i like almost anything that takes its cues from neil young and crazy horse.

anyways, this is one of those overlooked gems that would always be on WKSU and that stuck with me enough that when i tracked down an mp3 of this track, it made it onto everyone's mix cd for a year. i'm not familiar with all of john gorka's output, having heard mostly his first three albums, but he's still putting out records and touring, so good for him. but this song resonates somehow, and makes me smile.

john gorka - i'm from new jersey

it seems like it'd be a good soundtrack song for a new jersey-set film that isn't garden state.

"i'm from new jersey, it's like ohio, but even more so, imagine that..."

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

i got sunshine...

i got home completely exhausted last night and as i came up the stairs, michelle called me and wanted to know if i felt up for hanging out at edgewater. edgewater always sounds like a good plan so i met up with her there and we sat on the fishing pier, walked down by the water, just soaked in the sun and the wind and the water. i got my kite out and we were flying it as the sky continually changed from orange to black to blue to black to purple and the lightning started flashing.

we pulled the kite down and ran for the shelter by the beach as the waves picked up and the lightning flashed. we sat on a picnic table and watched everything blur.

most of the people had left the park by then, since it was storming and sunset, and it was just us and a group of maybe ten high school kids, the girls in bikinis bundled up in towels, the guys smoking phillies blunt cigars and hanging out. they had us take group pictures of them and everyone was just having a great time as the storm raged on.

michelle and i are talking when suddenly we stop. because we hear this singing coming from four of the girls at the table behind us. they're doing some old gospel-sounding song, splitting off into four-part harmony and while they're trying to find the pitch the first time, it sounds beautiful and i'm almost crying because with the sounds of the wind and the waves and the storm, it sounds divine.

the guys come back from the washroom and say they want to sing too. at first they're rapping some top-40 stuff, but shift gears quickly into motown. they're singing marvin gaye. when they see me sitting there mouthing the words they get all excited and tell me to come over and sing with them, my dismal white-girl rhythm and all. the rain is still pouring and flooding all around us and when michelle comes back, she joins us and we're singing the temptations "my girl," snapping our fingers, clapping our hands, us girls singing backup to the guys.

by now it's completely dark. we're saying goodbyes and they're saying they're so glad we sang with them and i'm saying i'm so honored that i got to hear them sing. i can barely see as i'm driving on the shoreway, but i've got my letters to cleo on the tape deck and the foo fighters on the radio and i'm feeling totally euphoric.

Monday, June 9, 2008


i am more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it.

one of my roomies

some of my kids

under the 25th street bridge

and the living is easy...

i'm kind of loving this summer weather more than i ever thought i would.

me and the roommates sometimes end up sleeping on the balcony where it's cool and breezy. stephen and i took a walk through birdtown on saturday night and even though i could have gone to the wcsb benefit show i was sleepy and antisocial and opted instead to listen to pj harvey and catch up on some paintings i've been working on.

one of my kids got hit by a car on saturday when he was running across the street. his cousins told me about it and they were freaking out so i called metro to try and find him so we could visit him but he had already been discharged yesterday. instead of doing a lesson with the kids i had them make him cards instead. he showed up later on and he's got a huge bump on his head. i was so thankful that he's okay.

met up with a family i'm friends with from church for dinner at lakewood park. i'm friends with the whole family, the parents and their kids who are all about the age of my younger sisters and are just getting their lives going. we were sitting on the gliders looking over the lake, watching kids skateboard as the clouds gathered overhead and the wind started blowing off the lake, chilling out on the park benches waiting to be drenched by the coming rain as everyone else ran for cover.

when the rain subsided, me and the guys took turns racing on their bikes around the trail. josh was making siren noises behind me and even though i'm not nearly as in shape as this trio of pretty athletic kids in their teens, i was able to hold my own better than i thought. hopefully there will be other afternoons like these.

i love being within a mile of lake erie.

Friday, June 6, 2008

craigslist silliness of the day

NAMES JOSH, I AM CONSIDERED ONE OF THE BEST GUITAR PLAYERS IN CLEVELAND,----------------------------- IM 21 YEARS OLD AND NEED TO PLAY MUSIC WITH PEOPLE WHO ALSO WANT TO PLAY MUSIC --------------------------------------------------------------------




Thursday, June 5, 2008

legendary anniversary

many thanks to lou muenz for posting this a couple years ago.

Ten Cent Beer Night

I think we've crossed a line, and the innocent days of streakers and strippers are over. Now somebody's gonna get hurt, and the sport will have another stain on it.

