on fires, death, and unpopular music - mix

I have 4 or so hours of work tonight, then it is officially vacation. I'll be getting a ride to the airport in the morning from my good friend Gabe, and we should be getting to see some fire action. If I couldn't use the 40 bucks I'd make at work tonight I wouldn't even go. I have my clothes spread out on my bed like tomorrow is the first day of school. My cold is almost gone. Things are going to be getting awesome way soon.

I still can't check in online for flights. I'm on one of those lists. I wish they would tell you why you made the "make sure its them and not someone else before they get on the plane" list. An employee once gave me the paper that had the number to call to try to get off the list, she told me it doesn't usually work, so whatever, fuckem.

This mix is kind of about the fires, kind of about my life, kind of about the passing of Lance Hahn of J Church, and kind of about the fest I am going to. We are going to be seeing a few of these bands, and we will probably miss a couple too. I might have computer access while I'm there, so if it happens expect some pictures and updates. If not, you'll get it all when I come back. So enjoy and have a great week, I will.

As always, pray for turbulence!

On Fires, Death, and Unpopular Music - Mix - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=KQPE2L4L

Trains All Talk - Small Brown Bike
Visiting Day - Dead To Me
The Light From Your Window - Bottle Rocket
Books About Miles Davis - The Ergs!
Do You Pray - Chuck Ragan
Rock For Sustainable Capitalism - Propagandhi
November - J Church
Bad Intentions - Broadway Calls
Into Your Eyes - Lucero
Hard To Admit - Off With Their Heads
No Surrender - One Reason
On Tracks Beneath the Snow - The Riot Before
Dead and Broken - Alkaline Trio
'Dozer Rage - Latterman

just come see me again when it burns.

California is on fire.

I can walk outside and look south probably 30-40 miles and see some flames on top of hill. That sentence sounds more exciting or dramatic than it could ever be. I usually enjoy a good fire. I see all the smoke, the sky is red, i can smell it, sometimes there is ash in the air. But not today, not the last couple of days.

Before my senior year in high school I read a collection of short stories by Joan Didion. One of them spoke of fire and "the santa anas", winds that nontraditional go out towards the ocean. (That's probably not the best description, I'd apologize if it mattered.) Those winds are one of the few things giving the firefighters so much trouble out here. And me too.

With the normal wind all the smoke and fires would be blown my direction.

So instead of sitting outside in what has become a quiet night at the house I am laying around listening to every song in my itunes folder that has "smoke" "fire" "burn" or "flame" in the title. It is 4 hours long. I am also battling a cold that needs to hit the road before I hit the road on wednesday. A few hours ago I almost choked on a cough drop and realized no one would probably found my body for a few days and the cat would try to eat some of me and I got really depressed for about 5 minutes. But then I realized that someone would put my myspace profile on deadspace and everything was ok.

A few years ago california was getting fucked by fires. Santa Clarita was getting it pretty good. We had ash at our house, the way I like it. A group of friends went down to the big LA and saw some bands play. The "14" was closed so we had to take windy mountain roads to get there. There was ash in hollywood, the way I like it. The band Smoke of Fire (from Richmond, VA) was here and they wrote this song about it. The video is at the top.

I'm thinking a mix should be in order for tomorrow. Maybe a fest mix. Maybe a fire mix. Probably both.

If I burn up, I'll figure out a way to tell you.

its time for a wedding

Tomorrow there is a wedding. People will be sharing memories of the participants before they ever met, and how much they have changed since. There will be children undoubtably making noises at inappropriate times. Whit will be drinking. So will I. And I will be playing DJ.

I need to come up with a song for the money dance. It should be long and slow, to achieve maximum currency collection. Stairway to heaven maybe?

Anyways. I have a couple nights of slinging drinks and setting up trays of food, then I am flying to Florida. I'm going to spend almost a week watching a hundred bands and drinking a million beers. And hopefully I'll see the Atlantic for the first time in my life.


