Category Archives: Lucubrations

Jayson Gallaway

June 6, 2019

Hats off to Brian Wilson for postponing his tour to take care of his mental health.


You see a lot of strange things when traveling in other countries.  A lot of it is just, “huh…I guess that’s just the way they do that here…interesting,” and a lot of it can be, “holy shit, I can’t believe they’re doing that…isn’t somebody going to do something, like call the police…oh, those are the police.”  Right now I’m sitting in a small hotel in the most dangerous city in the world, in a failed narco-state where the police forces and entire government is egregiously corrupt.  If one spends any serious amount of time down here, or even a comedic amount of time down here, one is going to see some shit.  I was here about 7 minutes before I saw some shit.  And at some point, inevitably, you’re going to see some shit that deeply offends your American sensibilities.  And you know what you should do about it?  Yep…same thing I do: absolutely nothing.  Not a goddamn thing.  And the reason we don’t do a goddamn thing is it is not our place as guests of whichever country to complain about anything.  If we find some aspect of their society deal-breakingly distasteful, we can leave and never return.
I have the utmost respect for Roger Waters as an artist and musician, but his aggressively anti-Israel stance has made it tough to stay a fan.   He’s been calling for a boycott of Israel and giving other bands who choose to play there an inordinate amount of sanctimonious shit.  This sort of thing really pisses me off: when some multi-millionaire legendary rock star from one of the biggest bands in rock history at the end of his career tries to bully struggling younger bands into submissive cooperation with their bullshit boycotts and petty politics.  When one can command a million dollars per appearance with a reunited Pink Floyd, one can be as picky and finicky and bullshity as one wants when one is choosing where and when to play.  But it’s a bit rich for that same multi-millionaire legendary rock star to pressure other acts who are not at all in a position to turn down a gig anywhere to do exactly that for his political agenda.  
One band that is in the position to pick and choose what gigs they do is Disturbed, and they will be playing their first show in Israel on July 2 and Roger Waters can go fuck himself.  As Disturbed frontman David Draiman told Loudwire.com, “I don’t think anybody in any country always agrees with everything their country does. I don’t, but I’m a very, very strong supporter of Israel forever and for our people. And regardless of whether it’s Israel or anywhere else, boycotting an entire society and an entire people based on the actions of its government is absolutely ridiculous. And it doesn’t accomplish anything,  You can’t accomplish anything in terms of trying to create peace, in terms of trying to create understanding by shutting things off. There has to be open roads of communication.  You build bridges, you don’t knock them down. And music and entertainment is the perfect way to bridge that gap. And the very notion that Waters and the rest of his Nazi comrades decide that this is the way to go ahead and foster change is absolute lunacy and idiocy — absolute.”
 

Well put, sir.  


I had the chance to sleep under a weighted-blanket last night.  I didn’t notice any remarkable change.  It certainly wasn’t bad.  I’m going to give it another shot tonight.  It seemed like a bit of an extravagance for a hotel in El Zona Norte in Tijuana, so I asked the guy at the desk about it.  He said they are literally “security blankets” offering protection against “indirect ballistic contact” (errant cartel bullets from a drive-by) as well as “edged-blade contact” (in case your ho has both a problem and a knife).  So yeah, I’m going to give it another shot tonight.  

N.P.: “No Tengo Dinero (C & J Mix)” – Los Umbrellos

Jayson Gallaway

June 5, 2019

Travel day.  Hotter than hell.  Crossed the border into the badlands of Tijuana.  Got my usual room at the Hotel Nelson.  It should be peaceful until Friday night, when the armies of mariachis start wailing two stories beneath my window.

Fear not, dear reader…sure, it’s the most dangerous city in the world, but I am one suave gabacho, and I am protected from on high by the powers of darkness.

N.P.: “Fuzzbox Voodoo” – ZZ Top

Wishing a very happy birthday to Angelina Jolie.


The Hejira to the South has been postponed one day.