I'm not so sure those days were so innocent. Anybody remember Cleveland's infamous 10 cent beer night?

At Municipal Stadium on that warm June evening, the beer of choice was Stroh's. At concession stands or from vendors, you could get a 12-ounce cup of the "fire-brewed" nectar for one thin dime. You could buy six at a time, and then return for more.
About 65,000 cups were consumed. This by a crowd of 25,134. If you do the math, don't forget to subtract all the people who likely didn't drink a drop. Let's say half the crowd consisted of teetotalers, juveniles, and the elderly. In that case, the average consumption would have been more than five cups per person. And let's not forget the considerable number of fans who reportedly had been imbibing before they even got to the ballpark.

Another element was adding tension to the evening. Just six days earlier, in Arlington, Texas, the Tribe and the Rangers had gone at each other in a bench-clearing brawl.

The trouble in Texas began in the fourth inning. Ranger Tom Grieve walked. Lenny Randle singled to center, and Grieve stopped at second. The next batter hit a double-play grounder to third. Tribe third baseman John Lowenstein stepped on the bag for the first out, then rifled the ball to second. As second baseman Jack Brohamer crossed the bag to force the second runner, Randle nailed him with a hard slide.

The payback came in the eighth inning. With two outs and nobody on base, Tribe relief pitcher Milt Wilcox threw a pitch behind Randle's head. Let's just say Wilcox wasn't suffering from a sudden lack of control.

Randle didn't charge the mound. He was more subtle. On the next pitch, he laid a bunt down the first-base line. And when Wilcox came over to pick it up and make the tag, Randle threw a forearm into him. The Tribe's hulking first baseman, John Ellis, was standing nearby. And as Randle took a few strides past Wilcox, Ellis leveled him.

Ellis was six-three, 225 pounds. Randle was five-ten, 170 pounds. It wasn't pretty.

The benches emptied, and the Texas crowd grew rowdy. Dozens of cups of beer were thrown onto the visiting Tribesmen.

After the game, Rangers shortstop Toby Harrah expressed concern that the Texas fans were becoming "more and more like the ones in Venezuela." American players had experienced Venezuelan crowds during Winter League play, and those crowds were several notches less civilized than even the worst ones in the U.S.

At least until June 4, 1974.

When Texas arrived for its first Cleveland appearance of the year, the brawl at Arlington was still fresh in the minds of Indians fans. Many people expected more fireworks on the field. But nobody expected the kind of eruption that would take place during what would become a three-hour nightmare.


The first sign of trouble came even before the playing of the "Star-Spangled Banner." In the box seats near home plate, a vendor and a fan got into a heated argument about spilled beer. The argument turned into a fistfight.

More hints of trouble came shortly after Peterson completed his warm-ups. Small explosions were heard in various parts of the ballpark. An incredibly large number of fans had stocked up on firecrackers, some as big as M-80s.

The fact that the Rangers took the lead in their second at-bat didn't help the atmosphere. But the score probably had little to do with the reason a beefy woman climbed out of the stands in the second inning, scampered into the Tribe's on-deck circle, and gleefully lifted her shirt.

The woman single-handedly--or perhaps we should say double-breastedly--touched off a three-hour parade of interlopers.

In the fourth inning, when the Rangers' DH, Grieve, hit his second homer of the game, a male fan sprinted naked to second base and slid into the bag--as Grieve was still circling the bases.

A father-and-son team got into the act one inning later, running together into the outfield and mooning their brethren.

When the Indians' Leron Lee rifled a pitch right back into the gut of the Rangers' Jenkins, dropping the hurler to the ground, fans in the upper deck cheered, then chanted, "Hit 'em again, hit 'em again, harder, harder."

Things really heated up in the bottom of the sixth when Lee was called safe on a close play at third and the Rangers argued the call. Spectators began tossing things onto the field.

One fan ran out on the grass, picked up a tennis ball, and threw it back into the stands. When a cop started to chase him, he ran to left field, where another fan gave him a hug. A cop nabbed the tennis-ball thrower and was soundly booed. Meanwhile, another fan raced toward right field, climbed the fence, and escaped.

Public address announcer Bob Keefer warned the crowd to stop throwing objects--which, of course, brought a renewed barrage. Some of it was directed his way.

The beer kept flowing. Customers were allowed to go right down behind the outfield fence, where the beer trucks were stationed, and stand in line, waiting to refill their cups.

