CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  tired

Too true, too true.  Yet another Palahniuk quote for a title — that one from Snuff.  Seriously, you should just read his books instead of my bloggin’s.

Before I forget, it’s past midnight.  Happy Cinco De Mayo, bitches!  And happy “Cinco De Drinko” to all my lush friends.  Which is most of you, let’s be honest.  It’s been a busy few days of concerts (Devil Makes Three), brunches, naps, and today jury duty (which I narrowly escaped).  I’ve been totally wiped out lately, and I’m not sure why.  It should be an interesting week as I try to get my energy back.  I probably just need more sleep, and maybe a little more R&R.  Speaking of which, check out this guy Clark Little.  His pictures make me wish I knew how to surf.  Oh, and that I lived in Hawaii.

Practice resumes this week as TCB prepares for Slim’s on May 22nd (Morrissey’s birthday).  We’ll be dusting off some old ones for the show, so there ought to be a few surprises.  And that Manchester bill of Love Vigilantes and Dead Souls is gonna be amazing.  Then the very next weekend, it’s off to Portland and Seattle.  I’ll tell you, after my flight last week, I am absolutely positively sure I don’t want to travel with NASA (my monstrous guitar pedal board).  It was a fun experiment this last year having all those pedals at every show, but it’s only a matter of time before I throw out my back moving that thing around (it weighs more than my amp!).  I’m not a young buck anymore, you know.

So I’ve invested in a smaller pedal board.  Much smaller actually.  It’ll be easier to travel with and just easier in general.  It holds plenty of effects for any kind of music I’d want to play other than Smiths tribute.  You see, tribute bands have the unique challenge of having to try to sound like another band… often the albums where all kinds of studio effects were applied to the guitar.  Trying to recreate that live means having to have a whole arsenal of pedals at your disposal.  But sorry, I’m over that mess.  With this smaller board, I’m going to lose the occasional “perfect” effect for this or that song, but having to make do with less will go just fine I think.  The cost/benefit of lugging around all that weight just doesn’t add up.  (I envy guys like Reverend Horton Heat, where they literally have one or two pedals to worry about, and the rest is all in the fingers.)  You all have heard us.  You know what we’re capable of and that we can nail the sounds more often than not.  I’m retiring NASA for a while and probably changing amps.  My Bassman — which is my favorite  and which I’ve used at nearly every show since TCB started — breaks up a little early for Smiths.  And my Twin — which is what Johnny used a lot of the time anyway — is just begging to get some use.  A lot of changes tone-wise, but I’ll do my best to make it a smooth transition.

Well I’m beat, kiddies, and I’m off to bed.  But I’ll leave you with some mindless entertainment.  If the hipster link last week didn’t get you, this one will.  Thanks to Jamie, it’s texts from last night.  Hilarious!

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  accomplished

I spent a good portion of tonight working on my ongoing housecleaning.  Tonight, I tried to make yet another dent in my shredding of boxes of old paperwork.  There’s a ton of it.  Destroying all these documents.  Don’t ask me why, but I have virtually all of my pay stubs, and I’m not kidding.  I literally shredded hundreds of them tonight, back through my job selling pool supplies in 1996, my days at Blockbuster where I made so many friends, my entire PeopleSoft career from internship through consulting, my time at Mercury.  I had dozens of old credit card statements and receipts from those days too.  The last surviving records and mementos from my trip to Atlanta (complete with reminders of Crista), my stint in Thousand Oaks, etc.  Reading through some of them brought back memories.  The restaurants I ate at, the places I shopped.  Holding them in my hand tonight… the last person to touch this piece of paper was me 13 years ago.  A message from the past.

If you could, what would you say to the “you” of 13 years ago?  What advice would you give him?