When I get back I'll tell you where I'm moving.

phil muthafuckin collins

Phil Collins watched a man drown, right? Actually, I'm pretty sure he didn't. I just needed a title...

I've never seen anyone drown. I've seen some people almost drown. I've almost drown myself. Not intentionally. I'm just not very skilled in the art of floating.

But I think I am watching a friend or two drown, figuratively.

Someone is spending most nights in a home that doesn't want them as much as they don't want it. I can see it in their eyes. Arms flailing in a see of money, family and youthful ambition.

Someone has a hard time saying what they are feeling, if there is anything left there anymore. I can see them running and running, talking out of both sides of their mouths, being torn in 7 directions of happiness, and getting none.

Someone is burning their bridges and turning off the porch lights. The inside lights are off too. No one is home, they don't want you to know they wished you still showed up unannounced.

Someone struggles with loyalty to people with faces and names to loyalty to faceless names.

Me?

I'm a little bit of all of them.

who wants tea?

I was going to blog the other night. Instead there was an impromptu whip undie party. Enjoy.

the royal we

I dated this girl for 5 years. We did a lot of things together. You know, went places, watched bands, etc. I've noticed lately that when I talk about some of the trips or bands or restaurants I still say "We" even though we aren't together anymore, she isn't present for the conversation and she lives in another state. It is strange.

Rush?

So there is this gentlemen who likes to talk on the radio and express sentiments I don't agree with. He is a bastard. I knew people who got his newsletter. I knew people who watched his television show. Most of them were closet racists. Apparently he said something about phony soldiers that if you missed it is hard to find in context. Also, from what I read, there are a bunch of cunts in ties authoring legislation to condemn said fat bastard. Don't get me wrong, I don't use cunt gender specifically. If you are a cunt, you are a cunt, male or female, sorry. If the cunt fits...

Anyways.

There seem to be a group of people who make decisions, or lack thereof, in our country who would rather spend their time creating glorified extra large going away cards for a piece of shit who spreads his subtly racist rhetoric to a group of people who spend most of their time in cars then actually do anything in terms of making the U.S. a better place to live.

I know, I know, the United States is the best place to live in the world. I'm just saying.

So you have a man with a microphone, and he talks shit, into the car stereos of people who, if they could, would dress and act like Michael Douglas in "Falling Down" every Friday instead of wearing Tommy Bahama shirts. And then there are a group of people, who are are about as effective as abstinence education, holding press conferences about how horrible this bastard is and how he never served in the military and he doesn't support the troops and blah blah blah.

This is a guess based on some quick research - combining the house and senate, about 29% of them spent time in the military...

All of this gets pretty redundant at this point. You have people who didn't/don't support troops or the idea of serving accusing people of not supporting troops or the idea of serving.

Let's be honest, they are all assholes, and they don't give a fuck about you or me.

You know how I know?

Every year from 1995 to 2005 there was somewhere between a 2% and 3% raise for members of our government.

LOOK.

It must be pretty rad to make 160,000 bucks every year. And it must be awesome to get a raise every year, especially when it is 4000 dollars. Or about that, sorry. When was the last time you got that sort of raise?

Fuck Mr. Limbaugh. Fuck Mr Distinguished Gentlemen from Wherever. And Fuck us, because we are fucked.

Shots anyone?

Every chance we get

I spent the evening at a bar full of karaoke. Some friends of mine were supposed to meet another friend or two of mine there, but they didn't show, and we had a good time. Some women were celebrating either a co-worker or a friends birthday. Some men had brought their other halves out for the evening. Some people came out looking for love, some came out looking something that would feel better than the love they have. I came looking for more drinks and maybe a song.