In the top of the seventh, three more spectators took the field. As one of them was climbing back into the stands, a cop grabbed him. But people in the stands pulled the man free.

Down on the first-base line, a woman waved grandly to all corners of the ballpark. When a cop arrived, she fought him, and he pushed her. The cop was booed.

In the visitors' bullpen along the left-field line, the Texas relief pitchers were being pelted with firecrackers. Home plate umpire Nestor Chylak sent the pitchers to the dugout to protect them, vowing he'd give them as much time as they needed to warm up.

Meanwhile, fans in the left-field stands were trying to pull the padding off the left-field wall for a souvenir. The grounds crew sprinted to the wall to try to hold it in place. A tug of war developed.

Soon, groups of two or three fans were running across the field. Then groups of 10. Then 20. Some people stopped just long enough to do a somersault. Others took the time to disrobe and streak through the outfield. The vast majority were male, and the vast majority were completely smashed.

Hargrove, who had gone in to play first base in the fifth, was targeted with hot dogs and spit. At one point he was nearly hit with a gallon jug of Thunderbird wine.

During the sixth inning, radio announcer Joe Tait, calling the game with Herb Score, looked down from his perch in the front row of the upper deck and saw fathers gathering their families and ushering them out of the ballpark. In the seventh, Tait watched most of the Indians' front-office people walk by the back of his booth on their way out. Among them was vice president Ted Bonda.

In those days, the Cleveland Police Department left most of the baseball policing to the team's ushers, many of whom had long ago retired from other jobs. As a result, the trespassers met little resistance.

By now it was clear that something else was lurking inside the stadium on this 68-degree, full-moon night. The game was taking place only four years after the shootings at Kent State. The Vietnam War was a seemingly bottomless quagmire. Richard Nixon was still in the White House, despite mounting evidence that he was, indeed, a crook. Many people in their late teens and early 20s had grown a deep distrust, even a hatred, for any kind of authority. They lived in an almost constant state of unfocused anger. And apparently, after 10 beers, umpires, cops, and even the players began to look like enemies.

Gradually, the streaking, showboating, and taunting gave way to sheer violence. Fights raged in the stands all evening, but direct combat didn't spread to the field until the ninth, when one guy climbed over the outfield wall, ran up behind Texas right-fielder Jeff Burroughs, and grabbed his cap.

The playing field had been constructed with a severe crown to assist in water runoff, and from the Cleveland Stadium dugouts, you couldn't see below an outfielder's knees. So when Burroughs whirled to retrieve his cap, slipped, and fell, Texas manager Martin, standing in the third base dugout, knew only that Burroughs had gone down. Martin couldn't tell whether his player was hurt, but he certainly wasn't going to wait around to find out.

Martin grabs a fungo bat and tells his team to follow. The players quickly run to right field to help Burroughs. As soon as they arrive, they are surrounded by 300 wild-eyed drunks, some carrying chains, knives, and pieces of stadium seats they have broken apart.

In the Cleveland dugout, manager Ken Aspromonte sees how far the situation has deteriorated and realizes the Texas players might literally be fighting for their lives. He tells his own players to grab bats and help out the Rangers.

Suddenly, two teams that were throwing punches at each other a week ago are fighting back-to-back against a maniacal horde of drunks.

People tuning in the radio broadcast at home could be excused for thinking they had accidentally dialed up professional wrestling.

Tait: "Tom Hilgendorf has been hit on the head. Hilgy is in definite pain. He's bent over, holding his head. Somebody hit Hilgendorf on the head, and he is going to be assisted back into the dugout. Aw, this is absolute tragedy. Absolute tragedy . . . I've been in this business for over 20 years and I have never seen anything as disgusting as this."

Score: "I haven't either."

Tait: "And I'll be perfectly honest with you: I just don't know what to say."

Score: "I don't think this game will continue, Joe . . . The unbelievable thing is people keep jumping out of the stands after they see what's going on!"

Tait: "Well, that shows you the complete lack of brainpower on the parts of some people. There's no way I'm going to run out onto the field if I see some baseball player waving a bat out there looking for somebody. This is tragic. . . . The whole thing has degenerated now into just--now we've got another fight going with fans and ballplayers. Hargrove has got some kid on the ground and he is really administering a beating."

Score: "Well, that fellow came up and hit him from behind is what happened."

Tait: "Boy, Hargrove really wants a piece of him--and I don't blame him."

Score: "Look at [Texas backup catcher and former Indian] Duke Sims down there going at it."

