Thursday, November 30, 2006

HNT Caribbean style

A thousand pardons my friends! Apparently people mistook the tone of my last few posts to indicate depression, anxiety, unhappiness and general malaise. This is not at all the case. I'm happier than ever, healthier than ever (as far as I know) and generally rocking in the real world. To my mind my daily trials and tribulations are not especially pertinent to the average person. This blog was meant to be more about my creative pursuits and the progress thereof which, I hope, is more interesting than "Today is my 46th day sober." or "Woohoo! I've lost 25 lbs and am down to 175!" or "Today I'm having a mood swing. I feel so (fill in the emotion)." However I profoundly thank you, my friends, lovers and countrymen for your continued support and concern for my well being. I cherish you all. The band is going well and CD recording starts next weekend. Now a word about today's HNT. Here you see me in my element. Caribbean ocean? Check. Hawaiian shirt? Check. Shorts & sandals? Check. Sailboat? Check. Cold beverage? Check. Hot babe? Check. She took the picture. The only thing missing is a guitar! I hereby solemnly promise that next week I will post a Brand New Picture of me in all my glory at my new fighting weight at least half nekkid. HHNT y'all!

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Strange Mood

Lots of text lately and not much graphics. Maybe because blogger is such a wad of suck lately. Ever since Google bought them it's gone steadily downhill. You know it's bad when the beta product is worse than the released version. Feh.

I stopped counting days and writing about it. I feel like playing it close to the vest for a while. I'm dry as a bone and all is well but I'm feeling exposed and more vulnerable lately so enough of that.

They say to write for your readers. Not many readers lately, or many comments anyway. I've been saying for a while I need to revamp this thing into something that talks about music and art and save my personal musings about shit for somewhere else.

The band is playing in the Stillwell Cafe in the Bronx this weekend and I'm doubtful of getting a crowd. 1680 Stillwell ave if you want to come. I'm just hanging tight for the winter and hoping to come with a killer album in early spring to tour behind. Wish my luck.

Your ever so humble and grateful Gearjammer,

Monday, November 27, 2006

Finally, something worthwhile to read!

By Shane Carey, a musician from Arizona, by way of

Amateur musicians: You no longer need to "make it big."
The Internet is slowly killing the myth that only rock stars make popular music. The record industry still controls most of the fame and fortune, but a record contract is no longer necessary to reach listeners. If all you want is people to hear your music, get a website or put it on MySpace. Maybe you'll get fame if 50 million people like it, and maybe you'll have fortune if they send some money your way. If not, at least you have shared your music. Needing stardom puts the power in someone else's hands; being a musician is yours, right now.

Professional musicians: Kill your contracts.
To pick an example, Joe Satriani fans cannot just replace him with some other virtuoso guitarist released under a Creative Commons license; only Joe will do. Your uniqueness means the fans can't escape the music industry unless you do it first. Don't sign; if you've signed, don't renew. If you can't afford to quit without your fans' support, make sure they know it. If they won't give you that support, then you're not the star that you thought you were, and the record industry owns you more than you know.

Music fans: Support your musicians.
Enough about your right to hear the music, whether you can afford it or not: living in a world where people can afford to make that music is a privilege to be earned. Professional musicians who stop receiving money will have to start spending their days at jobs instead of writing music. A free download is not necessarily stealing, but if you don't want to wait ten years for the next album to come out, throw them a few bucks to buy them the time.

