…are up here.
Archive for October, 2008
would someone like to tell me…
What the hell is going on?
I always get excited about my little projects, but never like this. And should I feel bad by being excited? I mean. It’s a charge. A rush. And what from?
Pierre passing away? He was one of my best friends. I should be in mourning, no?
The Clovis Sisters calling me the other morning? I thought Tracy was mad about what I wrote. And where the hell did they get my number?
Scott fixes the ya pedal and wants to score my show? I think he feels the vibe I’m on. Says he can feel the love in the new show. Pushes me.
Tara writes? I thought she was weirded out because of the letter I wrote back in ’00. I think I said something about Miles Davis. Or a one-way plane ticket.
I easily swap 3 cups of coffee for 4 glasses of water in the morning, just like Elly told me to and I feel great?
Pictures come in the mail from Em. I never get mail! And now I do. At someone else’s home.
4 chapters. And an intro. The preview below. Haven’t smoked all day but I feel like one now. Friends comment more on the new show then they ever did on the one about Shanghai. Maybe it’s because I’m not grumpy.
Tim writes. And then deletes. Repeat two more times. Send again. Perfect.
An older man faints on the boat yesterday and then throws up on my shoes. Don’t worry about it, you’re not the first one to throw up in this town. I’ve made a mess, he laughs. Be glad you didn’t fall the other way.
…this is strange.
I leave in 10 days. The fucking book will be done. No. No cursing. It’s no longer the fucking book. It’s the book. The show will be done. Then I’ll come back with footage and stories from India and Nepal. In-Diaries I’ll call it.
The cigarette was a bad idea. It’s trying to take credit for my buzz. Not this time, Mister Marlboro. This is coming from somewhere else.
Finally.
the shanghai [exile] diaries – preview
Might be in over my head here for the next week with everything going on, but here’s a peek at the newest show:
[Best viewed on Safari for some reason - if you can't see the player, click here]
the book. the fucking book.
I’ve been struggling. Struggling with the opening page. This has been going on for about 6 months now. How to start. How to end. The police coming after me in China is a good end. Was a good end. Pierre will now be the end. But the beginning. I didn’t know how to start it. How can you write all that happened in 4 years to a guy that showed up with $500usd and a diploma he bought from Phony Diploma only to a few years down the road have…well, life that I did? That we did? You can’t. I tried. I’m a decent writer and I couldn’t. Until Pierre passed away. I wrote him a note. From me to him. Think I found my stride. I wrote it today. Am going to send it to JW to see what he thinks. He’s been with me on this since Day 01. Its more honest than I ever wanted it to be. People might not like me after this, which was usually okay, seeing how the people I pissed off were either strangers or the Chinese. But these will be my friends. It has nothing to do with them, but my secrets. My fuck ups. My constant re-invention in a town I hated that resulted in me being successful. Which did nothing more than spur on my re-invention. You can see where this is going. Anyway. I hope JW likes it. I’m going to send it to Scott too. I know Pierre would like it. He taught me that one can be talented, arrogant, misunderstood and honest – all at the same time – and people still love you. I’ve been witness to that these past few days.
Wish me luck – admitting your own faults is one thing, but making them public is something else.
o.m.k.o.s. – a look back
[Update - my server is getting hammered, so am just leaving 2 shows for now. If there's a show you want, or missed, email me and I'll get it to ya]
Wow – had written a breakdown of the shows and put them up only to have my server crash from too much traffic. Says a lot about the man. Will re-write this in time, but not now. I’m going to listen. It makes me happy. Happier. He belonged here. He knew it. I knew it. We knew it. Anyone that listened knew it. Here is where he wanted to be. We talked a lot about it. Listen. Enjoy. While many have lost someone equally as important, few are archived doing exactly what they loved. We’re lucky. We have this part of him of him forever.
…
Show 6 (my personal fave)
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Final Show – ‘Feel Good Tracks’
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my new nipples
You’ll lose sensitivity, she said after the dinner party laughs subsided.
I cant say I ever liked them being played with in the first place, I admitted.
You’re serious?
About what, not liking them being played with or looking into it?
Both.
Yes.
What’s wrong with them?
They’re…puffy.
Ha.
I’m serious.
When did you start thinking about this?
When I was 11.
11?
Yes.
Isn’t that a bit early?
Stuart didn’t think so.
Who’s Stuart?
The boy who told me they were puffy.
I’m sure he was kidding.
He wasn’t.
How do you know?
He’s the type of guy who’s good at things like that.
Like what?
Finding the little things that ruin the bigger part.
Huh?
He was the first to point out Michael Jordan’s gambling habit.
Oh.
Yeah.
So, you want them…shrunk?
Shrunk. Streched. Trimmed. I don’t care. I just want to wear white again.
Will you show us them now?
No.
Why?
Because I want to wait until after the procedure.
