Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wow!!
What a first show! The place was packed and people responded in ways I would have never possibly imagined. Thanks to everyone who came out. I'm speechless.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Weird Sleep Patterns
So I am up. I laid down today around 7:00pm and for some reason I didn't get up until 3 something in the morning. What is it about weird sleep patterns that makes the world feel so surreal?
It reminds me of the time I drove back to Houston from Colorado on a non-stop drive with Jared and his dad. We slept in shifts. I remember that at some point I lost track of all time and felt completely disoriented. The drive seemed to last forever. Well I feel that kind of weird right now. I'm also pissed that I missed a show I wanted to catch. I literally slept my Saturday night away. Damn.
Anyway we are called legs against arms. People seem to like it.
www.myspace.com/legsagainstarms
the .com site is also secured but nothing up yet.
Earlier today, we practiced for the last time before the show. The set was solid. I could have ran it a few more times but not everyone has the same neurosis as me.
Where: Trophy's, 2008 S Congress Avenue
When: Tuesday, January 29th @ 10:45 PM
Price: Free
21+ only
It reminds me of the time I drove back to Houston from Colorado on a non-stop drive with Jared and his dad. We slept in shifts. I remember that at some point I lost track of all time and felt completely disoriented. The drive seemed to last forever. Well I feel that kind of weird right now. I'm also pissed that I missed a show I wanted to catch. I literally slept my Saturday night away. Damn.
Anyway we are called legs against arms. People seem to like it.
www.myspace.com/legsagainstarms
the .com site is also secured but nothing up yet.
Earlier today, we practiced for the last time before the show. The set was solid. I could have ran it a few more times but not everyone has the same neurosis as me.
Where: Trophy's, 2008 S Congress Avenue
When: Tuesday, January 29th @ 10:45 PM
Price: Free
21+ only
Thursday, January 17, 2008
GASP!
Were getting closer to a name. Were leaning towards
legs against arms
I said it should be sinister kitten but its not as well received by the guys.
=)
legs against arms
I said it should be sinister kitten but its not as well received by the guys.
=)
Monday, January 14, 2008
Cool People - #1
Okay so I am going to create a little segment here where I sort of spotlight people in my life that I think are cool, special or just plain interesting to me. For my first installment of this I think I'll focus on my grandmother, since I talked a little about her a few posts ago.
Born Jesse Pearl James (yes thats right Jesse James) my grandmother now sports the less than criminal last name of Maker. She has 5 children, a slew of grandchildren and is quite possibly the kindest most selfless person on earth.
I dont use the word Saint lightly but this woman has dedicated her entire life to serving others. So much in fact that she doesnt feel happy unless she is nurturing something. Lately its 4 enormous dogs.
In the past several years, She has basically nursed several of my elderly family members right up through sickness to a peaceful, at home passing. All without expecting anything in return. I believe in karma to a certain extent and this woman has loaded up on it and I can only imagine what waits her in the afterlife. In a world full of "whats in it for me", this woman is an anomolie and I love her dearly.
I could talk for days about her but I think I'll just use one story that I think sums her up nicely.
We have a very old upright piano in our house. It was given to us by who knows what ancient relative. The thing must weigh 1000 lbs. Its so old it actually still has many of the original ivory keys on it. (and yes ivory is terrible my family and I agree also.) When I was little I pretty much drove my hot wheels over most of the keys and either chipped them or removed them completely.
As I got older I started to try to play the piano. I took some lessons. Being the hyperactive kid I was I never got far and grew tired of three blind mice and hot cross buns. They are the same damn song by the way!!!!
One day my cousin Wendy sat down and played something that instantly stole my attention for years to come. Heart and Soul. Yes the song from the movie Big. She showed me how to play it and I awkwardly set to getting it down solid. It was slow going.
I kid you not, I literally played that same progression for years after that. Sometimes I would slow it down, other times I would play it faster but it was always the same thing.
Every time I sat down at the piano it was Heart and Soul. Not even the full version. Just the intro.
Now here comes the cool part. Every time I played it my grandma mysteriously ended up near me. Sometimes she would be cooking. Other times she would be reading a magazine, but if I played heart and soul, she was always within ear shot. I spent a lot of time with her back then so it didn't strike me as unusual.
After years of the same damn song I finally realized how annoying that must be and asked her about it. "How could you take that song over and over and over again like that?"
She said "Because you played it beautifully."
So this is for you Jesse Pearl James Maker. You are important to many many people, especially me.