Record industry professionals: Change or die.
An industry might exist in which people like you make money from the honest practice of making it easy for musicians to get their music to listeners, but yours is not currently such an industry, or honest practice. Without you, the musician can author, record, and distribute; without the musician, you have no product. Stop alienating your market by suing them for telling you that the value you add is no longer worth the asking price: increase your value, lower the price, or get out of the business and leave the producers and consumers to work it out amongst themselves.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Learning to keep my mouth SHUT

is something I truly need to do. My fluctuating mental and emotional state makes me unfit for human consumption more often than not, no matter how often I say "Eat Me." I walk around quoting Fight Club constantly because that's what this self-help-support-group culture makes me feel like. I'm getting it and it's working but sometimes it's just a drag. I retract my holiday curses. I realize everything happens for a reason and God (the divinity within, whatever) is paying attention and taking care of me. The universe is about balance and it's been so long since I've had any it's like wearing a new pair of shoes. Sure, I miss the shit stained worn out ugly ones because they were comfortable, but I sure wouldn't want to be seen in them any more. The shiny new ones are a little stiff but they sure look and feel a whole lot better. I've decided to stop playing in bars. I just can't take it any more. I don't belong there and I can't invite all my new friends. Henceforth I promote my own shows. Alcohol free music zones. Let's try that for a while.

I can't fucking believe this shit

First of all, fuck Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve and everything to do with them. I just had to get that off my chest.

New topic. I went tonight to the bar we're supposed to play next Saturday to see what we were up against. At midnight the lights were off but the door was open so I went in. Surreal is not the word. An empty Italian restaurant in the middle of the warehouse district in the Bronx. I get in the back and there's 4 black hookers, clearly high and giving me a bad look like 'What are YOU doing here?" I greet the aging female bar tender who pointedly ignores me. There are two apparently drunk and coked out couples who also ignore me at least one of whom appears to be the owner. There are no posters or anything else to indicate that we or anyone else are going to play there EVER. At any rate after five minutes of incredibly bad vibe I got the fuck out of there. Bad news and incredibly bizzarre. OK, so I stop on my way home at Pete's saloon to find a fat ugly chick singing so dull disco shit from the 70's badly with a guitarist, bassist and a drum machine. There's maybe 20 people in the joint, clearly their friends. I left after half a song. Jesus! Who books this garbage? I go to the Striped Bass in Tarrytown to see what's up. An incredibly lame trio is playing CCR and Steve Miller at top volume in the style of Metallica (no, I'm not kidding). Maybe there's 15 people in the joint including the incredibly obnoxious female singer from the first band I ever joined in NY. Thankfuly she failed to recognize me but I took this as an incredibly bad omen. True to form I start talking to this other chick who looks about 50 who claims she's dating the drummer (who looks about 20) even though she lives in Florida. She books the band. She can't wait for their show there the 30th. Wait I say MY band is supposed to play here the 30th. Come to think of it, the last time I was scheduled to play this shithole they double booked me THEN TOO! That was YEARS ago. So now I need to call the booking agent who I had to chase for months just to get THIS fucking gig. I stopped by the bar we've been playing at and there are 5 drunks at the bar, no band and nothing going on. I go to the bar around the corner from me and there's a DJ and some long haired latino guy playing along to records on a set of congas. The place is packed with fat white chicks and skinny Latino boys who are all dressed like ghetto guys. Timberlands, North Face, do rags and backwards baseball caps. What? The? Fuck? Oh yeah and the place I'm booked for Dec 15th and New Year's Eve cancelled out last gig on two nights' notice. Remind me again why I'm in this fucking business? What on Earth could I possibly be getting out of this but a headache? Also, it crossed my mind that it's pretty unethical of me (who's not drinking) to try and get all my friends to rick life and limb to see me play in a place where the only other thing to do is get drunk on expensive liquor. The message here? Quit the music business especially in New York. Clearly no one knows what the fuck good music is and wouldn't if it bit them in the ass. Second, if I can't quit it's time to start renting halls and having shows where we actually make some money and my friends don't all get DWIs for the privledge of hearing me play and paying some asshole club owner top dollar for watered down drinks and cheap shitty beer. At 2 AM on a Saturday night I['m along, sober and completely discouraged in every possible way about every single aspect of my life. Yes, yes, be grateful yadda yadda yadda. Sure. Thanks A Lot. Really.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Alcoholic Insanity - H H N T hanksgiving

