The Price

Jill Carroll was released today.



And like many, I am relieved by this.
And when we think of the impact, the sheer joy felt, when news of this calibur is received, it is difficult to fathom the joy which could be felt in multitudes if Americans start working on a better plan for the PEACE.

For all the mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers. For the Iraqi, Afghani, American and coalition forces and peacemakers. For the World. We owe it to them.

Post This, Post It

You know things are good when the most aggravating thing in life is a new Post-It design change. (Aside from certain people not making good on promises from the previous year. In which case, total aggravation equals roll-over aggravation)

Am I not getting something here? Everytime I go to grab one, this happens. Am I supposed to have a dispensor?

Yoshimi Battles My Current Purity

My most recent re-discovered album is The Flaming Lips' "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots".

Makes me feel like.....hmmm.....!

I need to remember that I just went to church 11 hours ago.

Drunk Blog # 49 - Like a Fish

The limbs were heavy. A strong fir couldn't contend with the weight. All the queers were kibitzing in the corners, in the aisleways, along the street; but my eyes were fixed on the heavy limbs. Not a drop to drink. So, why, Bionic, is this called Drunk Blog #49?

First off, who is to say that there were 48 others before? Go on. Try to find them.

Secondly, because the second I stepped onto the pavement, I was on my way. I was going to get good and drunk. Yep. Then maybe I could sleep and sweep aside the ticking between my knees. I know. What's all this talking about sleep so sweetly? Hadn't you, Bionic, uppercut the dozing verb just today?

Well, I don't know. Whatever. I don't know.

And. My house is in totally disarray, yet I haven't been robbed or anything.

I didn't fix my bed before I left. But, I did shave my legs. And that's enough to have me believing that, for one night, the stars are on my side. So there's that.

Good night and good luck, humanoids of the planet Earth.

Sleep to Dream, Live the Dream

Sleep, my old friend. Night Owl, I’m sorry.

Sleep was unavoidable. I feel cheated. Sleep was had in increments of 8. And now, that I’ve revisited Sleep, I feel a bit wasted, like I’m pumped with Downers and awaiting a jolt by a live wire.

Sleep takes me places, to dreams, to all the things I shouldn’t do, to clarity for the day ahead. Sleep is like Gramma’s knit cap, a cup of chowder behind a stormy, bay window perched on the New England coast line. But, one can always have enough Sleep. And, in fact, one can sleep so much they get sores. One can sleep so much they slip into a coma. One can sleep so much so that they cradle their depression.

But, in Night Owl, there is excitement and vibrancy, like the French. And I don’t know French, but I feel like I know French when you speak it. With Night Owl, Possibility is always brought to the party. And adventure. And creation. And life. And what I really need now is a bender and to shake the steady Zs from my pillow. What I need is a reminder of living in the far off places I can only dream about with Sleep.

I do feel rested. But, I always wonder if I miss out on creation while I sleep?

Rock/Paper/Scissors

Why hadn't I thought of this?

"When I play rock/paper/scissors, I understand that scissors can beat paper, and I get how rock can beat scissors, but there's no fucking way paper can beat rock. Paper is supposed to magically "wrap around" rock, rendering it immobile?

Why the hell can't paper do this to scissors?

Screw scissors, why can't paper do this to people? Why aren't sheets of notebook paper constantly suffocating students as they attempt to take notes in class…?

I'll tell you why -- BECAUSE PAPER CAN'T BEAT ANYBODY!

A rock would tear that shit up in 2 seconds.

When I play rock/paper/scissors, I always choose rock. Then when somebody claims to have beaten me with their paper, I punch them in the face with my already clenched fist and say, 'Oh shit, I'm sorry. I thought paper would protect you!' "

So Much

And what ship are you? The low crawling trawler? The strong-necked yacht? The tug boat chugging? The sneaking sub? The careful bottled ship?

And what ship are you?

She is the ship sinking. Once she's wrecked, it won’t matter. Not even the fish will care.

