I haven't told her yet, I hope she doesn't find out by reading this, so please don't link it to her guys. I guess I started having doubts when I was at some Diesel Jeans party at SXSW '08 with her and realized that she is essentially the same as another ex of mine and I'm going to keep perpetuating this same sweet boring indie girlfriend character as a love interest. Well, this Cotton commercial really broke the camels back. I mean, I know for a fact that she doesn't even have time to go record shopping or thrifting anymore, she is just constantly clicking away on her Etsey and itunes apps between shoots. I don't know about Zooey, but I can't live this lie any longer...
You have to admit that Jay Reatard was doing something, that albiet wasn't the most groundbreaking thing, at least engaged the audience and listener and promoted a more alert response than some mouth breathing hipster echo trance bullshit. And I would much rather talk about and celebrate this guys art than some alien weirdo child molester
Mind you, my computer hard drive crashed with 5 days left of our March Euro-Russian tour so anything that happened before that, well it's not as if I can just remember it! Featured is some gems from Russia, China w/Deerhoof, mystical river spots, weird MFNW ad I didn't approve my fat face for, Tim cutting raw chicken with a dust mask(?), terrarium party, MRI, "birds that move" video shoot, steroid induced number 11 obsession/psychosis, other stuff...
but nothing changes. As if something is going to happen without me actually making it happen. It's like opening the refrigerator and looking inside over and over again without putting any new food in.
and other magical mysteries you can find in lovely Arcata. That and a lot of pot bums.
PS- If you are in a band and you decide to play in Arcata despite me telling you not to (don't), DO NOT I repeat DO NOT play at the club Jambalaya. As if you need to be told not to play at a place called Jambalaya. Personally, I'm not even going to eat Jambalaya ever again (that's a food right?) those guys were the ULTIMATE creeps. Whatever.
Sooooooo, I have been having a ton of bizarro syncronicities happening lately (have I talked about this already?) not the least of which involves a frequent occurrences of the number eleven. It started about a month ago, I started to see it everywhere. Every time it seemed, I looked at the clock it would be 11 after, or 1:11, or 11:11, I looked at the Powerball sign to see the prize of 111 million, when we were driving down the coast I looked at the clock and it was 11:11 and then I immediately look out the window to see some road sign about some tunnel or something that says 11' 11". Oh yeah, I went to the produce store the other day and I get a bunch of veggies and whatever. A lot of bulk stuff that needed to be weighed. So of coarse, my total comes to $11.11. Well, that was fucked enough, but I work next door and get a 20 percent discount which brought my total to $9.89, so I gave her a twenty so my change was fucking $11.11 !!!!. All kinds of shit like this. So I researched all the mystical properties that the number 11 holds and what this is supposed to mean and what not and I don't know if I'm supposed to hide in my room today, considering it's 11/11, or I'm supposed to get all first-day-of-the-rest-of-my-life male-Bette-Midler style. Probably the latter. And I'm buying a lottery ticket today too, mos def.
Before I moved to Portland from Wisconsin, about a week before I moved, I had a dream that I was out with my sister and her friends (which, occurred almost exactly how I had dreamed it, but that's not the main point) and we were having a gay old time (a couple of my sisters friends were gay, but that's not the point either) and throughout the dream, I had the complete feeling of relief. Like a giant weight that living in the midwest had created for me, was just lifted off my back. The anxiety, depression, and general bad vibes that I had just come to expect as a reality of living in Milwaukee or my suburban hometown was just gone, and when the plane landed in Portland a couple weeks after I had the dream, that was exactly how it went.
So when I go back there it is interesting to realize that this wasn't just a case of early adult boredom and angxt cured by a fresh environment. I honestly feel like shit when I'm back there to visit. I love my Dad, and I need to visit with him from time to time, but being there is like being in an absolute fucking prison (with the exception of my aunt and uncles summer home on the chain of lakes in Waupaca, that is an island in the stream of a chain of lakes. Huh?).
I don't think I ever want to go back there. Mabes I just dont ever want to leave Portland (?)
I love those Gossip dudes, don't misunderstand me. They are all hilarious, interesting and generous people. But I also recognize that there are only so many "hipsters" in the world, and once you get to a certain level of fame, your crowd starts to change. And it's usually not for the better. I would definitely love to not have to scramble to find a job every time we come back from tour, tour on a bus every time, have someone take care of me like a man baby, get more than 20 people at our shows, and a lot of other perks that come with a high level of fame. But when it starts to look like they were passing out free tickets at the Cheesecake Factory to fill up the audience at the Jimmy Kimmel Show, it makes me wonder what I'm shooting for...
Jeremy McIntosh (27), aka MAC, deliberately crashed his car "repeatedly" into a Detroit, Michigan lingerie store, Intimate Ideas, because he said they had refused to hire him. The damage to the store was estimated at $3,000. When Jeremy was arrested he was wearing "facial makeup, lipstick, blue Capri pants, red flip-flops, a flowery blouse and a matching flowery women’s bra." He also claimed he was homeless, and had nowhere to go, so he asked to be taken to jail, even though he owned the car he drove into the store.