I just happened across this pic from one of the J&B tours of Spain. J & B stands for Jerguistas Y Borrachos which loosely translates as Players and Drunks. Visit for more on that madness. Anyway, after 38 days sober it seems proper to post another hammered picture of me. I spent the entire tour in that state; completely exhausted, sun burned and insanely drunk. In this particular shot I had BITTEN into the can, inhaled all the beer and didn't spill a drop. This earned me a even higher measure of "respect" from my band mates; that along with stripping naked at every performance. The audience thought that was particularly inspired. I look back on this with mixed feelings. From this vantage point it looks like good wholesome fun (yes, I'm serious) but at the time it kind of sucked because I wasn't getting laid. I was too plastered to make the right kind of small talk in Spanish. The best I could do was "Nice tits. Wanna fuck?" For some reason that didn't work. So on the whole I file this under "Ah, the good old days. May they never come again." Still, I see that animal gleam in my eyes and think "Hmmmm... I look pretty fuckin' happy."

Gobble Gobble

OK well I skipped the gym last night (bad baby!) and went to my favorite local Italian joint Guida's and had Gambieri Fra Diavalo instead. Fuck it. I was hungry and felt like treating myself. THen I went to the blues jam and played Mary in public for the first time. She sounded good.
The Geoff Hartwell band played a three song set and MY GOD! The fucking guy is AWESOME! Truth be told I'm not knocked out by the singer/songwriter schtick he's selling right now but that boy is SOME FUCKING BLUES PLAYER! Holy Shit! Anyway he was followed by some other dudes who were also really good and then I got up and played. I admit to not being awesome but mainly that had to do with playing some generic blues with random dudes including another guitar player who insisted on being loud as fuck. Fortunately when it was my turn we brought it down and I was able to get some tasty licks in. Tomorrow is turkey day and I'm bound and determined to be grateful and thankful for everything. I'm having the beginnings of a nasty toothache which means a trip to the dentist soon and more than likely a root canal. Oh joy. Never had one; not looking forward to it. I'd almost rather have it extracted but whatever. Anyway, rapture and joy, rapture and joy. I hope you all have a fabulous Thanksgiving. Meanwhile I'll be in the corner kicking the cat. Reowr!!!
I dunno if I'll get to post an HNT or not. See you in the funny papers.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

New Day

Okay, Okay, Okay, Okay. It's a new day. I'm a bit less cranky than yesterday. I had to get a new post up here to offest yesterday's bitch fest. I new better than to post that really but when has that ever stopped me? Besides what the hell is this thing even here for if I can't use it to vent my annoyance at myself and the world once in a while? Living on coffee and nicotine isn't a strategy for wellness no doubt. So fuckin' sue me.
Anyway it's Tuesday and that means that after the gym tonihgt I'm going to the blues jam and venting my frustrations by giving the beautiful Mary her first work out in public. Ima hammer that biatch like a $20 whore in a porn film. How's THAT for an image. Yeah, thought you'd like that. Skoodly-ah wah wah wah! Bamp chicka Bamp Bam!

Monday, November 20, 2006

Easy Fucking Does It

This started out as a comment to a very old and dear friend but I decided to make it a post of its own. Oy! My life is a series of slogans now. Easy does it. Time takes time. One Day At a Time. Fuck you! How the hell did I become a member of Idiots Anonymous? After 25 years of getting as twisted as possible as often as possible I finally gave up and asked for help. I don't like it one bit and I have no confidence of success but I'm trying. Today is 35 days=35 meetings. 6.25 more hours until today is over. I'm pretty much of a mess despite how good things are going. I have so much more free time now that I'm not chasing that stupid demon around anymore that I'm accomplishing everything I want and more. I still miss him though. I probably always will. The price of freedom is constant vigilance and sometimes we long to be slaves. Last night at about 2AM I broke down crying. I thought being suicidal was a side effect of alcoholism. Now I'm starting to wonder if maybe I really AM bi-polar. There's absolutely no fucking reason for me to feel this way. It comes and goes in waves. I'm happy go fucking lucky and then I want to blow my brains out for no apparent reason. Before y'all suggest I see a doctor and take the prescribed medication forget it. Secure that shit. I won't do it. I'd rather go back to drinking and that's a fact. I'll say this much: I'm as back and forth as I could be. Today a woman talked about staying sober even though she has brain cancer, is going through chemo and lost her job from being out so much. And I'm suicidally depressed over...what? I don't even know. Pretty fucking sad, pathetic and ridiculous if you ask me. Apparently there are more than one of me so be sure who you're talking to when conversing with me. Lord knows what I might say or do. There's more. Lots more. And none of it matters one damned bit. If you are reading this that shouldn't be; fuck off!This means you! Stop following me! Get the spiders off! Get them off!