Oh, Captain! My Captain! You don’t have to go down with ‘er!

But she insists.

She thinks it makes her esteemed.

But, loyalty snapped the deckboards.

She thinks it's living hard.

She lives too hard.

It’s not the only choice. It’s not even admirable.

And what ship are you? There! The speed boat frolicking? The snogging gondola? The row boat flexing? The dignified sail boat?

Her? Her ship is sinking. And here we are, on the shore. Arms flailing. Life preservers dispatched. Hollering until our throats bleed. Maybe she wants someone to save her, to die hard for her. And maybe we want that too. But no one wants to board a sinking ship.

Broken Up

Chloe and Zoey are not metaphors, as I've been asked. They are actual, breathing turtles. So, now that I have prefaced, here's a story:

Zoey had become accustomed to winking hello at me. The pattern was that I would peer from beyond the edge of the rock wall surrounding the Koi pond. She would wade over and stretch out her long neck at me. Until, one day, I tried to sneak a picture of her. This is the precise moment at which she stopped greeting me. Now, whenever she senses me, she paddles away frantically.

If her fondness of me hadn't vacillated so, yesterday would have marked a clean and clear opportunity to get a healthy shot of her cute mug. The cleaning lady was dusting off the rails near the monitoring camera; therefore impeding The Man's view of the pond. But Zoey sniffed my presence and immediately sank her head into her shell, cut a swift U-turn through heavy Koi traffic and sputtered away.

Blast my gluttonous ways.

Independently, the wrench is: experiencing a shift; movement from words versus movement from action.

We Have a Winner!

"WHAT ARE you listening to??" My boss to Me.

The clear winner of the "what are you listening to?" contest is Joy Division.

I haven't heard that much dissapproval since the Tori Amos incident on September 19, 2001

Put That In Your Constitutional Law Pipe and Smoke It

Somewhere in between Andersonville and LaSalle St., I blew $250.00 this weekend. I could have paid for my skateboard with that. Maybe a few decals too. Shoot.

The bed store is driving me crazy. The bed store was formerly an aquarium some months ago, a Mediterranean blue house with gigantic windows glowing and mysterious like jack-o-lanterns. I am still mourning the loss. And here was ½ of L squared saying how she would sell mattresses if she had a choice because the profit margin is large enough to fly a 747 through it. Even so, the vultures! Mucking up the neighborhood with a mattress store.

But there are bigger fish to fry. Somewhere, in this great country, our Freedom of Assembly was being threatened.

LaSalle Street was shut down on Saturday evening. The entirety of the city walk was lined with undercover cars. Police joked with each other in full riot gear. Empty, armored busses were awaiting the protestors.

It was dark and the city was eerily quiet. Under the Picasso statue at Daley Center, where the protest was to have concluded, one man stood alone. He was bundled heavily and straining a bit under the weight of a long wooden stick propping up a massive silver peace sign far above his head into the night sky.

We chatted about the war for a moment. And I wished I could have stayed. Where were the others?

“Your voice is being heard, man. You may be alone here, but you aren’t.” I told him.

He held his fist out for me, “Right on.” I clacked his fist, wished him farewell and warned him about the riot police around the corner. He was prepared. He was ready for the fight.

Drunk Blog #43 - The Battle for the Juke Box

Dear 37 year-old gay woman and 43 year-old gay male,

Just because I mix-in a little Green Day, Hole, Soundgarden, Kanye West and Alicia Keys with my Frank Sinatra, Tina Turner and Dolly Parton does not mean that I am less gay than you.

And to the woman, just because you are are good lookin' doesn't mean I am going to play your D-U-M-B songs on my dime. I love women, but I am inclined to think that I love music more. And you were the one who forced my hand. After you called me "Sweetie", I had no choice but to play "Sir Psycho Sexy" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

And to the man screaming in my ear, "Green Day? We're Gayyyyyyyyyyy........You are in a gayyyyyyyy bar, sweetheart." does not mean that I will puff up and prove to you my gayness by playing Barbera. How dare you, sir!