Born Jesse Pearl James (yes thats right Jesse James) my grandmother now sports the less than criminal last name of Maker. She has 5 children, a slew of grandchildren and is quite possibly the kindest most selfless person on earth.
I dont use the word Saint lightly but this woman has dedicated her entire life to serving others. So much in fact that she doesnt feel happy unless she is nurturing something. Lately its 4 enormous dogs.
In the past several years, She has basically nursed several of my elderly family members right up through sickness to a peaceful, at home passing. All without expecting anything in return. I believe in karma to a certain extent and this woman has loaded up on it and I can only imagine what waits her in the afterlife. In a world full of "whats in it for me", this woman is an anomolie and I love her dearly.
I could talk for days about her but I think I'll just use one story that I think sums her up nicely.
We have a very old upright piano in our house. It was given to us by who knows what ancient relative. The thing must weigh 1000 lbs. Its so old it actually still has many of the original ivory keys on it. (and yes ivory is terrible my family and I agree also.) When I was little I pretty much drove my hot wheels over most of the keys and either chipped them or removed them completely.
As I got older I started to try to play the piano. I took some lessons. Being the hyperactive kid I was I never got far and grew tired of three blind mice and hot cross buns. They are the same damn song by the way!!!!
One day my cousin Wendy sat down and played something that instantly stole my attention for years to come. Heart and Soul. Yes the song from the movie Big. She showed me how to play it and I awkwardly set to getting it down solid. It was slow going.
I kid you not, I literally played that same progression for years after that. Sometimes I would slow it down, other times I would play it faster but it was always the same thing.
Every time I sat down at the piano it was Heart and Soul. Not even the full version. Just the intro.
Now here comes the cool part. Every time I played it my grandma mysteriously ended up near me. Sometimes she would be cooking. Other times she would be reading a magazine, but if I played heart and soul, she was always within ear shot. I spent a lot of time with her back then so it didn't strike me as unusual.
After years of the same damn song I finally realized how annoying that must be and asked her about it. "How could you take that song over and over and over again like that?"
She said "Because you played it beautifully."
So this is for you Jesse Pearl James Maker. You are important to many many people, especially me.
Ladies and Gentlemen Please Welcome to the Stage....?
So this whole name thing is freaking me out. I'm at a total loss. I started playing with some words that have been popping up in my writing lately
neon, tigers, soft, release
I Played with various versions and rearrangements of these words. Not much came of it. I went through some old stuff dating back 10 years ago. It sucked more than I care to admit so no luck there.
What kind of a musician am I? Where is my esoteric, too cool for school indie-rock name. I'M A COMPLETE FAILURE. I'M GIVING UP. THE SHOW IS OFF. OH, STEVEN MALKMUS WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME!
just kidding.
I'm going to go find some heroine and its back to the drawing board.
kidding again.
neon, tigers, soft, release
I Played with various versions and rearrangements of these words. Not much came of it. I went through some old stuff dating back 10 years ago. It sucked more than I care to admit so no luck there.
What kind of a musician am I? Where is my esoteric, too cool for school indie-rock name. I'M A COMPLETE FAILURE. I'M GIVING UP. THE SHOW IS OFF. OH, STEVEN MALKMUS WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME!
just kidding.
I'm going to go find some heroine and its back to the drawing board.
kidding again.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Channelview Texas and the Destruction of My Childhood Home
On the very very East side of Houston is a little town called Channelview. Not much of a town really. In fact I believe it is only considered a school district on paper.
Regardless, this is where I grew up.
When my Grandmother and Grandfather settled there 60 years ago they moved into a small house and with a growing family decided to make it bigger. They then built this tiny house into a 2 story, 4 bedroom home (with their own hands) and raised 5 kids in it. This is also where I grew up years later. Its on a little hill about 2 acres along the banks of the San Jacinto River. They also built a boathouse at the base of the hill where they spent many summers skiing and having fun on the water.
The San Jacinto River empties into the Port of Houston. Over the last 20 years or so this body of water has become one of the biggest industrial portals feeding the nations unending need for plastics, chemicals and trade of all kinds. Refineries choke the surrounding countryside now and if you drive over the 610 bridge you will see something that resembles Mad Max or some other post apocalyptic movie as far as you can see. I'm not joking. It reaches the horizon.
I heard its a big target should there be a nuclear war. It might be a rumor but one I wouldn't doubt.