Should I have kept these papers instead of destroyed them tonight?  Well, it made me wish I had been blogging or keeping a diary back then.  But in the end, I’m telling myself that keeping this stuff is like scrapbooking.  Why waste my current (and precious and limited) life cataloging my past life?  Life is short enough as it is.  As I said recently, there isn’t any time to dwell on the past.  We’ll all be dead before we have time to sort it out, catalog it, and enjoy the scrapbook.  So goodbye memories of Atlanta restaurants (like Dante’s Down The Hatch in Buckhead), and goodbye records of what hotels I stayed at on which consulting trips, and goodbye list of purchases from 2001.  There’s nothing to stop you from fading away now.  Those things seem important to me because they’re mine.  My life experiences.  But it’s so easy to get bogged down by the details of everyday life.  No one, including me, will ever need all this information.  There’s no reason to treat it like the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Shredding all these papers, I shredded an offer letter I once got from a company in New York (Vitech).  I was making that career decision back around the time of my project in Reno.  I ultimately turned them down, but looking at this offer letter… it’s mind-boggling to think about all the different paths your life could go at any moment.  That job in New York you didn’t take.  That party you skipped.  The shoes you bought.  Chaos theory.  One little decision made differently, and who knows where your life would be now?  Maybe you’d be living overseas.  Maybe you would have never met me.  Maybe you’d be married. Maybe you’d have been hit by a car that very afternoon.  You can’t even get your head around it.  So many ways life could have been different.  And now, as ever, as always… infinite possibilities for your future.  And mine.

After all those musings, if you’re now bored, Starla advises you to go look at this fucking hipster.

I braved getting on a plane this last weekend for a quick round trip, for the first time in over a year.  I was expecting the worst, but despite Murphy’s Law being in full effect (my initial flight was cancelled, the flight I did get on was completely packed, turbulence so bad the passengers clapped when we landed), I survived and felt pretty good about the whole thing.  I got to meet up with Colin and his girls for a brief tea, and then it was back to the Bay.  There’s also a questionable picture Selene took of Colin and I.  I’ll see if I can nick it and put it up for you voyeurs.  Quick side note, on the flight to Burbank, Todd Bridges was on board, and on the flight back, so was Coach’s Craig T. Nelson.

I continue to hear positive feedback about that Blackthorn show a couple weekends back.  Big shows coming up, and some changes in the works regarding my gear.  I won’t bore you with the details here and now.  But I might next time.  🙂  Anyway, in addition to providing the clever title for this blog, the quote of the week comes from Sus, on the subject of her assuming absolute power over TCB:

“The whole band bear dances right now!!!  Oh my goodness, I’m so close to getting you guys to do it, I can feel it.”

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  intense

Folks, I’m pleased to report that The Legendary Shack Shakers are coming back to town!  They’ll be at the Red Devil Lounge on June 9th, and that’s exactly where I’m gonna be.  The next night, they’ll be at The Blue Lamp in Sacto (is this like their TCB tour?), and the night before they’ll be at the VooDoo Lounge in SJ.  To my SF and San Jose friends, you don’t want to miss them.  This band will rock your ass to pieces with an energy on stage that puts so many of our local bands to shame.  I was skeptical too before seeing them last year, but 30 seconds of that show changed my mind.  Damn, so many good shows coming up over the next few months!

I sold another guitar, bitches!  A fancy one, too… the 12-string Ric!  That just leaves three left in this first round of thinning the herd:

OK, so I did finally join Facebook.  My first impressions are that it’s slow, and that it gives you way too many way too many messages, IMs, walls, notification emails, all flying out of every corner of the screen. After just a few minutes of being on there, I wanted to scream and jump out the window!  I’m definitely keeping it bare bones in there, but it has let me connect with a few people I’d been meaning to.  So yay for that.  But MySpace sucks up enough of my life as it is… I can’t be keeping up with every little happening on Facebook too.  This is my home, and this is where you’re gonna have the easiest time reaching me.

Our boy Gavin Newsom (who will of course one day be played by Matthew McConaughey in his biopic) is now officially running for governor.  Based on what I know about him so far, I like him.  I’ve heard some comments locally that he’s not liberal enough.  And yes, I recognize that he’s kind of a slick-talking guy.  But I’ve always liked him.  I thought his gay marriage “whether you like it or not” comment was perfect.  Sounds like something I would have said.  And he cares about his hair, and that’s important to me.  We’ll see what we learn about him as the campaign gets going.

And actually, if I can get political for a minute, I have a couple of things to soapbox about.  First, it is now clear to me that the right is batshit crazy.  I know we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye over the years, but we’ve had Obama now for what, three months?  Already the right has jumped to calling him a tyrant, a fascist, they’re dumping tea in the streets and calling for revolution… and now Texas is hinting at secession?  Are you kidding me?  Three months, dude.  We all just lived through eight agonizing years of what is likely the worst president this nation has ever had, and you’re calling for revolution after three months?  If you’ll pardon the expression… Suck it up, pussies!  (The Daily Show has been doing such an amazing job of chronicling this ridonkulousness… seriously, WATCH THIS.)