Thank you very much.

Their Props

Dear Red Eye, Chicago,

Oh, Red Eye. How you have taken a girl's good morning Dunkin' Donuts coffee and turned it bitter with mere words. Or lack of words. I suppose I shan't expect much from an front page article about Lollapalooza which opens with, "Wahhhooooooooo!!!! Yesssssssss!! Awesome!!!!......"

There was not a word about Sleater-Kinney, not even on your "full" listing of confirmed bands.

Ok, Red Eye. Why didn't you get Greg Kot to write the article?

In case you don't know who they are:

They are a 3 piece band. They are from the Northwest. They are creating important music. They are selling out shows (Including 3 nights at the Metro a few years ago, along with every show I've been to since). They were personally tapped by Eddie Vedder to open for Pearl Jam on their last stadium tour. They are underground and raw. They are alternative, not in the way that you think the Killers may be, but in the way Nirvana was in 1989. And they rock.

I dare you to listen to their Lollapalooza set, then see if you can forget such a band.

Below is a re-post of my review of their 2005 release, "The Woods"

On the opening track of Sleater-Kinney’s recent release, "The Woods", Corin Tucker wails, “Land Ho!” These musicians have arrived and it ain’t subtle. This three woman army is relentless; pounding the beach in semi-automatic machine-gunned, exclamation points, “We’re not going to be ignored!”

This is Sleater-Kinney, the biding, secret volcano offspring fury of Riot Grrl past, the likes of L7 and Bikini Kill whom fearlessly hitched their angsty rock music to the Cock Rock, Grunge beast; unapologetically towing heavy power chords naked across darkened, shattered glass parking lots. But don't just compare them to other girls. These are musicians at the top of their game. They can rock a stadium and they don't need the Lillith Fair name to do it.

On their 7th album, Sleater-Kinney embrace a heavier sound, recently migrating from Kill Rock Stars to the notorious Sub Pop label (Nirvana, Pearl Jam). On this masterpiece they collabored with producer Dave Fridmann, who recently sweated over the works of The Flaming Lips, Mercury Rev, Whirlwind Heat, and Weezer.

This is the album of the year.

Love Corin Tucker’s voice or not, you cannot deny the music here. Throughout, Tucker’s and Carrie Brownstein’s guitars and vocals push and shove each other like a bottle-over-the-head, knock ‘em, sock ‘em bar room brawl. Janet Weiss’ deep, thunderous drumming is seemingly possessed in low, guttural tribal bass; while equally lashing at eardrums in military-precisioned snare.

“Modern Girl” brings us a sweet, 3 minute long, first date peck; the saccharine smile of a harmonica backing Brownstein’s baby bird chirping, finger picking and Tucker’s confession, “My whole life was like a picture of a sunny day.”

The 11 minute, “Let’s Call It Love”, feels like the unyielding, highway chase energy of the band’s live shows. In "Let's Call It Love", Tucker yelps:

“Want it like you never have
Timing and tiger strength
…Show me your darkest side.”

And here, they certainly do show their darkest side.

On "The Woods", the rockers of Sleater-Kinney re-define the sharp, extended claw naughtiness of rock music.

Suit up. It’s a catfight.

27%

About 27% on my Lollapalooza predictions...
Proves that I would be the worst psychic ever.

I just got my souvenir ticket in the mail. And a free T-Shirt.
Ticket number 2,285 out of 3,000. That was close.

Super Stoked For:
Red Hot Chili Peppers
Sleater-Kinney (!!!!!!!)
Kanye West
Sonic Youth
Wilco
Death Cab For Cutie
Common
Eels
Queens of the Stone Age


Super Curious About:
The Raconteurs
The Secret Machines
The Smoking Popes
Blackalicious
Lady Sovereign
The Hold Steady
Hot Chip
The Subways
The Go! Team
The Flaming Lips
Dresden Dolls
Ween
Iron & Wine

Tickets are $130 for all 3 days now. Prices will go up.
$45 was an absolute-mother-effing steal.

