Archives
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
6.30.04.9:25 a.m. est.
I love my job. I do. I realized this as I was driving through a very green Pennsylvania country side on my way home from Pittsburgh the morning after playing a second consecutive show in two nights. I drove 900 miles in 3 days, starting in Brooklyn, down through Jersey, Delaware, Maryland and on into Virginia to play at Jammin’ Java in Vienna. had a great show. a wonderful talent simply named “Lea” opened the show with a brilliant collection of original material as well as an impeccable rendition of Billie Holiday’s “God Bless the Child”. it was nice to finally get to headline there at Jammin’ Java. I was able to stretch out a bit and play for awhile. it’s so much nicer when you don’t feel forced to rush or clear the stage for the next act. after the show I took advantage of having a bit of that post-show energy in me and got a head start on the drive up and over to Pittsburgh. I finally stopped off at some small town Red Roof Inn and crashed. got up in the morning and had a staple Waffle House breakfast before headin’ out. other than a little traffic due to a horrible accident there was nothing but sunny skies and random pockets of NPR radio reception for the rest of the drive. I pulled into downtown Pittsburgh around 1:30, stopped off at groovy looking bar with big wide open windows and glass walls that opened up to Penn Ave. I ordered a Hoegarrden (or three), did my best with a crossword puzzle, and watched the latest of the MTV daytime programs that continue to pre-empt the playing of any actual videos on that damn network. (it wasn’t bad enough that we have to be inundated with a constant barrage of Jessica Simpson images, quotes and seemingly endless embarrassing footage of her ridiculous celebrity marriage and “career” but now the execs over at MTV think we’ll all be better off with another reality show based on Jessica’s little sister. thanks MTV.) I read the local rag and found out there was a wine tasting going on at the Andy Warhol museum in down town Pittsburgh that day at 5:30. my show wasn’t till 9 or so, had plenty of time. I am not a Warhol fan. at all. but I’m a sucker for a good wine tasting so I swung on by to check it out. it wasn’t until I was getting ready to hit the stage later that night that I remembered what a wine buzz in the afternoon will do to you at night. suffice it to say I was a bit laid back for the Quiet Storm show. good and soggy. but again, I was the headliner (actually, I was only act that night) and so I was able to stretch out and play as long as it felt appropriate. which for the ladies who come down from Toronto each time I play Pittsburgh is probably never long enough. (good to see y’all, as always.) I had made arrangements to stay the night at The Quiet Storm and get my show on the road in the morning. Lynn, the lady who runs things there, knew of a party in the neighborhood and invited me come along. some friends of hers occupy this big old house that is apparently a bit of a co-op. I guess 10 or so people share the house and as well share in the communal goings-on like the one we attended. tons of drifters, dread-locked artists, thinkers, musicians and extremely friendly individuals all hangin’ out, drinking, laughing, singing, playing and smoking an assortment of rolling tobacco. we hung for a bit, made some music, had some laughs and our fill of cigarettes and PBR before fatigue set in and I was forced to get some sleep. sleeping in a coffee house by yourself overnight is quite a trip. I was basically locked in until I decided to head out the side door that automatically locks behind you when you shut it. the sun poured in loud and clear at about 7 a.m. and I was up and out shortly thereafter.
it’s always nice to have a weekend that actually feels like a weekend. Gaby and I went to see “Fahrenheit 9/11” Saturday afternoon. although this probably warrants it’s own journal entry, I will take a second to say, left, right, republican or democrat, all judgments of Michael Moore’s style and character aside, no American can afford not to see this movie. period. if only to inspire us to seek out our own knowledge of the events covered in it. but hopefully more so to inspire us to make wise and informed decisions come this November. seriously. do yourself a favor and GO SEE THIS MOVIE!!
Sunday, we went out to Long Island to visit with some family friends, really allowing ourselves some serious relaxation. it’s amazing how you only need drive roughly an hour (in some cases even less) out of the city to feel a world away. we had to get back to Brooklyn in time to pick up a new baby kitten. we decided that our cat Pizza could use some company. however, this little rambunctious cuddler’s company seems to be the last thing in the world Pizza’s lookin’ for. we’re hoping she adjusts and takes on the big sister role soon enough. cause damn, little kittie’s frickin’ CUTE.
had to get up at 4:30 a.m. Monday morning to catch a ride to the airport in order to get to the airport by 5:30 for a 6:30 flight to Chicago. hooked up with friends Dale (Campbell) and Melissa (Stevenson) for some sushi and afternoon drinks and juke boxin’ at the local “hole”. (three drink rounds, doubles, for $11. can’t beat it.) my hotel had a complimentary wine and cheese spread in the evening, so of course we had to oblige. I had to be over at the venue by 6:30 to sound check so we grabbed a cab and got there. gotta say, Chicago has yet to let me down. I love playin’ there. something about Schuba’s monday night was just right. I had a blast and was way encouraged by the turn out. Bob Schnieder has a lovely little following as well and the two of us together sold the place out. my friends Christian and Tracy were in the house and that made things a ton of fun. it’s nice making your way around the country, having good people to run into along the way. crazy. I was pretty good to go by the time I was dropped off at the hotel. apparently, I had double checked my flight time for the morning and made a request for a wake-up call. when I got the call at 9:30 in the morning, I thought the front desk had made a mistake. I woke up, laid there watching a live broadcast of John Kerry addressing the Rainbow Coalition in Chicago, not even thinking that I might have had my wits about me enough the night before to have actually made the appropriate request for the wake-up call. turns out I did. I checked my flight info and realized I had a 12 o’clock flight. here it is 10:30. I shit. got my hustle on and made it to the airport, returned the rental car and got through a secondary security check in time to catch my flight, the whole time my head just pounding. foolish child. I got home last night and went to a local Italian restaurant for some pasta and chianti, taking some time to reflect on a crazy couple of days, realizing that some down time (and a little de-tox) is certainly in order.
gotta go to Cincinati this weekend to stand up in Josh Ackerman’s wedding. good old Ackeroo found a wonderful lady to grow old with and I’m lookin’ forward to being a part of their celebration. after that, it’s down to Nashville and then over to Annapolis. hope everyone’s enjoying their summer. and not working too hard otherwise.
