Preface: It's sick really what the world has become...But hey anything goes. Reds black today and blacks white today and that falla you gave a cent today will have several chateus :). Mostly everything we hear or see, or even read about is dull. There's about as much dilute of informative personas and individual taste that really it becomes hard to find affirmative thoughts. Content: Love, Day, Inside, Pain ( rain, shame, gain, etc), Lonely, Tainted, Worried, Doors, Closed, Sun, Stars, Away, Stay, Street, Meet, Kill, Die (fly, cry, why, etc) Empty, Spaces, Full, Choices, Bad, Fine, Time, Wound, Heal, Hurt, Stride, Pride, Stride, Lesson, Life (wife, knife, etc), I, Mystery, Together, Clocks, Hold, Word, Mind, Sky, Light, Guilty, Sin, Within, Dazed, Call, Dawn, Drift, Night, Watch, One, Smile, Awhile, Way, Shut-up, Drive, Numbers (1-inf.), Minutes, Want, Wish, Dish, Revenge, Girlfriend/Boyfriend, anyone every talk about a fiance in a song? Bullets, really most people don't ever even get in a fight. Side, Island, Heart, Shine, Minds, Window, Burn, France, Chance, Power, Right, Flight, Kite!, Aight, Yo, Homie, dawg, gun, and the rest of the 'Gang* culture" Hips, Milkshake, Humps or lumps!, Planes, Wishes, Still, Alive, Talking about any magazine other person or using shit that's not yours for free publicity. Ie: Cover of Forbes magazine with Operah, if you don't know the people personally, like the editors and Operahs family, don't mention it in a song just to be cool. Forget, Regret, Let, Best, Hook/Shook/Crook/etc. Ganja, Regge, Dub, Vibe, Tribe, Mild, Taste, Pop, Bliss, Sound, Ground, Town, Highway, Myway.....Ok that's enough. The template is simple, words a parrot could say don't count as lyrics :) Of course, these words still get used, it just happens, but the important thing is not to put an emphasis on using these words and actually being a smart person and not some stupid singing monkey. Some examples of Lyrics that aren't commercial. "Do you have the time, to listen to mee whine, about everything thing and nothing at all, I am one of those, melodramatic fools, narcotic to the bone no doubt about it." Or "Caught here in a fiery blaze I won't loose my will to stay, these eyes won't seee the same after I flip today" Or better yet, "You win the argument at the end of every night, I never know the perfect time to hit the bed side light, than we lay awake and watch headlights climb the blinds." Or "Fallen for you did you ever see me watching from periphery, I was playing another game hoped you'd catch on all the same." And let's not forget " Killing in the name of" Killing in the name of what?! WHAT!!!??? The Captains Journey into the world of being a normal person, began with a letter of self discovery. It's a letter that describes a Womans aspect of Love and singularity. This, is some-thing to avoid, but I began an attempt to create a lasting relation-ship with some-one (The Jester) out of the feeling this letter emitted. Nufatia: Have you ever thought of a simple monotone fact as the one about how you exist. Loneliness, innocents, longing, and love, are what truly affects us. As in any childs paradise,there is, the beloved toy. A toy that smiles whenever, and for what-ever. A toy played with every-where every-time , the one toy the child sleeps with. When that child is grown up, that toy becomes pieces, along side all the others. At first loves contact, the child never lets the toy go. But as time goes on, it's thrown aside as if it never existed. Even the memory fades. What that toy felt, in it's bleak yet humble life and some-times eternal life is what some of us have learned to live with. Never has she had the desire to reach this place. This lonely abyss that has been stained by her room. Crude and venomous, it's now a trap for ideals, this self-pity is all that she feels in this space now. She wishes for calm. For now, though she is as a super-nova in intensity and a black-hole in ominous, and as happy as grief. But just like the stars, it's just an evolution from the stage of a child-hood into maturity. Awake now she is, to the smell of the abstract, the smoke, and the fog and smog. She smells now the incense attempting to smear the tabaco with-in her apartment and in her chest. The weird man-made smell of a modern rising sun. The memories of those hypocrites, and friends, those liars, and joyess people were now burdened with a dampening cold. No matter how hard she tried to think purely of them. She was sitting on display, in a corner. Helping to fit the singing crickets into the atmosphere. Rarely, the soothing rhythmic singing, the uninterrupted concerto would be up-staged by the motors cruising down the street. Memories of the simple routine of a limp world was plated in crushing in-difference which surged like cold static through her arms, as if a cold numbness sweeping towards her heart. Discomforted she felt from this familiar nuisance. Closing her eyes, just hoping that all she observed would be mistaken and she would awake to full day, full I say of play-fullness and laughter, just like when we were young. "Ok I must think, quick, my ears are starting to ring again, is this the sound of silence or the sound of hell, I wish I could scream so loud that it'll go away, forever" Opening her eyes, with the desire to make it all go away. The ringing, the smell, cars, smog, and this hole in time that she has found. "Ok, that didn't work, where are your right now, your wisdom, if you have any would be nice right now, it wouldn't be so bad for you to hold me, maybe your heart could beat loud enough to keep this silence out" War mth becomes her as she begins to ignore the pain she herd in her ears, and yet this romantic crusade, is still with no direction. She can't imagine his face, she tries to imagine his body, she feels a passion flooding her soul and absorbing everything that was so bad inside, yet she didn't quite understand it. She had everything, and it wasn't as if it was all horribly destroyed. It's just this moment now, in between yesterday and today that really amplified the missing piece of her heart. "I must be living in a very tolerable ignorance, that's it! I'll just start being more open to things, that should do it" Coming to terms with the regrets from naive mistakes, that we all have at least 2 of. Guilty she was of how she has no-one here now to tell her anything. "Maybe, he's a girl, and she can understand me, but what color would her hair be?" It wasn't a fantasy she was willing to contemplate right now A few steps away, was the bed. Still awaiting, as if a toy whom begged to be played with. She laid down, wondering if she was alone right now. "The door is creeping, I hear some whispers" She didn't know what door, but some door in the house was next to people, people she felt were going to play with her. And that it closed. "What was that, who was that, what'd they say, was it Dad, was it a guest?" "mhhhhiiihihiii, I'm obsessing over a frikkin door and some chatter" The only thing she brought on upon her-self was self-pity. Now she was a lunatic staring at a pond grasping at the miss-directed image reflected by waters power, and eventually attempting to paint on it. In her war-m silk pajamas, and her thick down comforter, she felt as if a queen. A content look drew wake, to waves of maybe eccentric with an air of sophistication upon her forehead. Now she was a genius, gone were all the childish thoughts, and the innocence to conquer sins. A great pride over-took her feelings now as she felt superior to everyone in the whole world. "Who else would've of thought, some-one naive and stupid, like me" "I should, sleep, my hands are cold...remember those sweet war-m cheeks?, put your 'cold shaking hands on them, war m them, feel my neck, feel my heart" Hugging herself, she gently caressed the parts of her that were the most longing for love as she fell, deep, and far into sleep. "It's 5 in the morning and I'm still not breathing well, I'm breathing in and deep, I'm breathing out and short. It's hot under the covers, and my hands can't stand still. My eyes are closed and I'm almost floating, is that my heart throbbing so gently in my body? What would it be like to not feel, anything. To be rid of all these obsessive thoughts. But no matter how badly I want these things, my feelings will only grow stronger, especially my emotions. It's torture for me to get so sens---sseee---zzzzive." (Where her last thoughts as she dozed away) It's 6 in the morning and the birds are all painting the day. They sing of what we will do and who we will meet. But they don't just sing about us. If we could hear the birds and not just listen to them, than we would know what we're doing wrong now and later. The sun is now shinning on the trees that live in the furniture, and maybe one day they will grow roots and leaves again. The carpet is slowly going from cold to war-m and soon it will be comforting to walk upon. The pillow is soft, almost as if to be made of heaven, and dream after dream, keep occurring. As if the birds are telling a bed-time story. A song begins to sing. A royal tune. It's 7 in the morning and the alarm on her phone is going off. "Can't I just escape, maybe get a new brain" As a child, filled with aspirations, escape was never anything that could be clearly perceived. This idea of escape only grows into the desire of suicide as you grow older though. I than took the Journey out to America, with-out any real plans other than – Succeed ! Always wanting a studio, and having a strong desire to work in music, where help-ful...But a man has to eat and pay his rent, the main goal was to get to working as a truck driver.... This log follows what happened that kept the bit of driving truck away. Going out west First of all... I have to mention how annoying it is to write with a keyboard that does not have functioning I, u, k,j,h ,m,n,y, H and a few things like comma, or number characters .... Basically when I mangled this laptop (retob) to function with 5 watt, 4ohm left and right 1/4 outputs. Being excited about the modification to the electrical circuit, my plan backfired. So to write, I use the on screen keyboard. And before the letter I need to input, I move the mouse with the touchpad too the right position whilst typing the characters that work as normal. The positioning of the left click is right under the space bar luckily and my other thumb hovers over the touch-pad :) Now writing comments to anything is twice as fun! And the June contest got my bloody thump tired !!!! Especially the arguments about not writing enough!!! God... I felt as if I was in pre-school again and kids couldn't understand why I talked funny (being Romanian) And to make things worse. My thumb got messed up in a karate accident. A few doctors said it's broken. But ya know, if it still works don't fix it. That's that. Now I moved from Romania to America a month ago. After spending 7 years there ('there' is over an ocean, after Britain, past the middle east past Greece and the Mediterranean sea and, not in America.). Before arriving, to make sure everything will go smoothly. I spent 3 months preparing for America, meditating, conditioning my sleep pattern to keep me active, getting my metabolism to one meal a week, starting to talk to every random person on the street about possibly recording something... Training basically. I had to make sure I don't slack off and that'll always be ready to work!. Great plan! I imagined how I'd arrive in NYC, call a few places out of a newspaper and find a place to sleep for 400-6oo bucks a month in 5 minutes of picking up a metro pcs phone. I'd be in central park, by the lake, talking (on the phone) to a girl with a pretty voice whose looking for a room-mate. That was the plan :) I even went so far as to make a list of places to stay (not hostels or something, anything monthly) before I arrived. The first little lump of coal to this great plan, was not having a working phone, I had 2 but no working subscription :). America doesn't have orange for some weird reason, or Vodafone. Arriving at New-Wark airport at 10 p.m was the second issue. So... I don't get to call any bands to hook up and audition, to begg them for a place to stay afterwards. No, visiting a studios from my list of places to work with and asking to crash on their couch after keeping them busy on recording-review, bashing tracks and checking out the shoot outs all night. And no cute girls waiting to take me in. What do you do when your a little alien in New York ? WAIT! I had a solid 1k in my pocket. And one k feels like a solid brick, it feels like you can do everything :) Kinda thinking about it, there was a form on the plane asking to declare all things worth money. Hell, if they knew how much value everything I had with me, being imported into the country was worth (Daw, laptop, audio card, microphone, guitar, samples, etc)...They'd charge me well over 500 bucks. Plus that 1k holed up in my pocket was exactly what a drug dealer would do...so it would probably get me a cavity search if they knew. I don't even want to imagine what they'd try to do to my guitar. But then again they were nice to me, I never had to take off my shoes, the people in front of me and behind did, strangely enough. Though in Poland a security clerk saw something strange in my equipment bag, and like a blood hound searched my bag (as I was handing her stuff I thought it could be) and when she saw the pouch with the rodes....Froze, reaching in she held the pouch with one hand as she unzipped it. Looking at the thing, she had an expression as to "is this a dildo, or a weapon, or ooo wait ! its' a microphone", Kinky! So aside from the trip, and my new friend Magdelina, whom had a hoot about the customs declaration form with me. I did what any broke little college boy would do :) I scribbled on the customs declaration form, filling it out of course (correctly) in the most in-legible manner. Than folded it into an ugly looking turd, and kept it in my sweaty palm. I figured handing this form over to a customs officer in this deteriorated fashion, with a guitar on your back and a pouch over your shoulder, it will keep 'them' from asking whats in "that heavily packed bag", and keep your' microphone away from any torture. So yes back too American soil with no direction. I did what any drifter would do. I started talking to cabbies, trying to find a destination, they apparently didn't know English very well or what the heck is going on around them. Then, I saw a bus at the airport, a couch. I love big buses, and I love trains more, and more than that, cargo ships! Walking on the bus, the driver asks ' where do you want to go" I sigh, "I don't know, it's my first time in New York City, what do you suggest" "well this bus goes to the port authority, manahaten, times square" "Anything there?" "There's a few bars, and it's new york city, you know, grab a seat and wait for the other driver to come on" Ya, I took the shuttle into town...after 8 hours on a plane to spend another 2 hours on a bus. (Listening to one pearl jam record and one nirvana record all the way 'here'.) Some people will be tired and sad and in the 'go $#ck yourself" kind of personality. After I was cooked up for that long, I was like a beagle on cocaine... I got off the bus on a corner between two very big buildings covering up my view of broadway. The only thing to see was the 10 o clock crowd and a hot-dog stand aromatting with the sweet scent of capitalism (or was it called commercialism). No direction, no reservation, and 30 pounds of gear on my back (They almost didn't let me on the plane with this stuff cause it's so heavy).. Now the first step off the bus, that general direction taken is the most important. The first goal one sets up for the new frontier, sort of deal. It must have been the wind that pushed me, but I walked the way the bus was going. And took a left. What can I describe of what I've seen as I ventured on, has it not a common ground with music? Just flashing lights and advertising every-where. Musicals and films, and thousands if not millions of dollars that could've went to the sound department spent on all these marketing ploys. I knew my place as I walking down the street (singing doo ma baby dee dee dum dee dee dum). The new guy in town, a new opportunity for artists to flourish. I thought, "what am going to do, who will I talk to ?" The first thing to do is scout, and study...analyze what is going on around. Don't just jump in, expecting to know everything. I played the calm and assertive card. Setting up my first goal of getting someone in a studio by the end of the week. I've seen beggars sleeping on w@rm pavement, content with what they have. Suites and ties would swiftly rush by, avoiding any contact like an Akido master. The tourists, the hipsters...If Europe has stereo-types of typical Americans, broadway is the place to find every single one of um. Being as I am, sensitive of my environment. I became overwhelmed by what I felt in the air. The vibe in lame-mans terms. Miss-direction, confusion, segregation. Are words the vaguely describe the onslaught of NYC chaos. I felt even,that tick, when anyone whom I made eye contact with would draw a conclusion to whom I was. But further-more. The one feeling I still remember. Was how much New Yorkers don't like people who carry bag's around. Even if it's a guitar case and an equipment bag. "If your carrying all that stuff around, you must be homeless" I could see it in their eyes. Walking around looking for a beer, to numb my little 'antenna" someone tried to hand me a cd, someone I noticed long before he approached me. (he was pushing a cd to people on the street with his little brother) "hey, yo check out our album" "ya you can have it for 5 bucks" Aggie I thought, finally real struggling musicians working so hard to keep what they are alive! America baby! I said "howdy", as he approached me, his name was Billy G, big brother to live (I call him Lego). We have the typical discussion anyone will have with me. "ya, I'm a sound engineer, I'm trying to produce, now I just came from Romania... I got some studios we can go to, we'll split the bill" "ya we're trying to do this and that" "This is what we threw together with youtube and a mic in the kitchen" So we talk about what I've done....I can actually fill up a book the size of 'the book of the dead' (if I could remember any of it). I've had jobs running cables at weddings (because my friends always tricked me into doing this....I don't know how but they always sent me to weddings !!!), I've done the part of 'mixing the sound live' for pretty much every Romania band worth mentioning (and because of that I now know what 1k slate does on a mixer, and NEVER touch that button, especially during a live show). I've got myself close to enough bands to make me sick, (all the rehearsal halls around their know me...some for pretending a piece of aluminum foil was the millennium falcon, others because I learned to play drums in 2 days just to teach a girl I really liked, and others just because I'm 'the dude'). Things were plush in Romania, I'll admit that. But you won't find what we have in America there. And what we have in America is liberty (to a reasonable extent) and imagination... so what if Frenchies are more creative artistically. Americans are more artistic personally! I tell them a few stories, and we talk about me showing them what I've done and them showing me what they've done asap. I hand Billy a 20 for the cd, because I'm a producer. A producer with-out money is like a sandwich with no bread...where I'm from anyways. But my story telling is what really got them hooked. "You were in a Zepplin tribute band?!" The energy they had was that they wanted something to happen. I just wanted to find out about the music scene. And with-in 5 minutes of getting of the bus. I was already hearing stories about the dudes from wu-tang hanging around times square 'handing out cd's', about the 'vendors license' required to sell the cd's, about how playing the cd off a boombox isn't allowed...About studios these guys visited. The portable watch towers the nypd has laying around...everything related to p.r. So we walk and we talk, as I search for a place to enjoy a beer. My first instinct, of course is to grab a beer, and drink it walking down the street... Billy reminds me that in America it's illegal. Heading down the road I found myself saying 'hi' to a bunch of Dudes that were friends/ fellow musician. Or as I consider them, Legos competition. They talk about some-body being somewhere, and now Billy leads the way. Billy is bigger than me, I have an issue that when I see some-one bigger than me... my instincts tell me to "bring em down!!!" He's talking about meeting up with some boxer So he leads me to a van...where 6 more black dude get out... all at least a foot bigger than me, and 40-60 pounds heavier. I don't trust people. For example, if I leave my guitar at a studio in Romania, where I don't know the people for less than 3 years. I'll constantly have the impression that it'll be gone, forever. If Im on a bus, I think that we're off to a hot dog factory to be grinded up after we're killed. And to top it off my friends back home kept laughing about how I'll get mugged in a 'New York minute'. Long story short I give the new friends a 3 minute version of who I am, full of confidence (and already angry, because of the lack of beer) and run off to the Irish pub behind us. Billy, Lego, and I already had our much needed 'pow-wow' and we established our relationship, long before we ran into Legos 'competition'. Somewhere between me finding out that it's illegal to drink beer down the street and finding out about the boxer. We sat down at a Mcdumnolds where listened to each others music on my yamaha studio mega awesome headphones. At first I listened to the cd I bought, and used the terms and attention to detail I've picked up from a full season of bashing recordings here :) Their jaws dropped ! Than, I explained, "I don't have anything on my laptop right now because I only keep what I'm currently working on. All I have is this thing from Cambridge" Yes... I'm clever and resourceful. I've never been to Cambridge, I don't know what the school looks like or where it is, but technically speaking 'I've worked with them'/ 'I've taken an (online) course in mixing at/from Cambridge'. Whatever helps a discussion stay positive and collective. You could say I have a silver-tongue. But than again so does everyone who sells anything. On a side note. They posted the mix-rescue thing, than never kept in touch. I've even emailed them and got no reply. I'm not going to compromise a good thing and doubt being able to use those tracks though. They are great tracks, especially after I got through with um :) I bet the guys responsible are playing beer pong and taking belly shots off of cute sophomore girls anyways. So they leave me their number at Mcdumnold, and we continue the story from me sitting in an Irish pub NOT drinking a Guinness, not because I don't drink it, but because they didn't have it. Another thing this giant pub didn't have was a stage, it did how-ever have a passage way to a normal restaurant. Walking into the owner (after I mocked the waitress of her horrible Irrish acccnt by doing it behta den her, flattery :), I told him to get in touch with Aidan Joyce, son of the famous James Joyce about getting a local band some gigs in NYC and also handed him a voucher to a free drink at the pub in Ireland. Planted a seed, haven't found the pub again since. To see if it flowered. I walked out and my small visit to the past vanished, I was back to square one on times square. Billy decides it's time to head home, and as we are walking towards the subway, and we run into Squala orphan, another rapper that has fans in Romania. They ignored him completely, but I didn't. I convinced Billy to buy one of Squalas cd's, with the 20 I gave him, and explained that it's 'networking', that he should listen to it and get live to work with him. Squala opened up to the guys and they start talking about him, and him, and that place, and that studio, and I was lost...After 20 minutes of eves dropping. They head out and I hang out with Squala till 4 am Squala, he just keeps pushing his albums to everyone on the street. I don't know how he can have the energy to do that every-day. But it pays his rent apparently. And the rent in NYC is 900 and up. Rain Drops - by Squala Orphan During this time somethings worth mentioning are: "Dude, when I'm not by you, don't sell these records or even try to, the cops will see you and they'll arrest you!" Or the conversation we had about the rapper who shot down a few cops because of the newly appointed 'noise pollution laws'. Think your gonna get to NYC and see the naked cowboy, hell no. It's considered pan- handling now to play music like that. And the few street musicians still out, are either giving the cops a cut or sticking their necks