(Beware, this one’s kinda touchy.)  And second, I read comments all the time (the most recent having to do with Moz’s little freak out at Coachella) where people say to vegetarians something along the lines of “don’t tell me how to live… I’ll eat what I want, you eat what you want” and so on.  I can’t speak for all vegetarians, but for me it’s an ethical issue.  I take the “meat is murder” stance.  When I see a steak, I think “there’s an animal that didn’t need to die.”  It doesn’t matter if I’m eating it or someone else is… it still affects me.  Recently, an animal rights activist was added to the FBI’s top ten most wanted list.  It reminded me of another example… I may not agree with the opinions of anti-abortion activists, and I certainly don’t agree with them committing terrorism by bombing clinics and all that.  But I also know that to them this isn’t just a mild issue of they prefer a lifestyle that doesn’t suit everyone.  In their mind, they see it as the sanctioned murder of babies.  Think about that.  Now, if you thought kids were being murdered, wouldn’t you feel compelled to go to great lengths to stop it?  I don’t agree with the tactics or the philosophy, but I understand it.  To someone who holds that belief, you can’t use an argument like “don’t tell me how to live… I won’t dictate if you can kill your babies… so don’t dictate if I can kill mine.”  I know that’s really graphic, but do you see what I’m getting at?  It’s as absurd as saying “well that’s fine if you’re against slavery… you don’t have to own slaves… but don’t tell me I can’t.”  My main point here is simply that ethical vegetarianism is not a “to each their own” kind of issue… to at least one side of the argument, there’s a real victim in the equation.  Now I’m not about to go committing acts of terrorism myself, but again, I understand why some vegetarians don’t just keep quiet.  Anyway, hope that made sense rather than made me sound batshit crazy myself.

“A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it.”

— Oscar Wilde

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  sore

I’m sure you are aware that Morrissey was supposed to play Oakland last night, but cancelled the day of.  The official story was that he was sick, which is certainly possible.  But given his history, rumors of low ticket sales, the events the day before at Coachella, and the fact that he was sighted at the DNA Lounge, I call shenanigans!

So yesterday morning, we’re all bummed (some of us had pit tickets!), and Sus (who by the way caught Moz’s entire shirt at Coachella… I’m serious) and Orlando start hatching plans to play a free show for the many stranded Moz fans who travelled to the Bay Area and now had nothing to do.  Now, none of us were really ready to play a show… having not played together in the last month, and having other plans already in the works (such as Booze, Broads, and Hotrods).  But with Orlie’s blitz to find a venue to host us on literally just a few hour’s notice, and Sus’ stand at the Paramount to redirect traffic to us, we were able to get the Bat Signal out and pull off a last-minute show at the Blackthorn.

It was a lot of fun, and there was no time to stress in the rushing around to get things ready.  We had some of our old friends in attendance, but also many Moz fans from far and wide who were looking for a place to drown their sorrows.  Hopefully they found it with us.  One of Moz’s security crew was in attendance.  It wasn’t Morrissey, but we did our best to be second best.  Hope you all had as much fun as we did.  Many of us ended up at Sparky’s afterwards including some of our new friends.  And holy shit am I sore from last night.  But anyway, so that’s the story.

By the way, check out Sus at about 4:14!

On to other topics… I hate to say this, but it may finally be time to join that other social networking site.  My impressions so far are that Facebook attracts older people, whether that means your coworkers, or your grad school friends, or even your mom.  Also, it seems to be more stalker-friendly.  I think it’s lame, and I’d be happy to never sign up.  But what it comes down to though is that some of my friends are on there now either exclusively or at least they maintain their profiles better there.  I’ve been resisting a long time, but just to be able to keep in touch with these friends and have sad digital substitutes for human contact with them, I at least want a presence on there.  I don’t have the time or the energy to maintain profiles on both sites.  MySpace is my home, and Facebook will be merely a placeholder for me to maintain a connection to my non-MySpace friends.  (Side note: what a weird time we live in.)

Friday night, I caught Wanda Jackson for the first (and possibly last) time.  She’s getting up there, but she seemed super sweet, and she could still get her voice to do what it was doing 50 years ago, so no complaints here!  There are a couple pics up (from Mari) in my tagged photos, in case you want to see how I look standing next to fun-sized rockabilly royalty.  Today, it was almost 90 degrees in some parts of the city.  Where did all this come from?  The only positive was that intense heat in the Mission and beyond usually means cool and thick fog in my neighborhood, and today was no exception.  Ocean Beach was packed, causing *GASP* actual traffic on the Great Highway.  Had a picante dinner with Jamie.  I was finally forced into going digital with my cable today… which apparently everyone else in the nation has already done.  I’m not thrilled about having to turn on more than one device at a time, but this real time guide is neat.  I’m sure I’ll get used to it in time.