Science journals and science teachers around the country probably say things about people's true character when they are alone. I challenge them to not make the same assumptions at a bar filled with karaoke. Don't get me wrong, many a folk do their best to impress the crowd. Some succeeded, most fail. But really, the person that you would hope to be comes out at karaoke. You may lean more in the area of shy than normal, or not. You may lean more in the area of gospel than normal, or not. You may care more than normal, or not. The perfect you shows up to sing that song, and the perfect audience, in some cases, shows up to sing along.

Karaoke has almost exclusively been involved in the times in my life when I have been single. Why? Ask Freud. It might be like a peacock showing it's feathers, or it might be like a camel showing it's ability to spit. Do I hope my karaoke skills would catch someone who would appreciate every minor crack in my surface? No. And would I want to fall in love with someone who would sing "You Ought To Know" to tens of strangers? No. But would it be cute to be a touring karaoke team that hops from bar to bar to bar to bar for cash prizes? Not really. But it is better than sitting around your house for the fifth night in the row? Sometimes.

What it comes down to is this. Go karaoke. Go with an open mind, and an open heart. Sing the songs that made you feel young when you were young. Sings the songs that you wished made you feel young. Just fucking sing.

whiskey is soon again my friend

Things had gotten bad around these parts. I had started to have recurring disagreements with a friend of mine. Whiskey. He didn't want to stay inside anymore. He wanted to go out and mingle with the lawn, or the concrete, or the asphalt, or the sand, or the water.

Basically, Whiskey was making me puke.

But not the last few days. We have reunited and continue to enjoy eachother's company.

The last time we fought was sunday. And it wasn't even about us, it was about the Bears playing football like a crew of assholes, well, at least one of them was being an asshole.

Things should be fine this sunday, things should turn around (my friends and family hope so, I'm sure).

the days grow shorter

As previously mentioned, summer's over. That is still the case. If the other areas of my life hold true, then soon I will miss it.

But I don't know if I will.

Summer is everything at once. Summer is overload. Summer is excitement. Summer is death. Summer is the worst decision you have ever made followed by the best. Summer is endless nights of endless drink and endless conversations. Summer is everyone you ever wanted to be with and no one at the same time. Summer is the crowd your parents warned you about. Summer makes a man mean. Summer makes a man strong. Summer makes a man.

And it is over. The hibernation is setting in. The fatigue is here. The late nights are fewer. The empty beds spring up more often. The jokes we told don't get the same laughs, the love the same looks. Less people come around. They don't stay as long. They don't try as hard.

And neither do I.

I pray for apocalypse or armageddon or terrorism or strokes. I take a little longer to apply the brakes, I wait a little longer to push the gas. I say less and less and less to everyone from random faceless names to my parents.

I cried last night. In the middle of a small crowd. Just enough. A friend of mine played some songs, for probably the last time. And he played this song that showed up at a time when I was finding my own bearings and missing a lot of things. A time when nights were spent at places I used to live with people I used to know and the world I used to live in was changing, and I was on a couch or in a guest room. And the song was about a man who I didn't know, with a problem I didn't have, but a coping mechanism I could relate to.

So I cried. Enough to have to wipe tears away. Enough to feel a little better. Enough to say I cried.

I can recognize this feeling in my chest. And it spreading to my arms and my head. Things will be different soon. Smiles will be had by all.

Hello fall, I don't think I recognize you.

all it takes is technology

I had a friend send me a message over my cellular phone last night. She asked me if it had rained here.

I told her no, and called this place a shithole.

Then it started raining.

Thank you for sharing.

you ain't done nothing with your life

This gentleman, I don't know him. But what he stands for, what he represents, with his suit, and his crew cut, and his model rocket; no thank you.

I stood outside of Pepper's yesterday with two men who should have been wearing suits. Their briefcase bags were heavy with reports and findings on consumption and waste. They ran numbers in their heads of where they were succeeding and where I was failing. And it wasn't just the ability to raise money for charity. Or the ability to get other people who should have been wearing suits to drink at our restaurant. The areas where I wasn't failing counted for nothing. Any amount of commitment I had so far displayed to the company had no further bearing. He didn't say it, but he didn't have to.