Cop Hit Cop

On my way to a meeting today a bunch of cops were stopping people to spot check their registrations and inspections. As I pulled up one started to walk towards me and the cop in the car next to him backed up his cruiser...right into the one walking towards me. Hit him right in the leg and down he went. I yelled "Whoa! Are you OK!" He was shouting and cursing in pain and the other cops standing around bullshitting recovered from their shock and ran over. One yelled at me. "GO!" he said. Fortunately for the cop standing directly in front of me at the time I was paying attention and waited until he got out of the way. Had I hit the gas at that moment we would have had a "two man down" situation. The look on the cop's face in front of me made it clear HE thought I was gonna hit him. I managed to hold it in but once I pulled away I laughed my ass off. I feel bad the guy got hurt but let's face it; I've been harrassed often enough by big burly cops with puffed out chests that it was amusing to see them acting like a pack of idiots out there. Way to go boys. New York's finest.

Saturday, November 18, 2006

The reward system

Today was a great day! After a positively invigorating and bitchin rehearsal I went into the city to go guitar shopping. I love Ursula (my black '56 reissue strat with maple neck) but as I've posted here I've had guitar lust for some time. I wanted a vintage 70's natural finish strat. After much searching I found two fine examples at Matt Umanov and went down to try them out. Alas the didn't play anywhere NEAR $3000 worth. Then a brand new guitar with the exact look I wanted called to me from the showroom wall. She introduced herself as Mary and asked me nicely to please try her out. Instantly I knew she was the one for me. $1400 later I have a new guitar. So here she is. Gorgeous, no? Say hello Mary...

Friday, November 17, 2006

Gratitude (da count)

OK, I'm grateful for beautiful naked women. I'm grateful I'm sober. I'm grateful for the challenges God puts before me. They make me stronger. I'm grateful for my many talents, all God's gifts for me to share with you all and the world. I'm grateful for my strength AND for my weaknesses. They make me human. I'm grateful that I can pray for help with my weaknesses and Lo and Behold help will come! I'm grateful to you, my bloggy peeps, for reading and commenting. Sometimes you bitch slap me because sometimes I need it. I'm grateful for that too. I'm grateful for your support and head pats when I need those too. I'm grateful to my readers who don't comment as well. I know you're there and it's comforting that someone cares enough to look. Things are going really REALLY good right now in so many ways. All of these things flow from being sober and looking outwards rather than in. I'm grateful I can share my journey with you. That's my count for this Friday.

Good times gone but you missed them
What's gone wrong in your system
Things they bounce just like a spaulding
What'd you think you miss your calling
It's so free this kind of feeling
It's like life it's so appealing
When you got so much to say
It's called gratitude
Good times gone but you feed it
Hate's grown strong you feel you need it
Just one thing do you know
What you think that the world owes you
What's gonna set you free
Look inside and you'll see
When you got so much to say
It's called gratitude
-The Beastie Boys