As a teenager I used to crawl outside my window and get on the highest part of my roof and either talk with friends or just sit by myself and watch across the river as the sky glowed orange with who knows what spilling out of those metal towers. It was strangely beautiful looking but ugly in its harsh reality. Sometimes at night I would wake up to loud explosions traveling across the river. They were so powerful that you could feel them in your chest. I frequently heard the faint sounds of huge refinery alarms going off. Things were going wrong somewhere a few miles away.
The river grew dirtier as I got older. It corroded the engines of our boat. Eventually I refused to even put my feet in. Once I saw the whole river full of human shit. And again I am not joking.
As I grew older I noticed that sections of the river had parked barges along the banks. Giant reddish rusty boats that just sat there most of the time. Sometimes they would disappear, but they always came back. And they began to grow in numbers and inch closer to our house.
Despite all that I loved the house. I cant possibly describe the years of memories that house has given me. The little tragedies and triumphs, friends, family get-together's, the room above the boathouse, my grandmother saving up and buying the family a jet ski, my uncle throwing little ecstatic 8 year old me high into the air over the water, hundreds of times. Creating obstacle courses for my cousins in the huge almost kingdom-like back yard of our childhood. The pets, the crazy neighbors. the barber shop down the street. The church. The wind blowing across the river on a beautiful day as I twisted myself around and around my rope swing tied to an old dead tree. A new smaller tree was growing inside it. I had forgotten that until just this moment. And that scares me because there are probably a million things I will forget.
This week I learned that most of our neighbors have accepted offers to sell their property to commercial interests. People are moving out. They cant take living beside this bullshit creeping up around them. I don't blame them. These companies take the properties along the river and turn them into little narrow ports for these barges, reducing what was once a well kept back yard into a muddy ditch to store planks of wood and pipe.
Then they knock on the door of our neighbors and offer money to expand their stake on the river. And after years of this creeping industrial cancer, they have made it to my Grandmother's house. My house.
It's hard to go back and see whats become of Channelview. It's pretty much falling apart. Most of the little town is now full of toothless idiots and businesses with boards on the windows and overgrown bushes. The house has seen better days as well. It sags in certain parts and my grandma is too old to keep it up.
But still Channelview is her home. Her church is there. She goes to the bank and the store during the day. She has friends still alive that she talks on the phone with and visits every now and then. Out of all of my family I know she is the one who loves that house the most. But this week I learned that she is considering accepting an offer (like most of her neighbors have done) and selling the house to move into a smaller one somewhere in town, away from the river and the mess it has become.
And that house and boathouse will be bulldozed to the ground like all the rest, so they can park more of their rusty barges along the banks.
I know that my memories are what is important in all this. They cant take that away. I told my Grandma the other day as she was choking back tears that the house is just brick and wood and the important part is inside us. But still I am going to go home soon, take about 1000 pictures of every nook and cranny and then be far away as possible when its sold and destroyed.
Regardless, this is where I grew up.
When my Grandmother and Grandfather settled there 60 years ago they moved into a small house and with a growing family decided to make it bigger. They then built this tiny house into a 2 story, 4 bedroom home (with their own hands) and raised 5 kids in it. This is also where I grew up years later. Its on a little hill about 2 acres along the banks of the San Jacinto River. They also built a boathouse at the base of the hill where they spent many summers skiing and having fun on the water.
The San Jacinto River empties into the Port of Houston. Over the last 20 years or so this body of water has become one of the biggest industrial portals feeding the nations unending need for plastics, chemicals and trade of all kinds. Refineries choke the surrounding countryside now and if you drive over the 610 bridge you will see something that resembles Mad Max or some other post apocalyptic movie as far as you can see. I'm not joking. It reaches the horizon.
I heard its a big target should there be a nuclear war. It might be a rumor but one I wouldn't doubt.
As a teenager I used to crawl outside my window and get on the highest part of my roof and either talk with friends or just sit by myself and watch across the river as the sky glowed orange with who knows what spilling out of those metal towers. It was strangely beautiful looking but ugly in its harsh reality. Sometimes at night I would wake up to loud explosions traveling across the river. They were so powerful that you could feel them in your chest. I frequently heard the faint sounds of huge refinery alarms going off. Things were going wrong somewhere a few miles away.
The river grew dirtier as I got older. It corroded the engines of our boat. Eventually I refused to even put my feet in. Once I saw the whole river full of human shit. And again I am not joking.
As I grew older I noticed that sections of the river had parked barges along the banks. Giant reddish rusty boats that just sat there most of the time. Sometimes they would disappear, but they always came back. And they began to grow in numbers and inch closer to our house.