Remember last week I was talking about Highway 1?  Well check this out.  Talk about several drives that give me a heart attack just thinking about them.  But you know, as with playing that unplanned show last night, that spur-of-the-moment choice to take a road home that I never take really was valuable.  These are little things, but they are steps in the right direction.  That spontaneity is important.  Being open to those opportunities not only make me a more well-rounded person, but also fit right into my recent thoughts about not wasting life doing the same thing twice.  These unexpected events are life-enriching.  Even if these things had been disasters, the stories I took from them and the experience I gained would have still made them more valuable than had I taken the same old predictable path.  And the fact that they turned out great, well, all the better!

“A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner.”

— English Proverb

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  full

Uh oh, two Fight Club quotes in the last three blog titles.  Either Chuck Palahniuk has the meaning of life all sewn up, or I’m in trouble.

It’s been a busy couple of weeks, kiddies.  Work’s been kicking my ass, and I’ve been busy even on nights when I stay home.  Certain people I know turned 30.  What else?  I did make it out to a few good shows lately, too many to remember maybe, but a few that come to mind are local bands The Tunnel (finally!), Jesse Morris and the Man Cougars (again… fuckin’ great!), and a psychobilly night.  Speaking of shows, there are a ton of good ones coming up.  This weekend is Wanda Jackson and Morrissey.  Then further out, I see the ridiculous Red Elvises (whom I’ve seen once before), the New York Dolls, and then… A Camp!  That’s right, the Cardigans’ frontwoman’s side project from 2001 has a second album coming out (finally), and they’re touring the U.S. for the first time ever.  June at the Independent.  Should be excellent!  I’ve been listening enjoying that new album, as well as getting back into Radiohead a little.  (I have Lala to thank for first forcing me to get into them many years ago, and in hindsight, it really was for the best.)

For Easter, I went to see the family… which also meant I had to / got to chase my nieces all over the house.  Kids are fun, but a couple hours of that wore my ass out.  Due to accidents, I hit awful traffic on the way there and would have on the way back too had I not made the executive decision to take Highway 1 back up to SF.  Yes, it was a bit longer, but what a stunning reminder of how much I do not make the most out of living in the beautiful Bay Area.  Miles and miles of amazing views, and more than a few small and secluded beaches, made all the more romantic by the sun going down as I sped past.  Can you imagine a sunset on what is for all intents and purposes your own private beach… ladies?  Hmmm?  Ladies?

Speaking of “ladies,” Sus is back from her Moz tour, with lots of stories, pictures, and all the latest swag.  Shel is back from her triathlon in Hawaii, a trip which was — it seems — tailored to make me feel like I’m wasting my life.  Benjamin, what did you do this weekend?  Eh, I sat on my ass and straightened my apartment up a little bit.  How about you?  Oh, I competed in a triathlon.  In Hawaii.  Betch.  Thanks a lot, Shel!  😛

In my straightening up of my place, I started getting rid of a lot of stuff.  I carried a lot of shit with me when I left home, and I’m really ready to leave that packrat lifestyle behind.  All that junk just weighs you down, and you’ll be dead long before you need any of it.  So here I was, shredding all these notes, documents, and work I’ve done over the years.  Throwing out reference sheets and training manuals for old jobs.  It feels weird to be getting rid of stuff.  Some part of me all these years has said (and still says) keep it, but what have I learned this last year?  I will never need it, life is too short, there’s no time to look back.  If I ever need a training manual for the software I worked on for a living in 2002, I can buy it again.  And more to the point, if I ever find myself needing it again to begin with, that should tell me I’m going the wrong direction in my life.  I never want to do that stuff again.  I’d rather change industries completely, move to another state (or country!) just because hell!  I only have one life to live.  Why spend so much of it doing the same thing in the same place?  On my death bed, don’t I want to be able to look back and say that I tried a little of everything?  I don’t want to spend a whole decade of my precious lifespan beating my head against the same wall.  Go drive a cab in Florida.  Go tend a bar in Mexico.  Go sell books in Ireland.  I don’t know.  Anything.  Anything, however unlikely and unconventional, just for the sake of really truly exploring all the directions your life could take if you didn’t just settle for what’s obvious and easiest like we all fucking do.  And before you know it, *poof* you’re old and what have you got to show for it?  Nothing but years of doing the same thing in the same city, state, whatever.