Da Count: dacount

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Reach The Beach HNT

This is Miami beach last year. I was going to a wedding. I was in love. I wanted to be married. I was getting drunk every day. I still looked good! LOL Actually, I look at this picture and think "Wow! I was 25 lbs heavier then than I am now! I don't feel like I look any better now than I did then!" That can't be right though. Firstly everyone I know has seen and commented on the difference. Secondly, (honestly) if I look at my face I can see it. I'm all bloated. Actually I'm not drunk in this picture but I admit that amid all that beauty (especially the woman I was with) I was thinking "How long until lunch so I can whip down a few margaritas?" The answer, of course, was "not long". After which I looked like this:

Yeesh! That lazy left eye is a dead giveaway. I hate that you had to see me like that. I honestly just couldn't and wouldn't see what I was doing. Not to say we didn't have fun because we did, but looking back I can see that watching me get drunk wasn't fun for you. I am Jack's sincere apology. Going to all these meetings makes me think of fight club A LOT. I watched it again last night. "When people think you're dying the really listen instead of just waiting for their chance to talk." Eh, it's cheaper than a movie and the coffee is free. On a lighter note those popcorn shrimp in fromt of me were DEEEEEEE-LICIOUS! I have reached the beach. I pray I can stay. HHNT!

Wednesday, November 15, 2006


30 Days Alcohol Free!
Yes, I'm pretty happy about that. Lots of good things coming about as a result.

Let's recap (in no special order):
Down 10 lbs to a respectable 175 lbs. Approximate savings: $450. My family, friends & loved ones are VERY happy since they knew how bad it was. My playing is vastly improved due to lots more (sober) practice. Motivation up, depression down. Overall attitude: good. Wow! Last night a 'friend' was heard to say "You've been in a vile mood since you quit drinking. Maybe you should start drinking again." Another friend overhearing this immediately jumped in and said "NO! Don't do that!" If there was ever any doubt I now know who my real friends are. Fortunately I dealt with that in what I think was a mature way. I basically said "When I was drinking I just didn't give a shit. Now I actually care so I get more upset more easily." I think that's both true and reasonable. I did yell at someone who didn't deserve it and I have since apologized. I was up at 7AM today ready to face my day with a smile. Who the hell am I? Today's plan: Work, meeting, gym, home, practice. I went to an open jam last night and had fun. Maybe I'll find another one tonight! ROCK THE HELL ON!

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Poor Poor Pitiful Me

Rare twice in one day post. I'm ashamed of myself. What in this Good God's Green Earth am I bitching about? I annoy myself no end with these pitiful rants. Oh why oh why?!?! Why aren't I a fabulously rich and famous rockstar, moviestar, author, photographer and painter yet??! Where are my beautiful children and my beautiful wife? My beautiful home? My 3 porsches in the driveway? Fuck's sake! Such proto-typical American rich white upper middle class white boy blues bullshit! I disgust me. Especially considering that whatever perceived lack of accomplishment may be plaguing me I brought myself to this place. No one is responsible for my failings as a human being but me and my vice chasing ways. A sober and god fearing man would be grateful for all the wonderful gifts I posess. I have health (excepting where I've damaged it myself), a job, a place to live, a car and money for gas. I have talent and brains and not the worst looks in the world. Thank you Jesus, thank you Lord. Um...that is all.

I'm Jealous Of Mike Doughty

Alright. Usually I try to keep a good attitude. There will always be someone better than you. There will always be someone worse than you. There will always be luckier and unluckier people. Better looking and worse looking, etc...
But God Dammit. I'm fucking jealous.
Here's a guy, he's a little younger than I but not so different. Similar backgrounds. He went to a little college I used to hang out at. I got in but didn't have the money to go. I used to hang there with my crazy friends and do lots of drugs because that's what you did at an "alternative college". He had a heroin habit (something I never had - alcohol is my demon) and STILL managed to be a better musician, poet, and songwriter than me based on the fact that he's been signed TWICE. Once with Soul Coughing, a great band with a terrible name. They wer more creative on their worst day than I was at my best. He quit them, got straight and toured on his own and managed to get signed to Dave Mathews' label ATO and now is touring fucking stadiums with Bare Naked Ladies. What the fuck? What am I doing wrong? He's younger, smarter, luckier, more talented and better looking than I am, sure but I mean BESIDES THAT? Fucker. OK, that's it for today. 29 fucking sober days. Fuck me running. Trent Reznor is another one. Or how about Curt Cobain? How come everyone who makes it is/was a junkie? Gah!!!!! You can dig my nemesis' brilliance at