out aka not giving a f@ck. We part ways at 4, and we only sold 2 copies from 12-4 am. Which isn't bad, for having a strange looking white guy by you :) I decided to go to central park, and catch the sun-rise, while I wait for metro-pcs to open so I can get a phone !!! Squala points me in the general direction and we head out. Before I could get in the park I ran into a great trumpest seeking refuge from the violence in New Orleans, we hang out for an hour. Him mainly telling me his perspective on America. The stories he had were about his neighbors shooting each other, people getting robbed and everything else that makes America the worst place to live. I told him my story, and tried to inspire him to push on. He offered me a blanket as I walked into the park :) Yea, there' isn't to much to mention about central park except the little 'auditorium' dedicated to musicians with-in the park territory. Sadly it has acoustics that dampen rather than resonant (I was making every weird sound I know at 5 am in it:). I've also discovered there that I can't charge me laptop because I have European plugs (duh). Though I will bring some gear and make some noise as soon as I figure out how to do it with-out getting arrested. I love that they have 2 outlets and power-conditioners there!!! (Don't ask how I know). As I'm walking around central park looking for a nice place to catch the sunrise and enjoy an apple. I find a straight field where the sun gleams out from the horizon. I sit, I eat my apple I doze off, I wake up to the sound of a lawn-mower, with the burning sun in my face. The guy mowing the lawn actually got startled, and stopped moving completely by my awakening, it seems I blended in to well with nature. I found the place to watch the sun rise, dead center of the park. Now you would think...that walking down Elizbeth ave. towards the cell phone store at 7 am would be completely liberated of music and boring, but no sir, not in NYC. The first thing though to take care of was to find some cheap electronic appliance and slice the cable (to make an adapter for my cell phone power transformer). Luckily walking down the street I tripped over the power chord of an air mattress thrown to the curb. And if that's not a clear sign that I don't need to waste 5-10 bucks on something I'll destroy, I don't know what is. I ripped the chord off and continued on my marry way. Using what I've seen on google maps, I made my way towards where I thought I had to go. Along the way, an elderly woman says something in-distinguishable to me, and points. I look towards that direction to see Tony dangling an arm out of a NYC public bus...screaming at me... I think Nirvana - something in the way was on in my headphones. When he saw that my attention was upon him (and my headphones off). "How good are you with that thing" What a great question! so specific yet encoded so that only a musician could reply. Some people, whom shouldn't be considered guitarists forget they have a guitar on there back.. and if I said "what thing" He would've drove off. I said "pretty good" As he pulled the bus, which he was already moving at a walking pace, towards me. I felt happy. He only pulled the bus closer to avoid blocking traffic and to invite me on. Luckily for us it was early enough for the bus to be empty. I get on, "Hey, I'm Alex, nice ride you got here" "Ya, it get's me around, listen, I'm looking for a guitarist to do gigs with" "well, I don't do covers" "oh it's cool, I'm also a producer" We keep going back and forth, while he drives me to my destination. He hands me his business card and drops me off where I need to be. So far things are going great in NYC. But I still can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Waiting for metro-pcs to open up at some Spanish restaurant up the street a little, enjoying the food. I read about some strangler being finally caught. Why is this kind of information so easily available ? So I get my phone and I try calling Billy and Lego, their apparently sleeping. So I try and find a place to stay. The subway takes me away, now I'm looking for the sidewalk cafe, instead I end up at Lokal. I hop in the first open bar (open at 11 am !! and with hot Czech woman serving you beer !!!). And take care of splicing the adapter. The bar didn't have wi-fi so I just enjoyed some imported Czhec beer and listened to some good music before heading out to Lokal for the wifi. Strange but good hamburgers btw, fries were way to oily. Using the interweb to search for a place to stay, I ended up in Jersey looking for and finding the stage Metallica played not too long ago:) I got a bottle of vodka from some kids on the train just because I took it out (my guitar) and when they offered me the vodka... I kinda chugged the whole thing. Hmm I didn't go with them because I had to see a house... Didn't get anyone's phone-number because I'm an idiot. I got to talk music with the guy renting the house, but it was to hot and he didn't like the fact that I was a sound engineer (I get why now) so no home.. I went out to find the beach (and a hotel). Walked to Neptune NJ from Asbury with the gear on my back, and figured that the hotel is not in that general direction and walked back. Really if your at the next train station from where you got off.... I ran into a fella whom looked and sounded like Tom Waits, while seeking guidance. "Hey, excuse me, is there a hotel around here?" I asked at 2 am. "Ya, you go up this street, and take a left and then a right, than you keep walking" He said in the exact same tone as Tom when he speaks I froze and interrupted "Did anyone tell you, that you look like Tom Waits" And he did, he even had the suite to match ! Continuing, on... "if you're in the water you've walked to much" "So did anyone tell you you look and sound like Tom Waits" "You just did 5 seconds ago, you have a good night" It probably wasn't...But I took his advice and wound up walking by Metallica's small stage, before it was raised. And I knew that was where they were going to play. But didn't want to believe it. By now, I convinced Lego to hit the studio sometime next week. And Marc from Dojo was expecting me to visit the next day. I enjoyed my stay at the hotel, brushed my teeth and slept like a baby. Checking out the Jersey Shoreline/ boardwalk starting from 7 in the morning. I visited a fast food shop, where they had free cd's of some dude trying to be the next Jake Johnson, picked one up and herd about some killer music fest they had in Jersey a week ago. After getting in some food, getting kindly kicked out of a guitar shop (I put on strings on my guitar and the guy there was worried I'd steal his clients if they saw how easy it is to actually put on strings, as he put on strings for everyone in town, I asked if I could change the strings, then the idiot changed his mind....Though he gave me paper towels to wipe off the fret board cleaner, and clippers to cut the strings.) and visiting the local paranormal phenomena shop just to pick up some swag for my axe :) I headed out to where the kids where from, ate some of their local food, and felt the depression from the town digging in. As I was looking for a place to gig, the raining started to drop. When you have all your recording equipment in a bag on your back... Rain is something you stay far away from. I ran back to the train station, as the rain slowly picked up and left as soon as thunder started to echo through-out the flat-lands. Arriving in nyc, I had to find a place to charge my phone. Leaving the 'transit' station, there was a visible starbucks shop at the end of the street. Before I could walk in...the torrential rain from new jersey arrived and I was forced to share someones umbrella with them :). The dojo didn't pick up the full 2 hours I was at starbucks for. We talked the day before that I'll come records some vocals in their studio....I guess something better came up. Whilst scoundering my list of studios, the great plan I had designed started to 'crack at the braces'. 3 out of 12 studios picked up. I set the date to record for Monday with Mr.Bright. at Triangle studios. KIngyork At one point I remember using the bathroom and leaving everything at the table, comming back 5 minutes later to find everything un-touched (so nyc isn't as dangerous as people say it is huh?) Business is set, and today is Friday party time! The rain simmered down and I went to drop off my gear at some cute Jewish girls shop (cute because she reminded me of Froto from LOTR). I still had the vague impression that I was in Romania, and it was kinda hard to understand 'this is America man'. After seeking out a decent place to play, and not finding any (found plenty but...dammit they weren't better than places I played before) visiting the museum of space and flight, and generally walking about without 30 pounds on my back it got dark enough to step into a club and hang out with the children of the night. The place I walk into was a karaoke night deal. Little did they know the beast I was about to unleash! So that went good, I befriended a really great singer from L.A., Gage, a brit touring nyc, the dj at the club...and the people that came up to me to say 'great singing'. I forced my voice, so I had to ditch the club and find the park again (and some tabacco) asap. I forced a conversation with the DJ, and explained a few things about R.R. and that he should join, even if it is just to comment on my blog. He agreed to hand over a cd with the condition that I post up on bash this recording. http://forum.recordingreview.com/f11/some-weird-genre-im-not-familiar-living-withoutyou-john-alden-46364/ It got just one comment... so I didn't bother mentioning it to him in later days. I got my tabacco, rolled some cigarettes and concentrated on calming my cough as I walked through the park. Every step I took would raise the sun another 3 centimeters. I think that memory though, is repressed, as instead of hooking up with the girls at the club I had to take care of my pharynx. Going back to that 'temple' dedicated to music I listened to the music I had, which of course was filled with bad juju. Having soundcloud on my phone let me listen to something a little more positive The Seatbelts - Rouya. The next day, I travel more and scout more and spend more time at cafe's charging my cell phone than expected (but it gave me a chance to to at least hop on R.R. :) Today there really isn't a thing worth mentioning. Though I started to miss my guitar. At night I figured to head out to Cooney Island (I wanted to find a strip club, it seemed ironic that the place I see as dedicated to cheap rides and pretty much a kids playground would have one). Long story short I found the place, 20 feet away from the fencing academy. But I ended up watching Killer Joe ( http://killerjoe66.com/ ) with his hall of fame guitarist and solid band do a 3 hour set at Cha-Cha's (chachasofconeyisland.com), around the corner. Now if they would've switched venues and played at the strip club... god it would've been a great night. At the concert I was as quite as a dead guy (because of my throat). But still got peoples attention from smoking rolled tabacco..... The stage the band played on also depressed me intensely. Really. They had a corner lifted on some wood, and there wasn't even enough room for the singer up there. BUT IN THE CORNER?!!!! Sound was decent, if you were next to the stage. Left Cha-chas and started feeling as if I needed to visit my pops. So that's what I dids. Hoped on a train to 42nd street, grabbed a grey-hound and left nyc. Where I found a promoter from Canada, and worked on songs... Got in the early morning, not really worried if anyone knew I was around. The atmosphere in Binghamton was exactly how I felt inside I sent my Father a text, explaining I'm in town. And continued to walk through the fog . It was magnificent. Here is the town I grew up in, where now I don't remember which direction even my school was. Traveling through the fog was as if traveling through memories of a place forgotten. I saw corners of churches, or only the lit part of the court house, which was 20 feet in the air. Due to the heavy fog only the pillars holding up the name were visible. My pops of course works to much as he was on the night shift, and before I could explore more, he already came to pick me up. I told him some street names, he told me to walk in a specific direction (the opposite way I was heading). And before I knew it I was with family. Being around here, wasn't going to be for very long. As the next day I'd have recordings in nyc. Today is Sunday. Here everything was decent. I got in touch with one cousin, slept, ate, talked, planned, and left. We all felt curiously drawn to my great plans for success in a month. Come Monday morning I went to pick up my gear. It was already too much. I could hear my guitar begging me to come save it as if it were imprisoned. Lego and Billy would meet up with me where we first met (what ?? that's classy) and we headed out to the Bronx....Which I told them, "we're going to Brooklyn" because. Well, I was new around there. On the train ride over, Billy tells me about some gun-shots he heard a few nights ago and how the cops are hassling everyone who tries to visit his Ma's apartment block. We talk about hooking up some live gigs. We get to the Bronx and take a cab to the place I saw on google maps for the studio. I argue with them that we're too early and this is unprofessional ! Billy talks to Mr.bright again off my phone and we sit down on a bench and wait 2 minutes. Now a producer is supposed to have control isn't he ? Either way, I had set the time for recordings to later on just to make sure we weren't going to run late. Mr.Bright shows up and me and him start talking about his emmy nomination. Lego didn't prepare himself how I said too, and we had to download the backing tracks off youtube ... we did that, Mr.Bright set up his rig and we threw Lego in the closet (vocal booth). A few hours went by, the typical session was going on, I picked up an acoustic guitar and just jammed along, everything was going smoothly. We got an extra hour too, if I would play some guitar on a track of Mr. Brights :). Left the studio, and went back to Coonie Island. This time, just to relax. I ended up talking to a ...milf... she was touchy and feely, but when I offered her a death mint. It all went down-hill as I over herd one of her daughters scream "O my god, and you have cancer!" I left... and she came after me to tell me to chill out and finish my beer. But that is the second time something like that happened. At least there was no need to rent a hotel room tonight....Breath mints are supposed to help pick up women not scare them away! I left nyc again, as I was going to prepare to get a cdl :) We talked to a family friend about going out on the road with him. I had enough time to hook up one of the tracks for Lego on the way here. But mastering it took longer.... The other track is still a work in progress as I'm being overly creative with it. And literally cutting out every word and placing it melodically. It's great so far, but it sounds like a doodle and not a oil painting on a fine silk canvas. Here, I got my drivers license replaced, my step Mom convinces me to shave and cut my hair (after I take my pics for my license so I look like a wookie on the ID). Really, I couldn't take care of my lush Robert plant curls any-more. The family friend whom mentors me got me in his club taking a look at his gear, just because I showed him the track I did for Lego. http://forum.recordingreview.com/f11/hip-hop-meet-lego-46430/ I spent some time rewiring things, taking hardware that wasn't being used out of the rack and cleaning up. Than I left for nyc to audition for Tonys band as he put it. But arrived early, 2 days earlier so that I could maybe find what I was looking for. Squala told me about some engineer named Ford who invited me to an open mic. I brought along my equipment, spent 2 hours trying to find the place (and I did find it and didn't show up late). Mean-while a real pretty thang invited me to her hotel room...but I had an open mic and an engineer to meet (DAMIT !!) The place was in a University neighborhood, there were kids smoking weed every 2 feet. And the atmosphere here was 'end of days'. Before I even walked in... the question arouse as to wtf am I doing here?! Seeing what would later fill in the curiosities I had, it was a few talented musicians who are not pushing hard enough, or being responsibly creative enough. They expect that an mp3 and a microphone 300 dbs louder than the backing track is all it takes to produce a live gig worth remembering. Psychologically speaking they do have control over their audience through the confidence in their voice but psycho-acoustically speaking, there are red flags being raised for every syllable spoken. Of course, I broke a string to keep myself 'off-stage' and headed out to central park to clear my head (and forget). It was a nightmare. At 2 am the police man came to kick me out. As I was fixing up my broken string on a bench. I asked why, they explained that the park is closed after 1. The cops of course were impatient and very un-remorseful of the fact that I couldn't just let my string dangle around in the case, it'd scrape off the cotton. Plus the steel dreadlock kinda tears apart the silk on my strap. They stepped out of the vehicle, one cop is ready to attack me (I was begging in my head for him to make a move) and is accusing me of smoking pot in a muffled voice to his partner. The other is being quite. " I'm not high," I almost said you a22hole "Quit stalling!" Snarked back the angry cop "Hey have some respect for the instrument! This guitars worth more than what you make in 2 months" "You don't have respect for the law?!" "I'll respect you if you can understand that this is a very delicate piece of equipment just like your gun!" As the bad cop is reaching for his mace or tazer.... "Can I please have your ID sir" I walk over to the nice cop and hand him my passport "Ya I just came back from Europe" "You don't talk to us unless we talk to you!" We both ignore the 'meany' I continue, "Our parks are always open" "Ya, we do things different here, I'm just gonna run this" They get in the car. And we all wait for everything to clarify. After minutes of watching the blue and red paint the park, the good cop gets out and hands me my passport and a citation. "Ok, we're gonna give you a citation, usually you can just fill it out as not guilty than send it by mail and since this is your first offense they won't really call you in" I left the park with a police escort right behind me thinking "god-dam hippies. all those occupy bastards did was nothing but too make things worse" I grabbed a cab and we laughed on the way to the days inn about how controlling the government got. The search continued. For 2 days I would stay at some hotel and just wander around nyc trying to find more live shows, bands, studios, whatever... I would hop on the subway and just visit neighborhoods. But no-one inspired me to 'jump up and say Hi'. And musicians don't like you if your on a subway train with no business card (as a producer) so the ones I talked to where rather square :/. Meanwhile I had an audition to get to soon. The audition went great, I showed up an hour early, spent some time in the 'Astoria soundworks' lounge working on songs. Than grabbed a room and played around with Drumming on Emma's song http://forum.recordingreview.com/f11/dark-pathway-love-emma-45266/index3.html. Only problem was I didn't bring my mic along so the drums were recorded with an onboard laptop mic.... I got to eves drop on a bunch of bands, alot of them sounded great except the dudes doing creed covers. And I got to talk to alot of people too. No-one mentioned the music scene being fun or exciting. Upon Tony's arrival, he apologizes for the fact that he' has to work with this band on doing covers and that we only get a cool 10-20 minutes to jam in before they get to work. I hooked up the ampeg bass amp in the room with a proper bass sound for Tony and I spent the rest of the time with headphones on Jammin along :) I felt as if stuck in a world with a low ceiling and not being able to stand. The drummer was actually falling asleep as-well, and nobody knew what was wrong with him. Though he probably felt what I felt. Somehow still he played the breaks just right, and kept the groove dead on. Hey, if your playing "When the night and the stars, hit your eyes" the one with "oh darling darling" - stand by me. Anyone would fall asleep. We ended the night with a long drive to the port authority, we talked all the way there about the use of technology in music. We talked about live music in the 80s and how Tony settled down got married, had kids and music is more of a hobby. He dropped me off and insisted on giving me 20 bucks, his argument "man you hooked up that bass amp so well, it's the least I can do" So I'm taking the bus back working on mixing May and April, I think...The way the music scene was treating, I felt as if dating a seriously cold b!tch, and to make things worse. One that doesn't put out! I arrive in upstate, I go driving a little, things pick up and I'm teaching local djs what an RCA and a XLR are. Arguing with others that 1/4 jacks are the standard. And to make everything really a bummer, they all use crummy mp3s that sound horrible amplified 10 fold. But hey....I get trained to drive a truck for this and free drinks at the bar, and a place to chill out in an apartment over the club. Sadly, I lost the key the next day. Kinda typical of me. The speakers are hooked up now properly, no more 4000 watts into 3000 watt spearkers, I mangled a small snake into the whole deal allowing for everyone to collect rca, xlr, 1/4 to the same compressor without moving cables using a 60 dollar mixer and a few adapter cables. And later that week, I came in-to the local percussion shop to tune their special Spanish drum, garrahand ( http://notbongos.com/ ) and introduced the idea of creating a sample library plus loops, and putting that out as a product. Liz from the shop only mentioned how she's to busy to do that right now. Things mellow out in upstate. I pass my cdl written exam, drive around, and just relax. Found time to spend on R.R. too. Mean-while this recorded took birth Soundscape-Susquana hana... interstate #? Elizabeth texted, ( http://soundcloud.com/elliebrucia ) to invite me to a concert with her band, later in the week. I figured, it's my last chance to get comfy with music. Red also texted about finally meeting up to brain-storm ( http://soundcloud.com/yupitsred ). And I felt as if things were going to finally pick up. I squeeze in another visit to nyc. And left so fast, I didn't take my bus ticket back. I figured 50 bucks is enough for food and beer, as long as I have the ticket. I called both... girls back to tell em that I'm literally coming before I hoped on the bus. Why don't people call now-a-days? With Red I met at a 'organic' smoothie shop, it was on the way towards a shop with outlets (and it had outlets), in Broolyne. We talked, I showed her the mix for R.R. (highly creative dumstep) and my indian hiphop, and she got excited about working together. I froze during our conversation as I herd the piano part a friend showed me awhile ago, it was on the radio, sadly it was a song from the 80-90s and I became memorized by how some people will always rip off other musicians whether they know it or not. I'm not allowed to publish the recording anywhere though so let's drop it. As we prepared to head out, she had things to study, all that was left was to make music. That went well. Though, I've met alot of people and Red reminded me (because of her size and spunk) of a friend in Romania who works as a journalist for the past 5 years of her life, and whom I know very well... It felt as if running into my friend but in another life. The other girl never managed to play the guitar she bought, and I left with the impression that Red can actually accomplish something. I just have to be there for her. I had 5 hours to waste before Elizabeth concert, which I found out that day is in Brooklkyn, 20 streets away from where I was (I had to be at the trash bar at 9 thetrashbar.com). So I'm walking around Brooklyne looking for a guitar shop and found a few places worth taking pictures. On the way to those I found an interesting saxophone player, Stephen (http://stephengauci.com/index.html), just because my step-grand-ma gave me fruit for the trip. And I only eat fruits in a proper calm environment (or in the forest out of the bus), this time down by the river surrounded by little Hebrew kids. As I leaned on a fence watching the children play and listening to the water and the sax. Great sound-scape :p Though I don't like Stephan to much because he uses reeds heavier than anything I found on the Romanian market. I could hear it as I walked by. He was using a 4. We tried to talk, "What kind of a reed do you have on that thing?" "Wha ?" he would reply with a strange accent Making point and explain loudly and clearly So I'm screaming at him and he's nodding to implie that he can hear me As he nods, I look at his ears to figure out what kind of vocal tone he's more sensitive to. I see the hearing aids in both ears and things slow down for me "Ah, the reed, I use a four" "Dew you play sax?" I was stuck thinking.... Imagining how he lived his life and how I would if would be like that. Really... can you imagine? So we talk as much as he had the patients to, about lacuire and mold ...and our saxes, he gives me his email address, I'm not sure who brought it up. But he was so eager to get in touch. I can't wait for him to read this :-! Or better yet to have some help finding another sax, one that I can get attached to as much as Stephen got with his, or as much as I did with Liz (the sax being taken care of by a great friend in Romania). I could've recorded but.... I have rules for recordings. If someone else can do it, and it doesn't have to be me, than I don't record. Though I feel sorry for him. We did talk about how I record, we'll hang out some more :) We part ways, and I go to the side to listen to him play again. As I try to send an email to a friend in Seoul, but I accidentally hit the delete button after swyping for 20 minutes a great email. Now I'm p##d off! So I must find that guitar shop I so desperately wanted to get to just to mellow out (or else I'd start kicking people into the pit of death). Antiques, old termite infested guitars and amps that were left by dead guitarists to rot in attics. That's all they had in the shop. But some-how they all looked brand new, and played even better. I found myself on a baritone Dan Electro jammin to the music in the shop. Then on a Gibson SM made before Paige got his hands on one. I almost didn't leave the shop... it was paradise ! And they let me play any guitar on any amp. God ! I remember the Gibson amp popping after it turned on. Than I saw a vintage delay that ran on tape, which sold like hot bread. 