I love my job. I do. I realized this as I was driving through a very green Pennsylvania country side on my way home from Pittsburgh the morning after playing a second consecutive show in two nights. I drove 900 miles in 3 days, starting in Brooklyn, down through Jersey, Delaware, Maryland and on into Virginia to play at Jammin’ Java in Vienna. had a great show. a wonderful talent simply named “Lea” opened the show with a brilliant collection of original material as well as an impeccable rendition of Billie Holiday’s “God Bless the Child”. it was nice to finally get to headline there at Jammin’ Java. I was able to stretch out a bit and play for awhile. it’s so much nicer when you don’t feel forced to rush or clear the stage for the next act. after the show I took advantage of having a bit of that post-show energy in me and got a head start on the drive up and over to Pittsburgh. I finally stopped off at some small town Red Roof Inn and crashed. got up in the morning and had a staple Waffle House breakfast before headin’ out. other than a little traffic due to a horrible accident there was nothing but sunny skies and random pockets of NPR radio reception for the rest of the drive. I pulled into downtown Pittsburgh around 1:30, stopped off at groovy looking bar with big wide open windows and glass walls that opened up to Penn Ave. I ordered a Hoegarrden (or three), did my best with a crossword puzzle, and watched the latest of the MTV daytime programs that continue to pre-empt the playing of any actual videos on that damn network. (it wasn’t bad enough that we have to be inundated with a constant barrage of Jessica Simpson images, quotes and seemingly endless embarrassing footage of her ridiculous celebrity marriage and “career” but now the execs over at MTV think we’ll all be better off with another reality show based on Jessica’s little sister. thanks MTV.) I read the local rag and found out there was a wine tasting going on at the Andy Warhol museum in down town Pittsburgh that day at 5:30. my show wasn’t till 9 or so, had plenty of time. I am not a Warhol fan. at all. but I’m a sucker for a good wine tasting so I swung on by to check it out. it wasn’t until I was getting ready to hit the stage later that night that I remembered what a wine buzz in the afternoon will do to you at night. suffice it to say I was a bit laid back for the Quiet Storm show. good and soggy. but again, I was the headliner (actually, I was only act that night) and so I was able to stretch out and play as long as it felt appropriate. which for the ladies who come down from Toronto each time I play Pittsburgh is probably never long enough. (good to see y’all, as always.) I had made arrangements to stay the night at The Quiet Storm and get my show on the road in the morning. Lynn, the lady who runs things there, knew of a party in the neighborhood and invited me come along. some friends of hers occupy this big old house that is apparently a bit of a co-op. I guess 10 or so people share the house and as well share in the communal goings-on like the one we attended. tons of drifters, dread-locked artists, thinkers, musicians and extremely friendly individuals all hangin’ out, drinking, laughing, singing, playing and smoking an assortment of rolling tobacco. we hung for a bit, made some music, had some laughs and our fill of cigarettes and PBR before fatigue set in and I was forced to get some sleep. sleeping in a coffee house by yourself overnight is quite a trip. I was basically locked in until I decided to head out the side door that automatically locks behind you when you shut it. the sun poured in loud and clear at about 7 a.m. and I was up and out shortly thereafter.
it’s always nice to have a weekend that actually feels like a weekend. Gaby and I went to see “Fahrenheit 9/11” Saturday afternoon. although this probably warrants it’s own journal entry, I will take a second to say, left, right, republican or democrat, all judgments of Michael Moore’s style and character aside, no American can afford not to see this movie. period. if only to inspire us to seek out our own knowledge of the events covered in it. but hopefully more so to inspire us to make wise and informed decisions come this November. seriously. do yourself a favor and GO SEE THIS MOVIE!!
Sunday, we went out to Long Island to visit with some family friends, really allowing ourselves some serious relaxation. it’s amazing how you only need drive roughly an hour (in some cases even less) out of the city to feel a world away. we had to get back to Brooklyn in time to pick up a new baby kitten. we decided that our cat Pizza could use some company. however, this little rambunctious cuddler’s company seems to be the last thing in the world Pizza’s lookin’ for. we’re hoping she adjusts and takes on the big sister role soon enough. cause damn, little kittie’s frickin’ CUTE.
had to get up at 4:30 a.m. Monday morning to catch a ride to the airport in order to get to the airport by 5:30 for a 6:30 flight to Chicago. hooked up with friends Dale (Campbell) and Melissa (Stevenson) for some sushi and afternoon drinks and juke boxin’ at the local “hole”. (three drink rounds, doubles, for $11. can’t beat it.) my hotel had a complimentary wine and cheese spread in the evening, so of course we had to oblige. I had to be over at the venue by 6:30 to sound check so we grabbed a cab and got there. gotta say, Chicago has yet to let me down. I love playin’ there. something about Schuba’s monday night was just right. I had a blast and was way encouraged by the turn out. Bob Schnieder has a lovely little following as well and the two of us together sold the place out. my friends Christian and Tracy were in the house and that made things a ton of fun. it’s nice making your way around the country, having good people to run into along the way. crazy. I was pretty good to go by the time I was dropped off at the hotel. apparently, I had double checked my flight time for the morning and made a request for a wake-up call. when I got the call at 9:30 in the morning, I thought the front desk had made a mistake. I woke up, laid there watching a live broadcast of John Kerry addressing the Rainbow Coalition in Chicago, not even thinking that I might have had my wits about me enough the night before to have actually made the appropriate request for the wake-up call. turns out I did. I checked my flight info and realized I had a 12 o’clock flight. here it is 10:30. I shit. got my hustle on and made it to the airport, returned the rental car and got through a secondary security check in time to catch my flight, the whole time my head just pounding. foolish child. I got home last night and went to a local Italian restaurant for some pasta and chianti, taking some time to reflect on a crazy couple of days, realizing that some down time (and a little de-tox) is certainly in order.
gotta go to Cincinati this weekend to stand up in Josh Ackerman’s wedding. good old Ackeroo found a wonderful lady to grow old with and I’m lookin’ forward to being a part of their celebration. after that, it’s down to Nashville and then over to Annapolis. hope everyone’s enjoying their summer. and not working too hard otherwise.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
6.23.04 1:45 p.m. est
it rained yesterday and as I sat at my computer and listened to the raindrops splat against the AC unit in the window, I realized I'm still getting used to the weather here in New York. it's rare that we would ever get rain this late in the year in LA. as well though, I forgot how inspiring the occasional rain shower can be. so I grabbed an umbrella and ran some errands in the rain, all the while breaking in a new pair of Pumas. and sometimes the humidity is nice. good for the skin and vocal chords. as well, I decided to to shave my beard to celebrate the first day of summer. I shaved it clean too. for the first time in I don't know how long, I could feel (and see) my face. felt like I was 15 again. truth is, I've always hated shaving. back on the mouse club, I was one of the first cast members to be under constant watch from the producers to make sure I wasn't trying to get away with any post-adolescent facial hair. "heaven forbid" viewers get an honest glance at how we really look or how we'd rather present ourselves given the chance. poor Dale. "brothas gotta kick a little fuzz on they uppa lip. you just aint down if you clean shaven and shit. dog!"
had a beautiful weekend in Michigan with the family. all of my mom's 11 brothers and sisters were in town for a wedding on Saturday and subsequent family reunion on Sunday. so wonderful to get a good dose of family love and encouragement. some really great conversations, jam sessions and of course good food and drink. it's really amazing the degree to which my family has been blessed with the gift of music and song and so wonderful to have received more than my fair share of it.
I heard that due to poor ticket sales, Lallapalooza has been canceled. no Britney, no Christina. Marc Anthony even had the plug pulled. makes one nervous to wonder where the money is to be made in this business. if record sales are down and ticket sales are down, well, then how's a poor artist to eat? I'll be headin' down to VA tomorrow and Pittsburgh Friday. hopefully there's a few of you out there that all this industry slump mumbo jumbo simply doesn't apply to. hope to see y'all out there.
be well,
Tony
it rained yesterday and as I sat at my computer and listened to the raindrops splat against the AC unit in the window, I realized I'm still getting used to the weather here in New York. it's rare that we would ever get rain this late in the year in LA. as well though, I forgot how inspiring the occasional rain shower can be. so I grabbed an umbrella and ran some errands in the rain, all the while breaking in a new pair of Pumas. and sometimes the humidity is nice. good for the skin and vocal chords. as well, I decided to to shave my beard to celebrate the first day of summer. I shaved it clean too. for the first time in I don't know how long, I could feel (and see) my face. felt like I was 15 again. truth is, I've always hated shaving. back on the mouse club, I was one of the first cast members to be under constant watch from the producers to make sure I wasn't trying to get away with any post-adolescent facial hair. "heaven forbid" viewers get an honest glance at how we really look or how we'd rather present ourselves given the chance. poor Dale. "brothas gotta kick a little fuzz on they uppa lip. you just aint down if you clean shaven and shit. dog!"
had a beautiful weekend in Michigan with the family. all of my mom's 11 brothers and sisters were in town for a wedding on Saturday and subsequent family reunion on Sunday. so wonderful to get a good dose of family love and encouragement. some really great conversations, jam sessions and of course good food and drink. it's really amazing the degree to which my family has been blessed with the gift of music and song and so wonderful to have received more than my fair share of it.