Monday, November 13, 2006

28 days - just like the movie

Actually, the movie is titled "28 days later" and is about zombies. I feel kind of like one. Last night I had my first "drunk dream". Well, hardly my first but my first since I decided to stop drinking. I was with my bass player who was about to go to jail for possesion (in the dream) and for some reason he was showing me his car, some sort of old camero or something, and as we smoke a joint he shows me huge bags of dope stashed all around inside the car and shoves one in my coat. I get totally paranoid and I'm like we're OUT of here and just then a cop knocks on the window. Great. We get out of the car and I'm trying to get my shoes which (apparently) I kicked off while we were sitting there. I'm sure we're about to be totally busted but the cop is picking stuff off the floor like half empty beer cans and roaches. He's got one of my shoes and pours beer into it (presumably so I'll reek and he can bust me for DWI). He tells my buddy to take a walk and I'm keeping quiet because the cop thinks it's MY car for some reason and I want my buddy to at least get away before I disavow owning a car full of dope. I try to explain to the cop that I haven't been drinking and he doesn't care. He offers me a choice, would I rather walk away or would I prefer if he bust me? I want to argue but I can't because I apparently AM drunk and high and I tell him I'll be walking the opposite direction from my buddy and NOT driving and then I wake up in a massive cold sweat. There was probably more and I really wanted to get up and write it all down right then but I was too freaking tired. So I got up and ate cold spaghetti instead. I cancelled my guitar lesson for today. Going to the gym instead. I need the excercise more than I need a guitar lesson and I can't do everything.

A Marine's Rules for Gunfighting

1. Bring a gun. Preferably, bring at least two guns. Bring all of your friends who have guns.
2. Anything worth shooting is worth shooting twice. Ammo is cheap. Life is expensive.
3. Only hits count. The only thing worse than a miss is a slow miss.
4. If your shooting stance is good, you're probably not moving fast enough nor using cover correctly.
5. Move away from your attacker. Distance is your friend. (Lateral and diagonal movement are preferred.)
6. If you can choose what to bring to a gunfight, bring a long gun and a friend with a long gun.
7. In ten years nobody will remember the details of caliber, stance, or tactics. They will only remember who lived.
8. If you are not shooting, you should be communicating, reloading, and running.
9. Accuracy is relative: most combat shooting standards will be more dependent on "pucker factor" than the inherent accuracy of the gun.
10. Someday someone may kill you with your own gun, but they should have to beat you to death with it because it is empty.
11. Always cheat; always win. The only unfair fight is the one you lose.
12. Have a plan.
13. Have a back-up plan, because the first one won't work.
14. Use cover or concealment as much as possible.
15. Flank your adversary when possible. Protect yours.
16. Don't drop your guard.
17. Always tactical load and threat scan 360 degrees.
18. Watch their hands. Hands kill. In God we trust. Everyone else, keep your hands where I can see them.
19. Decide to be aggressive ENOUGH, quickly ENOUGH.
20. The faster you finish the fight, the less shot you will get.
21. Be polite. Be professional. But, have a plan to kill everyone you meet.
22. Be courteous to everyone, friendly to no one.
23. Your number one option for personal security is a lifelong commitment to avoidance, deterrence, and de-escalation.
24. Do not attend a gunfight with a handgun, the caliber of which does not start with a "4."