Sorry to get all heavy there.  But this is important.  One of the things I came across (and kept) was a card from my mother dated 1994… literally half my life ago.  I would have been 15.  It’s a long card describing all the possibilities she saw for me, for the life that at age 15 was still just beginning, with all the things that as a mother she hoped for me, her only son.  The most sacred bond between mother and child.  It ends with “I hope it’s a good life.”

When I read that again after 15 years, the weight of that statement is crushing.  It sounds like what her last words to me would be if she knew she only had one sentence left.  I think about all that’s happened since then, where I am in life, and I feel an awesome responsibility to seek out my own happiness and not waste the opportunity I’ve been given at life.  A responsibility to myself, but also to her and to the people that have sacrificed over decades to put me where I am at this moment.  A responsibility to all the people that care about me.  A responsibility to see that hope realized.  Yes, it’s been a good life, but I’ve been lazy and taken it for granted, and it could be much, much better.  And no one is bound nor able to see to that but me.

“I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.  The proper function of a man is to live, not to exist.”

— Jack London

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  selective

So I went to this place called Bender’s on Friday night.  I’d never been, but it turns out to be this punk / bike messenger bar, similar to Zeitgeist, but without the Mission hipsters.  The kind of place where (I assume) real punks hang out.  I’m only going by the ripped clothes and the B.O. here, but that’s my guess.  Anyway, my main reason for going was that I had wanted to check out this guy Jesse Morris who was going to be playing.  I’ve seen him busking a few times at the Montgomery BART station, and the guy sounds more like Johnny Cash than any tribute band I’ve heard, and that’s a fact.  I admit that, not being much into punk, I was aesthetically skeptical.  But I wanted to hear his original stuff, and I wanted to hear the full band, “Jesse Morris and the Man Cougars.”  I have to say, I had a hell of a time.  The guy and his music were awesome… charismatic, energetic, funny.  There’s something unsettling about hearing what could be Johnny Cash’s ghost singing dirty songs in old country style, all while inciting a mosh pit.  But needless to say, I was impressed and will definitely try to catch them again.

The headliner that night was an added bonus… a band I’d been meaning to see for years: Cookie Mongoloid.  One of those SF Bay Area phenomena that you owe it to yourself to experience once, I guess.  This is a speed metal Sesame Street cover band.  The band looks like your standard metal group, including a lead guitar player in vest (no shirt) that would be right at home in Dethklok.  The singer comes out in a leather jacket and a full mascot-style Cookie Monster mask.  He sang in the Cookie Monster voice, and even talked in that voice between songs… you know, “me like cookies” and all that.  Not surprisingly, every song was about cookies, including classics like “C Is For Cookie” and some originals(?) like “I Lost Me Cookie In The Mosh Pit.”  He had a homemade double-barrelled pneumatic cookie gun that launched cookies into the crowd and against the ceiling.  They had about a dozen “Cookie Girls” up on stage with them, which was something like Rock Of Love contestants with a furry blue letter “C” on their chests.  During the first couple songs, they came out with buckets full of crushed cookies and relentlessly pelted the crowd with handfuls of crumbs.  Even in the back where I was, I was hit all over and ended up covered in cookie crumbs by the time I got out of there.  In short, I’d hate to be on clean-up duty that night.  Fucking bizarre, but worth seeing once for sure.  Before I move on, best cupcake idea ever:

The rest of the weekend was busy too.  I finally got a new couch, which involved a lot of hassle, twine, and bargaining with my demon-possessed elevator to get it from Palo Alto to my living room.  In addition to getting a ton of help from Dad, I got to eat with the folks and my niece before and after the ordeal.  In the end, I got a cheap (discontinued?) IKEA couch, which also happened to be the most comfortable of all the ones I tried.  It only came in this dark chocolate brown, but I dressed it up with a couple of black and white Victorian floral throw pillows and… well, I’ll stop there.  It looks classy though.  I’m pleased.  And I should mention too that at IKEA, I ran into an old East Bay friend (Kelli) that I hadn’t seen in something like seven years.  Sus is in the Midwest molesting Morrissey.  Shel is back from Hawaii.  I’m sitting right here wasting my life away documenting the sort of details of my life that no one could possibly care about.