Tait: "Yeah, Duke is in on it. Here we go again."

Score: "I'm surprised that the police from the city of Cleveland haven't been called here, because we have the makings of a pretty good riot. We have a pretty good riot."

Tait: "Well, the game, I really believe, Herb, now will be called. Slowly but surely the teams are getting back to their dugouts. The field, though, is just mobbed with people. And mob rule has taken over."

Score: "They've stolen the bases."

Tait: "The security people they have here just are totally incapable of handling this crowd. They just--well, short of the National Guard, I'm not sure what would handle this crowd right now. It's just unbelievable. Unbelievable . . . "

Score: "[As soon as] people go back in the seats, others jump down and take their place."

Tait: "The bases are gone. Both teams are back in their respective dugouts . . ."

The public address announcer informs the crowd that the game has been declared a forfeit. The decision is booed.

Tait: "It will go into the books as a 9-0 forfeit to the Texas Rangers. So the Indians battle back, tie the game in the ninth [an explosion rings out], and then the game is ruled forfeit. That's it. It's all over. Well, there's no sense wrapping it up because it goes into the book as a 9-0 forfeit. Now what about records in a game like this? I'm not up on this because I've not been in on one before."

Score: "I have never seen this before. I suppose we will just have to await a ruling from the American League office . . . "

Tait: "Well, that's it . . . [Another cherry bomb goes off.] The final score, in a forfeit, ruled by the umpires after a riot broke out here in the ninth inning after the Indians had tied the game 5-5, final score in the books then will be Texas 9, Cleveland nothing."

As Tait and Score are talking, you can hear the stadium's organist playing merrily away, like something out of a Kafka novel.

People are still milling about the field. Some are shooting firecrackers. Some are throwing objects toward the radio booth and the press box.

The official box score: nine arrests, seven hospitalizations, and one major error by Indians management.

Only after Score mentioned the lack of police protection did Cleveland's finest arrive in force. Later, Score was told that a cop listening to the game in his squad car had heard his comment and radioed headquarters.

When the teams and the umpires were safely back in their dressing quarters, they were still livid. "That was the closest you're ever gonna be to seeing someone get killed in this game of baseball," said Billy Martin. "They had knives and every damn thing. We're lucky we didn't get stabbed. I've played 25 years and I've run over guys and been run over and given no ground. But to have people act like idiots, that's ridiculous."

The home plate umpire, Chylak, was even more vocal. Bleeding from the head, where he had been hit with part of a chair, he yelled, "[Bleeping] animals. You just can't pull back a pack of animals. . . . When uncontrolled beasts are out there, you gotta do something. I saw two guys with knives and I got hit with a chair. My guys [Joe Brinkman, Nick Bremigan, and Larry McCoy] were getting roughed up. I'm not out there to see anyone get killed. They almost killed the four of us. But we're expendable. We're umpires."

With a bleeding hand, Chylak held up a beer bottle that had been wrapped inside two paper cups and hurled at him. "This is how cheap they were."

The only place he had ever seen anything like this, he said, was "in a [bleeping] zoo. If the [bleeping] war is on tomorrow, I'm gonna join the other side to get a shot at them."

Several months later, when Chylak encountered Score and Tait at an Indians game in Oakland, he confided that he really wanted to complete the game because the Indians were in the midst of a remarkable comeback and deserved a chance to win. He finally decided to give up when he was standing at home plate and felt something pressing against the back of his left shoe. He turned around and saw a hunting knife sticking out of the ground.

marc's spelled backwards is scram

the marc's in lakewood is a pain to navigate, being more chaotic than even regular marc's, but they do have huge packs of kiddie fireworks for about ten dollars, and because there's a part of me that hasn't grown up, this stuff is entertaining.

the kids downstairs found this all very exciting as well and before i drove up to the radio station we were hanging out on the front porch, with byron talking about the fights he got into at school and lorielle getting all poetic about her love of fried chicken.

i brought some of the fireworks down and we were lighting the snakes and smoke bombs up on the sidewalk. they were writing their names with the sparklers as i sat on the porch and resisted begs and pleas for more stuff, saying we've got the whole rest of the summer and besides, it's a school night for all of you.

i used to not like the summer but those couple years of living in kent and coming home after work and class and sleeping a couple hours before making small adventures have made me appreciate those extra hours of sun and then the warm humid nights. i've always hated air conditioning outside of the workplace and i honestly believe it made me stronger. last summer was when things began to change for the better and things finally began to happen. it's been a good trip ever since.