I heard that due to poor ticket sales, Lallapalooza has been canceled. no Britney, no Christina. Marc Anthony even had the plug pulled. makes one nervous to wonder where the money is to be made in this business. if record sales are down and ticket sales are down, well, then how's a poor artist to eat? I'll be headin' down to VA tomorrow and Pittsburgh Friday. hopefully there's a few of you out there that all this industry slump mumbo jumbo simply doesn't apply to. hope to see y'all out there.
be well,
Tony
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
was at my local waterin' hole with my lady and my good friend Mike Miley and watched the Pistons make NBA history tonight. wow. fitting that after living in LA for the past 9 years and becoming a "default" Lakers fan, they would finally cough it up to my beloved Detroit Pistons as soon as I move back out East. this was the most fun I've had watching the television since Barney Miller said "Farewell" in '83.
however, watching Aretha Franklin throw up a Britney Spears from half court with her pre-recorded rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner" was the most embarrassed I've been to be a Michigander since Barry Sanders retired. sad, Miss "Queen of Soul". very sad. and here I thought Kid Rock couldn't have done Detroit any worse. go on Kid.
we won't even touch upon the divine grace and astounding soulful sincerity of Miss Anita Baker's "...Spangled Banner". she's the real deal. still and forever more. good call Detroit. way to set off an unforgettable 3 GAME STREAK OF NBA HISTORY!!!!
sorry Jack.
sorry Payton.
whatever Shaq.
good luck Kobe.
next time Carl.
oh, my bad. there won't be one.
try commentating, Jackson.
sorry Miley.
however, watching Aretha Franklin throw up a Britney Spears from half court with her pre-recorded rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner" was the most embarrassed I've been to be a Michigander since Barry Sanders retired. sad, Miss "Queen of Soul". very sad. and here I thought Kid Rock couldn't have done Detroit any worse. go on Kid.
we won't even touch upon the divine grace and astounding soulful sincerity of Miss Anita Baker's "...Spangled Banner". she's the real deal. still and forever more. good call Detroit. way to set off an unforgettable 3 GAME STREAK OF NBA HISTORY!!!!
sorry Jack.
sorry Payton.
whatever Shaq.
good luck Kobe.
next time Carl.
oh, my bad. there won't be one.
try commentating, Jackson.
sorry Miley.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
6.12.04.11:45 a.m.est
a beautiful Saturday morning here in Brooklyn. a bit too beautiful to be sitting inside at the computer all day. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone that’s come out to the last couple of shows. good music is being made and appreciated. Hoboken was great. for those of you that came out and got to see Vienna Teng, what a treat. she and I traded discs at the end of the night. she is such a talented songwriter and a wonderful pianist and performer. as for New Hope? two words: Town Hall! anyone who has ever had the pleasure of catching these guys lay it down can only imagine the good time we had last night. I haven’t seen a band that downright talented in I don’t know how long. and the beer at Triumph Brewery was well worth the drive. but a little advice to anyone thinking about stopping in to throw back a few, make sure someone else is driving when you leave. the cops in New Hope don’t play. they’re everywhere and they love a good speed trap on their little 45 mile an hour back roads. I had a cop tail me for over 15 minutes, just salivating at my potential to drive inappropriately leaving the brewery after 1 in the morning. made it home unscathed though, in bed by 4.
as well, I wanted to say to everyone that read my entry from the other day and took it personally, please forgive my ambiguity. like I said, I didn’t mean to single anyone out or recall any specific exchange to make my point. I was just trying to express a growing sentiment that I’ve wanted to share for some time. after the flood of e-mails and fan letters, I gather that most of you understand exactly what I’m getting at and I trust I haven’t caused anyone to refrain from coming out to future shows for fear of me treating them like some kind of pain in my ass. I do appreciate all of you that continue to support me and I know I’m well appreciated and respected in return. it’s all good. trust me. look at it this way: ironically, now y’all know me better than you did before. that can’t be so bad.
enjoy your weekend.
oh and uh...anybody seen the LA Lakers lately? they were supposed to play the Pistons thursday night. what happened?
yyyyyyeeeeeeeeee-uh!
a beautiful Saturday morning here in Brooklyn. a bit too beautiful to be sitting inside at the computer all day. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone that’s come out to the last couple of shows. good music is being made and appreciated. Hoboken was great. for those of you that came out and got to see Vienna Teng, what a treat. she and I traded discs at the end of the night. she is such a talented songwriter and a wonderful pianist and performer. as for New Hope? two words: Town Hall! anyone who has ever had the pleasure of catching these guys lay it down can only imagine the good time we had last night. I haven’t seen a band that downright talented in I don’t know how long. and the beer at Triumph Brewery was well worth the drive. but a little advice to anyone thinking about stopping in to throw back a few, make sure someone else is driving when you leave. the cops in New Hope don’t play. they’re everywhere and they love a good speed trap on their little 45 mile an hour back roads. I had a cop tail me for over 15 minutes, just salivating at my potential to drive inappropriately leaving the brewery after 1 in the morning. made it home unscathed though, in bed by 4.
as well, I wanted to say to everyone that read my entry from the other day and took it personally, please forgive my ambiguity. like I said, I didn’t mean to single anyone out or recall any specific exchange to make my point. I was just trying to express a growing sentiment that I’ve wanted to share for some time. after the flood of e-mails and fan letters, I gather that most of you understand exactly what I’m getting at and I trust I haven’t caused anyone to refrain from coming out to future shows for fear of me treating them like some kind of pain in my ass. I do appreciate all of you that continue to support me and I know I’m well appreciated and respected in return. it’s all good. trust me. look at it this way: ironically, now y’all know me better than you did before. that can’t be so bad.
enjoy your weekend.
oh and uh...anybody seen the LA Lakers lately? they were supposed to play the Pistons thursday night. what happened?
yyyyyyeeeeeeeeee-uh!
Thursday, June 10, 2004
6.10.04.4:15 p.m. est
"Music's been around a long time, and there's going to be music long after Ray Charles is dead," he told the Washington Post in 1983. "I just want to make my mark, leave something musically good behind. If it's a big record, that's the frosting on the cake, but music's the main meal."
thank God for the life and legacy of Ray Charles.
Ray Charles 9.23.30-6.10.04
"Music's been around a long time, and there's going to be music long after Ray Charles is dead," he told the Washington Post in 1983. "I just want to make my mark, leave something musically good behind. If it's a big record, that's the frosting on the cake, but music's the main meal."
thank God for the life and legacy of Ray Charles.
Ray Charles 9.23.30-6.10.04
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
6.09.04.11:00 a.m. est
well, it's forecasted to get into the 90's today. I've always heard about NYC's two-season calendar year: winter and summer. maybe a few weeks of thaw, maybe a couple weeks of fall colors but for the most part, it's either really cold or really HOT. so it goes.