Friday, November 10, 2006

The God Shaped Hole

lookin' for to save my save my soul
lookin' in the places where no flowers grow
lookin' for to fill that GOD shaped hole
mother mother sucking rock and roll
(been around the back... been around the front)
holy dunc, spacejunk comin' in for the splash
white dopes on punk stareing into the flash
lookin' for baby Jesus under the trash
mother mother suckin' rock and roll
mother rock and roll
mother am I still your son, you know
I've waited so long to hear you say no
mother you left and made me someone
now I'm still a child but no one tells me no
lookin' for a sound that's gonna drown out the world
lookin' for the father of my two little girls
got the swing got the sway got my straw in lemonade
still looking for the face I had before the world was made
mother mother sucking rock and roll
bubble poppin' sugar droppin' rock and roll
woo me sister
move me brother
soothe me mother
rule me father
show me mother
-Mofo (U2)

Thursday, November 09, 2006 ride... HNT!

Pic from last year's adventure in Miami. There was a cool assed cardboard cutout of Humphrey Bogart in the driver's seat. My big fat beer gut is on full display. For all my working out I can't seem to get rid of the damned thing! Oh sure, I haven't had beer for a month (OK 24 days) and I'm down to 178 lbs and I realize I'm made that way but for heaven's sake! Yeah, OK, it took 24 years to put on and I shouldn't expect to take it off in 24 days but still! Actually I'm sure I'm sucking it in as best I can in this pic while today that's what I look like at parade rest so I shouldn't bitch but when has that ever stopped me. I talked to a woman today who's two sons are in jail for a long time and who's daughter is dead, all from alcoholism. My life is great. The fact that I feel this way means that even though the monkey is off my back the circus is still very much in town. 'Nuff said. HHNT y'all!

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Wednesday One off

Busy day today. Up at 7, load up the car with guitar stuff, drive to gym, 25 minutes on treadmill (a mile and a half) and 20 minutes on abs. Ug. They've been hurting for days but I can't seem to get the fat off me. I lost another pound though. 178 lbs when I stepped on the scale. Sigh. 13 lbs to go. Yes, I revised my target weight down to 165 lbs. What good is a target if it's not unreachable? I ask you! I always say "Aim for the stars and you might find yourself on a mountain top." I talked to the personal trainer Jim and he was like "Oh yeah I've been watching you. You look great now." He leered. "I was like "Eeeeeeeeyah, uh....thanks...Jim." Ladies, all the cute ones are queer. If you want a real man to curl your toes and make you scream "YES!" over and over you need a short, fat, ugly guy with a hungry gleam in his eye when he looks at you that says "ANIMAL!". What? I'm serious! Anyway, thence to work, and a meeting at noon. I'm going to stop counting days. Who cares how long it's been? All that matters is today. After the meeting it's back to work, then drive to NYC to perform at a benefit for the homeless hosted by NCS at Triad in NYC. Opening for Phil Roy and backing up Curtis Willis. I imagine it'll be 10 PM or so by the time I get home. I can't seem to get to sleep before 2AM. Dammit! Been reading a lot of old Robert Heinlein books I picked up for a song at the used bookstore. He's kind of campy but I love his writing style. I should really start writing the novel tonight. I'm way the fuck behind schedule for National Novel Writing Month. I did it last year but this year I'm not very motivated. I dunno why LOL. It's not like I have anything else going on!

Monday, November 06, 2006

New Chess Blog!