N.P.: “Majesty” – Ghost

So I just rushed home to write about what I just did, but was preemptively told that I can’t write about it.  Yeah, dammit.

As you know, dear reader, I don’t have very many close friends.  But those that I do have are pretty amazing people, many of whom do some pretty amazing things.  So occasionally I’ll get to preview an album, a book, a play, a movie, whatever one of my friends has been working on, and more often than not, these things are pretty incredible.  And my first instinct is to show up here and tell everyone about this really cool thing.  But  if it isn’t totally finished or hasn’t been released yet, I can’t say anything about it.  Which can be frustrating in situations like this.  At the same time, though, it’s pretty cool to be walking around knowing what people will be listening to, watching, et cetera, at some point in the non-immediate future.  It’s like knowing a really cool secret.  And it makes me smirk knowingly.

So I’m here, smirking knowingly, and not saying a word.

I’m also exhausted, and not making much sense.  I need to sleep.  Tomorrow I take Tijuana.

N.P.: “Play That Funky Music Rammstein” – DJ Cummerbund

I keep seeing commercials where restaurants are not only openly admitting to but actually boasting about selling smaller portions.  What the hell kind of world are we living in, dear reader?  Seriously.  Ours is the worst culture in the history of the world.  “Let’s choose the restaurant that gives us less food for the same price.”  How pathetically bereft and devoid of will power does the herd have to be, knowledgeable reader, to not only need but want to have their portion size determined by an outside party?

Hell.  Better hit the desk whiskey before I get worked up.

The writing was okay today.

N.P.: “Gimme Shelter (feat. Lzzy Hale)” – Stone Sour

Well, shit.  Today sort of spun out of control early on.  Friends in need and such, which is cool, but I didn’t write shit.  Tomorrow is Day 2.  Should be better.

N.P.: “Reach for the Sky” – Spiderbait

Ten days of chaos and writing starts tomorrow.  Time to finish some shit whilst having new adventures.  I need to finish the Tijuana thing that’s been lurking around for years, and what better way to do that than in TJ?  If I end up down there, I’ll update you here, on my antisocial media.

One way or another, I have to get out of this wretched hotel.  That goddamn charwoman is looking like the Crypt Keeper and generally giving me the fantods.  I need a break.  But first things first… gotta get some sleep.  Or at least see if I can in this disgusting heat.

N.P.: “Fuck You” – CeeLo Green

Good Lord, dear reader.  I just made chicken using the Trader Joe’s Ghost Chili BBQ Sauce.  Not bad.  Usually their “spicy” stuff isn’t really super spicy (I’m looking at you Trader Joe’s Ghost Pepper Potato Chips), but this shit is no joke.  Made my chin sweat.  Yowza.


And but so anyway I just started working on a thing about iconoclasts that’s been brewing for a couple of years.  It’ll probably end up here when it’s done.  I find it a rather unpleasant subject.

Alright…back to it.

N.P.: “Anything Goes” – Guns N’Roses

I’m being quiet tonight, dear reader.  We lost another good one today.

Bill W., you will be missed.  Thank you so much.

I’ve been doing a bit of social engineering lately, dear reader…you know, just for fun and profit.  And I’ve got to say I’m a bit surprised with its efficacy.  I used to do a lot more of this, but for some reason I fell out of practice.  But it does work.  You know what doesn’t work?  Walking in the front door and asking for something, a job, a date, whatever.  It’s as if you were playing chess, and your strategy was simply to ask your opponent for his queen, please: the only thing he’s going to give you is a middle finger.  If you want a job, create a crisis or some kind of dire need, and then suddenly make yourself known as a ready solution.  Don’t ask anybody on a date…just make the idea of a life without you seem so repellently boring as to be unacceptable, and the rest is inevitable.

Ain’t no social engineering in writing, though, dear reader, as I know I don’t have to tell you.  For we are the People of the Pen, and we have an endless supply of bitter ink.  Right?  Right.  Write.

N.P.: “Would?” – Opeth