2000 dollar hot bread. Hell everything in that shop cost over 1000 dollars. I picked up their cards after a good 2 hour visit to the shop, that place is worth remembering. it's southsideguitars.com Leaving the shop, I went to the trash bar. No money on me, forgot my pin for my card, I was down and out and I had to be a producer... Sitting in the bar I worked a little more on my creative mix for the slate thing. Listening to the bass from some regge song I started following the vibe and edited the bass to mimic that. As that was in the final stage of production getting the low end done right. http://forum.recordingreview.com/f156/dumstep-highly-creative-mix-may-april-46649/ As I stepped out to get some signal on me phone, there was a van pulling up in a strange manner. And a few cool looking dudes with a cute girl walk out and towards the bar I'm supposed to be in... so I say hi. 20 seconds later they come out and ask me if I'm the sound engineer.... "I'm not the sound engineer but I am a sound engineer" "The names Alex." "I'm Pete, that's Christina, Alex and Nick" "Christina not Christineth, right?" They get the reference to 'the other guys' and the moods been lightened. "What's to do around here, where can we get some coffee" Asked Pete impatiently, I guess they must've been on the road for a really long time. "Well there's a killer guitar-shop with vintage Gibsons and Fenders down the road, and a shop right around the corner" It's sometimes good to be observant :) So we head out to hang out at the guitar shop, and pick up some coffee. And hang out at the guitar shop, Christina pops up a poster with their concert in the shop. I ended up sitting down with the bassist, Alex and we talked about recording programs in Trash, after we talked about how Jaguars cost 200 bucks before Mr. Kobain got his hands on one at the guitar shop . and techniques giving him pointers for how to do things in Acid :) Yes when Acid 8 comes out it will kill (hopefully) even pro-tools :p. So I told Alex my story, about being broke for a day, he found it hilarious and put me on the 'vip' list. After-wards, the rest of the bands found out I came to record, and originally I wanted to re-dub every instrument (and was going to) but the line out from the mixer failed on the b-bus which was going give me the vocal mics, and I was left with the full out (left side of the mix) as my mic recorded the right side. The show was great, all 4 band played to an empty club, but all were terrific. Though the last band was the best...even though I didn't like the whole 'kings of leon' 'music for taking someone on a date' vibe they had. Trash bar is the aftermath. Before Elizabeth got to her set, I walked up and asked her. (And by now all the bands knew that I was recording, I was groovy baby!) "So are you nervous?" We talked on the phone and I asked if she has butterflies about the show. I figured she might remember :) "Who are you?" "It's complicated" "why is it complicated?" "well, I'm recording tonight, and I'm hanging out with Doll, and I'm supposed to meet up with a singer" "Are you Alex?" "Yea, wasn't that first band great?" We seemed to get along great, I introduced her to the guys from Doll, the guys from Earth Science introduced them-selves... Than she got on stage and did her thing. I'll admit it, she looked like Miley Cirus on stage and I respect Miley more than you guys respect Skillrex or Dead-rat. The cats out of the bag... I hung around, I explained to her too, as I explained to everyone I met. I forgot my pin and my bus voucher. But I still had a great time even though there was nobody there !!! Damn it Miss York, why do you treat people like that?! The night ends early for me (makes the whip sound) as Elizabeth asked if I'm coming out with her. As I packed my gear, the last song from the last band finished playing. And when I unplugged the audio card they left the stage. It's truly amazing how a 12 hour discussion can mean nothing to some people. We ran out to a bar around the block, where Elizabeth offered to buy me another drink (how emasculating), I asked if they have cider and we enjoy 2 ciders. "So what'd you think of the show" "Great performance, to bad nobody showed up, you kinda remind me of Hannah Montana" "Wait what? Who? Why? Now I have to bend over back-wards and explain things out to not have offended this great singer I can't afford to not work with. Wait a second why can't I not live without her voice around? I came here to forget about working with people that can't keep up. "Look, Miley does the music thing really well, and she's cute and sexy. Her father, knows about all the movers and shakers in the industry and all she had to do was believe in what she was doing. She works with professionals and makes a product out of music seamlessly, now in a parallel universe, where that raw talent, inspiration, and drive that Miley has. That persona would be you" I usually don't stretch my mind muscle to such an extent. But hey... listen to your heart.... "So where are you staying what are your plans?" "Don't know, I'm free to do whatever I want" "So your wingin it" "Not really, I have plans I just don't know how get to um" "Well you wanna crash on my couch?" "ya sure let's go" I start rambling on as we walk, because other-wise there wouldn't be as much conversation. She's not a very social/communicative being. And I just reminisce about my color-ful past, sharing with her. Besides, because I have problems with my pharynx. When I can talk I make everyone listen. Long story short. We went to sleep pretty much as soon as we got to her place, me on the couch her in her room and she was kind enough to lend me pijamas. I stayed awake and watched the twilight zone (on my laptop), I couldn't invite her to watch because she was really tired. And woke up at 7:30 to work the nights recordings out. Her room-mate though, was happy to see that she didn't have to be quite during the morning routine. I finished up mixing and we were supposed to go to a park in the morning and play guitar showing each other tunes. But she woke up at 10 and we made it to the park at 11:30, giving us only about a half an hour to progress with-in the world of fellow musicians. I would've woke her up, but I'm not pushy. She seemed to like the songs I showed her, the original material.. And to make things run smoothly, I took the liberty of offering my live backing tracks with the live stuff on top for her to review. I told her how I have to record the guitar bits and what-not to get her the full song, she told me about covering some song that night... we parted, as I don't do covers. I spent the last pennies off my card to get a ticket back home. And with the 30 minutes of waiting for the bus to leave, went to get a snack, the atm at the quicky marts only give out 20s and all other atms in America, apparently. And some shops don't take Romanian visas' :/ so no food. It's funny when your at the counter with a bag of chips and a soda and your cards declined . "Are you sure you can't pay for this" Asked the Indiana lady at the shop. "Ya, it's empty" She just stood there with a look as if to put a hex on me. Getting home in upstate. I took care of business, sent the email and got back to trucking and hooking up cables for djs. While feeling drained. Elizabeth didn't get back, or checked out the songs. For a week, things slowed down and I listened to everything from Junes competition. I pretty much slowed down a bit. As I figured out the truth. I'm moving at the pace of a humming bird! Now I understand that it might seem wrong to dismiss someone so quick. But I'm picky :) It's part of being comfortable and happy. And besides... I constantly had the impression that the whole thing would be a Yoko Uno Jon Lennon kinda deal. I hate the beatles. So I call Elizabeth after a week of sulking, and explain just how I can't work with someone this slow. It felt terrible! Of course that is how the month of June turned out. Lego, needs a band, and I told him that we have to find some drummers and that I know a few, he hasn't asked for any phone number yet. I could see Tony and Lego working great together. Tony, is great, can't wait to crash some jam sessions together. Red is July's project, and the goal is to get a paid gig doing some acoustic songs. There's alot of people I didn't mention, such as the crazy dude at chillfire productions, whom I'm trying to push in NYC for their wicked tracks. http://soundcloud.com/chillfire-productions There's East Roots (eastroots.ro), whom I'm trying to get some live shows over here in America for. And plenty of others :) In July so far I've picked up a magazine dedicated to the nyc scene, called the deli. http://national.thedelimagazine.com/homepage They talked about how engineers are expected to work for free in nyc. It talked about all the changes after the economy crashed. How places that had bands had to rent out the space for anything else but music to pay the bills. An interview with some local big shots talked about working a day job and than running a studio/bar/restuarant. I could understand, working a day job to keep the music going but....Having a restaurant and a bar and a studio and renting the place out? !!! That clearly states that music has been slain by the generation of lo-fi addicts. July, is the month music slows down for me, as I'm on vacation :) Expect to see me playing ukulele at your local hooters :beerbangX: The 'visit' had hidden motives as well, spiritual cleansing, recovering from a horrible relationship...That kind of stuff. This is a letter to that one person who almost 'fucked up' my life forever. A letter to a lost soul. Have you made your yuppy little way to the embassy yet? Or are you still exploring your sexuality (something most wo men take care of at the ripe age of 16-20). Now these are the things that are destined my present attenti on. 1. Im in a musical that performs on broad-way. 2. Producing 4 artists in NYC 3. Training to be a UFC fighter. 4. Driving 200 km per hour through pristine American back-ro ads and scweeling the tires off a beautiful black Mercedes (and if not a Merc.. a bea utiful x5 and soon a muscle car). 5. Loving my dog. 6. Hunting (I finally got myself my air pistol... there is a pi c of it on picasa if you care). 7. Spending lost time with my Dad. Eight. Collecting mushroo ms 9. Making new friends and finding old ones. 10. Being the best damn bassist in Up-state NY. 11. Organizing my "Back in America" party 12. Developing my piece of technology (next generation of mp 3 codec). And there are a-lot more important thing than sitting around the house all day drinking tea and wondering what the hell your vagina has been up too. Secondly. You do not know who my friends are. You only pretend to know anything about me. Thirdly. Your in a far-away land. And you will never come to Am erica. Grow up. Go to the embassy. Or shut up. Your wasting your time writing me these emails. Your lucky I have to cool-down after working out. Other-wise I wouldnt take the time to explain a damn thing to y ou women. Your also lucky I fixed my keyboard and enjoy writing more tha n anything else in the world. These words come out as fast as I can think them. I dictate with a voice out-loud and write. Stopping only to th ink of what else to say. Do you know how easy it was for me to leave ? I took one look at all the wasted potential around me and I turn ed my back on everything. If I stayed another year to be by your side. We would still argu e and fight. We would not get along ever. I would be in a depressive state of mind in-capable of doing gr eat things because some stupid woman does not know how to love some-one. Seriously..... Do you know how easy it is for you to leave? First step is to go to the embassy and apply for a visa.. Than to start ignoring people. Than you start spending more time with my Mom than you do with y our folks. You respect who they are and appreciate everything they do. Than once you finally integrated into my family. We will help you get a ticket to America. But... to do that you have to get my Mother to love you as she loves me. So that one day she will love both of us. After-wards when you arrive. Ill pick you up from the airport (smack you a couple times) and you will become part of my life again. This is what we call an infatuation. Or an erotic fantasy. Or a false hope. Or a Childish Romance. We wont ever be together again. And the best part. This time it s not because of me. I made (and used) an obstacle. Your dream (getting to NYC) to k eep you away from me. The one thing you desire the most is the one thing that will kee p you from seeing me. And every day I get a little feeling as if I miss you. I look around. I call my friends in NYC. I open my mouth and spea k English. I walk down to Wal-Mart and see fat bastards buying frozen foods. I l ook at the ingredients of food and see that they have corn syrup! I go to the local guitar shop and look at the cd collection amaz ed at the fact that there is not one cd with fucking manele on the raft ! Dealing with separation is so much easier for me. I know that y ou are too naive and less assertive of all that is around you. The small bubble of a dream that shelters you from the world as if a shell of iron gently blinds all the truths that could humble your heart. P.s. I am proud of how my novelist skills have prospected. Soon I will continue writing Brain Eye Lips and Finger-Tips. My one true love. Continuing the Log. :) The first this month. I still remember it. The vivid exuberance. The constant energy that drove count-less stimuli into my cerebellum cortex. That was my life. I realize now. So much of my time was always devoted to a life so rich and full! Every-place I went too had a story of how we haveth grow together. There was not one place where there was not a memory. So much of my time was occupied that shaving and getting a hair-cut became land-marks of special occasions. A relative getting married... a break-up... a new band...anything! My mind cracks at the sheer emptiness that occupies today. Faces of people whom I never imagined walk around. The dialog with them is always short-sided. As if they have stared at the sun for to long and do not see whom they are talking with. Whenever I do get the urge to talk to them. July starts off as a happy month. Full of prospect and joy! For the 3rd of this month my family heads out to a beautiful place. A typical hollywood reallife version of pleasantville a place named Lake-view. The 30 mile circle that composes the town was light well by the 12 o clock sun on our arrival. The lake just begged for us to come in and have fun. And the houses were spread apart circling the lake and each one high up on the hill-side surrounding the lake. We arrive at a beautiful home situated dead center. Their was a shack (a garage) right across the main homes garage. There was an above ground pool and a jacuzzi but most importantly there was a foose ball table. Here I drive a boat while enjoying a beer, swim in the lake (why else would it be called Lakeview) and get a startling reminder that life every-where can be harsh (after getting beat countlessly by our family friend at fooseball) . A little girl, innocent as can be gets half of her eye-brow (maybe I am exaggerating a bit) bit clean off by a horse fly. In an instant she is by my screaming in pain. Gone was the state of euphoric joy and the smile on her face. One blink of an eye. Bloody things... Of course we leave hours later. I won a good 10 bucks on the soccer game that day (Italy vs Spain... really Italy does not stand a chance, at the moment) from my father. And an invitation to show up the next day is open for us. We did not make it because well some people have to work on the fourth... and those people have jobs in the hospital because on the fourth plenty of people do silly things and end up in the hospital. Hell beer and fire-works should be a clear enough sign that the hospital is going to make some money that evening. What happens the next day is not such a big deal, a standard 4th of July surrounded by people from the country I so desperately wanted to get away from. But hey... their here in America, I should give them a chance and not be some stuck up ignorant fool. We hang out, I listen again to a horrible musical style called Populara (http://www.youtube.com/watch? v=oWHIPPbht9g&playnext=1&list=PL4142C22AC27C7267&feature=results_main) <- visit that if you dare... and yes that is a decent example.) What I herd though was a mix of that with traditional pop music of the 90s. If I would have spent another 2 years in Romania that was the music I would have began to produce. Because it is the only music people buy. So yes. I do not get drunk. I stopped drinking a long time ago (no no no not because I do not like to drink, it costs to bloody much in this country to get me drunk!). The host of the party does not allow me to shoot out Roman candles out of my hand, he considered them dangerous.....At least these people have more sense then me even if they been drinking ! And the most fun I had was hanging out with a young child. I would run-away and hide and he would try to find me....gosh that was fun. Leaving home I was dropped off by a fella who had been scorned in countless business ventures. Bogdan. He had his experience with opening up a night-club...he had his experience on the stock market... and he had his heart mended into a shattered existence. Now in his 30s he only really cares about working. I noticed...when entering his truck that it had that new car smell "Hey you just got the truck" "Every-one says that. I had it for 2 years now" The plastic wrap was still on the seats. The carpeting was impeccable and the bed of this pick up truck had a pool cover protecting the liner from damage. So we talked about how hauling weight affects the re-sell value of the truck and he explained to me that he has always took very good care of his truck. We had along with us another guy. But he was more positive when it came to an out-look of his move to America. "I am here and I am not there so thus I am happy". We dropped him off first after having the conversations about how Bogdan tried many things before getting into landscaping. He dropped me off and left me his business card (which was made by his brother). And I have not called him since I have not found the card.... The next few days (or maybe weeks) turn to blurs. Thanks to my step mother though their are some vague memories of shopping around at the mall and visiting star-bucks. Apart from staying at home and playing guitar, walking the dog, and waiting around for bureaucracy, the occasional 10 mile walk to the pool hall (I can not stand still for more than 12 hours my body begins to rot). I have come to the fare conclusion that I most move to any-where else in America. So I spent time with my friend Craig alot this month. Craig is a nice guy, he never says anything mean, most of the time he keeps his mouth shut. But Craig knows people. Visiting Craig, I checked all of his announcements. If you have nothing to do weeks at a time anything seems interesting. The first section I checked out of course was the musicians part of the community domain. Where I read and responded to every single post. If a band wanted a bassist "Hi guys, look I do not have a bass right now, but I know how to play um" or lf they were looking for a drummer "Howdy, I like to play drums"... and so on and so forth. Eventually a few got back to me. They are Angie, Dan, and Scot. I set up a meeting first with Scot. The plan is to meet a good 20 miles away from where I live and go together to the bands rehearsal spot, a good 60 miles away from where I live. He is looking for a drummer, I get down to the music shop right down the street. Strange how they moved to the bottom of the hill I reside on. Of course here in Broome county we do have buses. Not having a car will not keep me from getting the hell outta the house dammit ! The night before the plan is set. Wake up at 9 take the bus to downtown grab a snack to eat meet up with Scotty at around 11. Well... My mind works in mysterious ways and has a strange logic. That night a vivid dream of roller blading at incredible speeds occupies my mind. I wake to the thought " I HAVE TO DO THIS". The only roller-blades present in the house are the women blades...a good 2 sizes to small "You know what, I can handle it I am a man.". Google maps indicates the preferred route. A small hike through the woods than a straight road 20 miles long. Walking around through the woods searching for the road leads to some-ones house, the backyard....oh...ahm.... "go around and just show up in their drive-way, if they come out with a shot-gun just explain that your a lost musician, every-one likes musicians".... some people should not listen to the voice in-side their head. The drive-way felt as if walking naked in front of all the woman you would ever want to sleep with and attached to your genitals would be a tube of ice. Embarrassing, and kinda shame-full, I liked it. Getting to the road with so much anticipation. Every step felt as if freedom was getting closer and closer. Than...... I walked passed the last bush..... It was a big hill alright could not wait to pop my roller blades on. It was going up though so it would pop um off after the summit. I took my time to eat my peach as I slowly trotted up this bloody country road in the searing heat of the 12 o clock sun. It was fun on the way down. I got so scared about stopping that my shoes were popped on my hands for breaks...I would squat down and rub my hands on the asphalt with what I imagine was a look of sheer terror (though after the first 2 hills I got used to it) And than came another hill. The asphalt was splendid but the uphills were a b$%tch... and than another hill.... and another. It was not the one giant down-hill journey I dreamt of. After getting my head around the idea of terminal velocity (at the 3rd hill) I soon became an idiot with shoes on his hands on roller-blades trotting around at 30 mph down some country roads. Finally though, I arrive to the sign that says "Welcome to Binghamton" (7th hill). Right at the crossing line between Vestal and Binghamton the difference in cities can be seen. The asphalt from Vestal is smooth and soft. Where as the latter is old, tarnished, and full of pot-holes. Going down hill at a speed fast enough to drop tears out my eyes was not to fun either (it was fun before I hit the tarnished pavement of Binghamton though). As a man-hole cover was sticking out of the middle of the road waiting for some idiot on roller blades to trip over it (ya right). I knew the rest of the way was going to be a walk.... Arriving early gave me time to well.. Wait.. (I got good at waiting by now.) I ran down to hang out by the river (said "Hi" to what seemed like the local hobos on the