Big and Small, Things Are A-Changing

Chloe moved 3/4 of an inch today. She is alive. I had just finished a 3rd set of crunches. And the lay-about actually tricked me into believing she was about to take a dip. She creaked her slow legs 3/4 of an inch toward the water line and then plunked her head beneath the water. There she stayed. 3 sets later, her head still submerged. I think she is trying to drown herself. She has a rock, 15 pesky koi fish and the attention-hog, Zoey.

Tonight I was pulling up my pants constantly. My favorite jeans. I'm not ready for my favorite jeans to not fit.

Also, something has happened to the sensitive side of my brain. I can't verbalize sentiments. It's weird, man. It makes me nervous and uncomfortable. I guess, the first time I noticed this was when I went back to Hawaii and sat in my Grandmother's kitchen crying. Same table, cookbooks with notes in her handwriting, slatted windows, the mango tree, Tang in the bottom cupboard, milk from powder, her clothes in a nice row still, and the rosaries dangling from Mary's hands.

I cried. I couldn't say a word.

I hope that I can be forgiven for that......

Jerk Make-Up Company

This stuff is supposed to make me look younger. I didn't buy it for that purpose. I bought it because the store was out of my usual tone.

Durn them. The conspiracy!

So, I had to buy this age decreasing-stupid-lying-reversal-o-time liquid foundation crap.

All I've heard since then....

"Are you sick?"

Bastards!

Feed Me to the Coyotes

"You know why they stopped digging don't ya?" he was steering the wheel of the Yellow Cab like a Jedi champ, half sizing-up Saturday afternoon traffic and half glancing back at my reaction.


"No," I leaned forward towards the divider. "Why?"


"Bones." He grinned toothily like a swaggering politician about to beat the rap. "They found bones in that dirt."


So many buildings and so many people, so little cemeteries when one thinks about it. All these buildings are built on bones.


When I go, feed me to a motley crew of wild coyotes. When their muscles are done with me, I will become earth. The god-like wonder of spring will push me into bloom; a dandelion beneath a swing set, or a waving cornstalk braving the storms, or a thorny blackberry bush along a barbed-wire fence. Feed me to the coyotes and I will live on.


The sun was laboriously tapping a silver spoon against the rigid, crystal knuckles of winter. I wondered how they could get so lost, earthworms strewn across the city sidewalks. I want to save them from rubber soles and tires, to gather them up in my hands and lay them on a fresh soil mound beneath a silent tree. There are too many to save.


A mother and her children passed me, turning the corner of the Salvation Army Outlet. They were about to come upon a tattered looking man sitting bare buns on the pavement, his pants down around his knees exposing himself. I wondered how the mother would explain him to the children. Of if she would pretend to ignore him like I had.


I wonder how it feels to be ignored by millions of people a day. I wonder why save the earthworms and ignore the man.

Zoey

Zoey is so cute, I can't handle it.

Zoey busies herself with carefully pecking marooned food pellets from a large rock and hauling them to the water line. When the koi fish surround her, she submerges her head beneath the surface and breaks up the pellets for them to enjoy. She scales the rock again and repeats the process.

Bug or Hybrid?

Both are made of Canadian Hardwood Maple and finished with Hawaiian Koa.

Each is treated with a clear grip.

The difference is in the wheelbase and size.

The Bug (Top) is 8.5” W x 36” L w/ a 23” wheel base.

The Hybrid (Bottom) is 9.25” W x 38” L w/ a 24” wheelbase.

Ms. Mary J. claims that I am weird. To prove her point, she noted my obsession with Zoey. By the way, Zoey was missing for 2 days. No sooner was I about to interrogate the lady sweeping around the Koi pond, did I spot Zoey torpedoing through the water close to bedrock. She has a hiding place under a big rock. Chloe may be dead. She hasn’t moved in 3 days from what I can tell. A camera overlooks the pond. I want to poke her to see if she reacts, but don't want to get thrown out of my gym for assaulting turtles.

