Category Archives: Lucubrations

Ain’t nothing going on here except the weather, dear reader, which is quite nice: dark and stormy.  I’m in pretty dark states of piss off about the oncoming return for stupid insipid and pathetic daylight saving time.  Stupidest thing.  I’m actually embarrassed that I’m forced to be a part of it.

Through a weird confluence of events, I ended up hanging out with a couple writers last night and had only whiskey for dinner.  It was like I was in Motley Crue.  Except I’m pretty sure Motley Crue did not have to wake up and dawn this morning and write a bunch of funny shit.  I doubt they even could.  But I can.  And I did.  Because I’m awesome.  Yeah.  Fuck Motley Crue.  They suck.  Buncha assholes.

N.P.: “Are Friends Electric?” – The Dead Weather

Image result for keith flint

Okay, so today Luke Perry died.  I don’t think I ever saw him in anything.  By the early ’90s i had decided that TV was bullshit, so I managed to not see a single episode of Beverly Hills 90210, Friends Seinfeld, or Twin Peaks.  I watched Twin Peaks and Seinfeld several years after they concluded.  But yeah, I don’t think I ever saw him in anything, but he apparently was a talented actor, a nice guy, and rather young at 52 to be dying.  So that sucks.

But then I saw that Keith Flint died.  At 49.  By suicide.  Shit.  I have a very clear memory of having just moved to San Francisco, like just moved there, and going out to drinks with my new roommates, which was a bit of a thing since we were all pierced all over and there were dreadlocks and tattoos and all manner of shit and when we went into an Irish pub, there were eye rolls about today’s youth, but then on the screens in the bar was premiering the video for Firestarter and holy shit, who’s this obviously psychotic git in garish eyeliner looking rather menacing in a sewer?  That was Keith.

Prodigy figured prominently in my San Francisco days in a variety of significant ways (the song that was playing when I jumped on stage at the Trocadero when I went from getting thrown out of the club to being an employee inside of 20 seconds was the one I’m listening to now (see below)..  I’m pretty careful not to be too judgmental of suicides, but i do wish Mr. Flint had made a different choice.

There’s a lot more I’d like to say here, but I’ve been awake entirely too long, and I have to wake up again soon, so I’ll stop.  But today was kind of a bummer.

N.P.: “Firestarter (Empirion Mix)” – The Prodigy, Empirion

Today’s high point and low point were the same moment, and that happened when  got ghost pepper powder on my goddamn uvula.  I was getting ready to take a first bite of a ghost pepper chip, and right when I got the thing in my mouth but before I had a chance to chew, somebody made me laugh, which somehow caused me to inhale rapidly right before I closed my lips and crunched down on the chip.  So a bunch of ghost pepper powder flew from the chip onto my pleasantly moist uvula, where it of course stuck and was activated.  It was not a comfortable sensation at all, yet I kept my composure, because I am, if nothing else, a gentleman.
Because it was my uvula, it seemed like swallowing water normally wasn’t getting it.  I felt I had to try to sort of throw water down my throat in order to hit that weird little punching bag that was quickly going into full rebellion over this pepper powder bullshit.  For a while, it felt like I was breathing fire, both inhaling and exhaling.  But I wasn’t breathing fire.  I was told It looked like I was trying to discreetly cough up a hair ball made of razor wire.
Anyway, how was your day?
N.P.: “Revolution” – Uppermost

So there’s this guy I follow on YouTube named Leo Moracchioli.  Despite having what at least to this writer appeared to be an aggressively Italian name, Leo is very much a Norwegian metal artist.  He has an incredible studio (Frogleap Studios) where he works and lives with his wife and daughter.  Leo’s got a band (appropriately enough, the Frogleap Band) and his wife plays bass in her own band.  So Leo’s ultimate goal is, as near as I can tell, to be a producer.  So he’s got this amazing studio and an immense amount of talent and drive.  What I admire/what inspires me the most about Leo is that every single week, on Friday, he releases a metal cover version of a song he has selected for that week.  He plays all the instruments (occasionally, he’ll feature guest musicians) and does all the vocals (again, with an occasional guest vocalist (typically for a female part)).   So every week, he’s playing, recording, and producing at least one complete cover song, fully produced, released for sale/digital download.  Which is quite impressive.  But he also films and edits a video for each of his songs.  Not sure if you’ve ever recorded a song, or even one instrument of a song, or filmed a music video, but each of these processes is time- and energy consuming, stressful and frustrating, and generally just difficult to pull off ever, let alone every single week.  This guy is married and has a young daughter, so I’ll assume his weekends are spent doing family shit.  Which means that Monday morning, he trudges into his studio, kicking of his crocs outside the front door, I assume having already decided what song he’s going to take on this week.  So if he hasn’t already arranged the song in his head, then he has to figure that out (dude isn’t replicating the tracks of the songs, which would be challenging in its own way, but actually doing original and evocative metal arrangements that pull certain elements out of the song and in many cases, are remarkable improvements on the original (his recent cover of House of Pain’s “Jump Around” comes to mind).  Then he has to record and simultaneously engineer all of the instrumental and vocal tracks, complete those, all the while dealing with the endless technical difficulties one is constantly encountering in a recording studio.  So that’s gotta take three days…so MTW.  Final mix (if it’s not done) Thursday morning, then shooting, editing, and syncing the video, finishing that night in time to upload everything (song files to iTunes, Amazon, and Google Play, video file to YouTube) by Friday morning.  Amazing.  Leo’s productivity and prolificity have been a huge inspiration to me and the way I approach my work, while also being very entertaining, musically.
Check him out here: https://www.youtube.com/user/leolego.