way... now I am not judging but there was a grocery cart with some luggage laying hidden around the dudes. "Are you a drummer" they said to the fact that drum sticks where protruding from my bag "Nop just got them there to help pick up chicks). Scot came and we went down (in his mini-van) to the rehearsal hall, chatting along the way about where he did his bands recordings (basement audio) and the music industry here in upstate NY. There is not much to say about this. They wanted a drummer who would just keep a solid straight rythm (with no breaks) and I just could not stand still for a minute... But yes upon arrival to a beautiful little ranch surrounded by nothing but wood-lands. It felts as if true music could be made here. Suddenly memories of stories about all these great bands who started up in little "love shacks" arose to mind. Of course all these guys had families and jobs and were a good 10-20 years older than me....Gee... really ?? Walking into the room with-in a Room. A barn with an open door that led to a small little apartment with a wooden foundation that was suspended off the ground by a few wooden beams. The drum set sat at the end of this box. The ceiling tilted down at the drummers end, to the extent that is was not possible to stand. The drums were a pearl how-ever. With purdy Sabian b-eight gear (my favorite). The snare was a metal snare....something I have a hard time playing. But because of all the wood around, it was playable this time around. We get to jamming and the first song goes perfect. A complete improvisation that had me thinking (crap I do not want to join this band). The rest of the rehearsal than goes to us having fun and eventually playing a little football, I stole Scots whiskey, we left, we came back because I forgot my bag and my cell-phones, and we talked all the way back with a few of those "awkward" pauses between the dialog. Hey...today I got to roller blade and play drums, and walk through the woods! Scot of course drops me off at the music shop at the bottom of the hill I live on, I go in and play some more drums, and than with a few more minutes to spare before the shop closes start to walk back home. The next day I adopt the policy that they can call me. Luckily they still have not (though if they called I might be remembering them in a more positive perspective). Janice and Red have been also keeping in touch over emails and we finally got the time to set something up. That means I am going on another trip to NYC. This time around I have studio time booked at Astoria sound-works to meet up with the two singers. I planned everything for Saturday booking the studio a good 4 days in advance. And I was happy that the only thing that I was taking with me was my guitar. Booked my ticket on greyhound.com and soon got dropped off by me step-mom to fairy myself away from Vestal. We had a schedule of get to the studio at three get out at either 5 or 6... can not remember to well. Last time I went to this place... I can not even recall how the heck I found myself around but I got there! Red, arrives early (something not typical of many woman) and I remember that she is allowed in the lounge area only 5 minutes before I arrive. Usually... to get around with the subway in NYC I have to ask a good 10-20 people which way and walk around the terminal for a good 20-30 minutes, though taking a train in the wrong direction has not occurred yet......I find myself darting out of plenty of trains after examining the subway map conveniently located in the trains but not in the stations. This happens almost every-time I get on a train. People are nice though, they see me looking at the map, they move out of my view. And they keep to them-selves...always giving me plenty of room to sit. So yes. Arriving at Astoria soundworks second is me. Having planned some guitar parts for a lyrical composition of Reds the night before (I always do things the night before, why do it in advance and wait around). We hit our rehearsal room. First of all. It was gorgeous. And it smelled as if it were a musical hospital. Upon entering, Red was already set up. The sound guy took care of her. Even though she greeted me in the lobby (strange that she did not warm up her voice the whole time). So we walked together to the room. While I played what I had in mind for Red. She did not like two things. 1. The volume 2. The style. Which led to further pondering of "exactly what does she want to do?" Janice shows up when things get slightly dull. And me and her just turn this whole session of musical meet and greet straight into just that. Even if Janice does not know how to play drums she still picked up some sticks sat down and kept a groove... While Red sat quietly hunched in a chair reading a magazine. I felt a tad bit awkward as a rather old man having fun playing guitar because of her. It was not that bad, it was fun. The only down-side is me not being allowed to sing. Gosh... If it were healthy...these kinds of events would be so much more brilliant. I did.. force out house of the rising sun in my own bluesy way. They both listened so attentively the whole 7 minutes. Much respect for them not being in any sorts superficial...And the whole way through gave a wonderful performance of guitar dexterity, with implied hues of pain how-ever. Our time slowly expires and we leave our room. At this point Red is already a tad bit confused. While me and Janice where talking about gear and musicians and lyrics and etc. Arriving at the lobby, there was nobody to check us out. So I took myself a seat and focused on not coughing. Unaware to the potential drummer lurking in the hall. The man starts wailing away playing as brilliant as possible and running through thunderous fills and Janice and Red rush to have a look. Even I felt contempt to investigate who and what. But with the technique of show up late after the guy/gal starts playing usually after he/she makes a few mistakes and most importantly when they finish playing.. Noticing the pause of sound, I warrant my investigation the priority it needs to take action. Standing there, to my amazement was everyone and the drummer with great big smiles on their faces. Janice had began a discussion, breaking the ice, and making things that much easier. We talked for a good 10 minutes. And man... I wish I could remember his name. The only thing that stands out though was that at 40 some years old, he dressed just like the members of Avenged Sevenfold would (or me dieing bride and all them bands). Trendy little dude! Janice got his number of course, with the pretest of him to come and contribute to our band. As he is always open for any possibility of making music, a thing we seem to share. Leaving the rehearsal joint we chilled with Red till her ride came, both Janice and I trying to give her advice. "You have to spend time with a microphone to get comfortable with your voice" "I remember when I first started singing" "It is hard to improvise but it just comes once you feel the music just start off with skeet though or ab-lib" All sorts of advice gets thrown her way..... Than off we went to develop or next plans for music, which would start off with a game of pool ! As a relationship between musicians is very important to develop into a friend-ship. Hell. I do not like playing music with people I try to avoid. And further more since it is possible for me to have a very strict guide-line of standards. Unless I am at a friendly bias with some-one it would not even be considered to have any musical development. First and most promptly Janice had to stop by her place and take care of her dog (a beautiful joyful Doberman whom I played with for much longer than originally planned). Arriving there she shoved off her equipment, and I jammed on her guitars a little. She has a marvelous yellow epiphone strat which I always wonder "Did she get this from Eddie Van Halen?" She showed me some of her recordings and I got to review my recordings a bit on her system (while bashing some stuff off of recordingreview.com as well). Her system is not the best for listening to music as it has a very narrow bandwidth. The pool hall was a nice place to visit. A wide open space with tables spanning a space that reaches out a good 70 feet. Though old and under-kept. It was a good place where plenty of folks came down to when they wanted to relax. Janice- "Your not a hustler are you? My brother he always under-plays me and than at the end knocks um all in" Me- "ohh no no. I always play at the same level as my competition" Getting myself a beer I soon realized "hey I can play pool and enjoy my beer." The evening turned out nice. There was ping-pong too. Sadly for Janice...I beat her at both games. And yes. I am the ping-pong master. Arriving back to her place because she remembered a really cool song she did. Which now has been re-recorded and slightly changed (the only thing that stayed the same are the guitar licks). Weed Addiction We listened to that (only the original version not this one which is my reworked version). She was even nice enough to give me vodka. Now that made me happy, but sleepy and drop me off at the Atlantic Ave. Metro stop. But yes back to upstate New York I must go! My computer is there! And I have music to make (amongst other things). And because I like to do things also as quick as I can I got outta NYC pretty quick. I actually got to my laptop long before the email from Janice did. A few days pass as I build up the concentration needed and energy to re-create her song. My creative force is slowly resisting any-more pull from others, it may just be the lack of stimuli that feeds this creativity. Or it could be just a meditation required to use my sample library. In the mean-time my step-mother convinces me to look for some more places capable of helping me get my CDL license. And .. to my amazement I find a CDL school in Albany that offers a training course and a road-test for a good 600 bucks (a good 400 less that the option I had lined up of going to Michigan). I call them up and enroll. And take an online class which lasts about 4 hours about driving trucks. Though now I regret doing it so quick as it would have been smarter to span that course to last a good 2-3 weeks considering that they still did not sign me up for a road-test ! Of course after the meditation period is over, I write out the song structure and than mark and draw each section in the digital workstation. After-wards something remarkable happens. in 5 minutes I layer a good 5 tracks of drum samples to create the drum track required for the song. It is strange when you know exactly where every sound you want is and can just pull it up like that. I remember when I first started how hard it was for me to comprehend a straight 4-4 track. After-wards though, getting the perfect takes for the guitars was a little bit more challenging because of the task of creating new guitar rig presets to match the style needed. But that got taken care of in a few hours. And I enjoyed playing my guitar enough to create even more layers than originally planned. Finally came the bit about adding the bass-line, which in no way would shadow the guitar, I do not make music like that. So I composed a fun little do-hicky of a bass-line that fits real snug with everything (yea the bass is done on a guitar than post-processed one track is 12 tones lower and compressed and hi-cut to about 300 hertz and the other is distorted and belled at around 100-300 with-out having anything else in the sound). Having finished everything it was time to make this brute mix of tracks sound purdy. Which always takes the longest. Hell creating the right drum fill is an hour long process in itself. But it got taken care of, and sent out. The next little thing that was laying around was Lego. Since I already had the raw skeleton of this song done and the edited vocal it was only a matter of putting up the finishing touches (which took a good 7 hours). To finish the remix of his song. I am pleased with what I did even if there are some slight mistakes.... they are in there intentionally. Lego So now...Back to square one. Let us do nothing ! And I figured "Well the internet worked well for my cdl, see what it can turn up about boxing" Nothing. There is no fighting going on in Broome county. After some more errands we (the step-mother and I) had to do, and driving back. I was staring out the window with a depressed look. A sign stuck out "Power of one MMA" "Hey turn around ! Now ! I gotta see what is there !" " What now ?" "YES!" She turned around, and on the vestal park-way if you want to turn around you go all the way to the end of the "street", than drive all the way to the back of the road, than you can get to where you wanted to be. So yes. I dash out of the car, not believing what I found. A UFC licensed training center! Walking into the office. "Hi, do you guys do any sparring here?" "What no, and you have to be a member!" "Well I am looking to train for this sport" "Ya we can do that" A 5 minute discussion turn into a 30 minute sit down, where I did not even attain a membership. Getting back in the car "what happened ? they let you fight already? what took you so long?" "Well, they have a class now, and I am going to be walking home".... Because my folks here work the night shift, and get out at a good 5-6-7 in the morning... and I still have not got myself a car (first of all it is a bad idea for me to get a car, second of all I want a gto, a nice old one, everything else is a waste of my time). So I walk in order to not end up not getting a Gto (a purple one dammit !). Going back to the gym these guys let me sit in on the boxing class (I already had on my fighting clothes, strangely enough). Even though I did not break a sweat on the first night, the fact that they finally had a fighter win a championship and the over-all spirit of the win being present in the facility pursued me into making the decision of actually becoming a member. Besides it something I really want to do. Signing up. I go into the office after the session and hand over my credit-card to Dan. He tells me to pick out a shirt and some shorts. "Well Ill take this Burgundy one" "oh you mean the read one" "And I am going to need a mouth-gaurd but I want the normal shorts.. not the loose ones the proper ones" Filling out the paper-work I found a portion that asked for a rating of 1-10. 1. Are you doing this to keep in shape. 2. Are you doing this to loose weight. 3. Are you doing this for self-defense. 4. Are you doing this for confidence. 5. Are you doing this for competition. Everything got a 1 except number 5. I got some swag and a mouth guard just for signing up and the over-all feeling of being a member of this place was great after I signed the paper-work.. I walk back home propping the mouth-gaurd in as I jog up (happy that I got myself involved with some-thing I love). Riding my friend Victors bike down to the place the next day. And after me and him had a session of going over the mentality of Aikido (he practices it). And me teaching him how to hold some-one in a head-lock. I would come in to find out that these guys can keep up with my pace of training. Plus my training partner was a 6 foot tall 176 pound guy who spent a good 7 years practicing jiujitsu, and man did he have a strong right arm. Of course the instructor had us work on jab jab hook duck and reset position than come up and hook again. We trained at a fast enough pace that I actually over-heated. The second day in. The day of sparring ended with "Are you ok Alex" confidently coming from the owners (Dan) mouth "Yea.. its just hot in here". The next day, Dan (another Dan not the one from the gym) calls me to talk about the bassist position, I explained the fine details in the converstation we had and before I knew it I was biking out to meet him and Gene. This of course being a meeting set forth by my good friend Craig. They explained to me where to come, I looked up the address on google maps and got their in a giffy. Of course...I initially thought that it was going to be a calm relaxing stroll through the country side. Ya... wrong... Though the first 5 miles were on a straight and narrow. So came 2 hills. They were so plentiful and steep and long that I found myself riding the bicycle only to escape the flies that would gather around me after the first hill. At the half-way mark on the first hill I noticed some-ones sprinkler system was spraying water out on the street and rode my bike (and stopped) in the cool cool jets of water. Having reached the summit though a beautiful treat of a 4 mile long down-hill presented itself. All of the road was also in construction and there were dirt ramps all over the place which made everything worth while. The second one was just to much, but its ride down was even better. I felt all that fatigue from climbing those bloody hills go away, and biked the remaining 20 miles as if nothing happened (of course I still had to climb up hills). Getting with-in the area of where I had to be, because it was another hill, steeper than the other two. I walked. Not knowing where exactly Gene is, was not a problem because there was music resonating down the road. I just followed my ears. Which led to a beautiful property of land, where a boat was the first thing I seen. The music was originating from a cabin a good 40 feet from the home. The tune of an acoustic guitar with somebody singing could be heard. I walked in to a startled man. He hadnt herd any car pull up or anything. And I liked what I herd... and to be honest was excited that on the phone they mentioned that they are also trying out a girl for the position of guitar (whom turned out to be a woman with kids and a good 20 years older than me). This place is truly beautiful. A ranch with a garden of fruits and vegetables (because tomatoes are fruits) a boat parked by the entrance to a road which swops around to the front of the house a garage that floats on some cross beams converted into a studio and a few tall trees in a very large yard. Of course the plot was all up-hill. The first order of business was to get some dang-on water. As biking all this way really took a toll on my thirst-o-meter. I did have a good 20 bucks on me for drinks but dammit ! I could not find one shop on the way over. Walking into the studio was an experience as well. All the sound of wild-life surrounding the place quickly vanished into the wood and foam walling. Gene let me use one of his basses. This time around I used a solid 5 string Ibanez (he also has a 4 string washburn) because I would need the extra oumph it creates to stay in a very deep pocket in order to learn the songs. After Dan arrived we got to it pretty quick no sitting around just a few musicians making music. A thing to mention is that Dan has a strange way of playing the drums. He uses a blend of traditional stick holding with home-made drum-sticks (African based type not American) and a bewildered vibrance that will make just about any-one get up and dance. We had a good time. And soon the guitarist I mentioned was giving me a ride back to Vestal (she was heading that way any-whom). She mentioned some things about a few albums she released and a few places she has played in. And offered me plenty of good advice. She was going to bring me one of her cds at the next rehearsal but...she flaked on us. Arriving in Vestal she dropped me off exactly where I wanted to be at this nice little road in vestal called the rail trail (its basically a straight run through a bit of road that is parallel to the parkway and it has a swamp in it plus turtles on the road and well... trees and bushes all around). Hopping out of the truck I spot a Sub-way (the restaurant) card on the ground.... I pick it up un-load the bike and head out (after saying good-bye of course and thank you). On the road back I get myself in-to Sub-way to investigate the card and find out I just found myself a free foot long sub! Kinda thinking about it... I would like to thank the person who lost the card and his/her family and their boss and etc. Had no time to eat now though as I was really spent from all this bike riding. Arriving home. I check my email to find that Angie had sent me a reply. She has a musical called Peaches and Crime that she performs in. At the time of my first inquiry she was looking for a guitarist. Her email of course was " Hey.. cool stuff. I do not want to sound weird but could you send me a picture of yourself?" My first email consisted of solid recording of my guitar abilities Roman. I understood though. In a musical you have to be picky about whom you let on stage. We have a few more discussion and finally at the end of the month we meet up just to say "Hi" to each other and see if we can get along. We hang out in the park and strangely enough she is another example of a woman who is on time...and I was the one late... Dammit !!! The first order of business is to find a place in the park with some shade (since we both brought along our cars) and she under-stood the whole "there is no way I am leaving my car in the sun so that when I get back it will be worse than an oven" thing plus I had jimi rigged the car I was with to be capable of amplifying my guitar. We found our shade and we hung out in the back seat where I played guitar as she talked (I would occasionally reply and add to conversation). Her being rushed though did not help with giving me anything more to add. As soon as my car went from "go ahead and listen to the radio" mode to "dammit if you want music turn the engine on" mode. We split. I walked her to her car. Where I noticed a little antiwar bumber sticker and more importantly a hat ! Which led to another pleasing discussion about how her wardrobe girl is a genius and really pays attention to the important details of the wardrobes while also mentioning that the local opera will let "us" borrow gear. As we part ways the last bit of psychological maneuvering occurs to me. I am now in the car ahead of her. The speed limit in the park is 15 mph. Most people drive faster than that. How should I act?!!! Well... That went incredibly smooth I just drove at 15 and eventually took a right turn to explore the farmers market in the park letting her coast by before having time to "judge" my driving and compare it to that of an ....Asian woman (I am sorry Asian women). Arriving home everything goes well. Still waiting for my road test to get scheduled still waiting on plenty of things to happen. I started to work out her songs and record my guitar playing on top of the original material to Peaches and Crime (it helps me learn the songs) and on Sunday we had our first (short) rehearsal. I got to drive again but had to be home by 7.59 as my parents required both cars to go (and come back) from work. Arriving at 6 at the location Angie gave me. I called and she pointed out that the house at the intersection is the house we are rehearsing in. 2 other small but pleasing details about July are how my step-mother has taken the time to scrummage with me through every single article of food at Wegmans. We started at the bread section where she mentioned how bread in America has sugar... that Americans are addicted to sugar. The meat section we ignored as I have not touched a flame for quite awhile. In the fruits section the habit she has of smelling the fruits became apparent. "See this apricot. It has no smell because it is still frozen". Now back home in Romania we deal with very fresh fruits. Nothing is ever frozen (except the stuff at places like Mega-Image but they seem to have learned their lesson and sell a very small amount of fruit). We do not talk about potatoe crisps either as it is something I do not eat anymore (and have not eaten for the last 3 years).... but we did walk by and I remembered just how happy I was crunching away the raw grain of some doritos. Making our way to the yogurts and cheeses we talk about aspartan and how this place has every cheese you could ever want (we picked up some weird cheese that tasted like Carmel) and as far as sweats were concerned everything has corn syrup in it. Beans... sweetened... peas... corn syrup.. soda... hell even milk. I did find my place with-in the gargen of waste-fully produced food items and the things I eat are few. In Romania a meal was composed by going down to the local shop which imported fruits and vegetables on a weekly bases. These fruits would sit out until they started to rot (well not really rot but just not be edible anymore) so you had to get them fresh. When it came to meets there was the local Butcher shops. Which each received dead cows and pigs and cut them up them-selves at the shop (some places even killed the animals right their in front of you... now that is fresh meat). As for deli we had a few good deli shops. I loved getting myself fresh garlic along with big Russian potatoes..... The other small detail is the fact that there are more mushroom in the woods of America than in Romania. I go out and I hunt these mushrooms.... usually I used to seek out truffles but I found them this month! After searching for them for 3 years ! Taking the dog out for a walk I just stumbled upon them. The next day... I encountered plenty of species of mush-room. I usually take a taste out of each one as some of them can be remarkably tasteful. But never more than 3 grams gets consumed altogether. Once I found the eastern European death cap. A white innocent looking mushroom that upon further investigation led me to the fact that a mere 5 grams of this causes kidney failure. And severe damage to the liver. Most people die with-in a very pain-ful month. Though... it is risky to eat raw wild mushrooms. I follow a few basic rules. 