We had Mr. Brownstone practice on Saturday.  Those songs are awesome to sing.  I gotta learn the words.

I had three nosebleeds on Saturday.  One of them occurred when we were playing “You Could Be Mine”.   I was reminded today of the nosebleed while looking over my notes as there were specks of dried blood all over the page.  That day, I kept going because a) we were renting a rehearsal space and b) it just seemed so badass to sing and bleed.

I remember giving an “It’s alright” look to “Izzy’s” concerned look.  It was especially awesome on the bridge.  Oh, these words tasted like blood:

“While you’re breakin’ down my back
and I been rackin’ out my brain
It don’t matter how we make it
cause it always ends the same
you can push it for more mileage but your flaps are wearin thin
i could sleep on it til mornin
but this nightmare never ends”

Hey Hey!
“There are some jokes you cannot understand until you have been a fool many, many years and thought yourself finally cured and then found out that you had just become a different kind of fool.”
-Uncle Pietro
The Earth Will Shake
Robert Anton Wilson

someone needs to work on his corn mo album (dm photo)

My friends, Will and Emily, were in town.  We met at the Met and looked at art.  I should go there more often than I do now.  When I moved to NY, I told myself I should go to the Natural History Museum every Saturday.  I haven’t been in 2 years.  

  The Forest in Winter at Sunset, 1845–67
Pierre-Étienne-Théodore Rousseau (French, 1812–1867)

I also told myself to go see more theater and I haven’t.  My friend, Nick, came to town and got me a free ticket to see Doubt.  The theater is nice and you can drink beer at your seat which is a plus.  John Patrick Shanley wrote a really good play.  He also wrote Joe Versus the Volcano, a fine film that lovingly shows off Long Island City and Abe Vigoda.

warm hearted, who farted?

Back to Saturday, I tried to take Will and Em and Jasper and Josh and Una to the 7th Regiment Bar but it was closed.

I went to see my roommate’s band on Friday night at the Irving Plaza.  I was real proud to see them on the big stage.

my picture phone works

My friend, Drew, calls bluejean shorts, jorts.  He’s getting some for friends as Christmas gifts.

Drew, in the middle kneeling, knows what to get the dojo for Christmas

I saw Willie Nelson last night.  He’s so good.  He played "Angel Flying too Close to the Ground."  What a beautiful song.

I sat in with Brave Combo the night before.  They’re one of the best bands ever.  Influenced John and John, me, and are one of Denton’s Finest.  So, is this guy.

The Golden Warrior

Call this number!  510.351.7654!

I don’t usually write what I’m listening to because most of my friends think I have a terrible taste in music and don’t want to know.  But today I got to listen to a couple of cool cds.  A friend of mine that I met at a TMBG show gave me a cd he had just finished.  It’s handmade, including the packaging.  And it’s really good.  Hopefully, he’ll have a myspace site up to share some of them.  His name is Jimmy Dority.  He’s really good.

And then my roommate let me borrow "The Best of Free Design".  They do a cover of "You Are My Sunshine", one of the best songs ever written.  I got a little teary. 

the free design

Well, there’s that.  And then, I finally found Andrew Schroeder songs.  He was the french horn player in the Polyphonic Spree.  He gave me a cd with a song on it a couple of years ago and I love listening to it.  I found his myspace under Andrew Tinker and The Goodnights.  I guess that’s why it took so long.  Here, go listen:

http://www.myspace.com/goodnights    

Oh, and I saw Jon Brion last night at the Canal Room.  I wanted to leave because I was getting inspired to be a better musician but I didn’t because I wanted to see him continue his brilliance.  If you’re ever in LA on a Friday go see him at Largo. 

And when I finally got home I went to my piano and disappointed myself and went to bed.

My friend Jen is about to be deported. If she does, my friend and former roommate, Dave, will have to leave the country, also, because she is his wife, his friend for life. In the meantime, Jen can’t visit her relatives because then she’ll never be able to come back to the states.
Jen and Dave are filmmakers. You can click on the Bigfoot link to the right to see Dave’s work.
You can click on this site to get more info: www.pleasehelpjen.com
I don’t know the complete history of the legislation involved but I think that back in ’96, a Texas congressman introduced a bill that would allow deportation above a judge’s ruling.
These are good folks doing some cool things and I don’t want them to leave.