So, I’ve been consumed with my long board choice and emailing Mary J about it. To which her response is:

You realize you are almost 29 years old?

Well alright, alright. I haven’t had a skateboard in over 15 years. But, it's more like a tool with a purpose. Who wants to walk laps around the softball fields all day, when I can leisurely carve around on a board with wheels?

She also noted that measuring out the skateboard sizes and making mock-up decks out of paper at work was weird. I can’t help it if I am visual.

The point is….Bug or Hybrid. Hybrid or Bug.

In the Market

The season is upon us and soon enough I'll be spending the bulk of my Sundays checking in with players by circling the concrete walk which surrounds the 4 softball fields.

Why walk? What a super sweet ride.

Man

From the wire:

PIERRE, S.D. - Gov. Mike Rounds signed legislation Monday that would ban most abortions in South Dakota, a law he acknowledged would be tied up in court for years while the state challenges the 1973 Supreme Court decision that legalized abortion.

The bill would make it a crime for doctors to perform an abortion unless the procedure was necessary to save the woman's life. It would make no exception for cases of rape or incest.

How about a man's mother sleeps with him, he gets pregnant and then he can tell us what we can do with our body.

How dare you, Sir!

Where is the boy's or the man's accountability?

Hey, there, smart guy, easy there, little bill.

I'm just a bill.
Yes, I'm only a bill.
And I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill.
Well, it's a long, long journey
To the capital city.
It's a long, long wait
While I'm sitting in committee,
But I know I'll be a law someday
At least I hope and pray that I will,
But today I am still just a bill.

How would these women sing out today?

Oh, we were suffering until suffrage,
Not a woman here could vote, no matter what age,
Then the 19th Amendment struck down that restrictive rule. (Oh yeah!)

And now we pull down on the lever,
Cast our ballots and we endeavor
To improve our country, state, county, town, and school.

Feel Like

My Doc’s make me feel like a bully-defeating, schoolyard hero.
My hat makes me feel like the best Hide N Seeker.
My fake glasses make me feel like a smaaht kid.
My silver ring makes me feel like a rabbit’s foot.
My boy cuts make me feel like a Roller Derby track turn.
My tied back hair makes me feel like rolled up sleeves.
My mopped apartment makes me feel like a medalist.
My balanced checkbook makes me feel like a first aid kit.
My guitars make me feel like the key ring jingling.
My music collection makes me feel like church.
My church makes me feel like Atlas with a fresh bottle of Gatorade and a steak.
My work makes me feel like a mother’s hands.
My Hawaii makes me feel like popping wheelies with rainbow slippers.
My Seattle makes me feel like the bass kick and snare at a live show.
My friends make me feel like a cabin's stone fireplace, with booties and hot chocolate.
My father makes me feel like the spire of a skyscraper.
My mother makes me feel like a bouquet of dandelions and a bowl of wild blackberries.
My sister makes me feel like a steady ocean.

Lazy Day

As the full line-up announcement for Lollapalooza isn't due out until March 16th, I've taken the liberty to play a little game with myself (which I do quite often, believe it or not, ladies and germs). I've compiled a lits of "Predicted Bands". This is not the same as a list of "I Wish Bands". I am highly confident that the former and the latter will certainly be fairly reflective of one another.

I've become consumed the South by Southwest site. Hundreds of bands, Austin Texas, early spring. Oh, the smell of cowboy boots and guitar strings in the morning.

And this band is so, good, I don't even want to mention them here, scary click-crazy blog that I have created. One of my well kept musical indulgences is beginning to hit it big and sell-out venues throught the continent. Try The Skin of My Little Country Teeth on for size.

There is a new movement of post-punk, retro rivivalists who are finally (Aside from Interpol) getting it right. And it's coming from Brooklyn.

In other random music news, I heard Laura Veirs years back in a cramped-up bar called the Hopvine on Capitol Hill in Seattle. We chatted afterwards about her next album, a concept album about travelling the West. She is everywhere these days, popping in to SXSW and a few other big festivals.