The lovely Lori indirectly introduced me to Dagoth through a bloggy challenge to show your favorite stuff. Turns out he and I have the same chess board. I challenged him to a game so he started a new BLOG to chronicle our game and show the moves. Good geeky fun! I haven't played a remote game in a long long time if ever! We're both medium duffer level players I gather so it should be a long game. One move a day or so. Go check him out and say hi! And NO KIBBUTZING! :-)
I haven't killed my band mates yet though it's been a near thing. I love those guys but sometimes I feel like saying "Shut the fuck up, play well and everything will take care of itself." I feel like spend all my time (when not practicing, booking gigs, sending out mailings, working on the website or recording, etc, etc...) fending off their complaints about everything I do. Fuck's sake! Hurry up and go form your own band and do it all just a little bit while you still know every fucking thing. I want to ask how the view is from the cheap seats. I'd be a lot more open to their suggestions if they got some gigs, brought some people to those gigs or did any of the ten million jobs that doing this thing takes. OK, that's enough of that ragging.
Today is day 22. Each day seems a little longer than the last. Well, maybe not. I'm getting more and more accomplished. Work, gym, practice, performing, lessons, everyday chores, boat maintenance...we do it all just a little bit. I'd sure like to get completely falling down drunk but I know if I do it won't be a one time thing. And therein lies the rub McDuff. Meh.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Sunday! Sunday!! Sunday!!!

This nifty photo of me comes to you courtesey of The Mighty and Beautiful Jo The Sea Rabbit. My drummer actually took it but she made me the voice of the city. I like it. Good job Jo. Go and show her some love, hmmm? I'm now 5 days behind on starting my novel for National Novel Writing Month. Eh, last year I was 7 days late and still finished. I got nothing right now though.
Just a great big gaping wound with a whole lot of nothing pouring out, like a waterfall I'm drowning in. Geez, when I say it like that it sounds so negative! Everything's going really well actually. If I can just get out of the way and let God do his thing with me I'll be just fine. I give thanks and praise everyday. 21 days and counting. When I crash and burn will I tell you all about it? Or will I just stop talking about it every fucking day?

Friday, November 03, 2006


No Fuck You Friday, No Count Either. 19 days.
The Roses From My Friends - Ben Harper
I could have treated you better
but you couldn't have treated me worse
But it's he who laughs last
Is he who cries first
Sometimes I feel I know strangers
Better than I know my friends
Why must a beginning
Be the means to an end
The stones from my enemies; these wounds will mend
But I cannot survive the roses from my friends
When the last word has been spoken
And we bear witness to the final setting sun
All that shall remains is a token
Of what we've said and done
When all we've had has been forsaken
Distant church bells no longer ring
That's the sound of a heart taken
And the story of tears from a king
The stones from my enemies; these wounds will mend
But I cannot survive the roses from my friends
This may be the last time I see you
Forgive me for holding you close
This may be the last time I see you
So of this moment I will make the most
This may be the last time I see you
But if you keep me in your heart
Together we shall be eternal
If you believe we shall never part
The stones from my enemies; these wounds will mend
But I cannot survive the roses from my friends

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Space; the final frontier? In space no one can hear you scream? My expectations have been way too high lately and thus my serenity was WAY too low. Blessed are those who expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed. Nevertheless I shall continue to strive for greatness in my everyday life. A thing that's not worth doing well is not worth doing at all. I managed to get to sleep around 2AM, got up at 6:30 and went to the gym. I haven't lost any more but I'm maintaining 179 lbs which makes me very happy as it's my lowest weight since college. I can't believe I took off 20 lbs! I'm holding off on more revealing pics as y'all have seen what I got mostly. When I really have it going on maybe I'll pose in sock (singular). How about THEM friggin' apples? HHNT!

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Happy All Saints Day

Speaking of All Saints, here's Buddy Rich. Drummer extrodinaire and Patron Saint of all Bandleaders, he was well known for being incredibly exacting, demanding and volatile. He would routinely curse out the entire band on the bus at great length and in exquisite detail. If you had the nerve to answer him back he might stop the bus (in the middle of whatever nowhere you were in) and throw you and your instrument off. Hell, he might do that anyway! "What a prick!" you may say. Maybe so. But you know what? I saw his band serveral times and every single time without fail they were good beyond the ability of mere words to describe. Here's a link to four GREAT rants. Funny beyond the pale. I should mention that I met the guy and he was sweet as could be, gave me his autograph happily and encouraged me in my drumming efforts. The guy could do a roll with one hand faster and cleaner than most cats could with two. So today I pray to him: Buddy? Give me strength.