1. Color. If it is white avoid it. If it is pink avoid it. If it is brown... be prepared to poop your pants. 2. Smell. Most of them do not give off any dissonant odor. But if a mushroom does smell displeasing do not eat it. 3. Texture. Make sure there are no holes in the stalk of the shroom. It means there are parasites growing in it. These may cause problems to your digestive track. 4. Taste. Taking a bite out and just chewing it is safer than ingesting it. But never take a bit of more than one "lung". Make sure it is a very small amount. After-wards see if it leaves any displeasing taste in your mouth. 5. Location. If it is growing off a tree. It is already poison. 6. 20 minutes later. I usually eat a bit and than wait 20 minutes later to see if there are any side-effects. 7. Never eat more than half. Even if the mushroom is good. Eat only half a cap. As you never know what your eating until you get documented. Apart from that though I am still seeking out those green and purple ones. Also the orange ones have always been good to me. I will find them soon though. As I have already found truffles ! The dog and I have started training. He has to loose weight to get to the standard beagle weight. And I have to be in great shape for MMA. I have found some time to record myself.... just to explore what I do and how I sound. Live at home Though the cough is keeping me down. (talk about a forced vacation). As a whole month. July would be darted with vague recollections of anything. It has been a very peaceful time of self preservation. It ends with me making rainbows. Soul-fully slowed. "Alright so I take a left here, and keep going up the road." "oh what a color-ful stage, Ill have to visit that on the way back." "Gotta find that cyber-cafe first.." "Ok, it should be around here." "Hmm that looks like a pretty street, its nice and quite. Ill park around there!" These are my thoughts as I am wondering the streets of Binghamton tonight. It is the last week of August. Tonight I slowly attempt to fall asleep. I made the mistake of eating a mushroom which did not do anything desired or expected. It was a pretty little thing, a white cap with blue insides....and a few little maggots (hope they do not turn into something else in my belly). A pretty blue goo of my favorite hue oozzzeedd out of the mushroom as I ripped it apart. Of course I did thoroughly wash it before hand...With apple vinegar. Giving the mushroom a taste which has to be swallowed rather than chewed. Luckily this saves from getting maggot in between my teeth. After 3-4 hours of digestion, the only thing that happened is a hurt in my head. A pain comparable to having marble slates, 50 kilograms heavy, pushing on all the sides of my human skull. This pain began as I was sitting, rather I was standing. As it is quite rude to sit at a concert, especially if one tends to sit motion-less, though in musical theater the audience is expected to sit. But it, the pain in the membrane, which was to displease me of all joy for the rest of the evening. Today was also,harsh, due to a crude reality of the town I am currently stuck in.... Instead of some fully cultured town with respectful in-habitats. Instead of a full night-life with vibrant stories, instead of well all the glamor of a place such as Los Angelos... Here there is a street. Called the Vestal park-way. This "street" leads to the many wonders of the location, there are a few other streets that lead to the places of interest such as main street, and of course the high-way. Mostly the area is a scattered bunch of strip malls and a few dinners. .................................Is not that just dandy ??? I will admit 2 things about this town. The first is that it is a really quite place to live in, the second is that if you like the wood-lands if you like having a house on top of a hill surrounded by forests and prairie, if you are the type that likes to wake up every morning and see the sun-light hit the rye.... This might just be a place for you to call home, though you will have to deal with a rather crowded neighborhood. Acres upon acres of wood-lands are always some-ones back-yard. Whose home is always with-in breathing distance of your back-yard. Yes there are places where it is miles on end of forest, but you have to learn how to avoid the residentials. Some-one also had the wise idea to develop a college here. The college itself is renowned for the cheap price and "ivy league" social structure. Though in this ivy league a Honda civic is a Lamborghini and a Mercedes Benz is a Bentley. A very raw kind of ivy league, where even the language and dialect is as develop as a 2 day old cocoon. Even if I had not experience much of it, I remember from the few years I spent in the areas schools. Today I feel like I have been caught in purgatory or perhaps in the twilight-zone. Endicott is the town claimed to be of child-hood youth for the famous writer of the series, so the inspiration for such lavish tales can be traced back to this abstract area of New York. Spending a few days here... for some.... a few months. Will un-doubtfully un-skew reality and perspective. As here days equal weeks. Time is rather blunt and long. And most importantly you will see things from a microscopic view of society, the whole bit of society will fit in a 30 mile radius, as a whole. There is a place, where I have visited which looks just like Beverly Hills.... Only the view is not of the ocean and the sea and the sand. But of downtown Binghamton (Laguna Drive of Endicott). Than going down the hill of the snobby noses. You end up in downtown Endicott. This place seems to me as what I envision New Orleans after a disaster and an economic stand-still and a few strikes (go towards the river on google maps). Now than, the positive aspects of life here. A few locations have been brought to my attention this month, in particular a local pub called "The Beagle" and a cafe known as "The cyber-cafe". The first, caught my attention via a pretty poster in one of the 3 local music shops around town (yes the place is that small that there are only 3). The poster, it stated "open mic night 2eighth of August". I saw the poster and thought "well...I do have to have at least one live show a month...and I did cheat last month so I might as well go...no matter how bad it is". Of course like all things around in this town. It was not the day that I saw the poster that it would be open mic night. It was 2 days after. I sat around waiting. The family just moved to a new house and we have no internet. I also am not the kind of person to just walk up to my neighbors house and say, "Howdy do, neighbor! I just moved in to the house next to ya, mind if I oogle your daughter and annoy you with boring conversation? And can I borrow your lawn-mower? And your wife?" Most of my attention now has been re-routed to the dog...so I be walking through the forest with a beagle watching him sniff things. Mean-while wondering to myself why the hell does the New York state D.M.V. take a decade to schedule a road test. Ya sure... I got to go hunting. I got myself a chipmunk. It was a very decent shot. If using a cross-man classic pump pistol. On 10 pumps, which give you 600 fps of velocity on a pellet the size of a hair strand. Considering the chipmunk was a good 40 feet away, nestled between branches and twigs. And most importantly considering the use of iron-sites. It was a fucking great shot!. Of course...I hit the chipmunk where I always hit um. Right square in the spine. The poor little guy lost control of his back legs and started to squirm on the ground in pain. Though not making any sound, as I sprinted towards the animal to end its suffer (yea caused by me). I pumped my gun up to 7 pumps as fast as I could. The furry adolescent squirrel had a hole in his back, what looked like an organ was sticking out with a dark red blood. Mind you the thick fur on his back aided in covering up most of the wound, but his spine and lung were shot. Now I always put the gun barrel to the head of the animal to make sure it dies and does not sit around in pain and agony, and I never hesitate or watch the animal suffer. The idea is to kill as fast as possible. Though I usually use the gun for shooting bottles. Today became an exception. I brought over the dead chipmunk to the dog. Because he has not seen one, or tasted one for years. And what does the dog do? He ignores the kill. Takes the chipmunk in his mouth once, gets with-drawn by the taste of blood, and ignores what I have brought, worse... the poor thing died in vain! So will I be killing any-more chipmunks ? Only if there is an out-break of them, as they are not that big of a rodent issue, or even an annoyance. August 2eighth rolls around and I bust out the door at a good 7.30 pm. I got my directions clear on how to get to the beagle. I got my guitar in the back-seat and I roll out the drive-way, thank you Vic for lending me the car a bit. Enthusiastic mind you as I have been sitting around the home for a good 2 months now, if death was to come visit I would greet it with a hug and kiss! The drive over was bland at best. The weather today left a cool damp wetness on the roads. I missed an exits going down the highway and had to drive twice as much just to turn around and come back. The second coming of that same strip of high-way, I making sure too not miss the exit, my phone was in my left hand as a gps....just to make sure of not taking any more wrong turns. Taking the off ramp led to a round-about which has 4 exits, 2 to the residential parts of Binghamton, 2 back to the high-way. I took the first one and wound up in a residential neighbor-hood driving towards the beagle almost running over a black cat with-in the first few turns of the homes. But I left it to cross my path or go back. Luckily it did not cross. Arriving at the bar, after a good 10 minute drive. I park right next to the park (all with-in a good walking distance, to make sure I get my blood flowing or in case I pick up a girl...I mean make a new friend, to have room for more conversation, also to scope out the place, get an idea of any locals that may have wandered out-side intentionally or un-intentionally) across the street from the "joint". So I stroll in. Pretending to be invisible. I take in the sights. A foose ball table at the far far end of the place, and 2 billiards tables of decent up-keep closer in, 2 darts boards that were in a tight space with not enough throwing distance, and no-stage...or rather no room for a stage.Coming back towards the front of the place there is a strange hall-way the size of a dresser in length and just as wide with 3 steps. This divides the local into 2 sections now. As if it was not small enough. There are a good 5 tables in the back and a good 3 in the front, with bar-stools clogging up the walking room for any-one that is not a mouse. "This is where you want me to play ! You bastard !!" My left arm starts screaming at me as I walk up to the bar-keep, a rather cute lil blonde, whom plenty of clients come in to just chat with, I imagine. Though if I would imagine why people come in....it would be a much happier world. I see from the glow in her eyes that she has allotted me her attention, and if I waited any-more she would either stare or ask in a rude tone "May I help you?" As she was just having a boring discussion with the man in front of her. "I have two little questions for ya". "Ya sure, what is it?" Now that she said what is it...I could have asked anything from "what bra cup are ya" to "do you find me attractive" to "what is the most repulsive thing you have ever done, and did you enjoy it".... but I am not that kind of guy... maybe after a few drinks and maybe when I am out with friends, but just maybe, not surely. The most dominant reason for not striking up a rather raunchy conversation was the lack of atmosphere. It felt as if the pub was on the moon. "Do you know anything about a darts champion-ship?" "Well we have a dart league that comes in every now and than, ....and a few more words of small talk I had not the patience for. "And there is no open mic tonight, huh?" I tried to condone a very sad tone, even bobbed my head down and avoided her gaze for a moment. "Well no artists showed up, he wanted to post up in the news-paper but didnt get around to it" "I came down to play a few songs, ya know, artists do show up" Trying to add a positive innuendo to the conversation. "Well hes around here some-where, he was just out-side, he does this alot .... he ... he ... he...." Well she has been around here for some-time and is starting to get rather naive about things. I could have asked who is he, but it would be best to impose that there is some kind of virus with the place and it needs "healing". "Ya maybe next month, I see you guys did not set up anything but I am definitely coming in for darts and foose-ball though". I left the place, a little displeased. The conversation with the bar-maid also left me rather cross-eyed. On the way to the car, I felt idiotic for not bringing along my darts...I could have sat down and drank me a cider, even if 5 bucks was the last bit of cash I had. Further-more that was the perfect timing to strike up a conversation with that girl. It was a night of failure in a sense, and it would have raised inquiry to "whom is this artist that came to open mic night and we haveth not delivered on our boasts?!". Than the ball would have been in my court, but that is just a possibility of what could have happened if I brought my darts, it is also the type of situation I most often have to deal with. I get home and I practice throwing the ole shark tooths (darts with springy tips are called hammer heads) just to make sure I am accustomed to the new darts. I am using (I left mine in Romania as I traveled with no luggage and just a carry one...imagine explaining that to customs, "Ya these are my darts, you know it is a sport" "Sir these are weapons ! Spread your cheeks and hold your breathe!"...but just the fact that air-crap security would take um away was enough). After-which I spend the rest of my night finishing up "Wicked diction" a song of Janices. At this point all that was left to do was ride the vocals, automate a few kick drum volume swells, add some backing vocals (phantom vocals in this case) and level everything (and also move a few mangled samples to the right place). I could have slept on the couch but than my step-mom would have woke me up to bitch about it...and I would rather not hear it. So at 2 in the morning I trot off to bed, sleeping to just about 9 in the morning waking up to the thought of "why did the sun rise, does he not know that I have been frozen in time". Today, I planned to go visit the forests around the house, with-out the dog. My air-pistol and camera my only 2 companions. The first order of business... Grab the axe and clear a path (well...swing at some twigs and cut um down). Than wander around the woods figuring out where we moved to and what is around us. After walking through high-grass lands, and patting down a good acre of grass, I found myself surrounded by homes and in 5 different people back-yard at the same time. "So there aint much woods this way huh... should have tried the woods across the street.". I took plenty of pictures of mush-rooms, and a few of what I thought were truffles but had a clay-ish inside of which tasted like dirt. I also did shoot a few butter-flies but that was not with the pistol. I go home to eat some sausage. The cyber-cafe (cybercafewest.com) has posted on their web-site that tonight there are going to be "monkeys typing". So I figured.. I have a vehicle at my disposal. I have gas-o-line. Why should I waste a decent opportunity to not sit around and wait for the frikking DMV!!! The cyber-cafe was on the same route as the beagle. Just that the road was shorter. I make it to the area in question, noticing the pretty lights of another stage I desire to visit tonight, and I park far away enough to get me with-in strolling distance of my newly found hunting grounds. Of course. I had to eat first, as the sausage was lunch and at a good 12 o clock. It is now 7.40 as I walk into Nirchies pizza to enjoy a slice of American delicacy (the advantage of parking far away and taking a stroll). If pizza was a woman, the pizza they make here would please many, many men, and it would make a fine wife as well. Hitting the road again, and holding the door open for one guy who bought the largest pizza they had (huge thing!! they do not even make television sets that big!) and entering the cyber-cafe at the suggested time of the performance. I have noticed that sound-check was still occurring. When I said that days equals weeks here. Minutes equal hours as well. Now, I have had the occasion of ordering an alcoholic beverage in places and receiving it with-out the need for I.D. This bar on the other hand, denied my request for cider, and the 20 minute walk back to the the vehicle had to be partaken again....just because the license was left in the car on the sun-blinder. Of course the band was still doing sound-check. And why the hell would I want to hang around for sound-check. My initial plan of being fashionably late worked fine, but they were also being fashionably late. Good thing! I arrive after 10 minutes of walking. After 10 minutes of hearing different conversations from different sources out on the street. Before hand I wanted to visit a little shop next door. No reason why, just it was a shop on the way to a spot. Though, soon I found out why I entered the shop, it was to pick up a rock...for a dollar. The rock in question is "eye of the tiger" (its a rock for strength). The cute little girly working at the shop led me towards my request, only to point at the wrong rock. Luckily for me. I know what I want. Though I got my rock and got out, tried to start a conversation about why the hell they were open this late, but it seemed the words "Why are you guys open this late" were ignored, along with the long hours she worked. I do know plenty of people that lose track of time when they get employed and literally stay in till the jobs done, but I also know people who leave at 5.30 on the dot. Arriving in the cyber-cafe again. The place got crowded. And I discovered that the little velvet rope leading from the entrance of the pub parallel to the bar was not just a rope meant to irritate people, it was actually the line for the bar ! Can you imagine. Going in-to a bar that has a line !! To buy drinks!! How can some-one be that orderly !! It felt like a bar in communist Russia during the height of communist rule! But it was funny to see people crowded in line waiting for a drink inching every few seconds, some trying to act cool but all of them inching. I took the opportunity to wander around the "cafe" as they call it rather than wait in line. Doing a thorough investigation of the sound equipment. And noticing that just because the speakers are sub-par. The rest of the equipment should not even be consider for investigation, besides tonight was about enjoying a night out not anything else. Now I made my way to the back of the bar or cafe as they call it.... following the trenches of hall-way which lead to game room! Now...it might be smaller than an average 7-11 bath-room. But all the tabloid cut-outs of articles regarding chess, and even a play by play index of some popular games, pleases the eye. The chess pieces are plastic. The boards are paper. But than again, a respectable chess player has his own set, in his mind. Moving from the game room there was one door which led to the stage ! Ha ! It felt like when Dorthy discovered the door to the wizard! Only the wizard was a poor man.... and another door which leads to a terrace, where people smoke all kinds of things on (mostly cigarettes). Walking back though, filling my eye with the shroud view of the locals. Paying close attention to there clothes and their faces. I can say I remember some of the people there, but the locals are for you yourself to come and visit... if you dare. Arriving back next to the bar there was just one more person in the que. So I looked at the front of the bar, which was the true cafe area. A small but bigger than that game room area, which is dedicated to sitting down drinking a coffee and hopping on a computer (preferably a laptop). It was also a room with-in a room and had a view. A view of down-town Binghamton....that probably is what sells the coffee though. Passing between these 2 areas there was the lounge, and the lounge contains the stage. But the whole location is destroyed by our old good friend mister "stilp". There is a column. Dead. Center. Now...when most artists are on stage. They should look at their public. Or at least gaze into the distance as if to be imaging the story they tell with their song. Here you would look dead center into a column. There is a table in front of it, but more comically there is a table behind it. Why the hell!!!!would you put a table behind a pillar, when that table is supposed to look at the frikking stage. This says a great deal about the mentality of those who run the place. It also says that it is not a home to music, it is more of a play-ground. The guy gets his drink, I get my cider. Angry orchid. The band begins to play. They start to sing... they do not move. All the members of the band are looking dead on at their fret-boards. The drummer himself is looking dead on at his snare. Everyone is motion-less as they look dead on at the stage. The lights for the show are truly amazing. It was not anything that I was expecting! The band got soaked in Red... and Blue...and Green.... the strobes flashed vibrantly the colors of the rain-bow. The lasers !!! The lasers !! they drew figures through the darkness.... Sadly the sound sucked. In a room the size of a human palm. Why the hell would any-one mic the over-heads on the drums. Further-more. If you have a loud-speakers that are not going to be capable of delivering guitar tone at its best. Why would you keep the guitar amps quite and far far away from seeping sound into the public. It could be a phase issue, but with the slightest of tinkerings it could be fixed, whatever it is...not my concern. I payed my dues. I gave the band a cool donation of 5 bucks. That is 1 dollar for each member. Now it felt wrong doing it. They did deserve it. But I have rules. I finished my cider, in a rather hurry. And began walking towards the beautiful colorful stage I seen. My head has begun to throb from the mushrooms, yet no psychedelic effect of any kind was going on. I arrive at the stage in question to see a few people walking away. And to hear absolutely nothing!! Gee....yay....deep down inside the feeling that the concert was over arose. But I still kept on walking towards that stage. I walk first along side the building that housed this outdoor event. A tarnished building, that looked as if it had gone threw 4 world-wars and a famine. White with cracking walls, and a residence above it. Now if you have a bar, and you build a home to let above it. That means that you do not give a damn about the bar, and just want to make some damn money. I walk through the parking lot, to a set of pvc gates. To see a bunch of guys cleaning up the stage. It was 10 pm. I have had enough of the bad vibes. I headed home. Who cares about the people I noticed along the road.... my head felt as if I needed to get to a hospital. And so is tonight. Usually, I keep myself busy. This month I have fallen in love with the city of Albany. Because I am getting my class A cdl license to help make money for my gto and future wife and family.... A visit to Albany was necessary. There is a school there that takes care of getting people a commercial license. I was scheduled to come in the week before this one. Originally on the 13th, but because I confused my dates, I believed everything was happening on the 14th. Well, apon calling the school at a good 2 pm on the 13th. Lee from the school asked me. "Well didnt you get picked up this morning?" To which I calmly replied. "Wasnt I scheduled for tomorrow?" "No you were supposed to be in you hotel last night." "Oh...crap...." "I think we might have to re-schedule things." "Can you get here by 4?" "Gimme 5 minutes