i start sleeping less and living more.

big in japan

so while last week i felt pretty darn good playing the music, this time wasn't so smooth. trying to go between vinyl and cd, playing the wrong tracks, not having a stack of music in front of me to pull from, actually getting phone calls for requests, putting on an 8-minute track to buy myself some time, cds i brought with me not playing, needing to play a cassette and the only one i could find that wasn't noise was a tape from 1985 of cheyenne peyote ritual chants.

there were four listeners on the webcast, and i got a lot of phone calls. someone wanting to know who did 'where did you sleep last night' someone who wanted a track by the replacements but couldn't remember which one and then decided he wanted 'true love waits' by radiohead (which we didn't have) or "that one psychedelic furs song, you know? that one that goes.... i saw them do it live and it was so great man..." him and the guy who called on the metal show requesting dread zeppelin didn't get their requests, but i think i made at least one person's night.

when i put the morphine on, this one guy called up and was so excited and begged me to play some more tracks off the album, so i did. it was a good sound to hear on a warm june night.

but my apprenticeship is done. i just have to take a test and hopefully pass it and then i'll be screwing up on my own time all the time.

anyways, i don't have my setlist in front of me, but here's more or less what i played, probably not in the right order:

ataxia - the sides
the dirtbombs - i'll wait
x - poor girl
dream syndicate - when you smile (live)
patti smith - ask the angels
leadbelly - where did you sleep last night
the buzzcocks - what do i get
agent orange - somebody to love
ride - chelsea girl
diplo - florida
morphine - buena, i'm free now, candy, cure for pain

morphine is summmer music. who ever knew that saxophones could ever sound so heavy.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008


i'm liking the way this whole music thing is going. when we played back what we had recorded it actually sounded like something i would actually listen to. the arrangements to her songs are coming together, and i actually came up with a real song for the first time in my entire life when i switched to bass and was just messing around with paul. minor chords, jazz inflections, stuff i didn't even know i had. her voice is bluesy and i'm going to try and find some old stuff that would sound good as covers.

right now i'm alternating between guitar and bass depending on who shows up. i'm more accustomed to the bass, having played it regularly over the past few years, but getting to be more inventive on guitar again is exciting too. liking the whole idea of experimenting with riffs and texture and possibly picking up a tremolo pedal.

in other aurally related news, i'll be on wcsb tonight from 11 til 1 playing music for those of you crazy enough to tune in.

king james

there was a guy on the trolley with me yesterday wearing a burger king crown.

but it was not just an ordinary burger king crown.

he had covered the entire thing in glitter and rhinestones and it looked glorious.

he was also holding one of those toy helicopters and having a conversation with it. he was also singing part of that 'wind beneath my wings' song by bette midler.'

and he looked like lebron. but older.

Monday, June 2, 2008

across the great divide

jocelyn called me when i was getting out of work and i ended up going with her and john to a birthday party in shaker heights that a friend of hers was having. having been a west sider my entire life, this was the first time in my life that i've ever hung out in shaker heights, much less a beautiful brick home with persian carpets on the floor, a gorgeous coffee table book of rumi's poetry, the stereo playing afrobeat, romanian techno,arabic pop, and a grand piano in the dining room.

i was a little intimidated at first by the people all dressed up (i was still in my work clothes so i was passable) and the wine glasses but everyone was really friendly
and from somewhere else for the most part: students from india, egypt, israel, china, three girls who were au pairs from costa rica, peru, and turkey.

ended up having a really good time. i love getting new perspectives and seeing things that are familiar to me through the eyes of someone for whom it's all new. attempted to explain various american slang and dialects, was invited to go salsa dancing, got to hear suphi and a friend of hers break out the violin and piano for some arabic pop songs and a jazzy middle eastern styled rendition of 'hotel california.'

ended the evening perfectly with a teapot full of jasmine tea in chinatown at a little place called 'sweethearts cafe' which normally has korean karaoke, but since no one was there to sing, they were playing slow jams instead.

took kevin to the funwall after church and got some more graffiti shots. now that the weather's warm, the taggers are out and there's new pieces where the paint was still wet. he used to be part of a graffiti/breakdance crew when he lived in new york so he was all excited about this wilderness off west 25th where there's walls and walls covered in paint and trees and plants breaking through the concrete.

we hung out the whole afternoon, driving around in the sun listening to damian marley, hanging out in my kitchen, hearing stories about growing up in nyc. they're moving over to the west side soon so it'll be great having them as almost-neighbors.