I was talking to an artist/poet friend of mine yesterday who shares in my plight: the woes of creativity being usurped by the beckoning of the summer sun. we talked about how easy it is to get lazy, creatively, when the weather breaks. you get up and running, run a few errands, make a few calls, send a few e-mails and next thing you know, it's 4 in the afternoon. at this point, some human instinct inside demands that you get out and enjoy what's left of the day. whatever it is you didn't get around to today can certainly wait till tomorrow. sometimes there's a slightly guilty pleasure in this. like some kind of pushing-of-the-envelpoe. a little devious behavior if you will. I know I will. I do and it pains me sometimes. I once read something by memoir author Anais Nin that put me at ease though. she said something to the effect that there are times of observation and reflection and other times of expression and purging. now of course it would be easy to rely on this simple truth every time we feel lazy or unproductive. however, as I've mentioned, New York is an entirely different planet when the weather breaks and it provides for some serious observation, reflection and inspiration, let alone some beautiful people-watching. so for now, I'll take honest refuge in Miss Nin's words.
in lieu of coming up with something new to share I'll simply point y'all in the direction of something I came across this morning that nearly took my breath away. reading the New York Times every morning is something I don't necessarily bring up with everyone for fear of instigating some kind of political debate that need not be entered into. however, some political topics speak for themselves and this one completely caught me off guard: a little bit of unforeseen, certainly bittersweet, inspiration from the op-ed section of today's times. anyone with loved ones serving or loved ones lost in service might find solace in some of the following writings. again, I certainly I apologize if I may be offending anyone.
hope all is well with everyone. enjoy your summer. see you in Hoboken tonight!
OP-ED COLUMNIST
Poems of Blood and Anger
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF
Published: June 9, 2004
Columnist Page: Nicholas D. Kristof
Kristof Responds: The Columnist Addresses Readers' E-mail
Forum: Discuss This Column
E-mail: nicholas@nytimes.com
TIMES NEWS TRACKER
Topics
Alerts
Poetry and Poets
War and Revolution
Iraq
If the world leaders at the G-8 summit meeting want to understand the war in Iraq, they should look beyond the war plans and U.N. resolutions. The most incisive analysis of war has often come from poets, like Homer or Wilfred Owen.
And now the Iraq poems are beginning to come in, offering another way to memorialize the struggle there. In April, I announced a contest for readers' poems about the Iraq war. Since then, I've been deluged by more than 1,000 sonnets, limericks, haiku — and, alas, epics.
Many try to capture the ugliness on the ground with the beauty of verse. Tim Johnson of Northville, Minn., wrote:
Outside the city, shivering with dread,
We're Falluja bound.
Can hear the explosions when I raise my head. . . .
Foreign soldiers, invaders from another land;
When I look through the hatred in their eyes,
I almost understand.
R.P.G.'s, mortars, and friends dead on the road.
My youth is gone,
Crushed from sensory overload.
Assaulted yesterday up an Iraqi street.
R.P.G. explosion, a scream,
Seared my face with the heat.
Dragged him through the blood-streaked dust and dirt,
His screams in my ears,
His blood type tagged to his shirt.
Covered with blood, he cried, Don't leave me alone.
Died in my arms;
Now I just want to go home.
Officers yelling, Get out of your holes!
We're Falluja bound;
Please pray for our souls.
An embittered second lieutenant who asks not to be named wrote:
Knock the dust off your boots, my boy,
It's time to ride again.
The frontier has gone restless now
And we must crush this rebellion. . . .
These people understand only violence,
So let's give it to 'em now.
We'll ride 'em down like Cherokee;
We'll trample 'em like Pueblo.
These savages are ruthless;
They understand no law.
So we'll pick up our Peacemakers,
And shoot 'em like Choctaw. . . .
Rally round the flag, my boy,
And grab your rifle, too.
The Red Man's turned Brown, my boy,
And there's a lot of peacemaking to do.
Megan Foley, a 16-year-old from Long Island, focused like many on the ambiguities of a war that was supposed to enhance moral clarity:
Confusion, fear and lies;
What good can come when people die?
Red Blood spilt
On barren land
To complete an alchemical plan,
Red Blood to Black Gold,
Deviously poisoning, polluting, choking our Heart.
Men tortured, defiled, dishonored by their Brethren,
Captured on film, a permanent bruise
Not to be overlooked.
Truth and honor wither away;
They know they do not belong.
Boundaries grow hazy
Accompanied by roles:
Who the victim? Who the villain? Both? Neither?
For what purpose and to what end?
Why fight a war
Paid with lives
Only to gain confusion, fear and lies?
Another young entrant, Zach Chotzen-Freund of Santa Barbara, Calif., examined in this excerpt the esprit that leads 17-year-olds to sign up for war. Fittingly, he's 17.
Off now, children! Off to war! Kill in your country's name!
For murder on behalf of kin is what allows our boys to win
And rest someday in cherished lore. So off now, off to war!
Off now, children! Off to war! Make your fathers swell with pride!
For though you're young, they love to hear that you're a splendid bombardier
And dodge death like a matador.
So off now, off to war!
Off now, children! Off to war! Bring smiles to your mothers' eyes!
They hate to lose you, sure that's true, but if flags of red, white and blue
Are at your funeral, souls will soar.
So off now, off to war!
More readers' poems are posted at www.nytimes.com/kristofresponds, my blog. I'll run the grand winners in my next column, on Saturday.
well, it's forecasted to get into the 90's today. I've always heard about NYC's two-season calendar year: winter and summer. maybe a few weeks of thaw, maybe a couple weeks of fall colors but for the most part, it's either really cold or really HOT. so it goes.
I was talking to an artist/poet friend of mine yesterday who shares in my plight: the woes of creativity being usurped by the beckoning of the summer sun. we talked about how easy it is to get lazy, creatively, when the weather breaks. you get up and running, run a few errands, make a few calls, send a few e-mails and next thing you know, it's 4 in the afternoon. at this point, some human instinct inside demands that you get out and enjoy what's left of the day. whatever it is you didn't get around to today can certainly wait till tomorrow. sometimes there's a slightly guilty pleasure in this. like some kind of pushing-of-the-envelpoe. a little devious behavior if you will. I know I will. I do and it pains me sometimes. I once read something by memoir author Anais Nin that put me at ease though. she said something to the effect that there are times of observation and reflection and other times of expression and purging. now of course it would be easy to rely on this simple truth every time we feel lazy or unproductive. however, as I've mentioned, New York is an entirely different planet when the weather breaks and it provides for some serious observation, reflection and inspiration, let alone some beautiful people-watching. so for now, I'll take honest refuge in Miss Nin's words.
in lieu of coming up with something new to share I'll simply point y'all in the direction of something I came across this morning that nearly took my breath away. reading the New York Times every morning is something I don't necessarily bring up with everyone for fear of instigating some kind of political debate that need not be entered into. however, some political topics speak for themselves and this one completely caught me off guard: a little bit of unforeseen, certainly bittersweet, inspiration from the op-ed section of today's times. anyone with loved ones serving or loved ones lost in service might find solace in some of the following writings. again, I certainly I apologize if I may be offending anyone.
hope all is well with everyone. enjoy your summer. see you in Hoboken tonight!