N.P.: “Bells & Circles” – Underworld, Iggy Pop

I used to think that I had control over my writing, and in retrospect, it seems like I did.  Not so anymore, dear reader.  It works out, more or less, because I’m working on so many projects, there’s usually a place for everything I write.  This weekend, for example, I’m really hoping to make serious progress on The Book.  And I can have that intention, but that’s about it.  What will actually happen is that I’ll sit in front of this computer and after putzing around for a couple of minutes, I’ll write something, but chances are that it will not be for The Book.  Which is fine, though frustrating most days.
Anyway, some things are just kind of goofy riffs that don’t fit anywhere, don’t really say anything, and aren’t even particularly good.  Anyway, here’s such a thing, for no good reason at all:

People are always asking me how I eat pounds of what is essentially garbage all day every day and never seem to gain any weight. Well, here’s my secret: It’s a tapeworm.  Yep.  Big ol’ creepy looking pasty white tapeworm.  Back in 2013, I ingested a tapeworm while eating under-cooked pork belly tacos while on a motorcycle race across Brazil. At first, I’ll admit I wasn’t crazy about it, but after a few months, I not only began to appreciate what Ernesto (of course I named my tapeworm…to spend day and night with a parasite in your intestines actively depending on you for survival…it would be weird not to name it) could do for my waistline, but I also really enjoyed the company of my new friend, Ernie. In a lot of ways, he’s become much more of an anxiety-reducing therapy worm than a health-threatening parasite to me.  He really is just great. Anyway, as attached as I have become to Ernie over the years, I feel it is now time for me to go it alone and try to digest all of my own food for a change. I think I just need to prove to myself that I can do it.  But just because Ernesto and I will be parting ways doesn’t mean that he still doesn’t need a friend. And, of course, a host/hostess.  I mean, I just think it would be cruel to kick him out onto the mean streets of California, especially after all he’s done for me.  So I wanted to reach out to any of my friends who might be looking for a tested, reliable tapeworm…let’s talk.  I mean, he is obviously literally a parasite, so any relationship is going to be pretty one-sided.  But that doesn’t mean Ernesto doesn’t experience and express love in his own weird intestinal-worm-like way.  If it seems like I’m really trying to sell how great Ernesto is, that’s because I am.  I probably don’t have to tell you that the adoption rate for rescue tapeworms is abysmally low.  And it would just be a shame to see such a hard working and loyal parasite have to be put down or sold as bait or whatever.  So if you’re interested in adopting Ernie, drop me a line and we can arrange an exchange date and place.  Serious inquiries only please,  

 

Yeah, no clue.

N.P.: “Over My Head” – King’s X

You know, no matter how shittily your day may have gone, when you reach in your pants pocket and pull out the surgically sharp switchblade that has been bumping up against your junk every time you took a step for the last 17 hours and you see that the safety was off that entire time, you have to think, “Today could have been a lot worse.”

N.P.: “Cry Little Sister” – Carfax Abbey

There are about 149 reasons I can thinking of off the top of my head that I want to get this book finished, but the biggest one, dearest reader, is so that I can finally talk about this shit.  Before this book was conceived, and after my previous experiences with such things, I had decided that I would do no publicity for whatever I wrote next.  No interviews, no signings, no readings, nothing.  But I’m going to have to totally reverse course on most of that due to the nature of this book.  I make a lot of assertions and posit a lot of conclusions that differ from many widely held beliefs in psychology.  So I’m going to have to defend a great deal of it to some people with rather a lot of letters after their names.  Which I’m fine with, but that means I have to be precise and exacting with the language and overall writing, much more so than anything I’ve done previously.  Hench the ludicrous amount of time it is taking.

N.P.: “Lunatic Fringe” – Red Rider

Today is the eater of dicks.  It started off okay enough, but by 10:00 I was looking for friends to talk me down from the mushroom-cloud-laying mood that was rapidly setting in.  No luck.  And things have only gone south.
99 days.

N.P.: “Sad But True” – Metallica

Aw fuck, the stupid Oscars are on.  Another masturbatory, self-congratulating salad toss of an awards show.  Honestly, those things ceased being relevant long ago.  Did they ever find anybody to host this cinematic circle jerk?  Thought they might have The Juss do it…why not?  He’s not doing anything these days.  Hell, they should have asked me…I’d’ve done it.  I would have hosted the shit out of the show.  Meh.  Maybe next year.  #fuckHollywood

N.P.: “The Dope Show” – Marilyn Manson