Horror of horrors, Boudin has discontinued its butternut squash soup, which has been my only reason for getting out of bed on Wednesdays.  I’m hoping it’s a seasonal thing.  And then I heard that Snapple’s blueberry tea is off the market too.  Seriously folks, what the fuck?  This is not the first time I’ve mentioned this kind of shit.  I’m not that fussy about food, but it seems like the things I particularly like are always disappearing.  Do I just notice it more than most, or am I actually cursed?  On the topic of nostalgia, I could surf Branded In The 80s for hours, if I had hours.  So many stickers and useless garbage I remember from my youth.

OK, before I call it a night, I wanted to mention quickly that I’ve made some progress towards simplifying my life.  I sold a guitar!  Sort of.  I actually talked Dad into just having one.  But same thing.  It feels good to be rid of it.  I did update my MySpace layout in its honor.  Strange, you know selling these guitars would have been unthinkable just weeks ago.  But I’m trying to reject that collector impulse.  I see guys with bigger collections and I feel some envy.  And I don’t like that.  You can’t buy self worth, your possessions don’t define you.  I’ve got some guitars that would be hard or even impossible to replace if I ever changed my mind.  And in that context, it really is hard to let them go.  But they’re just things.  And the things we want in life change over time, right?  It’s hard to imagine me pining for “the one that got away” for the rest of my life.  Oh, if only I hadn’t sold such-and-such a guitar.  I don’t see me doing that.  *sigh*  This is what I mean about it feeling like a burden.  The things you own end up owning you.  Material things are supposed to help facilitate happy times in life, not become the focus of them.  I should be spending more time practicing and learning, and less time dealing with the finding/buying/selling of guitars.  It’s ridiculous, and it completely misses the point.  The loosely-related quote of the week comes from… oh, well you know:

“Genius lasts longer than beauty.”

— Oscar Wilde

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  productive

A couple of days ago, I reported that the world was ending because Christina Ricci is engaged.  And truly, I was about ready to write us all off, when out of nowhere, a life-affirming miracle occurred: Spandau Ballet announced they’re getting back together.  It doesn’t take all the sting out of the Ricci news, but it just might be enough to keep me going.

So I’m in the process of cleaning my place.  That doesn’t happen often, so it’s nice to see the progress and how drastic a change it can be.  There’s been a growing feeling in me lately that I am somehow weighed down by my possessions.  I’ve had an urge to drastically simplify my life, including the shedding of material objects that are more a burden to me than a source of happiness.  I want to get lean and efficient and focus on just the things I really enjoy.  I was clearing out DVDs the other night.  I don’t have many, but honestly, I can’t remember the last time I watched a DVD at my place.  I don’t even rent them.  I almost never watch movies anymore.  It feels like such a waste of space, money, and time to have procured and retained them.

And believe it or not, yes folks, this extends to my beloved guitar collection.  Hold on to your hats.  There was a time in my life (the last 5+ years really) where I took a lot of pride in that collection.  It felt good to have a bunch of guitars.  Like I was somehow complete… or maybe prepared for anything?  Or maybe it was just a way to show off my good taste?  I don’t know entirely where that impulse came from, but I think that time has passed for me.  Now I figure, anybody could have a guitar collection if they made it a priority like I did.  It’s nothing special.  Just most people spend their discretionary income on a flashy car, or clothes, or travel, or home theater equipment, or whatever their passion happens to be.  Mine happens to be the guitar.  But I don’t have anything to prove anymore in that arena.  I realize now that owning a nice instrument (or several) doesn’t say anything special about me.  It’s nothing that any other person couldn’t buy with that same money.  And hell, there are plenty of rich folks who could build a house out of guitars if they wanted to, so who cares?  Status symbols like that seem ridiculous and shallow to me now.  In the end, there are better things to do with my money (and floor space) that will bring me more lasting happiness.

Holy fuck… I think I’m like… growing up.

I’m in no rush.  I don’t need to sell them this second.  I just don’t need them in my life anymore, and it would be nice if they could go to people who’ll really appreciate them rather than let them gather dust.  It’s wasteful.  Guitars are made to be played, not collected.  I have too many to give sufficient attention and love to them all.  What used to be my pride and joy now feels like a burden.  A man does not need 20 guitars.  It’s a waste of my life to deal with them… or to even think about them.  I don’t even want them in my consciousness anymore!  Be gone!  I’ve got a life to live here!