OP-ED COLUMNIST
Poems of Blood and Anger
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF
Published: June 9, 2004
Columnist Page: Nicholas D. Kristof
Kristof Responds: The Columnist Addresses Readers' E-mail
Forum: Discuss This Column
E-mail: nicholas@nytimes.com
TIMES NEWS TRACKER
Topics
Alerts
Poetry and Poets
War and Revolution
Iraq
If the world leaders at the G-8 summit meeting want to understand the war in Iraq, they should look beyond the war plans and U.N. resolutions. The most incisive analysis of war has often come from poets, like Homer or Wilfred Owen.
And now the Iraq poems are beginning to come in, offering another way to memorialize the struggle there. In April, I announced a contest for readers' poems about the Iraq war. Since then, I've been deluged by more than 1,000 sonnets, limericks, haiku — and, alas, epics.
Many try to capture the ugliness on the ground with the beauty of verse. Tim Johnson of Northville, Minn., wrote:
Outside the city, shivering with dread,
We're Falluja bound.
Can hear the explosions when I raise my head. . . .
Foreign soldiers, invaders from another land;
When I look through the hatred in their eyes,
I almost understand.
R.P.G.'s, mortars, and friends dead on the road.
My youth is gone,
Crushed from sensory overload.
Assaulted yesterday up an Iraqi street.
R.P.G. explosion, a scream,
Seared my face with the heat.
Dragged him through the blood-streaked dust and dirt,
His screams in my ears,
His blood type tagged to his shirt.
Covered with blood, he cried, Don't leave me alone.
Died in my arms;
Now I just want to go home.
Officers yelling, Get out of your holes!
We're Falluja bound;
Please pray for our souls.
An embittered second lieutenant who asks not to be named wrote:
Knock the dust off your boots, my boy,
It's time to ride again.
The frontier has gone restless now
And we must crush this rebellion. . . .
These people understand only violence,
So let's give it to 'em now.
We'll ride 'em down like Cherokee;
We'll trample 'em like Pueblo.
These savages are ruthless;
They understand no law.
So we'll pick up our Peacemakers,
And shoot 'em like Choctaw. . . .
Rally round the flag, my boy,
And grab your rifle, too.
The Red Man's turned Brown, my boy,
And there's a lot of peacemaking to do.
Megan Foley, a 16-year-old from Long Island, focused like many on the ambiguities of a war that was supposed to enhance moral clarity:
Confusion, fear and lies;
What good can come when people die?
Red Blood spilt
On barren land
To complete an alchemical plan,
Red Blood to Black Gold,
Deviously poisoning, polluting, choking our Heart.
Men tortured, defiled, dishonored by their Brethren,
Captured on film, a permanent bruise
Not to be overlooked.
Truth and honor wither away;
They know they do not belong.
Boundaries grow hazy
Accompanied by roles:
Who the victim? Who the villain? Both? Neither?
For what purpose and to what end?
Why fight a war
Paid with lives
Only to gain confusion, fear and lies?
Another young entrant, Zach Chotzen-Freund of Santa Barbara, Calif., examined in this excerpt the esprit that leads 17-year-olds to sign up for war. Fittingly, he's 17.
Off now, children! Off to war! Kill in your country's name!
For murder on behalf of kin is what allows our boys to win
And rest someday in cherished lore. So off now, off to war!
Off now, children! Off to war! Make your fathers swell with pride!
For though you're young, they love to hear that you're a splendid bombardier
And dodge death like a matador.
So off now, off to war!
Off now, children! Off to war! Bring smiles to your mothers' eyes!
They hate to lose you, sure that's true, but if flags of red, white and blue
Are at your funeral, souls will soar.
So off now, off to war!
More readers' poems are posted at www.nytimes.com/kristofresponds, my blog. I'll run the grand winners in my next column, on Saturday.
Monday, June 07, 2004
6.7.04.11:14 a.m. est
what a weekend! Ronald Reagan passes. J-Lo and Marc Anthony get married. Pistons upset the Lakers. The Tony Awards were... well, they happened. O.J. Simpson celebrates 10 years of “innocence”. Bush and Chirac French kiss and make-up. sort of. and most importantly, Sadr pulls out of Najaf while an American/Iraqi military partnership plan was turned into the U.N. security council for a vote. I guess this could be the first step in a legitimate, U.N. approved, handing-over, or at least a sharing of the security responsibilities and required protection of the Iraqi people. politics aside, it sure sounds like progress to me. anything that appears to be a step towards peace and the safety of our troops and that of the innocent people of Iraq should be more than welcomed. trust me, I’m really trying to steer clear of skepticism. I’ve come to believe that it’s going to take a great deal of hope to bring this thing to a close and standing aside, picking apart the unraveling of an administration doesn’t seem to lend much to that notion. of course, blind faith and naiveté isn’t going to get us anywhere either. it’s for this reason I try to stay informed and encourage others to do the same. that’s all.
I want to bring up something that came to me after my show in Philly the other night. because of the nature of what I want to say, I feel it’s important to preface it with some kind of disclaimer or that I simply say I don’t mean to single-out any one person, group, city or street team of people with what I’m feeling. this is more of an overall sentiment that you can either regard or disregard. I just feel it’s important that I address it to some degree and I thought it might be best addressed here. I confess to being a bit presumptuous in even putting this out there to begin with. for that I say... well, yeah.
I know I make myself available to those of you that come to my shows. I know because I make a concerted effort to do so. I have always felt it important to reach out and get to know the people that go to some extreme measures to support me and make it to my shows. quite honestly, it’s been a really rewarding experience. I’ve met some of the coolest people on this surreal endeavor. I’ve learned alot about true appreciation and respect. I’ve found that I have alot of truly accomplished individuals out there, tuning in, listening to my music, making it an integral part of their pursuits, both creative and professional, often both. I have learned of the healing power of my music through some of the most heartfelt stories and confessions from fans that have suffered loss or loved ones. this has been the most humbling element of what I’ve been working towards for the past several years and clearly the one I’m most thankful for. however, recently I’ve begun to feel a strange shift in the exchange between myself and some of the fans who have had the incentive and the free time to make it out to numerous shows over the years. I feel that some are beginning to take ill-advantage of my willingness to try and be real with them. I know that it’s an awkward thing to begin with. I make music, they listen to it. I play shows, they come pay money to see them. I know what it’s like to be into something. something that not everybody knows about. something that you feel you know a bit more about than others. you almost get this possessive sensation about you. I remember being all about Jeff Buckley before he died. before most of the world had ever heard of him yet. I remember how his posthumous success almost offended me. I mean c’mon. I was a “real” fan. I knew him more closely than anyone else. everyone’s just jumping on the Buckley bandwagon. blah blah blah. but really? I didn’t know him. I don’t know him. I know his art. his music. it’s in my head everyday, anywhere I go and I love that. I have had numerous chances to meet various heroes of mine and for some reason, given the chance, I often decline to take advantage of the opportunity. why? I’m not terribly sure. I feel it has something to do with the separation of person and artist. I know the two are rarely similar and often times for the unfavorable. no big deal. no judgments needed, none made. I continue to enjoy the work and that’s that. I do, however, applaud those who make the effort to approach the artists that they enjoy, to tell them what they think of their work, to extend compliments and in some cases, constructive criticism. for this reason, I offer myself to such an exchange. like I said, this is where I have encountered some really great people, funny dialogues, embarrassing moments that make for unforgettable icebreakers. it’s cool. it really is. but when comments become sarcastic criticisms, requests become “playful” demands and guilt trips, it really becomes something else. it becomes me, pretending to find it all funny, laughing it off, sheepishly playing along in some feigned “oh-you-know-me” connection. it’s really awkward and something I’d rather not have to address in a confrontational tone. but seriously, I do what I can. everything I can, to keep at it. to do my job. to write songs, get them recorded, put them in stores or make them available on-line. I’ve done everything I can to get out and play every and anywhere I possibly can. I would play live in a different city everyday of the year if it were in my power to do so. believe me. I don’t sit here and think about who I’m going to deprive by not getting around their way to play a show. I don’t think about what songs I should or shouldn’t play to piss someone off at a gig. when I get these off-the-cuff, almost snide remarks about such things, it instantly gets under my skin and I simply want to walk away, skip the pictures and autographs and regret ever even having come out to play at all. not to sound like an arrogant prick, but really, I feel these moments have nothing to do with what I’m attempting to accomplish and these little “playful” exchanges are everything I despise about artist/fan relationships. honestly, I take into consideration damn near everything my fans care to share with me. and not just about my music either. I care. I really do. I look forward to a long career of continued trust and respect from my friends and fans. and I willingly give myself to a career of relying upon and trusting in those that wish to support me. I will never do anything to offend my fans. or I will at least try my best not to. but in return, I’d love to anticipate the same. it’s that easy. I’m an artist and that’s not easy. especially when things of this nature warrant discussion. I’d rather not discuss them at all but as I said, I felt the need to get this off of my mind and thought this was a good place to do it. hell, I don’t even know who reads this thing. maybe I just had to put it down for my own sake. I apologize if I’ve offended anyone. I certainly have no intention of doing that, ever.
