Brushes with stardom

Today, I sat in on a recording session with Eddie Kramer at the helm. I shook his hand. This means I’m now separated from the Kinks by a mere two degrees! Almost there. It was a pretty cool experience. I won’t depress you by discussing the projects he’s involved in nowadays.

In my two years at Ex’pression, I’ve run into Butch Vig and Chuck D on campus, too. It just goes to show how much cooler it is than Berkeley. I mean, I did walk past Arnold Schwarzenegger at UCB, but that was before he was elected Governor, so he wasn’t really that famous yet.

This entry’s worth 2,034 words

This weekend was filled to the brim with beverages, loud music, and sunshine. Anything worth writing about? Not really. Instead, I’ve decided to resort to baby and dog pictures.

Night of the dyeing red

Last night, I went to a theatrical interpretation of the Night of the Living Dead movies: essentially, a thin veil of a plot to facilitate pelting the audience with spaghetti, fake limbs, and buckets upon buckets of fake blood. Totally awesome. Afterwards, we went to the Phone Booth, the stains of fake blood still spattered all over our faces and arms. Meyergami treated me to the largest, strongest, least ice-having cocktail I’ve ever had at a bar. I became drunk enough to try out some psoriasis-themed pick-up lines, but sadly, there were no eligible targets.

How I spent my summer solstice

Did you have a good solstice? Did you even realize you were having it? I did! After taking my final and turning in my project, I asked myself “Where shall I spend my summer solstice?” Oddly enough, I chose Berkeley. I indulged my basest urges at the copy shop, the gelateria, and Amoeba. My discovery? My basest urges are really pretty tame.

All that aside, the most important part of any solstice worth blogging about, if such a thing exists, is staying indoors and drinking during the sunset, as if to say, “I’ll have a cocktail when I want to have a cocktail, and the sun can go down when it god damn feels like it” (note: this is slightly less socially acceptable during the winter solstice).

On the whole, it was a great day. And, of course, it’s all downhill from here. Except for maybe tomorrow, ‘cause we’re having a BBQ show at my house. It’ll be fun. You should come. If you ask real nice, I’ll probably give you one of those things I just pictured. If the nice asking thing doesn’t work, try showing me your tits. That won’t work either, but hey, y’know.

Events of a busy week

Saturday: Went to surprise birthday show for Mike del Lame at the Stork Club. The Party Ice Breakers were great, though they would have been so much greater had they stopped after their first two songs. One of the songs was about getting aboard the party train, the other was about being wasted. Chris S-M definitely practiced what he preached, to the point where a Spuds MacKenzie reference was made.

Sunday: Had lunch with family. My dad told an endearing story about renting a PT cruiser, taking my mom on a joyride in the hills with the top down, and listening to both TMN records. Returned home where a barbecue was a-brewin’, then drank for approximately ten hours.

Monday: Wasn’t busy, really, but too hung over to do much until band practice. Band practice.

Tuesday/Wednesday: Cut my remedial DVD authoring class so I could assist Phil at a recording session. The best decision I’ve made lately. I drove home feeling all good about myself as an audio engineer, then when I checked my e-mail, I discovered my career advisor lady just passed away. Crazy.

Thursday: Taking the final for my penultimate class. Ladies and gentlemen, the Great Void is almost upon me.

The events of my uneventful week

Sunday: Picked up roomies from airport. Practiced for NASCAR while forms for lost luggage were filled out.

Monday. Band practice. Attempted to revive a JLS classic, but I felt too old to sing it. Quarter-life crisis? At least my knees are better. (Apparently, sitting in front of a computer and eating junk food is way better for your knees than exercise.)

Tuesday: Spent a bunch of time on the computer, utterly entranced and appalled by the MySpace pages of presidential hopefuls. Became very, very frightened.

Wednesday: Spent a bunch of time on the computer, looking for people to send promos of the T Fools EP. Who knew running a record label would be so exciting?

Thursday: Drove roomie to airport. Couldn’t turn down an In-N-Out Burger even though I was about to play basketball. (Apparently, a stomach full of junk food is bad for exercise.)

Friday: Updated my blog.

Small world

Last Saturday, I journeyed to Carmichael to party with Kendra K. and crew. I guess nothing too epic or scandalous happened, but there was lots of good hang time. And sometimes, through the typical art of conversation, you’ll discover connections you never knew existed.

Like that Hi-Fives video I uploaded the other day, which I used to convince my bandmates to wear suits for the show the other night. Kendra informed me that the original footage was shot by this woman I know, who’s actually a fan of TMN and was at the Rickshaw show. I also discovered that a dude from Brent’s TV, one of those Hi-Fives precursor bands, is the bassist for Nudity, who we just played a show with in Olympia. In other words, I was smoked out by a member of a band I really love, but I was completely oblivious!

It all just goes to show you that existence is made of circular rings, linked together to form a cosmic space-time chain, which is used by Jor-El to drive the astral sled dogs that pull Earth around the sun. I have more literature on the subject, if you’re interested.

I'm gonna buy me a dog

Jason and Jolene return tomorrow, which means I have to make up for a week’s worth of shoddy housekeeping. It also means the return of Monroe’s favorite people. It’s been a good week, though. Mellow. There’s something so honest about a dog’s affection, even if it’s only because you’re his primary source of nutrition and physical interaction. If only human relationships could be so simple. Well, I suppose there’s Stockholm syndrome… but I don’t think I’m ready for that sort of commitment.