How much is it?
I don’t know, but a sex change here is under $1600, so it can’t be much.
Good luck then.
Thank you.
we like. we always will.
I recollect with a-mixed emotions
All the good times we used to have
But you were making preparations
For the coming separation…
I took out that last line, but only you and Scott will realize that. How can I not quote that track? We’d sing the low part and you’d come in on the high. Was that so long ago? Remember that morning we watched the sun rise over The Bund while we came down from whatever we could get our hands on that night – playing ‘Maggot Brain’ over-and-over until we couldn’t stand the cold hot-tub. Ideas of a ‘radio show’ the only ones remembered after we woke up later that day. Cats attached to your bumper while paying off a Balinese Police Officer. The look in your eye when you commented on how using the back of my mobile phone might not have been a good idea. Arguing – we always argued, but in the way only guys who call each other ‘Brother’ can. I still have your playlist on my iPod, you made it only 2 months ago and now I don’t even want to touch it. My birthday gift, did you know I played that over-and-over while traveling? Did I tell you that, how it made my worries about ‘Is this life the right one’ fade away? No. I don’t think I did. I’m sorry I didn’t. We sat on that curb for God knows how long, ‘We’re clever boys’ you said and I agreed. You said other things I didn’t agree with, but I told you that. I think we ended up in another bar, although I can’t be certain. Did we get into trouble that night? I think so. There was always trouble, always drama and that’s what made it fun. You lived your life as if you knew all along it was shorter than ours and I think, in your own way, you tried to tell us. No one loved ‘The Family’ more than you, you said that. I’m sorry I yelled at you on the drive up to the mountains, I just didn’t like being wet. We made up though, didn’t we? I think we did – yes. We finished your birthday evening with Iggy Pop’s live version of ‘The Passenger’ and you liked that. You always liked that. I know because of the way you made your nose when the guitar hit. I feel like the luckiest one, I have pictures, video and our archives. I can’t listen to them for a while, I know you understand, but I have them. I might play them over Christmas with Scott. I think that’s what you’d like us to do. We talked this morning about raising a glass to you, but a glass doesn’t seem big enough for your short time here. Maybe we’ll try and find saucisson in Detroit, you told me you always liked that, even when you were a little boy. But you still shared yours with me. Thank you. Don’t worry though, Scott and I will do something special, man – just you be sure and keep watch.
They said it was your heart and that makes sense. It was too big and too tortured for this place. Just try and not piss too many people off up there, okay? Behave so that when we all meet up again, you can play. I’d like that.
The last thing you said to me after we sat watching the sun go down on Kuta was ‘travel safe’…
I guess I’ll say the same.
why I would *totally* marry a self-regenerating pizza if it weren’t considered strange or unethical
Pizza is like sex. When it’s good, it’s really good and when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.
(Unknown)
I love pizza. In fact, the more I travel, the more I realize it’s one of those things that I simply cannot go without. I occasionally joke with friends that ‘I would, in fact, marry a pizza’. But I’m serious. It would have to be a never-ending pizza, of course, but if we’re considering my holy matrimony to bread, cheese and tomato sauce, then I suppose anything could be possible.
Dating would be hard, as there would inevitably be ‘the wait’. Mrs. P would wonder if I actually a Tex-Mex fan who was bored with his current state of cuisine and just needed a little something different. Once we got past that, though, and I gained enough trust to indulge in her pleasures, I’d be the best partner ever. As would she. I would always have something nice to say about pizza and it wouldn’t even be forced. She’d see that look in my eyes and just know that I really do love her. And what a wife she’d be! ‘Go out with your friends, get as drunk as you want, honey!’, she’d say ’cause she knows that in my most desolate and intoxicated hour, there is nothing I crave more than what she has to offer. Oh! We could travel together, we could travel the world! As much as I love the local Thai I’m surrounded with now, it ain’t got a thing on the perfect margarita wood-bake. Don’t get me wrong, I’d have to be strong in places like Japan, where the smackrels are small and chances are, you’d be tempted to take part in 3 or 4 bites – but in the end, I would always realize that it’s a slice that I need. SHE would know me. She would know ME! She wouldn’t reach for her copy of ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’ if I was too tired to cuddle, seeing how it was her goodness that fatigued me in the first place. I could consume either fast or slow, she wouldn’t complain to her friends. Even if I stayed out late one night, she could simply place herself in the fridge and wait. Or deliver herself to wherever I was. In 30 minutes or less. On special nights, we could spice things up with a little Tabasco (and it wouldn’t hurt like the first time I tried to include it in a romantic gesture), or have innocent Hawaiian fun on nights when its raining. A bit of yoga and we could even talk about Calzone Month if she sensed things were becoming routine.
I think that would be perfect…
Or perhaps think this is what happens to a man whose diet for the past few days has consisted of instant noodles and Marlboro Lights.
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