Ill call you back". Than I realized it was 2 and no-way of getting to Albany in 2 hours...well unless I drove at over 150mph. Not something legal. It would have been really nice to leave for Albany on the 13th but....I made a mistake. I got cocky and had to wait around another week. The good thing was that the family received tickets to an out-door golf event. Dicks sporting goods as it turns out hosts a festival every year in the area bringing in big bands and letting people walk around a golf course with beers, sounds decent. This year they have a band called train. Now they had that one really nice song with drops of Jupiter....Well anyways I do not know them or the crowd the bring over, Victor or good family friend is going to be there as well so I snag a bottle of whiskey to share with him when he arrives. Now in Romania when we go to festival we have security man search bag. Here after care-full preparations and diligently packing the whiskey into a note-book and setting that in my bag as to seem empty to an eye inspection and for me to pass off as a college student with a notebook...After getting dropped off and packing a rain coat in to make things even more conspicuous. And after making sure my ticket is at the ready to avoid suspicion. I am greeted by an elderly lady. Will she be searching my bag hoping to snag some whiskey from me ? Do not think so. The concert area was crowded and I imminently made myself acquainted with the surrounding and where every beer stand was. Though big in theory the area got summed up as. Lobby area with mini-stage and all the beer. Path to go on Romantic stroll. Path to bathrooms, should avoid. Path to center stage. The big stage was right next to the lobby, I found out after walking around the whole course. And the wine was better than the beer I found out after I got me a beer. Now it was a decent crowd of people, you had the employees of Dicks with the closed of gated "employees only" section. And everyone else. The first thing I noticed where 2 panthers. Pretty little brunet ladies, fit and well...sexy. I was walking around and they were asking for direction as I walked by. Well, I changed my course and set an en-route interception. I would hook around the pathived path and meet them at the end of their path through the grass lands. Sadly, they went straight to the bathrooms. As I kept walking the path I had been fooled on. It was not bad, good clean air, beautiful land-scape. Arriving at the stage with half a cup of wine left, I sat straight dead center. The area next to the stage was closed off at the time, as the organizers had to place boxes in which people would throw their trash in. Another thing you will never see in Romania! So while I stayed my bay, by a big white ash tree watching the sound guys set up and watching the boxes get placed, and watching people take their seats.....People brought lawn-chairs over, other brought blankets. It was fun stepping over them, to bad shorts and no undies was my attire. Though, I waited here hoping the panthers would stalk this land, nothing. The few other gazelles that passed by did not ponder my attention, if any. I can not say I remember how it happened. But the fence got taken down, as I was going to walk around it, and people just marched straight towards the stage. At one point, myself was stuck on the left of the stage, but one guy with a bottle of vodka trying to get to his friends led the way to center stage. Rule of thumb at concerts, a snake can get through the crowd much better than a worm...So follow people. It all started off when another band set-up a mini stage on the stage, just rolled up a drum set and a bunch of cabinets right next to the ones already there, and started playing. It was really nice band. I really liked them. Until that one moment. I still remember it. This one girl singer, very southern. Had formed a very nice little band. She had a guitarist along that looked just like Derek Trucks, he just did not play as well. The drummer looked like Kane from the movie Year one, with the same energy, his face would just light up various facial expressions as he would play. The bassist looked like your typical big round punk bassist. Now the moment I mentioned was when a string broke on the girlies guitar. The sound guy muted her, and she palm muted the guitar instead of doing what good ol Johnny Cash used to do (swing his guitar over his back and focus on singing the damn song). Soon a techie came out and handed her another guitar...ok fine... A few songs later it happened again on an another guitar. An electric guitar. She did the same thing. Now any self respecting punk musician would just break the damn thing....but not her..... she seemed to have been domesticated. They ended the show with a 30 second drum solo, and mentioning that the drummer was from right here in Endicott. The drummer kissed the mayors wife dead on the lips as the couple came to congratulate the accomplished musician. Than train came on stage. I the moments of silence I made myself acquainted with the peeps around me. A bunch of under-age kids, a bunch of Moms... The concert rolls around, I let the people behind me in front, which happen to be girls and now I am surrounded by woman.....At a train concert. I pour myself a bit of whiskey and the girl who saw me gets a wink of the eye as I give her the hush gesture. The band finally began to play ..... I thought to myself. I must get out of here ! It was no-where near anything as funky as raw or as bluesy as I expected it. It was hard-core death pop with grind-song mixed in there ! Bloody hell! Well one of the moms, whom I befriended started yelling at some kid. Apparently the kid was "drunk" and moving around to much, I offered to sit between um as a buffer. "Your drunk too.. Im going to get security !" Now that is all fine and dandy but now I would have to deal with a bunch of angry rednecks !? I ran... made my way through the crowd, and people were very pleased to see me trot out. This of course was after the second half of the show began. Yay.... I made it out, and called my friend Victor. We had been texting. I told him I was center stage, he told me to wait there he will make it. Right.... He did not make it. And we did not meet up, either we both have been drinking to much or it was to loud. I get out of there, quick! I notice they were selling shirts for 50 dollars! I panic (well not really). On the road out a few more kids pop up on the road (after I stumbled into an out-door garage to take a whiz it seemed they caught up from behind me). Offering them whiskey they turned it down..... Now in Romania when stranger comes up to you with bottle of whiskey you drink, I guess this country is different or it could just be the town. I gave my step-mom a sms about how the concerts over and I am heading out. She responds right off the bat, I guess she was at home doing nothing at all. I tell her to pick me up further down the road at a pizzeria, as I also walked into a store to get some food. A pop-tart... We get home and she has the idea to take me out on the town. Now I know why she would do this, but I go along with it....It is not nice to say no. We head home to change, and for me to leave my whiskey. She gets dressed in a rather tight leather skirt, with black shoes and a black top, though a little bulky she knows good clothes when she sees them. I just pop on some jeans and a button up shirt, and slick my hair a little. We arrive at some bar in Binghamton, where you can feel the life draining out of you. She drove extremely heck-tick on the way, probably hoping to have an accident or something. I also remember her telling me to quite down as I was talking to loud...... I explained to her, that because of the condition of my throat, when a moment comes along when the slight irritation that is constantly present goes away, I like to use my throat. Anyways in the bar we both wonder around the first floor, her looking for people and me looking at people. She ran into one of her friends whom she mentioned is a chiropractor, and leaves me to strike a discussion with him, while she goes to get me something to drink...and probably put something in my drink. Well, she gets back, I get my drink and I go to wonder the bar again. Going up-stairs and finding a pool table with 2 guys. The rest of the place was empty. I watched the 2 guys play and complimented them on their skill. Than I went down-stairs to deem my attention the the right of kin. She suggested we go visit another place, and that we did. A nice little bar with 2 pretty ladies and 12 guys. We sat down right next to the ladies, for some reason none of the other guys bothered them. I gotz me a tequila, than another tequila because the girlies next to me were celebrating something and than another because my step-mom felt obligated to pay the bar-keep back....eh whatever. We did not stay long as she was getting tired and we went up the street and across it to a place that had a rave party kinda theme. Well I grabbed a glow-stick and started being an idiot in tight pants. Getting home I head off to sleep, my head started to hurt again, it always happens when something toxic is ingested. Now...I know how much I drank, and I also know how much I do drink, and it takes over 12 shots of tequila, and over a bottle of whiskey to get me to the point where I throw up. But, everything turned blurry. I struggled to regain consciousness, the first time around I just needed water, and instead through up in the sink. Well good, I threw up now I can sleep. Waking from a slumber, just slightly enough to throw up in the right place saved me from going out that night. I remember that and trying desperately not to make a sound ... all out of pride. Oh and that I opened the windows before going back to bed to make sure it would not stink.... Even though I am sure I was poisoned. The next day I woke up as if an anesthetic was used on me. And cleaned up all the vomit.... well drops of stomach acid really. But...the one thing that sucked more than anything else was a bit of gum that melted into the carpet. For hours I stayed there with a pair of scissors scrapping the gum out. That is why I do not eat gum any-more. The house being on the market also helped imply the significance of removing the gum from the carpet. Ahhh heck, I did such a good job cleaning up the vomit my step-mother could not complain about a thing...and boy she was begging for it. The next week rolls around, I got dropped of by my pops at the local "Get the hell outta town" bus terminal, and did just that. I spent a few moments wondering about a cute girl on the bus, I noticed a book about drawing magma in her bag as we waited in line (she was in front of me), that got my attention. But...she sat right next to the bathroom, on a bus that was completely empty. The whole 4 hours into Albany she sat in one place not even laying out to sleep....Hell I got off the bus a few times to stretch my legs but this girl was really .... starting to scare me. Maybe she was on the bus with a bomb strapped on?! I started coming with notions of mental disorders and trying to convince myself there was not a thing wrong with her....in the end I left her alone and forgot she was on the bus. On the road I got to listen to the new album by Eminem, this time around he is talking about how Eminem backwards spells mini-me (menyme), (think about it) and how all rappers today are just that. How he blew up the challenger with a bunch of c4 and mainly showing off his skills as a rapper. Ya, he is still amazing. Along the way, the bus stopped at a most notable location. The university of New York at Albany. (Looks like I have to take a picture of it...) The place is worth checking out, it is a beautiful school! The bus gets to Albany at 2 P.m. I left at 11. I used my phone to get a barring on my location and where I was headed. The problem was that my phones gps took a good 30 minutes to understand that I left Binghamton and was some-place else. So I walked in a direction I thought was good. The magma cutey ran off to her mommy (literally). I walked by another University in Albany, and wound up in downtown Albany. Which is an up-hill kind of neighbor-hood. The further you walk down the road the less steep the hill gets. Though the town first gave me the impression of deja-vu. It felt like a town in Romania (Iasi), so I took the same set of footsteps that I did in that town. This led to a local shop, where I got me some chips and finally the gps kicked in. I was headed in the right direction ! And only had another 2 miles to walk. Well I figured I would walk half a mile eating my chips. Than I would get a drink and walk another half a mile. And than I would listen to music and walk another mile. So I kept walking and munching. Taking in the pleasantries of Albany. They have a very nice performing arts center there, with big names in music coming by. http://www.theegg.org/events Steve Vai is going to be there on the 9th! The crisps get finished and another store shows its self to me, I grab a drink and keep on walking. My walk involved crossing a high-way and trotting along an industrial area as well. I popped my headphones back on and started walking after I finished drinking. 15 pounds on my back. Scorching heat. And a big hill and a long road. Now, the last time I went to the MMA gym, I over heated, so I kept my rain coat on as I struggled to keep at a cool temperature. The 15 pounds was my lap-top and audio card, it was also the weight of my documents and spare clothes, tooth brush and "soap". For the 2 days I would be in Albany. 2 days baby !!! Play this in a tab This time around I was listening to "Death to false metal" a pretty neat album by Weezer but, a bit to repetitiv. Walking up the road from Albany to Loudonville, I felt worried that one of the passing cars might hit me. Though I stay on the side of the road where cars come from in front of me and not behind, it is still my first concern when-ever I walk down any road. "Is some drunk asshole gonna run me down?!" Once I saw the sign for Loudonville, which stated. "Welcome to Loudonville rated Americas safetyest town in 2009 and 2011" It was as if angels rested on my shoulders and shielded me from harm. Though the idea of breaking into a few homes to diminish their chances at being Americas safetyest town this year too crossed my mind. And every house I saw along the way...just said "Come rape me, it will be hilarious". I imagined all the town folk would chase me around with pitch-forks screaming "You bastard we were going to be the safest town in America!" while other screaming "You traitor !!! Your not even black!" On the road I noticed a few people staring at me, and plenty others avoided me altogether with their cars. Secretly I kept hoping one of um would pull up and it would be a cute curious girl, but not all your wishes come true. After walking by a billboard on the side of the road which was lit from the bottom up, because well lighting it from the top down is pointless people are going to see the bottom first and barely see the top. So after walking by that billboard I walked by a church built over 100 years ago, with a plak stating whom lived there and what they did. Some president of America... After all this some-one pulled up across the street from me. As I was at the cross walk his right turn signal indicated where his Ferrari was going. Romania is a poor country. The experience of living there can tourment a soul for life. In that very moment I felt so good to be in America, knowing that no-one around is thinking..."Ya he has a Ferrari but the roads here make driving it point-less" HA !! HA !! YES!!! Here the roads make driving that beast of a car that much better !!! Screw you Romania ! So ya I kept walking and got to a strip-mall (screw you America!). And figured, "I should walk by these places and see what kind of businesses are here" Of course....I found my favorite kind of food shop, do not call it Mexican call it Spanish. The business hours were from 9 a.m. till 20 minutes from now. "Well now, I can not go check into the hotel than come back, the place will be closed. MUST GET MY BURRITO!!" Walking in, the clerk does not even give me enough time to look at the menu before asking. "What can I get you". "Hmm,well, I will have a burrito please." "What do you want on it". The place was set up just like an assembly line. Walking in you see the tortilla shells processing center (where they get heated) moving along the strip where the meat gets heated, than the hundred of aluminum buckets with all kinds of fillers! Quacomoly, 10 different peppers tomatoes salsa, sour cream, everything any-one could desire. Over-whelmed by the choices, I tell the clerk to make it how he likes it, but with beef. That way, I do not have to worry about a thing, just get my burrito and get out. He did ask a few questions along the way of assembling this piece of food. "Pickles?" "ooo no thanks I hate those" "Onions?" "yes please" "Black eyed peas?" "No I like Brown eyed peas, they play industrial metal" Moving on to the counter a decision has to made. To get the sauce for whimps or the sauce for men. That is the way they label it. Of course...I ask the guy. "What is in these" "Well the one for whimps has habeneros, the one for men has ghost peppers" "Ghost peppers? How the did you guys get ghost peppers, from where?!" "The market" "Around here, where ?!" "No the owner goes to a market in (I forgot where but far away)." "Well ok...I am pretty hungry so ghost peppers are gonna spoil my food, gimme the whimpy sauce". "Good choice, my friends tried it and they did not leave the house for a week" Taking the burrito and walking out the door was a feat of accomplishment. For here now was a man, a completed man, walking to his hotel room to get himself a job, but first there are some courses he must take to attain the required credentials (paper-work) to work. It was a pretty night, the glass in the store fronts of the rest of the shops on the strip mall turned black and gently reflected the outside. One could try on jewelry with-out stepping foot inside! Further down the road was a proper golf course, than next to it a mini-golf place right next to a frozen yogurt shop. Than a few more scattered building on the route. Soon the road would turn into a high-ways and the hotel had still not been found! "Just keep walking it will be around here..." No doubt I walked right in front of it before realizing it was found! Co-cos inn and hotel is the place seeked. It is a nice hotel, very California motel style but with-out the pool. It has the typical drive up "run-way" to the lobby, but, it is in miniature. The lobby is a separate unit, getting to any rooms from there is impossible. It is a decent sized living room with a T.V. 3 tables and a couch. There is a machine for making hot water, with a basket of tea and a basket of sugar. The hotel has 2 floors. On the out-side it is well light with a slight orange hue from the setting sun. It is warm out-side and everything is just so pleasant. Walking up, to the teller in the lobby, an older gentle-man, my gaze is stroke by all the golf trophies, news-paper clipping reading "Another trophy won". "You got a nice collection of golf trophies there, you win um all yourself?" "No no no these are the owners daughter." "Oh, all of them?" "Yea she started when she was 14, going against every-one else around here, beat them sense-less." "Wow, what a woman." I staggered myself towards a tabloid featuring a picture of the dane, just out of curiosity. Apart from being a great golf player she was also a great looking girly. The discussion got staggering along about golf as the name Serrafini was mentioned on something in there. "Is that the same Serrafini from Broome-county?" "Where is that ?" "Oh... never-mind. So I wanna check in" "Ok, I will need some I.D. first" My wallet was already on the table, it just took an elegantly postured opening of the flaps to take out the identification, along with a credit card pre-scribed to feed the economy. Handing the identification over, "I am with the cdl school training to drive a big rig" "oh ok" He starts processing things and than asks for money, 100 dollars plus tax for 2 nights, not bad at all. I hand him the credit card, he runs it. "Declined." "Run it again theres 300 bucks on that thing!" "Declined." "Ok try this one." My father gave me his card for use in case of such an anomily. "Declined." "Well the first card is from Romania, it could be a server problem, try it again." "Declined." He did not use any other word or term just said declined right on through the ordeal. "Alright is there an atm around here, I am gonna get to the bottom of this." "Ya you go down by CVS there is a bank of America, you are on foot? It is a ways." "I will be back in 5 minutes." I sprint out the door, rather pissed off and confused as too why things happen to be against me today. The clerk was nice enough to let my luggage sit in the lobby (my burrito and my gig bag). I ran like Forrest Gump, passed a place that had all you can eat sushi for 15 dollars, passed a nice little looking bar, passed a Chinese restaurant, passed a gas-station straight to the end of the buildings. Than I ran back to CVS, because it was the closest building. Seeing a taller man, with a beard a wife beater and a base-ball cap around in his mid 30s. "Hey scuse me, do you know if there is an atm around here." "Well, no not really." "I guess they have one at the bar." "Thanks!" The bar was right next door to CVS, strangely. I walked in rather pissed off, the way I walked got a few people to stare, but once they saw me go to the ATM they relaxed. It was not some dude looking to start trouble who walked in, it was some poor fella looking for an ATM to pay off something un-expected. Spending more time with the ATM than I will ever spend even with my wife, I got not one penny out of the damn thing. Now sadistically enough, my phone was low on battery as well, listening to music for 2 miles will do that to just about any phone. It was off, to save battery in-case I had to call any-one. I would call my father now, and see what he thinks. "Hello." "Hey dad, I can not pay for the hotel." "What do you mean, did you try my card." "Ya, declined, look maybe you can call um and give um some other credit-card." "Ya ok, give me their number." "Ill text you, oh and btw I got no battery." I run back to the hotel. There is no-one at the lobby, so I stand around looking at the T.V. for a good 2 minutes. The clerk comes back, with a slow paced walk as if he is begging for some excitement. "Hey can I charge my phone here for a sec, my father will just give you guys his credit card info, and what is the phone number here." "Ya sure, the number is 123-456-743." I text my pops, and I wait. Ten minutes go by of the clerk and I staring at the land-line phone waiting for it to ring. We keep waiting, dead silence sets in to admit the suspensefull situation of a slight drama. I walks to the end of the room, were was my phone plugged in sitting on a table charging, I call my pops. As soon as he picked up, before one sylabil could be uttered. "Hey did you get the text?" "Ya, I am with a patient." "Ya ok, well we are waiting around for ya." I hang up and return to the clerk. "Ya doctors..." He just nods, slightly. And back to waiting we are. It must have been 15 minutes of waiting before everything went through and the keys to the room were handed over, along with the bill. My burrito probably got cold by now, sadly as well. Good thing it is hot. Tonight was going to be a calm night, just take a shower watch a few episodes of the twilight zone eat and sleep (not in that order). But after I took my clothes off, I noticed that the window to this room has spectators. The sushi place had about 12 people sitting out-side. Peering into my hotel room. The angle was perfect enough for them to have a visibility of everything I would do. I am in a towel out of view. "Come on Dude, your sexy and you know it, do not pull the blinds and turn into one of those people. They do not have to look chill out, you are a sexy mon!" I convinced myself to think nothing of it. Took my shower brushed my teeth and got out. Now the shower... was just a drape cutting off half of the bathroom. Tills with a slight skew to tilt the water were the flooring with a tile place-plate helping identify the shower and the bathroom, with a plastic shower head and 1 knob. Plenty of soap and towels though. Come the morning I had set 3 alarms for me. One on the clock provided by the hotel, one on my cellphone one on my camera. There was no way to not wake up, especially since they all went off minutes after the others. 6.15-Walk to lobby make tea. 6.20-Tea is cold enough to drink. 6.30-Wonder how to tell where the teacher from the CDl school will be. 6.32-A man asks me if I am from the CDL school, I reply "Are you the teacher?" 