I hope you’re all well and I sincerely look forward to seeing you soon.
what a weekend! Ronald Reagan passes. J-Lo and Marc Anthony get married. Pistons upset the Lakers. The Tony Awards were... well, they happened. O.J. Simpson celebrates 10 years of “innocence”. Bush and Chirac French kiss and make-up. sort of. and most importantly, Sadr pulls out of Najaf while an American/Iraqi military partnership plan was turned into the U.N. security council for a vote. I guess this could be the first step in a legitimate, U.N. approved, handing-over, or at least a sharing of the security responsibilities and required protection of the Iraqi people. politics aside, it sure sounds like progress to me. anything that appears to be a step towards peace and the safety of our troops and that of the innocent people of Iraq should be more than welcomed. trust me, I’m really trying to steer clear of skepticism. I’ve come to believe that it’s going to take a great deal of hope to bring this thing to a close and standing aside, picking apart the unraveling of an administration doesn’t seem to lend much to that notion. of course, blind faith and naiveté isn’t going to get us anywhere either. it’s for this reason I try to stay informed and encourage others to do the same. that’s all.
I want to bring up something that came to me after my show in Philly the other night. because of the nature of what I want to say, I feel it’s important to preface it with some kind of disclaimer or that I simply say I don’t mean to single-out any one person, group, city or street team of people with what I’m feeling. this is more of an overall sentiment that you can either regard or disregard. I just feel it’s important that I address it to some degree and I thought it might be best addressed here. I confess to being a bit presumptuous in even putting this out there to begin with. for that I say... well, yeah.
I know I make myself available to those of you that come to my shows. I know because I make a concerted effort to do so. I have always felt it important to reach out and get to know the people that go to some extreme measures to support me and make it to my shows. quite honestly, it’s been a really rewarding experience. I’ve met some of the coolest people on this surreal endeavor. I’ve learned alot about true appreciation and respect. I’ve found that I have alot of truly accomplished individuals out there, tuning in, listening to my music, making it an integral part of their pursuits, both creative and professional, often both. I have learned of the healing power of my music through some of the most heartfelt stories and confessions from fans that have suffered loss or loved ones. this has been the most humbling element of what I’ve been working towards for the past several years and clearly the one I’m most thankful for. however, recently I’ve begun to feel a strange shift in the exchange between myself and some of the fans who have had the incentive and the free time to make it out to numerous shows over the years. I feel that some are beginning to take ill-advantage of my willingness to try and be real with them. I know that it’s an awkward thing to begin with. I make music, they listen to it. I play shows, they come pay money to see them. I know what it’s like to be into something. something that not everybody knows about. something that you feel you know a bit more about than others. you almost get this possessive sensation about you. I remember being all about Jeff Buckley before he died. before most of the world had ever heard of him yet. I remember how his posthumous success almost offended me. I mean c’mon. I was a “real” fan. I knew him more closely than anyone else. everyone’s just jumping on the Buckley bandwagon. blah blah blah. but really? I didn’t know him. I don’t know him. I know his art. his music. it’s in my head everyday, anywhere I go and I love that. I have had numerous chances to meet various heroes of mine and for some reason, given the chance, I often decline to take advantage of the opportunity. why? I’m not terribly sure. I feel it has something to do with the separation of person and artist. I know the two are rarely similar and often times for the unfavorable. no big deal. no judgments needed, none made. I continue to enjoy the work and that’s that. I do, however, applaud those who make the effort to approach the artists that they enjoy, to tell them what they think of their work, to extend compliments and in some cases, constructive criticism. for this reason, I offer myself to such an exchange. like I said, this is where I have encountered some really great people, funny dialogues, embarrassing moments that make for unforgettable icebreakers. it’s cool. it really is. but when comments become sarcastic criticisms, requests become “playful” demands and guilt trips, it really becomes something else. it becomes me, pretending to find it all funny, laughing it off, sheepishly playing along in some feigned “oh-you-know-me” connection. it’s really awkward and something I’d rather not have to address in a confrontational tone. but seriously, I do what I can. everything I can, to keep at it. to do my job. to write songs, get them recorded, put them in stores or make them available on-line. I’ve done everything I can to get out and play every and anywhere I possibly can. I would play live in a different city everyday of the year if it were in my power to do so. believe me. I don’t sit here and think about who I’m going to deprive by not getting around their way to play a show. I don’t think about what songs I should or shouldn’t play to piss someone off at a gig. when I get these off-the-cuff, almost snide remarks about such things, it instantly gets under my skin and I simply want to walk away, skip the pictures and autographs and regret ever even having come out to play at all. not to sound like an arrogant prick, but really, I feel these moments have nothing to do with what I’m attempting to accomplish and these little “playful” exchanges are everything I despise about artist/fan relationships. honestly, I take into consideration damn near everything my fans care to share with me. and not just about my music either. I care. I really do. I look forward to a long career of continued trust and respect from my friends and fans. and I willingly give myself to a career of relying upon and trusting in those that wish to support me. I will never do anything to offend my fans. or I will at least try my best not to. but in return, I’d love to anticipate the same. it’s that easy. I’m an artist and that’s not easy. especially when things of this nature warrant discussion. I’d rather not discuss them at all but as I said, I felt the need to get this off of my mind and thought this was a good place to do it. hell, I don’t even know who reads this thing. maybe I just had to put it down for my own sake. I apologize if I’ve offended anyone. I certainly have no intention of doing that, ever.
I hope you’re all well and I sincerely look forward to seeing you soon.