Despite all that I loved the house. I cant possibly describe the years of memories that house has given me. The little tragedies and triumphs, friends, family get-together's, the room above the boathouse, my grandmother saving up and buying the family a jet ski, my uncle throwing little ecstatic 8 year old me high into the air over the water, hundreds of times. Creating obstacle courses for my cousins in the huge almost kingdom-like back yard of our childhood. The pets, the crazy neighbors. the barber shop down the street. The church. The wind blowing across the river on a beautiful day as I twisted myself around and around my rope swing tied to an old dead tree. A new smaller tree was growing inside it. I had forgotten that until just this moment. And that scares me because there are probably a million things I will forget.
This week I learned that most of our neighbors have accepted offers to sell their property to commercial interests. People are moving out. They cant take living beside this bullshit creeping up around them. I don't blame them. These companies take the properties along the river and turn them into little narrow ports for these barges, reducing what was once a well kept back yard into a muddy ditch to store planks of wood and pipe.
Then they knock on the door of our neighbors and offer money to expand their stake on the river. And after years of this creeping industrial cancer, they have made it to my Grandmother's house. My house.
It's hard to go back and see whats become of Channelview. It's pretty much falling apart. Most of the little town is now full of toothless idiots and businesses with boards on the windows and overgrown bushes. The house has seen better days as well. It sags in certain parts and my grandma is too old to keep it up.
But still Channelview is her home. Her church is there. She goes to the bank and the store during the day. She has friends still alive that she talks on the phone with and visits every now and then. Out of all of my family I know she is the one who loves that house the most. But this week I learned that she is considering accepting an offer (like most of her neighbors have done) and selling the house to move into a smaller one somewhere in town, away from the river and the mess it has become.
And that house and boathouse will be bulldozed to the ground like all the rest, so they can park more of their rusty barges along the banks.
I know that my memories are what is important in all this. They cant take that away. I told my Grandma the other day as she was choking back tears that the house is just brick and wood and the important part is inside us. But still I am going to go home soon, take about 1000 pictures of every nook and cranny and then be far away as possible when its sold and destroyed.
The Show - and we still remain nameless
Well look at that. I haven't written in a long time. I don't know how it happens but time seems to just go. New Years was okay, I have some new motivation techniques I'm trying out because I am a total slacker and vow to change that for 2008.
anyway I read a great (and simple) quote today....
"Half of being smart is knowing what your dumb at. "
I see that with my writing/music/life. I am fully aware of my limitations. Almost cripplingly. But I bet my favorite artists had issues that haunted their self esteem as well. They were smart enough to not let it kill their motivation and focus on what they were good at.
with that being said lets talk about some very good news.
The show at Trophy's is now moved back to January 29th. Ill post more details as the date gets closer but the band is all pretty stoked that we get more time to get solid. I've done a few open mics since then and I'm trying to get the booking guy, Rob @ Egos to come see the show. He said he'll make it and seemed genuinely interested but who knows. My fingers are crossed.
There is so much I want to do with this band but we have to take it step by step. Its good to have that feeling of unlimited potential though and I truly believe we are on to something good.
The guys are insanely talented, all around nice and I'm happy to have met them. Sure there will be setbacks but that is half the fun right? Right?
So we need a name. A good one. Short of cutting up words and tossing them in a bag and shaking them around, I am at a loss. Any ideas oh faithful readers? All 3 of you. Hi mom.
Kevin said we should go by "the shit"
"hello everyone we are the shit" heh.
anyway I read a great (and simple) quote today....
"Half of being smart is knowing what your dumb at. "
I see that with my writing/music/life. I am fully aware of my limitations. Almost cripplingly. But I bet my favorite artists had issues that haunted their self esteem as well. They were smart enough to not let it kill their motivation and focus on what they were good at.
with that being said lets talk about some very good news.
The show at Trophy's is now moved back to January 29th. Ill post more details as the date gets closer but the band is all pretty stoked that we get more time to get solid. I've done a few open mics since then and I'm trying to get the booking guy, Rob @ Egos to come see the show. He said he'll make it and seemed genuinely interested but who knows. My fingers are crossed.
There is so much I want to do with this band but we have to take it step by step. Its good to have that feeling of unlimited potential though and I truly believe we are on to something good.
The guys are insanely talented, all around nice and I'm happy to have met them. Sure there will be setbacks but that is half the fun right? Right?
So we need a name. A good one. Short of cutting up words and tossing them in a bag and shaking them around, I am at a loss. Any ideas oh faithful readers? All 3 of you. Hi mom.
Kevin said we should go by "the shit"
"hello everyone we are the shit" heh.
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