So with all that in mind, I’m going to start off-loading those instruments that I’m not getting real use out of.  These here will probably be the first to go.  You may notice one of the famous “Twins” in there.  You may also notice I don’t like warm colors.  Anyway, if you see anything you’re interested in, let me know… some rare stuff here.

Even if you aren’t selling off your prized possessions, you can still find ways to cope with this tough economy by saving money.  For instance, if you drive much in the city, you’ll want to check out this parking ticket map showing areas of San Francisco with high concentrations of tickets issued.  Good to know!

The quote of the week comes from me, describing someone else whose thought process does not always map to reality:

“His logic… uh… defies logic.”

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  sore

Folks… Christina Ricci is engaged, and not to me.  And his name is Owen Benjamin.  And that fucker is 6’6″, a full two inches taller than I am.  So… many… reasons… to hate… him…

But if I really think about it, the fact is that the days of me lusting after a Hollywood actress, or worse, just her public image (and admittedly, privately thinking that hey, maybe someday, you never know)… well those days are long over.  Which is to say, I’m over it.  I know enough to know that your dreams rarely turn out the way you expected, and that even when you actually get exactly what you wanted, most times you find out it’s not what you thought it was going to be.  And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about life, it’s that what you want changes.  Most of the time this is a good thing, because at least for me, it often matches what’s available.  For instance, if I still wanted from life what I wanted when I was say 20, then I think I’d be less-than-thrilled with my life today.  But if I think about my life when I was 20 now, it doesn’t appeal to me anymore.  (OK, that’s not totally true… the 20-year-old me would have envied the 29-year-old me’s city life and bank account… and the 29-year-old me does somewhat envy the 20-year-old me’s sex life and eating habits.)

Anyway, my point is just that I’m beginning to think (or realize?) that there’s no silver bullet for happiness.  There’s no one thing that you can achieve or procure that’s going to allow you to finally relax and say, “I did it.  I’m a success.  It’s all beer and Skittles from here on out.”  There is no being complete.  What you want from life, how you define success, it all changes over time.  The things that made you happy 10 years ago… 10 days ago… are not necessarily the same as the things that will make you happy 10 days from now.  Not that it’s meaningless to plan long term, nor is setting goals a waste of time… but finding a way to be happy in the moment, regardless of your circumstance, is the only real guarantee.  You can spend weeks… years… of your life working towards something only to find out that when you get there, it wasn’t what you expected.  But it was only a waste if you sacrificed your own happiness along the way.  Holy shit, did I just accidentally derive the syrupy theorem of “Life is a journey, not a destination?”  What is happening to me?

In lighter news, I will almost definitely end up with a pink couch from Ikea, but that hasn’t stopped me from checking out some alternatives.  And my, are there alternatives.  How about couches made from coffins?  Also, aside from the gaudy Chevy couch I mentioned here once before, I think that someday, if and when I share a kitchen with someone, we’ll be decorating it with stuff from American Retro Furniture.  I want a restaurant booth instead of a dining room table!

The Blank show on Friday was a hoot.  The rockabilly theme went over well, and it was so nice to be able to get some public use out of a Gretsch.  It felt natural.  The crowd (maybe our biggest there yet) was sufficiently drunk and loud by the second half of the night, and we played until the club manager made us stop for closing time.  Big thanks to all the usual suspects who came out for the show, as well as some folks that don’t make it out too often.  Hope y’all had as much fun as we did!

“I started something,
And I forced you to a zone,
And you were clearly
Never meant to go.
Hair brushed and parted,
Typical me, typical me, typical me,
I started something…
And now I’m not too sure.”

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  uncomfortable

Anyone else see Jim Cramer get nailed to the wall by Jon Stewart the other night?  Dear God, it was horrifying.  I’m trying to cling to the signs of hope here and there.  A short run of positive Dow days.  Experts predicting the beginning of the turn around before the end of 2009.  But holy shit, folks.  The economy’s sucking air, in case you didn’t know.

And on the subject of other things that you probably already knew, I’m apparently a raging liberal, according to this test Aaroncito sent me.  I scored a 281… well off the chart of averages for all the demographics I belong to, based on the summary of results at the end.