Friday, June 04, 2004
6.4.04.10:55 a.m. est
it’s Friday. sometimes time flies, sometimes it crawls. something I have found rather ironic since I moved to Brooklyn, is a funeral home down the street with a big old clock attached to it’s sign. like a not-so-subtle reminder that “time never stops ticking, better get moving or you’ll end up in here. well, you’re gonna end up in here either way so you mind as well get moving till then.” unfortunately, I had to make my first visit to the funeral home last night.
there’s a little coffee shop across the street from our place called Josie’s Java. classic. everything about it. the anti-Starbucks. when I first started visiting Brooklyn it was instantly a part of my would-be routine. I’d go in in the morning, pick up a copy of the New York TImes, order a coffee, a bacon, egg and cheese on a roll, sit there and watch the myriad of neighbors and commuters come in and out, shouting their orders at Jose, the short-order chef whippin’ up everything from pancakes to tuna melts while the lo-fi, 80’s model stereo kicks out the random hits of the “70’s, 80’s, 90’s and today!” some days I’d find myself there for hours. often the Times had my rapt attention. other days, the coffee was just right and I would have more than my sane share of it. but most days it was simply the entertainment provided by Josie herself. what a blast. the mouth of a sailor, the heart of a saint. everyone gets treated with impatience and intolerance yet everyone get’s called, “love” or “sweetheart” often both and in the same greeting or salutation. a walking prohpet of worldly wisdom and proverbial absolutes, Josie was an impression not-so easily forgotten.
I walked by the shop Tuesday morning only to find it closed with a sign on the door that read, “closed due to a death in the family. our beloved mother Josie passed away monday morning.” man. I froze. no way. not Josie. the street-wise guru of Caroll Gardens. our spit-fire staple of the community is gone? all the conversations, advice and oppinions that poured from her door, clear out onto the street and into the fabric of the neighborhood. wow.
she called me “Musician Guy” and referred to my gigs as “skids”. like everyone, I was “love” and “sweetheart”. I’d pick her brain about all things trans-generation gap. she was the best and her legacy will reflect nothing less than that. it was a pleasure to be a familiar face to her and welcomed in her shop. she will be missed beyond words. my love goes out to her sons, and grandchildren and Jose, her most loyal and trusted chef. thanks for everything, Jo.
“when Josie comes home...so good.
she’s the pride of the neighborhood.
she’s the raw flame, the live wire,
she prays like a roman with her eye’s on fire.”
-"Josie" Steely Dan, 1977
it’s Friday. sometimes time flies, sometimes it crawls. something I have found rather ironic since I moved to Brooklyn, is a funeral home down the street with a big old clock attached to it’s sign. like a not-so-subtle reminder that “time never stops ticking, better get moving or you’ll end up in here. well, you’re gonna end up in here either way so you mind as well get moving till then.” unfortunately, I had to make my first visit to the funeral home last night.
there’s a little coffee shop across the street from our place called Josie’s Java. classic. everything about it. the anti-Starbucks. when I first started visiting Brooklyn it was instantly a part of my would-be routine. I’d go in in the morning, pick up a copy of the New York TImes, order a coffee, a bacon, egg and cheese on a roll, sit there and watch the myriad of neighbors and commuters come in and out, shouting their orders at Jose, the short-order chef whippin’ up everything from pancakes to tuna melts while the lo-fi, 80’s model stereo kicks out the random hits of the “70’s, 80’s, 90’s and today!” some days I’d find myself there for hours. often the Times had my rapt attention. other days, the coffee was just right and I would have more than my sane share of it. but most days it was simply the entertainment provided by Josie herself. what a blast. the mouth of a sailor, the heart of a saint. everyone gets treated with impatience and intolerance yet everyone get’s called, “love” or “sweetheart” often both and in the same greeting or salutation. a walking prohpet of worldly wisdom and proverbial absolutes, Josie was an impression not-so easily forgotten.
I walked by the shop Tuesday morning only to find it closed with a sign on the door that read, “closed due to a death in the family. our beloved mother Josie passed away monday morning.” man. I froze. no way. not Josie. the street-wise guru of Caroll Gardens. our spit-fire staple of the community is gone? all the conversations, advice and oppinions that poured from her door, clear out onto the street and into the fabric of the neighborhood. wow.
she called me “Musician Guy” and referred to my gigs as “skids”. like everyone, I was “love” and “sweetheart”. I’d pick her brain about all things trans-generation gap. she was the best and her legacy will reflect nothing less than that. it was a pleasure to be a familiar face to her and welcomed in her shop. she will be missed beyond words. my love goes out to her sons, and grandchildren and Jose, her most loyal and trusted chef. thanks for everything, Jo.
“when Josie comes home...so good.
she’s the pride of the neighborhood.
she’s the raw flame, the live wire,
she prays like a roman with her eye’s on fire.”
-"Josie" Steely Dan, 1977
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
6.2.04.2:30 p.m. est
so what do you know? I’m a few songs into my set last night when my good friend Rebacca Fanya walks in with nuveauhuha member, Andy Adad. Andy co-wrote both Rollercoaster and Someone to Love You with me and of course played electric guitar on the Shotgun record. such a treat. he got to see the East Coast debut of Blackberry, my new hollow-body electric guitar. it dawned on me that he could sit in and so I asked him to. I took to the piano and passed off Miss Berry to him. we played a very tasty, though sullen version of Bad Guy to the 25 or so respectful listeners in the house. I figured after the three day weekend, late on a Tuedsay, I might not have a big old audience to play to. truth is, the modest homecoming turnout was quite fitting. I’m still working out the kinks with this new ax and finding new ways to make older material sound fresh. I want to say “thank you” to those of you that came out and stayed for the duration. I trust the ladies from Philly got home safely and up for work on time this morning. you guys rock. we’ll see you Saturday.
still basking in the Pistons’s victory. I feel like I’m 15 again. all of the sudden I’m that guy glued to the tv in the corner of the bar. now keep in mind, I was one of the 63,000+ crowd (a world record for a basketball game) back in the day when Detroit played Boston at the Silverdome (in my birth city of Pontiac, Michigan) for game 6 (I believe) of the Eastern Conference Finals. I’m no bandwagon fan. I guess the fact that it’s been 14 years since Detroit has been invited to the ball, it just feels good to share in a little “grandfaloonery” for now. I’ve been a fan of the Lakers for the past few years but that’s simply because the Pistons couldn’t seem to get out of the East. I’m not crazy, rather objectively optimistic. I think the Pistons are gonna give ‘em hell. I’m looking forward to watchin’ and cheerin’ full throttle. as for now, I’ve been invited to a Yankees game and no matter how many New Yorkers want to deny it, “Dynasty” is just a glorified term for bandwagon. I live here now, so...
I’ll be on the firstbase line wearing my yellow Corona visor. keep an eye on those foul balls. I’ll be waving.
so what do you know? I’m a few songs into my set last night when my good friend Rebacca Fanya walks in with nuveauhuha member, Andy Adad. Andy co-wrote both Rollercoaster and Someone to Love You with me and of course played electric guitar on the Shotgun record. such a treat. he got to see the East Coast debut of Blackberry, my new hollow-body electric guitar. it dawned on me that he could sit in and so I asked him to. I took to the piano and passed off Miss Berry to him. we played a very tasty, though sullen version of Bad Guy to the 25 or so respectful listeners in the house. I figured after the three day weekend, late on a Tuedsay, I might not have a big old audience to play to. truth is, the modest homecoming turnout was quite fitting. I’m still working out the kinks with this new ax and finding new ways to make older material sound fresh. I want to say “thank you” to those of you that came out and stayed for the duration. I trust the ladies from Philly got home safely and up for work on time this morning. you guys rock. we’ll see you Saturday.
still basking in the Pistons’s victory. I feel like I’m 15 again. all of the sudden I’m that guy glued to the tv in the corner of the bar. now keep in mind, I was one of the 63,000+ crowd (a world record for a basketball game) back in the day when Detroit played Boston at the Silverdome (in my birth city of Pontiac, Michigan) for game 6 (I believe) of the Eastern Conference Finals. I’m no bandwagon fan. I guess the fact that it’s been 14 years since Detroit has been invited to the ball, it just feels good to share in a little “grandfaloonery” for now. I’ve been a fan of the Lakers for the past few years but that’s simply because the Pistons couldn’t seem to get out of the East. I’m not crazy, rather objectively optimistic. I think the Pistons are gonna give ‘em hell. I’m looking forward to watchin’ and cheerin’ full throttle. as for now, I’ve been invited to a Yankees game and no matter how many New Yorkers want to deny it, “Dynasty” is just a glorified term for bandwagon. I live here now, so...
