dreams, shows, voices

For the last two nights I've had dreams about traveling to different countries. The first dream was about Japan; the second dream (last night) was about Australia.

These countries seem randomly chosen-- nothing in my current set of affairs has drawn my attention to Japan or Australia in particular.

Then I remembered that in the past five years I've been pitched by various band members and creative collaborators with possible trips or tours to those countries. Of course, they never panned out, but there was a distinct possibility at the time.

I wonder if those dreams are my disappointments manifested. It has been some time since I did any out-of-state travel. The last time I had a trip scheduled was to New York almost two years ago, and that fell through due to untimely events.

Before that, I took a trip to San Francisco during my laid-off period. I had just started blogging, and I turned my weekend trip into a mini-epic in the first version of Coral Calcium.

That piece is long gone, and it's a shame because it was a giant step forward for me as a writer. It was after that piece that I realized what writing for an audience was all about. Unfortunately, I went overboard and started assaulting my audience instead of entertaining them.

But I'm straying from the point of this paragraph, which is that I've been cooped up in this town for too long and I need a break. Trips to Las Vegas don't count as travel when you live in Los Angeles. Neither do trips to Santa Barbara or San Diego.

San Francisco? That's travel. New York? That's travel. But maybe I should look for a city or state that I haven't visited yet.

Any suggestions?


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Interesting show last night.

Whenever I send out invitations via e-mail, I seldom receive any direct responses. People tend to play it by ear, or choose to call me up on the phone and tell me themselves. Thus, I never know who to expect to show up at my shows.

I try to plan it so that certain people show up on certain nights, but that never works. So I just send out a blanket e-mail (bcc, of course) and hope that everything works out for the better.

It very rarely does. What happens is that people end up seeing people that they might not be cool with, and then it looks like I set it up.

Well, I don't plan it that way, because I want my friends to have a good time if they make the effort to come out and see me. But when things happen like this, there are two choices to make: the parties involved can either act like an adult, or act immaturely.

Although nobody made a scene, the tension was thicker than a fat girl's thighs. A few surprise arrivals balanced everything out, but it was a far cry from the show last year where Sharky showed up while Eve and Laurie were in attendance.

At that show, everyone got along, and not just on the surface. There was genuine laughter and affection. I thought it was going to be a train wreck, and instead it turned out to be a bittersweet reunion that was light on the bitterness.

Last night was Awkward with a capital A. Too bad-- it could've been Awesome, but some wounds run way too deep. It's just an overall shame.

Add to that the fact that our guitarist's FX rig went berserk, prompting him to have to rely on a few standby pedals, and you have a recipe for potential disaster. But today, after re-running the show through my head, I think we did alright. Josh the guitarist was sketching on the whole deal, but he's a good player and this was actually kind of a test for him, to see if he can stand on his own, with no adornments, with only his God-given talents to speak for him.

He was a tad nervous, and we were all-around generally sloppy, but there were also some shiny moments. I still had fun, and I finally did what I'd been plotting to do for five shows: I jumped on top of my bass amp while playing our last song, the aptly-titled "Speed Queen". I played for a bit, almost fell down, and was tipped upright by Mike, the singer, who looked at me like I was fucking nuts.

It was a cheap theatric, for sure, but I saw some jaws drop and some eyeballs bulge. Rock shows should have some sense of danger, like you don't know where it's going and how it's going to turn out. Like a train wreck, you can't look away, no matter how ugly it gets.

It was a good show because we were at a venue with a regular following, and the crowd dug us despite the technical difficulties. If there'd only been two or three people in attendance, the show would've been a total wash-out.

The band that went on before us totally rocked, and I hope to see them play again sometime soon.


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I am still getting over being sick. Lately I've been coughing up lung butter, and it has me a bit concerned. I think it may be time for me to get a physical. I'm just waiting for my new employee health card to arrive in the mail.

I kept smoking through this illness, and now I sound like my hero Captain Beefheart: super-raspy, no upper register. It makes me sound cool, but now my voice is ruined. I can't hit the high notes-- it sounds like a wounded coyote in the last throes of a wild life.

I called up a friend today on the phone and they literally did not recognize my voice. It had been a while since we last talked, and I called her at work, which she wasn't expecting. I had to reveal a personal piece of information in order to convince her that it was really me.

It'll all clear up in due time, but this weekend I plan to record some tracks while my voice sounds like sandpaper.

Have a nice weekend, folks.