I am no company man.

I may have shown flashes in the past. But not lately, not anymore. I have holes in my shoes. I don't wash my shirts as much as I should. I don't shave. I don't care. I am Robin Hood of the drunks, giving from the rich to anyone who will take it. Salads, Chips, Steaks, Guacamole, Beer and Shots.

When mediocrity is being embraced and hard work is being ignored. When the men and women who should be wearing suits are screaming in ears every 2 minutes about charity so they can have a larger bonus. When minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years of work go unaccounted for to save on benefits and vacation pay. When your place of employment ruins your ability to enjoy yourself while you make them money. When these things happen, I am holding the back door open and profits are running out the back door.

It will end soon. I won't come back for a break, or won't show up for a shift, or they will ask me to never come back. There will be tears of joy and high-fives at my employment's demise. Drinks will be shared, stories of the good times passed around. I will continue to exist. Pepper's will continue to exist. Those men will get their suits, and they will have them taken away. And there will be more tears with less joy and high-fives of a stronger sort but by many more people.

And that day will be glorious.

i didn't forget about you, and i didn't forget about me, i just did a lot of this

Summer's Over

When I sat down to make this I realized I didn't have the patience for it. So here is a mostly chronological slideshow in celebration of the end of summer. The song is by Latterman.

youtube is the new crack

meaning it was introduced to innercity neighborhoods by the CIA.

I watch some of the most ridiculous things on youtube. I just watched the first 45 seconds of a "summer's over" slide show video set to an Atari's song. Nothing like anime drawings of beach volleyball to let you know your life is slipping out of your grasp.

I will now go make my own "summer's over" slide show. It will be a first.

a post that was started two days ago

My computer is next to my bed. It is on an upsidedown milk crate. (They were out of cinderblock.) A night or two ago I decided that instead of sleeping I would drink a 32oz beer and try to find something on the internet about the Antelope Valley that would make me want to stay, or at least appreciate it. My jumping off place was Flickr. I searched through tags, looked at profiles, went to people's myspace profiles, went to their blogs, looked at groups and sets, picture after picture after picture.

I had seen it all before.

I'm ok with it, actually. The Antelope Valley is familiar. Too familiar. There are probably little pockets of interesting that I haven't found, but I don't even care to look anymore. It is the same people doing the same things in the same places.

I know that my new home will eventually become the same thing, but there is the possibility of it not turning into that for at least a year, and that seems nice.

There was a fire down the street today, that was nice.

i keep wanting to blog....

about how the antelope valley is stuck in 1986 with the amount of blow that seems to be going into people's noses, but then I realize it's probably not that interesting to anyone who isn't from here or isn't doing it. It seems people who enjoy their coke enjoy the fact that they do it almost as much as doing the actual drug, and that doesn't even compare to how excited they are to tell you about it.

Which is funny, because I like being a drunk, and talking about it, but I don't see it as that big of a deal. Must be all of that christian hypocrisy left over from the glory days.

God bless the Antelope Valley, I wish it was closer to the ocean so my dreams of it falling in wouldn't be so far fetched.

I was going to blog about insider trading...

But instead I went to get the mail. I passed my car in doing so. I have a flat tire. And no spare. Time for a bike ride to the store for insta-fix-a-flat or whatever it's called.

Awesome.

It took all I had to not quote that live song.

I left two bars tonight.

Both times there was lightning, but it was far away, somewhere else.

And it is always somewhere else.

I want to drive to the lightning, be rained on, hear the thunder, see the flash.

But I am stuck in this valley. No lightning, no thunder, no rain, nothing.

This valley is dead and it is dragging me with it.

the one where i finally get around to doing something

I did it. Finally. I spent the 25 bucks and got a pro account at flickr. Now there are a bunch of pictures to look through.

Enjoy.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/iambooth/