Since the aquisition of my new laptop and a new found love for "stationary productivity", I often ask these questions:

• Is the number of wears I can manage to get between washings of my favorite jeans equal to the number of pairs of underwear I own
• Why are they called pairs of pants or pairs of underwear. I get a pair of socks.
• What is the extent of time I can survive on 6 assorted boxes of cereal
• How long before I get tired of explaining the "Old Person" smell in my apartment before I realize that dusting and mopping are not overrated
• My girl attractions are too ridiculous and embarrassing to continually entertain. I will indulge them in a more avante garde manner.
  
• How many Saturdays until I can actually manage to get dressed, showered, and ready prior to the time Comcast locks up for the day so I can return Kyle's cable box
• I really need to set aside some time to count the horseshoes on my ass lately. I am healthy, I have free cable and internet, I am needed at my job, I have a lucky, golden ticket, my family and friends are an amazing group, strangers like to share their lives with me.
  

The aforementioned list:
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Confirmed
Iron & Wine - Confirmed
Thievery Corporation - Confirmed
Smashing Pumpkins - Reunion Rumored. Not big on Corgan's shiftiness on his old band but I don't think this pompy Chicagoan could sit out another local festival. I'd push all of my chips on Orange for this one

Predictions:
Beck
Wilco
Franz Ferdinand
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Death Cab for Cutie
Sleater-Kinney
Common
Bloc Party
Sonic Youth
Umphrey's McGee
Gogol Bordello
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
The Go! Team
Volcano!
Tapes N Tapes
Blackalicious
The Ponys
OkGo
Dead Presidentz
Arctic Monkeys
Raveonettes
We are Scientists
...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of the Dead
The Arcade Fire
The Subways
Spoon
The Walkmen
The Pink Spiders
The Octopus Project
Dresden Dolls
Controller Controller
Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs
Cat Power
Wolf Mother
Wolf Parade
Art Brute
TV on the Radio
The Rapture
Lady Soveriegn
Satellite Party
Hot Chip
Sufjan Stevens
The Wedding Present
Black Heart Procession

And someone insanely big like Radiohead (doing Bonnaroo) or Foo Fighters or Tool (doing Coachella) or Green Day or Pixies or Nine Inch Nails (doing Sasquatch) or Kanye West and what I wouldn't give to see PJ Harvey.


Who knows. Here's hoping.

Horse Shoes

It took me a little over 30 minutes of clicking various links, refreshing, clicking again, getting bumped from the site, “no tickets available”, continued clicking and refreshing, “no tickets available”, until finally (!), somehow, I was able to get 1 ticket to Lollapalooza. I have experienced this with other “sold out shows” before. Sometimes, with enough persistent, clicking around will pay off.

$ 45.00
All 3 days
130 bands

That breaks down to $15.00/day.
But I like to think of it as $ 0.35/band.
Or, if they keep the same schedule as last year, $1.25/hr.

Flea has announced his band will be turning up the decibels of Chicago’s skyline
Red Hot Chili Peppers

The complete line-up to be announced March 16, 2006.

Tulips and Turtles

Life is good. I just found $5.00 in my pocket. I am blessed.

Apparently, Tulip will be the hot spot this summer. It's not my thing. But, it sure beats meeting women by jawing over orange squeezing techniques at Dominick's.

She is a captivating sunset, constantly eclipsing the room. It's a pleasurable wonder to sit back and watch the revellers.

Also, to the straight girl. "Just because. You know the difference between intimacy with someone you love and someone you don't? And stop. Really stop and think about it. Well, that is how I can best translate it."

Also, I have a sickly fascination with the Koi pond turtles at my gym. I've named the smaller one Zoey and the larger one Chloe. Zoey is a rascal. Chloe is a couch potato. The troubling part is when Zoey has just emerged from the water and her little head is perked, I have a strong urge to grab her and gently gum down on her wet head with my lips.