6.40-We all get into a pretty little Ford Taurus and drive away. What to expect? The drive was decent, plenty to see out the window. We had the typical conversations going in the car. "Oh this is a 2012, sure is pretty" "I am from Brooklyn" "So ya really happy I found this school"....And just other small talk. Though the teacher, he must do this every week and he must have done this for years on end. Just picking people up from that hotel. He must have alot of friends! We make it to the school, exactly where google maps showed it to be. The building reminds you of a school. An old elementary school, dark red bricks, doors big enough to fit an elephant through even though they look tiny. The architecture of left wing right wing, atrium above the first floor offices. With a young apple tree growing right in-front of the place (I found my lunch). Now it has been converted. And most of the building is the CDL school. On the ground floor there is one little nug with a gym. And there are also a few empty rooms. In the back, there is a giant back-ward with 6 trucks 3 buses, 7 trailers, a ware-house or two, and a little spot for a farmers market (and I could not wait for the farmers to get in to pick me up some raspberries). We arrive at a decent time. There were plenty of students there, I would say about 17. We had to wait for 2 things. 1. Some-one to bring down the sign-out sheets. 2. 2 or 3 more people to arrive. Our driver (sad to say I forgot his name, but I will never forget his face, hope-fully) pointed me towards Ed. Ed is very skinny, and he hides the bones of his cheeks with a small bear. He also smokes plenty. Eds fashion is pants to his waist and a shirt dipped into them. He wears sun-glasses all day, and his attitude is that he would rather be out on the road on his motor-cylce than sitting around teaching a bunch of guys how to drive a truck. Mention 2 words of anything related to a motor and 2 wheels and you got Eds attention. Mention something about woman and he will quickly end the discussion with "Their only good for 3 things, cooking, cleaning, and fucking". It is safe to say that his heart may have been broken a few times and now he is just living his life the way he wants, in the end his down-to-earth and grips on life personality are good to have around, even if there is a bit too much pessimism involved. We got to know each other as we drove around Albany in an international truck. It was a smaller truck, a lot truck not a freighter. If you are going to be stuck in a truck with some-one for even an hour, and if it is some-one you get along with, you will talk about things, it is human nature. Ed probably asks people the same questions, curious to see who is doing it for the money and who is doing it for the pride of keeping America fed and running. He also meets people from all walks of the earth, we had one student from Egypt!. The first few moments at the school I got sent to work with 4 other guys on a truck, running through how to do an inspection. All this information can be found in a book supplied free of charge (I think) from your local DMV. Than we got to turning the vehicle off, Ed mentioned some things. "I had one guy tell the road test examiner that the mud-flaps are not leaking." "Or some-times one of our students will think he is smart-ass and mess with the other guys and flip this switch here and the guys will get to the truck and not figure out how to turn it on." He than had me run to another group of guys to practice straight backing. We had fun, we narrowed the cones in so much that it started getting hard, at one point I actually opened my door, grabbed a cone and moved it a foot further out, so as to not get run over by the front tires (the trailer was moving fine but the tractor had to shift directions to keep the trailer steady). Finally the instructors came around to us and spread the cones a decent 3 feets on each side, which made things alot easier. Now, we would back the trucks on a very harsh dirt surface, full of swells and dips, so nothing would ever have a chance of going straight. You could roll a tank down that dirt field and it will turn right around. I get to roll my truck back about 10 times, it could have been more but I ran over to help a college start his truck (It is not put key in ignition turn, engine starts). At one point I run up-stairs to the office looking for water, and I get to meet the staff. Not alot of people working there, just a few 22-26 year old Men and Woman running a small office. I also take the opportunity to thank Lee for rescheduling me on such a short notice and wavering the 100 dollars for a reschedule. They mention that they ran out of cups and sent me for a walk to a shop just around the corner to get me some-thing to drink, as I was rather rushed to keep up with the class and they had to work, it would be nice to just sit around and chat though. The store was rather odd that, on the counter of this tools shop there were 2 little shaggy dogs. Now...no-one was looking at me so I began edging my head towards them to see if there alive, after I was sure the dogs were just nodding off on the store counter, I composed my self, got rid of the hunch from bringing me head in like a vulture, and reached out to pet the doggies with a very soft and gentle hand, the clerk turned around at that moment, one of the dog slowly opened his eye. With my other hand I gave the man the drink and continued to be mystified by these cute doggies. When I get back to the school with my drink Ed arrives as well, and tells me to "hop in the truck and drive." We have automatic transmissions on these things so it makes life that much easier. I waited for my other class-mates to come on in and we started out on the road. Ed mentioned that I was to close to the line and that I should make my turns wider. Apart from mentioning bridges as 12.5 unmarked, distracted drivers and pretty ladies there were not many hazards out on the road. We get back, Ed keeps me in the truck until lunch. I had about 40 bucks on me so I hitched a ride with one of the "cooler" dudes and we went down to sub-way. Over there he proved just how cool he was by going up to one of our collegues and giving him a buck or two. "How did you know he needed change?" "Well I saw him searching around in his pockets." "Good observation." My stomach though felt slightly raped by that spicy burrito the night before and it hurt to digest the food. Any-who, the day was over and I had an agenda of where I wanted to go, a little shop that sells piercings. I used google maps on public transit mode to help me navigate towards the shop. Along the way talking to a local about when James Brown used to come in-to town...talking so much that we got another passenger involved in our chat about the music scene and than I missed my stop and wound up at the air-port. No biggy just sat where I got off and waited for another bus. Told the bus driver where I wanted to be and that is where he dropped me off. I got to the shop and picked up a cute little sharp pointed piercing, 10 bucks, it was cute because the girl at the counter started wondering where I had a pierce as it was not for my ear or my eye-bro or my lip or my tongue...must be for my nipple, she did not mention a thing though. Earlier she was helping some guy pick out dildos and penis pumps, I browsed through the displays just to eavesdrop....Anyways I left the place and visited Arbys for some onion rings...google said the bus was coming around at 6.30, it was 6.25. It felt a little nerve racking, thinking that I missed the bus, so I stood there...waiting for a bus eating onion rings. By the time the last one went down my throat the doors to the bus opened. Now that is great timing. The bus driver saw that I had an empty box of something and told me not to leave it on the bus. I arrived at some stop and google maps said too about 14 minutes later. Than walked down a street took a left than forward, than to the hotel, according to the map of course. Threw the voyage walked, I found a Chinese buffet (right next to the bar where I got deeply involved with an ATM) and got me food to go, I also chatted up about the pieces of photography hanging around the shop "Yes that is my brother, he comes in next week if you want to talk to him." "I am sorry I will not be around next week." Though truthfully I was hoping the nice girl took the pics, and was sorry she did not. Next to the food shop was a little shop with misc iteams, even if it was closed I peered into the window to make sure I was not missing out on any guitars or amps. Noticing 2 colleges walking by, as I head towards the hotel room we talked about how the sushi place costs 15 bucks, how the smaller guy got kicked out of an all you can eat sushi bar, how they are going to get some Chinese too, and that they got so much beer that they can not drink it all, and that they will bring me one. I wanted to finish working as soon as I could so we could all go out and play billards and get beers. But by the time they showed up at my door with a beer I was still in my towel (I shower alot dont I?) and was working on Wicked Dickson. By the time I finished working it turned to 1 a.m. The work involved this time was taking the rendered tracks and importing the project in reaper. From there it was about syncing some of the samples that had to be enforced in. It was also about slicing the vocals and getting the tone just right. As it turns out I had to duplicate the vocals 4 times. With different filters and different automations to bring out what I needed. I also wrote an article about how to use reaper. Even if I wrote it in my mind than typed it out 4 days later. At 1 a.m. I did visit the lobby and made a tea while listening to see if any-one was awake and willing to go out but... nothing. Just silence. The guy in the lobby was watching base-ball....some-how...must be dvr. Back in my room, even my spectators had fled. "Well last one out tonight too huh..." I woke up just fine, this time I used 2 alarms, moments later my pops called. "Are you awake?" "yea, drinking my tea, how are you?" "Im fine taking off and taking my nap than going back to work." "Well take it easy on yourself ok?" "Yea, you too." I had already washed my teeth, and made my way to the lobby (this time around I slept clothed in the hotel....kept thinking about bed bugs). Because today I was leaving Albany I had my bag along with me, which I left early in the morning in a closet in a class-room. Today Ed takes us to a little part of town where we practice (and learn) to parallel park. 3 people on the truck and each one gets 2 turns. Ed just has to sit around and do nothing the whole time. He runs us through how to do it. "You make sure your truck is straight, than one turn to the left, move back a little and after your trailor turns straighten out, now that you have your direction you just ride it out till you see that corner of the trailer right above the curve, now we turn the wheel all the way to the right and the front end of the trailer will line up on top of the curb, you turn all the way left to get the tractor straight and thats it, now remember the first 2 important turns. The left turns are the most important ones." Some-how me and the fellas seemed to make it a competition to see who can get the truck closest to the curb and straightness, just to keep our-selfs entertained as we waiting for the college in the truck to finish up. I remember getting out of the truck thinking "ya top that!" And seeing the truck very close to the curb but...not straight. Mean-while in-between my shifts on the truck I found a little snake which was having a hard time getting back into the grass. I did not want to grab him and throw him in cause he might bite me and I was not in the mood for that...So about 30 minutes later I successfully grabbed the bugger by the tail and threw him in the grass. While I was doing this we kept nudging the truck more and more towards the end of the street and soon we could not pull up to straighten any-more! But it was not that big of a deal. We made sure we would show the other guy to stop if he was doing something wrong and it was a good learning experience. Leaving the area, Ed has me back the truck up a great distance and turn into a drive-way to a complex. I zig zag along the road and get the truck pretty much all over the place, I back it in a very weird way and than we head back to the school. Stopping at an under-pass to hang out. Here Ed talks about how it is illegal now to wear novelty helmets or place after-market parts on bikes..In New York state. I always have to remember, the way the steering wheel turns at the bottom is the way the trailer moves, but does it move the way the mirror shows or the other way..... Back at the school we drop of the cadets than we head off to the road-test, not even stopping for lunch. Just picked me up some beef jerky at a gas-station (could have anything to eat from there but I wanted Arizona, beef jerky, and patatoe crisps). On the way there I remember one of the colleges mentioning how he hoped to get "the nice lady that passes every-one". To my surprise that is who I got. After parking the truck on the side of the road I walked just a few days ago. I had a good talk with the lady about a jazz singer Nina Simon, from back in the day. We also talked about her daughter whom is visiting some islands and the thought of a pretty girl in a bathing suite began to hypnotize me...if only for a minute. It was enough to make me forget some points on the pre-trip inspection, which instead of doing in 15 minutes I did in 30, but hey, I passed that with flying colors, even if I forgot to do the brake test properly and ran it a good 3 times. (The brake test is done by building up pressure in the trucks air brake system to a decent level, than holding the breaks for a minute and checking to make sure no less than 5 psi leaks. Than you keep pumping the breaks until all the alarms go off..I had to build up pressure a good 3 times....but it helped.) Driving around I felt confident about taking the test, though one bastard used the right should of the road to go around my truck, and that helped fail me and I felt like running him down! When I went to parallel park, being sure that you are allowed to get out and look after you start moving the truck. I got out and looked, the lady just hollered at me, "What the hell you doing?" "I thought I was allowed out of the truck" "No you are not, get your but back in that truck" She passed me on that though, luckily. Than came the moment of truth. "Ok now here take a left and than a quick right" "Straight on too that street?" "Yes" Well I did just that, the examiner stared at me for a second or two. In rather dis-belief that I was that stupid. We pulled up to starting point. The lady just said "As nice as you are I could not pass you, I am sorry hun, maybe next time." I was mad. Furious. There was one more person taking the exam and he passed as well (it was his third time). But I had to shake the slight anger and chill out. The other guy there (who did not let me sit in his car) started mentioning that everybody fails and even he failed the first time. I still remember how he was talking to him-self making sure he had the pre-trip inspection nailed. We get back to the cdl school, Ed has me drive even if I failed. I already knew the road and just asked Ed. "Left here, Right here". I get to the Cdl school I ask Lee, "hey ya I failed, when can I come in again?" She says that I will have to pay a fee and get rescheduled after-wards. She also asks for my receipt from the road test and mentions that I need to keep it, sometimes to pay the skills test fee again. She hands me the bill. I go get my bag, which as I walk in the room the whole class looks at me and asks, "How did the road test go Alex." Even the instructor paused. I mumbled in a ragged voice...with my back towards the class and my hands praying open the closet to get my bag. "I failed..." The college that brought me beer asked.."What did you say?" I raised my voice a little and faced towards everyone this time. "I failed, I had to take a right and than a quick left and I just cut straight." Luckily no-one laughed and a few guys had a look on there faces to as "Wait, you cant do that?!" I come back to the office and grab a seat, still a little rash after the failure. I email my mother, I call my father....Than I ask Danny I think, the closet person available to me. "How do I get to down-town Albany by bus." He mentions that he does not know...and gets Lee. She explains that its just the 15 which I can take from up the road. I stand by her and point, "that way right ?" "Yes, that way." "well, thanks I am going to grab a lager and cool off, I hate failing..." "Alright take care." Google maps points me in the direction of travel to Down-town Albany, 15 bus just as Lee mentioned.. Quite neat little program, and everything is dead on as far as Albany is concerned (and NYC and Broome county). I spotted a place called "The ye old London pub". I got off, just a little bit further up the road and noticed a pretty little dress walking around me. To bad she was not walking in the same direction, would have invited her off for something to drink and a chat. Anyways, the bar is great, I find out a few use-full bits. 1. They have great cider there. 2. The barkeeps sister has a band. 3. Great place to play darts and the conversations you can over-hear are great. 4. They have food, good food. I got my cider with-out even having to take out any I.D. and got straight to playing darts, because of the light discussion I had with the bar-keep. I knew from my phone when the bus to Binghamton was leaving... It was just a matter of timing (finishing a darts game and a cider). I played cricket, worrying more about the proper way to throw my new darts than anything else, and experimenting. It was a game where I had to make the numbers (20-15) with at least a double or a triple, and I would not be allowed a sip of cider unless I got a number. 2 games later the cup was empty, there was a good 30 minutes to spare and I packed my darts. The whole time the guys 2 tables away from me where talking about who ripped off who in a novelist world and what books they should read, or about a guy living off the grid, some professor who was very smart and other things. Well they left before me, and that was hinting on the fact that it is time to head out. I asked the barkeep which way to the bus stop, and a fella (older than us) dropped into the conversation asking "Where ya going to". It was funny because they both considered the normal bus station as the one in question. The bar-keep says "Right across the street and down the road a little, you cant miss it"...."The bus station with the buses that get out of town". Anyways I walk out with a map of Albany (dont know how the heck that happened). And walked out into the beautiful sunny streets of Albany, thinking of my friend Cristina and how she has to visit this capital, she would love the Architecture of the University enough to consider going to school here. I get to the bus stop, I get to the teller, and the bus costs 10 dollars more than what I have (maybe just maybe those onion rings and that cider could have cost 10 bucks), a short discussion with my pops and we decide he will pick me up from a place called Oniwata. Well... I pay my fare and having cash to spare grab a snack out of the vending machines. I sat down and played with some old recordings trying to figure out how to put a synthesizer in with an acoustic guitar and a singer covering Tom Waits....Hard man, its hard. The bus was quite, there was a painter on. A blonde. The give away was the frames and canvas in her bag, which she kept right beside her as if to guard against theft on an empty bus. There was also an elderly woman, 70s, whom had the spirit of a 16 year old, she was going to visit a friend and sleep over. A kid with ear-buds and that is it for this bus, should I mention the driver? Now...the painter would have been some-one to go up to, as we sat right across from each other, she got on after me. The only problem was that her legs...just did not fit the body, and she looked as if she was scared of food and ate only enough to keep her hands moving. Further-more she was as if to be made of jello and bone. It is not that she was not attractive, it was that she was to fragile for my liking, and her nose was rather big as well, but that can be cute. Getting on with it....We stop by the college to drop off the kid and the campus is litered with guys walking around with their shirts off. Oh way lord could it not be girls walking around with their shirts off!!!. The kid pulls his pants up, than drags them down, his ass is showing and his boxers look like a pair of tidy whiteys. I think to myself. "Shit... I used to be just like that." When I get to Oniwata my pops has a hard time figuring out the directions I gave him. "Cross the bridge take a left.". So after the bus stops he gets the street address from me and the cars gps gets him around. He picks me up and we head out for dinner. While I waited 2 kids got my attention, one on a skate-board and one just walking around. Reminded me of the days I used to smoke pot and skate all day.... It was nice seeing the kid hop on the board running away from his friend to do a nose-stall on a half a foot high curb in a parking lot. Parking lots always had the best cement... "What do you want to eat." he asks. "Well, anything but pizza." We drive around in a spiral which lands us on the strip and park our car right across the street from a rather fashionable diner, with a fenced in out-door dinning area (well a chain as low as your ankle is the fencing). We hop in and are greeted by the waitress, very well dressed mind you. She takes us to our booth and mentions "You guys should order quick we have that table there which is going to slow things down." Before I get to read even one word off the menu my pops decides to head to another place..... Walking down the street towards an Italian place he slows down, "Nah that place has only pizza." I mention... "Whats wrong with pizza?" "Its just cheese and bread, its over-rated." "Lets keep looking.". We stumbled into another place worth going into and are halted by a gentle-man of my fathers displeasing at the door. "Howdy" He says "Is this your first time here?" "Yap, hows the food in there?" I asked. "Oh its great! Youll love it." "Do they have chicken parm?" "Oh you know a good place for that. Is Stiffys...but they closed so ya, what you want to do is go down this street (points behind the building or rather at the building) and go down to the corner and youll get to a place with good parm" "Ok thank you". Said my pops. Now we walk the other way, till the end of the strip. I force him into a very gritty little restaurant and the 4 people in the place all turn to look at us. "They dont have food there" He says trying to avoid walking in. "Look right there it says food and beverage" We just turn around and walk out, and head back to the snotty place. The waitress gives us a seat outside. And a menu. I am stuck at what to get as the choices are to close to tell which is the right meal! My pops gets the fried haddock. She comes around and I ask about the burgers, getting convinced to get the Deer burger. Good dinner, to bad I forgot the receipt to the road test on the table, when I showed my pops just what I could have done right. We head out on the high-way, my pops is tired but still will not give up the wheel. Heck he worked hard for his car and he enjoys driving it. It is a x5 Bmw with a pretty big v-eight. It runs smooth, it picks up quick and it corners like a truck. "You know...its not good to be scared of things. If you are scared of them they happen." "Dad, I wasnt scared of anything, I just made a few mistakes." "Ya, in my life I noticed that when-ever I was scared of something it would happen." "So I learned not to be scared" "There are few things in life that scare me." "Really ?" "Ya, I have had over 20 near-death experiences ranging from dangling off buildings to seizures." "Well thats just because your an idiot." "Anyways, I know that you have not stopped working since you were 20? Why do you keep yourself so busy ?" "I started working when I was eighteen, I had to go in the army." "Ya I remember they had you driving a tank cause you were the only one small enough to fit in the drivers seat." "No, we had to learn how to use everything, I even ran the radio." "Ya but that was just tune into a frequency, it didnt have anything to do with band-width compression and what not." "I remember shooting that thing, man the target was a good 2-4 kilometers away, and you would see it blow up, and than a minute later you would hear it, it was great" " I remember one asshole, we didnt trust him with grenades" "Ya did you ever experience a grenade explosion?" "Its very scary." We talked about how he had a doberman in the army that was trained to lay down and act