I’ll be on the firstbase line wearing my yellow Corona visor. keep an eye on those foul balls. I’ll be waving.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
6.1.04.2:56 p.m. est
back in Brooklyn. home at last. finally back on-line, full time again. was disappointed at the lack of internet access the tour ushered in because the truth is, so much is worthy of writing about but rarely in retrospect. it all becomes a blur and everyone knows that what happens on the road, stays on the road. some call it “the code”. I just call it “too many memories to recall and make a half-assed attempt to put eloquently into words”. I do want to extend yet another apology to the folks in San Fran for taking sooo long in getting up to see you all. the Bay Area Street Team is the shit! you guys are solid. I’m working diligently on getting back up there sometime in July. as well, I wanted to thank those of you that came out to the Belly Up Tavern and stuck around to see me play. I felt really bad for the miscommunication that took place that day. somehow it seemed to have worked out for the better. hopefully, getting to work wasn’t too difficult for most of you.
overall, it was such a blast getting out to see all of you these past weeks; watching the Street Team at work (Minneapolis: solid! Chicago: solid! Ohio, Indy, KC, San Diego, LA: solid!), puting faces to names, seeing where I need to be playing more. certainly looking forward to making the rounds a few more times before the end of the year.
the weather is wonderful here in New York. I went ahead and booked a show for tonight, the night after a three-day weekend and the night of game 6 of the NBA Eastern Conference Finals (GO PISTONS). hopefully, people will find their own reasons to come on out and support the music. it’ll be good to play a real gig here in the city after that Cinqo de Mayo travesty at Pianos. good time and all, but when I open my set with John Cougar and Bryan Adams covers, you know somethin’ aint right.
after being captivated by The DeVinci Code, I finally got my hands on Angels and Demons, Dan Brown’s prior novel. I’m only into it about 70 or so pages but those of you who have read either of these page-turners know that that’s certainly far enough to be completely engrossed in the adventures of Professor Robert Langdon and the shady underworld of cult preservation and New World Order/One-World domination. the subject matter fascinates me and constantly keeps me wondering. and of course I had to compound my guilty pleasure with a trip to the theater this weekend to see the overwhelming The Day After Tomorrow. it’s amazing that the forces of good and evil can exist in such stark juxtaposition to one another in art and literature and yet they co-habitate so discreetly, practically next door to one another, from cubicle to cubicle, neighbor to neighbor, in real life. and although most movie-goers, certainly myself included, will chuckle at Hollywood's need to s-p-e-l-l-o-u-t who’s who on either side of the moral line, it makes me wonder how if the end result of these novel conflicts are so apparent and catastrophic, why is there so much discrepancy and ethical ambiguity in how to take the preventative steps necessary to keep mankind from bringing about it’s own demise? now, it’s been brought to my attention that getting political on my site is not in my best interest so I’ll refrain from talking about any current events and how they pertain to any upcoming elections, as if there’s any need to paint pictures of the obvious any longer. I’ll just pose the question as a conversation piece for when you find yourself trapped in a discussion about who should have won the last American Idol contest or whether J Lo and Marc Anthony are really an item or not. the question is this: who are we to think that the well being of mankind and it’s planet should ever be something for us to debate, politicize or conspire against in the name of national pride, financial gain or religious preservation?
that’s it. I’m done. I’ll get goin’. gotta gear up for the show. thanks for being patient while I was travellin’. stay tuned for more dates and shows.
back in Brooklyn. home at last. finally back on-line, full time again. was disappointed at the lack of internet access the tour ushered in because the truth is, so much is worthy of writing about but rarely in retrospect. it all becomes a blur and everyone knows that what happens on the road, stays on the road. some call it “the code”. I just call it “too many memories to recall and make a half-assed attempt to put eloquently into words”. I do want to extend yet another apology to the folks in San Fran for taking sooo long in getting up to see you all. the Bay Area Street Team is the shit! you guys are solid. I’m working diligently on getting back up there sometime in July. as well, I wanted to thank those of you that came out to the Belly Up Tavern and stuck around to see me play. I felt really bad for the miscommunication that took place that day. somehow it seemed to have worked out for the better. hopefully, getting to work wasn’t too difficult for most of you.
overall, it was such a blast getting out to see all of you these past weeks; watching the Street Team at work (Minneapolis: solid! Chicago: solid! Ohio, Indy, KC, San Diego, LA: solid!), puting faces to names, seeing where I need to be playing more. certainly looking forward to making the rounds a few more times before the end of the year.
the weather is wonderful here in New York. I went ahead and booked a show for tonight, the night after a three-day weekend and the night of game 6 of the NBA Eastern Conference Finals (GO PISTONS). hopefully, people will find their own reasons to come on out and support the music. it’ll be good to play a real gig here in the city after that Cinqo de Mayo travesty at Pianos. good time and all, but when I open my set with John Cougar and Bryan Adams covers, you know somethin’ aint right.
after being captivated by The DeVinci Code, I finally got my hands on Angels and Demons, Dan Brown’s prior novel. I’m only into it about 70 or so pages but those of you who have read either of these page-turners know that that’s certainly far enough to be completely engrossed in the adventures of Professor Robert Langdon and the shady underworld of cult preservation and New World Order/One-World domination. the subject matter fascinates me and constantly keeps me wondering. and of course I had to compound my guilty pleasure with a trip to the theater this weekend to see the overwhelming The Day After Tomorrow. it’s amazing that the forces of good and evil can exist in such stark juxtaposition to one another in art and literature and yet they co-habitate so discreetly, practically next door to one another, from cubicle to cubicle, neighbor to neighbor, in real life. and although most movie-goers, certainly myself included, will chuckle at Hollywood's need to s-p-e-l-l-o-u-t who’s who on either side of the moral line, it makes me wonder how if the end result of these novel conflicts are so apparent and catastrophic, why is there so much discrepancy and ethical ambiguity in how to take the preventative steps necessary to keep mankind from bringing about it’s own demise? now, it’s been brought to my attention that getting political on my site is not in my best interest so I’ll refrain from talking about any current events and how they pertain to any upcoming elections, as if there’s any need to paint pictures of the obvious any longer. I’ll just pose the question as a conversation piece for when you find yourself trapped in a discussion about who should have won the last American Idol contest or whether J Lo and Marc Anthony are really an item or not. the question is this: who are we to think that the well being of mankind and it’s planet should ever be something for us to debate, politicize or conspire against in the name of national pride, financial gain or religious preservation?
that’s it. I’m done. I’ll get goin’. gotta gear up for the show. thanks for being patient while I was travellin’. stay tuned for more dates and shows.