Fun to end all fun

At the show last night, I was preaching the awesomeness of Shorty’s Coney Island, which I am wont to do, when someone alerted me to the existence of California Extreme. This year, it’s taking place the weekend after I finish school. Oh, also, it looks fucking incredible. One might say it’s the only reason you’d ever want to go to San Jose. Basically, you pay an entrance fee, then you get to free play a bunch of old arcade games and pinball machines for hours on end. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the end of my college career.

Idle hands

It’s surprising how easy it is to forget that there’s a button maker in your household. Don’t ask me why it took so long to put 2 and 2 together (4 = Makes Nice buttons). Making buttons for your band is a lot like masturbation, except that people are slightly more interested in the product. Alluring, no?



So are you coming to the show at the Rickshaw tonight? You know if you do, you can count on one of these babies gratis. As if that weren’t enough, I think we’ll be wearing suits. When was the last time you saw a retro band wear suits? Skinny ties? And have you seen Josh’s new schoolboy haircut yet? Consider yourself convinced.

Black Sand Beach

At school today, I ripped this video from a VHS bootleg Kendra K. lent me. The full-fledged DVD project will unfortunately not be ready for this weekend, but perhaps some YouTubage will tide the birthday girl over. Any fan of the Hi-Fives and surf music will definitely enjoy it. It‘s funny, when I find out that someone likes surf music, I feel a special bond which quickly deteriorates when I discover that, although we both listen to surf, they’re still too cool for me. I can’t say I’ve ever had that problem with a Hi-Fives fan.

That’s what I love about Kendra. She’s not too cool for anyone; she’s just too cool. Plus, she’s all brave and stuff in her fight against cancer. On a selfish note, it can be good for one’s mental health to have a friend dealing with such a serious illness, only because it puts all your emotional crises in perspective. I remember when I found out…

“Kendra, I miss my bangs SO MUCH!”
“That sucks! I have cancer.”
“Oh...”

Happy birthday, Kendra K.

Hello, blog

I hadn’t realized how much I missed writing in a blog. Of course, I’ve forgotten how to deal with having nothing to say. It’s a slow week. Mike’s gone to Bulgaria. JJ and JoJo are in Oaxaca, along with Meyergami. This naturally means plenty of hang time with my best buddy, Monroe. Do you ever get tired of humans? Dogs are a refreshing alternative.

The tourstache is now gone. I was already getting tired of it, then Dave from HRLIC said something along the lines of “Let’s you, me, and that moustache go find some little boys.” To not shave at that point would’ve been an affront to society. Sorry, Ajax. And you’re right, I don’t believe you.

Anyway, school is mellow. I’m mellow. Hella mellow. But what week would be complete without a rock show?

Harold, don't hurt 'em

Lately, I’ve been going to a lot of rock shows. I seem to have settled back into my lifestyle of a few years ago, when I would… go to a lot of rock shows. It was all so novel back then. Having just turned 21, it was difficult to imagine getting tired of hanging out in dive bars and watching dudes play music. Ha. It’s hardly novel now, but it’s superior to sitting at home and watching the Adventures of Pete and Pete. Well, maybe not “superior” per se, but it’s nice to have both at my disposal.

It’s unfortunately rare for a rock show to be blog-worthy, but it’s awesome to be there when it happens. Especially if you have a camera! For example, last night at El Rio, during an amazing set by south bay bubblegum sensations the Rantouls, infamous frontman Harold Ray was seen holding a large plastic bottle, taking swigs of a beverage he called a “Dennis Wilson.” (That’s rum and OJ, kids!) His typical rowdy banter eventually gave way to staggering and slurred speech, and before we knew it, he had passed out in a dark corner of the club, perhaps a scant half-hour before he was scheduled to perform. The members of his band scrambled about, trying to find someone who knew the lyrics to their songs.

Disaster was more or less averted, though. After a little power nap, Harold awakened, deposited an unspecified volume of Dennis Wilson in a trash can, downed a few bottles of water, and took the stage with an admirable air of confidence. It was damn fine set. And, of course, he managed to charm or offend everyone with his racist, sexist, and/or homophobic camp. Maybe it’s for the best that such rock shows are rare.

June 1st = Fresh start #6

Pinball machines, fanzines, analog tape, rocknroll… all these things of which I’ve grown so fond in my college years, each growing more irrelevant with every passing year. Even that PO box I rented seemed pretty useless in this day and age. I suppose the occasional walk to the post office was kinda fun, but still. The twelve month period just expired, and I couldn’t help but think back to the time when I thought it would be a good idea to get one.

Remember a year ago, when I killed off my Livejournal to pursue other interests? I wrote a few zines. Played a bunch of music. Started up a record label. I won’t bore you with the details of how much it all exceeded my expectations.

But Chocolate Covered Records soldiers on, good sir! Shirley, you’ve seen us in the weeklies of late. You’re coming to see Dreamdate play at Amoeba in SF this evening, right? You’ve waited until now to buy the CD, you silly girl. And I know you’re super excited about the Traditional Fools 7” coming out this summer. Shirley, there’s so much to look forward to. Let's get some ice cream later.