I went to visit my girlfriend in Atlantic City the other day. She does the motorcycle/trapeze act at the Steel Pier. Here’s the part about my awesome bus ride.
Getting there:
I take the Academy bus from Port Authority. It’s $29 round trip but depending on what casino you get dropped at, you get at least $17 back. (Get dropped off at the Tropicana or Showboat. You get cash and not a gamble card , with all your info given away.) I gambled $5 on video poker. I won 3.50 and then lost it all. That’s the way it goes. I don’t have gamble magic. Tim Delaughter does. He wins all the time. But, I’m cool losing a five.
Anyway, my bus stops at the Cheesequake rest area for a second pickup. There’s not enough room for everyone. One old dude was told to leave because a fellow who was waiting in line before him couldn’t sit down.
Bus guy: You need to get off. Come on.
Old guy to Young Dude: But I’m here.
Young dude with backwards visor: Come on.
Old guy: I don’t have a problem with you.
Young dude with backwards visor: Yeah, well I got a problem with you. I been waitin’ 2 hours.
Some old dude behind me yelling: There were six people before you.
Bus guy: Come on get off.
Old guy gets off. Young guy sits down. Old dude in back yells again.
Old guy off bus yells at bus guy. He’s turned to the side so as not to be so threatening and walks away, then turns around walks back and yells again, this time to the bus guy’s face. I think I counted four walkbacks and then we left.

Going back:
I took the 7:45 bus at Resorts. There’s no bay assignment to line up at so there became 2 lines, each hoping that the bus would stop at their line. I’ve never heard people clap for a bus until last night. I guess I should have. Well, it was my line the bus chose and every one from the other line came rushing to our line. One older lady ran to the front and was immediately yelled at by other ladies.
Bus guy: I only have room for five (out of 50 waiting). There’s an empty bus arriving at the Taj Mahal at 8:30.
So, we go to the Taj Mahal. Four women go the wrong way so I yell for them to follow me as I am a denizen of Taj, walking to the big red letters that spell BUSES thru the forest of stupidity called slots, and onto another long line of people who want to go home because the house always wins.
The older lady who cut earlier is there and is promptly yelled at again.
Older lady: Don’t yell at me. My husband is right over there!
I don’t know what that means but it shutup the other ladies, so I’ll know to use that one someday.
Well, this bus isn’t empty like Surefire told us back at the other casino. Then, it gets awesome. People start cutting in line like crazy and the other waiters (people who wait?) are booing and yelling at the line-cutters. The fantastic four behind me are telling each other how the bus driver should do his job, who is letting the persistent line-cutters on the bus.
Then, the coolest thing of this bus fiasco: This little old man starts yelling. Like a bark-yell. Holy shit was he loud. It was like a dog barking at a mountain lion who’s about to destroy him.
Then, the line moves and I’m two people behind those who can’t get on the full bus.
Then, security shows up. Not just bike cops. I’m talking the kind that you see in the movies: the old guys with secret service wires and suits.
And then Young Blowhard says: Can you all hear me? There is another bus leaving Showboat at 9:40.
Lady 1: We’ve been waiting for 2 hours!
Lady 2: You keep moving us.
YB: It’s first come first serve.
Lady 3: You let people cut in line.
YB: I’m sorry for the . . .
So, I leave because I don’t want to spend my evening waiting for buses. I opt to stay one more night and leave in the morning. Colt wants to go drink at the Pic-a-lilli but I’m too tired.
I get up at five, thinking no one will be on my bus. I take the local bus to the Taj and then realize I should go to Trump Plaza so I can leave earlier, 6:15am. An older couple is there and when I’m more awake I furthermore realize that my earlier realization was blurred and that I need to haul ass to the Taj but that’s too late so I head to the Claridge and tell my new old friends to follow me or we’ll miss the bus.
There’s a short line at the Claridge. And it gets past bus due time so the old guy shows me his schedule and compares it to my bus schedule and they’re different. I got mine on Saturday as I was departing at the Tropicana. I don’t know where he got his.
Old guy: Why don’t you call this number?
So, I do. The guy tells me my schedule is wrong and I tell him that there is a line of 50 people who don’t know that and that they should get their shit together. The old guy and his wife leave to catch another bus and I stay in line and wait for the ghost bus. I call another number and a sweet lady says, “I just sell the tickets. Call this number.” So, I call and the bus shows up.
Boy, am I relieved. I have an empty seat for about 15 minutes and then get Coughy-sleepy next to me and I play some chess on my phone and then I too fall asleep.
Visit Atlantic City!