It’s been a busy few weeks.  The shows in Sacramento and Fresno were a lot of fun.  Some old friends showed up each night, and we even made some new friends.  That first Smiths album has a few tunes that aren’t so live-show-friendly.  Let me tell you, nothing grinds the evening’s momentum to a screeching halt quite like a trudge through something like “The Hand That Rocks The Cradle.”  So if you ever had an interest in hearing us do that one… well, I hope you were at one of those shows.  I made it through both shows relatively peacefully, but by the time I got home, my voice was gone, and I was well on my way to being sick.  Even missed a few days of work over it.  But fret not, I’m right as rain now.  Let’s see, what else?  Cliff Notes: Louder Than Bombs was good this last weekend.  I’ve been guitar shopping lately, against my better judgment.  I went into a Good Vibrations for the first time maybe ever.  I managed to finally break (in half) my old Ikea couch from the Jared/Mission days, so I’m in the market for a new one if anyone’s got suggestions.

And this Friday, TCB is having yet another specially themed show.  We’ll be in San Jose at the Blank, playing two sets of classics as usual… but the first set will be unusual in that it will cover all of the rockabilly songs in the Smiths and Morrissey’s respective canons.  Really… all of them, you ask?  Yes.  We considered every song they recorded and picked up everything that was remotely rockabilly in nature.  Rusholme Ruffians?  Of course.  Sing Your Life?  Duh.  Pregnant For The Last Time?  You’ll hear it for the first time… this Friday at the Blank.  Don’t miss it!

Some random entertainment for you… if you’re looking for a way to kill 15 minutes, check out this list of one-hit wonders of the 1990’s.  There were so many I’d forgotten, and talk about bringing back memories.  They say that smell is our oldest sense and the most closely tied to memory.  You know how a scent you haven’t come across in years can instantly bring you back to a time and place, right?  Well, I’m convinced our pop music sense must be the next in line.  Reading through this list, it was like middle school all over again.

In a conversation with Jamie the other day, I managed to work the word “homonymous” in, as there was some confusion about if we were talking about Mac makeup or Mac computers.  But since I can’t remember the exact phrasing of my stunning display of lexical majesty, the quote of the week instead goes to her, who said this regarding me walking out the door without my wallet for the first time in years:

“You must have forgotten to take your memory pills.”

CONVERSION NOTICE: This is one of 250+ blogs that originally appeared on MySpace. I’ve done my best to represent it with as much historical accuracy as possible, but there are limitations. Read about it in the FAQ.

Current Mood:  anxious

You’ll have to excuse my somber mood.  I’ve just lost something very near and dear to me, namely my $400.  Well, not exactly.  Something went wrong with the heater in my car, and the shop quoted me $420 to fix it.  Unfortunately, the defroster was disabled too, and with the weather we’ve had lately, that’s not going to fly.  When the work was finally done, it ended up being close to $350, but still.  From now on, if you’re in my car, you can expect the heater to be on full blast at all times.  We’re gonna get our money’s worth, damn it.

This upcoming weekend, we have a pair of very special TCB shows where we’ll be playing the entire first album, as well as unleashing some other new songs.  This will be an unusual set list for us, but you’re guaranteed to hear many songs you’ve never heard us do, and some you may well never hear us do again.  Sacramento is always a fun gig, and Fresno has been a sell out the past two times we’ve been there.  It sounds very likely that it will be again, so don’t miss out!

Speaking to Fresno specifically now… Fresno, I know you’ve recently had to endure the clumsy advances of someone else.  I know you’re probably hurt and confused.  You may be wondering how anyone could murder those songs so mercilessly right before your eyes (and ears).  But don’t worry, Fresno.  We’re not all like that.  There are bands that care as much about these songs as you do, and we would never hurt you like that.  And we’re coming.  Just sit tight.

Oh, and speaking of Kermit the frog, here’s an interesting read on the background of the Muppets we all know and love.

I hope I’m not “outing” anyone here (for some reason McCarthy-era communist blacklisting comes to mind), but my BFF Jared just turned 30 last week.  I can’t believe this shit.  Over the next few months, too many of my friends to name will be hitting this same milestone, and I’d be lying if I said I am not — at times — petrified.  I’m anticipating a depression and will be actively looking for some new perspectives to ease the transition.  My suspicion is that it’s going to require a radical shift in self-concept that incorporates being older, slower, having fewer life options, and being closer to death… but may also include positive things like being wiser, and… well that’s all I can think of.  Anyone?  Input please?

The quote of the week comes from a conversation I had with a foreign fellow on BART the other day:

Guy: How do you get your hair to do that?
Me: Will power.