as a gun support while soldiers fired, than we talked about the years married with my mom, how they both were always off doing something and leaving me home alone. It was the fact that they both had to finish college as quick as possible though that kept them working and out of the house, it was not hat they would go out and drink and party. "I remember on my eighteenth birthday, my friends were all getting drunk and I saw how stupid they were, I knew than that I did not want to be like that." He also mentioned that he was a ladies man back in high-school, I went to school where he did, I experienced it....I can say that I am not impressed. Ya sure he is one of the few lucky guys that got to have sex with a teacher but, hey, in America that is frowned upon and further more gets people in serious trouble. We get back into Broome county. We have to go pick up our friend Victor. We arrive at the apartment complex in which my former family lived in and where I grew up for a good 2 years. Getting into Victors home his mother yells some things in Russian to him and he responds with a calm and confident tone. Victor gives me a hug offers me a seat and a glass of wine which his mother quickly snags away from me, though I grab the bottle and smell it...just out of curiosity. "Mihai, you have to get him out of here, look at him" I am thinking he is fine, so I tell her to show me around the house, as I want to see what kind of place they have. She takes me to the living room, where I spot a box of plums, and I grab one. "You likes these, take the whole box." She offers as I am looking at all the items on display. A very comfortable home mind you. Well we get Victor and the plums out of there and run into a few of the neighbors. Some 20 year old Russian kids whom are all friends of every-ones. They were sitting around drinking beer as well, and Vic bums a cigarette off one. We sit around and talk a little, one of them, George remembers me from when I was a kid. But we were in a rush to get Vic over. "Hey what the hell are you doing in my car with that ?!" "Mihai relax the windows open." "Sabrina gets in this car !!" The whole way over Vic is trying to barter with us, trying to thank us for picking him up and taking him in. The whole way over he tells us about what needs to be done in the house and I am thinking...he should just relax a bit. It is funny. I gave Vic pajamas and a sheet and a bed to sleep in and he still went from his bedroom to the couch and slept in his clothes. (http://www.powerofonemma.com/) Even earlier this month I biked down to the MMA gym, power of one, for submission grappling and open sparring. I did not take any water with me and figure it will not be that bad of a work out, I got this. The ride over was fun, I went up a steep hill than went down an even steeper hill getting myself running along just as fast as I could, than turning left twice to get on the road which passed in-front of my old middle-school. Than took a right and biked up another hill, and after that route managed to have a smooth down-hill ride towards the gym. 20 minute ride from home. Not bad. I left my bike on the rocks in front of the place in a cool posture, as if the bike was riding itself on the rocks (mind you it is a road bike with thin tires and Ram like handle bars). The door to the gym, leads down a long hall way which breaks up into 4 separate rooms before taking a left towards the equipment room and the bathroom. On the left as you walk in is a window to the "yoga room" as I call it, to the right is a few sitting places and another room, and than a half wall which encloses the main training room. On the right, after the lobby there is the office, with glass walls, and about a 3 foot high wall holding the glass, than a trophy room with a big wooden desk right in the middle. Here there are 2-3 belts in view. Than there is the break room. A sink at the far end with a counter hosting a micro-wave. A coat hanger in the slight alcove on the right of the door and a table with a bunch of chairs. Than there is the cage, which always looks inviting, and the black fencing mixed with the blue padding and the black flooring makes it look friendly. Than right next to the cage on the other side of the hall-way which now has taken a right are a bunch of pads, some for kicking some for punching, gloves, weight balls... and a bunch of stuff...including some hammers. Todays class is taught by Nemo, as he is the trainer responsible for grappling work. Now he does not look at all threatening, as he is of small height and stocky, he looks like a pillar and his grabbing work is extremely technical. He admires fighters who slow the fight down and control things moving the fight at their own pace, I am learning from his style of fighting very important things, leg triangles, this arm wrench which involves a triangle and most importantly how to defend against a submissive attacker. The class is packed (I think about 10 guys and 1 girl), most of the guys here are bigger than me, ranging from 6 inches taller and 40 pounds heavier to a foot taller and 150 pounds heavier. One of my old class-mates, Brian is there as well, though over the course of 7 years he went from a small little round boy into a dude the size of a bear, well maybe a bear pup. After Nemo has use warm up and after he demonstrates some techniques (at each session they always start off with an instructional demonstration of something use-ful to do in a fight). I stand next to Brian and we both look at each other, with a slight look of "hey do I know you from some-where?". And that is exactly what he asked. "Ya I went to Vestal High-school" "Me too" "Brian right?" "Ya howd you know?" After our happy little reunion, he tells me he is here with his brother, who is more into this stuff than him. Brian just boxes, heavy-weight class. Well that does not stop me from inviting him to wrestle with me. Everything works out fine, I throw him around, I pick him up off me a few times and than...it hits me. Like a steel train smashing into a sky-scrapper. An un-bearable heat of which felt as if my skin itself was on fire. Luckily the timer ran out and it gave me the opportunity to weasel my way to the bathroom to soak up in water, hoping to cool the flames. I get back in the regular time allotted for breaks and I get to wrestle with a kid 130 pounds heavy (Robert I think). Now I am thinking to myself... "Alright, I got tired because Brian is big and heavy, Ill be just fine". We shake hands and we start off. Of course, from all the times I fooled around with George who happens to be of the same weight class I knew what to do. Pick him up, throw him down and choke him out. Using a typical fire-mans carry to lift his feet from the ground was easy (I usually use my right shoulder for the lift), his defense could not hold me back, his arms just got thrown aside as he tried to grab something. I than asked which way does he want me to drop him jokingly, and set him down rather gently on the left side. Getting a top guard was hard, he saw an opportunity to bail and quickly arose to his knees and to my left side, where he lifted my left arm with his left bicep and tried to flip me. I rolled along with it, but made a full rotation getting myself back on top. Sadly the heat wore in again and I started to rest a bit. Which gave Robert (I think) a chance to use his stamina. Ya today I learned that I burn out quick. That is why in Albany I walked around with head-phones and a rain coat on. That is why I bike. Too much of what happened is a blur, but the things to remember are to keep your feet in a use-ful position. Either behind your but ready to lift or on your opponent grabbing something, or above him closing the guard. Today taught the lesson of using your feet. I left the gym with the guys laughing at me a bit "You ok Alex." Some-body asked as I walked out to get some air. "Its hot!". I tried hard to keep up but it just get feeling like I was going to spontaneously combust. Bathing in the water from the sink and resting more than everyone else helped me out to keep up with the rest of the fighters. During rests I would watch the other guys techniques, making good use of my time. The last thing to happen before the class was over was Robs mother, came to pick him up, and she wanted to see what her son is learning here, obviously. He asked to spare with me again. We went off, I picked him up and popped him into a small package (legs on his head and kinda squirmed), I let him out, he rolled back-wards, and he got behind me for a hold I was hot to defend against. He got to impress his mom, even if I made him work for it, a bit... There was a moment or two when she said "Ohh my" as her son became an acrobat from a few rather brutal drops...Sorry... But because I had to keep myself enough energy for the rest of the evening (a bike ride up a bike freaking hill and walking the dog). I tried desperately to buy something to drink at the gym, but the water fountain (and the sinks) was the only source of water we had, the office was locked and all the drinks were in there...though waters fine...kinda... As we head out, I am usually the last person out and chatting with the peers. One of the guys is brothers with the person giving him a lift, whom was conversing with me, and they offer me a ride, but I had to bike back up. It was just a macho thing for the libido. Down-hill it was quick and easy, and also pain-less. 20 mins going down to the gym. Going home was hard. It was all up-hill....after a long work-out. But I went the other way, to find myself a vending machine at a motel on the park-way (I knew about it because I used to live on that very street and I used to skate at the motel.). The Indian teller was a little surprised to see some-one on a bike coming in to change a 20 to get some drinks but, he was ok with it. Lucky than, I went down a road that was just straight for a mile. In vestal they had the idea of creating a paved road that leads from a shopping plaza down to nothing. It has on one side the park-way (though it makes no sense to call it a park-way, there are no parking spots on it, everyone drives on it at 45+), the other side has a swamp with an out-post for people to sit back and watch high definition images of the swamp (which is home to many animals including turtles). There is also a rose garden to stroll around in and sit, with a childrens play-ground and grass-lands in between woodlands. It is a 2 mile long path and the one thing that still is weird....Is the man who rides his bike at mid-night. He has a light as strong as an oil tankers search-lamp and he is always out at exactly 12.00 ! I remember the second time I saw him, I biked straight into his light and than told him to "Dim that fucking thing!". If we have a run in again, I am standing dead center of his high beams, waiting for him to bike up and ripping it off and shoving it in his ass-hole...I hate inconsiderate assholes. Anyways, the path (called the rail-trail) gives me a chance to relax and drink some bottled soda. As I bike slowly towards the bottom of the hill which leads home. Ya, once I get to the hill...I am going to have to go up it. And because I am taking the detour there is going to be more hill to climb. Luckily this bike has gears just for that, where you pedal 3 rotations to get one half turn of the wheel. At one end of the trail (the one I arrive at), there is small sitting area, a gazebo with some benches. I ride my bike to it, and circle until the bike slows to a pace slow enough to just drop off the bike on the bench, to rest. Mean-while an elderly couple could not understand what I was doing and looked at me rather strange. Sitting there a man, whom looked like a child-hood friend (Josh Fishbek) walked by, and I was ready to jump up and greet him until a better glace at his face was obtained. It was not old Fishbek. I hop back on the bike and bike. Having to cross a busy road to get to the side-walk before going uphill. Now to make things easier, for most of the climb I just looked at my front tire, and went to a happy place. 3 quarters of the way, I forced myself to bike the steepest part and got off and walked. Than before the neighbors could see me, hoped back on the bike and pedaled on making sure to look as if I was on it for the last 10 minutes as well. Arriving home, wide a wide turn left turn into the drive, parking the bike back on the rack in the garage, the dog was very excited, there was also no-one around to give him attention. I let him out the front door, he ran. I ran after him and a pleasant walk with the dog turned into a run around the block for another hour.... It was nice though as the dog ran up 2 streets, and than straight into a group of neighbors, all woman, all 12-16....Their mother got spooked they all laughed and giggled, we kept on running along. 30 minutes later of running up and down the hill, with brief pauses for the dog to whiz was not bad at all. I did not heat up or tire out and just kept at it until the dog got tired and wanted water. Getting home, I felt bad that I got burnt out at the gym, I grabbed the barbells off the bar (2 25s and 2 15s, I ignored the 10s). Got myself down in the basement, played some music and started rolling around with 2 25 pound weights on my chest, like an idiot. At one point I was holding all the weights up as I laid on my back and because the difficulty involved in balancing eighty pounds of discs in that position, they fell. The top disc started to slide towards the edge that was leading straight to my head. Like a boulder on a cliff it could plummet straight down on my nose taking the one below it with it, 15 pounds and than shortly after another 15 would strike me. I avoided the hazard by guiding it to not fall on my head and caught me finger square under 50 pounds of weight....the pain went away after about 10 minutes, glad it did not break. I also did some running squats with 25 pounds held on my chest with the strength of my biceps. It was good 4 hours long work out to make sure I payed for a bad day at the gym....next time I would be alot stronger! Who cares about doing laundry and cleaning. Or about the bit about brushing teeth and flossing or what deodorant and spray I use, the length of my hair and other obtuse details? Well some-people do like to read about that for some strange reason...the detail nazis as they are called. But today is a day for going out to NYC, today is a day for recording vocals on a track I worked real hard on putting together. Janice had set up an agenda for us to record at some studio she likes. She said it was better than Astoria sound-works, and I was excited about going to see the place. It is also funny to note that at the bus terminal, I got the dates wrong for my ticket (off mega-bus) and ended up not getting a 10 dollar ticket and getting a 55 dollar one instead (mega-bus does not refund you for being an idiot, they also do not let you get on any decent buses...). After I get on the bus, and a long trip over (about 4-5 hours) I am greeted by an Indian fella as I rode down the escalator. "Excuse me sir, could you take my picture for me?" "Yea sure, no problem" It seemed fine, though I thought about running with the phone when he got on top of the escalator...just because it would be really funny. He started coming down the escalator and looking happy, but, his phone did not take very good pictures, so we tried again after he saw that it was not good. "No no , try again, try again" "Ok" The second time was no good either... ok fine... he does not give up either, and he runs up again (he got a good work-out that morning) and took some more pics...again not good. I started thinking this was some kind of silly T.V. show and I was the idiot being set-up...and that I was going to be there for a really long time.... It had to be done, and the mans patients had to be rewarded, this time I take the initiative. "Look well use my phone, and Ill send it to ya, you have blue tooth right?" "Yes, bluetooth yes, it has it" I pull out my phone, an original Android phone developed before the first google phone, and pretty much the phone that set just how all other Androids would look and behave (thanks Cezar!). I started tweaking the camera, changing iso, and white balance to get the look just right, and to get the shine off the metal escalator to look good, also to make the human skin look human. He comes down the escalator and I am not happy with the picture as it is blurred and he is not happy as he was in a not cool posture. The forth time around we got it. I zoomed in to make sure it looks good, and sent it to his phone. We shook hands, "Welcome to America!" "You have a good day" And we parted. So I call Janice going down the flights of stairs at the bus terminal (as it happens my bus checked in on the 4th or 5th floor of the place, it is not called the "port authority" for no good reason). She seemed surprised that I was around. "Hey I made it" "What your in?" "Ya, are we still going to the studio around 1?" "Well, I was not sure if your coming around or not, we can work things out though" "Alright, where do I need to be at around 1 so we can get to the studio?" "Well you take the q train down to Penn station and there is a guitar center around there, do you want me to pick you up?" "No no, I gotta go grab lunch first" "Ok well, I have to show a couple more houses, I am going to call the studio" "Hey I said I was coming" "Ya I know but you did not get back to me for a while" "Sorry, I was working on things" "I guess Ill grab lunch and find a guitar shop around some-where" "Ya theres one over at penn station, you remember the base-ball field?" "Ya, " "Well on that street when you take a right towards the field just go straight, its a big plaza youll see it" "Alright" It was a quick discussion, she called me up a little later. Just to make sure I am alright and to inform me about our studio time assuring herself 2 hours is long enough. Mean-while I went down to where she sent me and found the guitar center she mentioned. The sub-way ride was quite typical, everybody always gets out of my way and lets me sit down....though I did take a train and head the wrong direction at first, finding a mural of a portrait reminding me of Romania at the stop I had to accidentally make. Strange... Arriving at the metro station around Penn-station I took the nearest exit I could find, making sure to worry about where the baseball field is later. I spotted a sporting goods store down the street with-in the first 12 steps that I made, my dad and I picked up a 60 dollar dart board for 20 the other night and I was curious as to what the prices in NYC are for these things. Sure enough they cost 30. I also wanted a pair of MMA gloves, but they did not sell um. Nor did they sell guns or fishing poles. And they call themselves a sporting goods store! Across the street was Victoria's secret, and guitar center right next to it, the base-ball stadium was clearly visible as there were cranes and winches flooding the sky-line, that was my point of "reper". I crossed the street and had to walk by 12 foot tall woman in what was considered sexy lingerie. I just felt bad that I got no-body to love (I dont need anyone anyways). It could not have been guitar center than victorias...see the affects this has on society! If someone first encounters musical instruments than sexy woman, the musical instruments get a priority implied and imprinted on that persons mind (hopefully) but if its the other way around its understood that sex sells more than cool guitars. Any-who. In the guitar shop I meet a very cute girl from a band called "We are sun-showers", we talk a little and she invites me to check out the band, handing me a guitar-center business card with a pretty decal on it. Our conversation started in a pretty funny manner as I walked into the acoustic guitar section of the shop... "Hi may I help you ?" "Ya..I am looking for an acoustic guitar but not like a big Texas kinda thing." "A Texas? what do you mean?" I kept walking into the room looking at the guitars. "Like that one!" "Oh you mean a dreadnaught" "Ya, but I dont want the guitar to be a salon either, kinda like a big bluesy looking thing or a jazzy acoustic" After saying that I eyed myself a decent looking guitar which is not worth remember because of the action on the neck and the pricing (700 dollars!). I rushed to the axe and the girl went to help another girl (talk about girl on girl action). The acoustic guitar room had 4 rows of guitars lined up vertically and was circular. It was all wood panels and it was a big room. Horizontally there must have been 70 guitars lined up, with another room of 2x3 (vertical x horizontal) and just about 24 guitars around at the opposite end of the entrance to the enclosure. I sat down on the column in the middle, it reminded me of what the Romans used to have, but instead of stone it was wood. Sadly I could not help but over-hear the discussion the girlies where having as I tried out the rather expensive guitar (I thought is was cheap until I saw the price tag). "I am looking for a guitar to bring back home" "Where are you from" "I am from Germany, Munich" "Oh wow, we just had a show there at the college" ...... ..... I took the guitar back to the shelf finally looking at the price tag, than saw another guitar, a red one with white country lines drawn on it as if to be embossed, this how-ever lead me to see whom the guitar-center musician was talking to, as I turned around and walked back to my seat. The blonde German girl reminded me of a girl that I worked with, and so forth led to me trying to jam along with her guitar playing....but she was at the very early stages of guitar playing and was far to concentrated on fingering things right. When I went to return the red guitar back (which I examined the paint job further), the girlie was right next to me, "Well this guitar is really nice, though dont you think its kinda feminine?" "I dont know, I guess, if you like a guitar though, I guess its fine" "Also the really sad thing is that the paint job is just painted on paper glued on to the wood" "Oh it is?" "So is this the kind of guitar you were looking for" she said as she led the way to another guitar I cant remember because it was over 1 thousand dollars and I did not even touch because of that (I found myself the right acoustic guitar, 4-5 of um ranging from 100 bucks to 350 why would I spend 1000?!). "The thing is back in Broome county, we have some guitar shops that have some really nice guitars and I was hoping to find something in here, that I wouldnt find there" "That red one was really cool, but the paper just kills the vibe" "Anyways, do you have a band or something?" "Ya I have a band called We are sun-showers" "oh thats a pretty name" The site "Do you guys have anything recorded?" "Ya actually we have a web-site" She produces a card out of no-where and hands it over, making sure to write out the bands name on the back. It was a very pretty business card from guitar center. I was so pleased to see it. "Nice card, did you design it?" "No, thats how they gave it to me" Now I felt robbed. I visited the web-site...it seemed like a boyfriend and girlfriend band from the first view of the site. I contacted them about playing a show via email, as someone I am trying to work with is a promoter (Anubis) in NYC. The response the band gave me was "Ya sun-showers would love to come to the show but they are currently touring Germany". Of course, I just met with one of the members the day before....of course she just mentioned she just came from Germany...Putting 2 and 2 together gets you to that vague impression that "they just dont like you that much" but I am not good at taking hints. A wise friend once told me..."If you get a job in a music shop your career as a musician is over"...I just let it be. I got mulled over pretty quick hanging out in guitar center (I was the only one in there and the clerks were being way to nice)....Finally hearing a kid shred some scales on a 7 strings completely nulled me out and I ran out of that store. Everyone knows 7 string guitars are for jazz and orchestra and it is shame-full to run them through heavy distortion. Idiot probably did not even know what a diminished chord was. Anyways, I decided it was time to look for a hat, as I was at a shopping plaza any-who. I make my way around (almost walking into a womens discount store) and find myself 4 stories up at target watching a middle aged woman trying to walk a kart out of target (there was a sign posted "Carts automatically block doors from this point on")..and finding the hats section bland. Janice calls me that she is on her way, and I rush down to the front of the store. Now I witness an even older woman dragging a cart with a carpet out the door (the wheels were locked but she was still going at it, dum-dum-dum-dum-dum). I offer to help but she declines, and is soon on the phone with someone "ya I am outside of the store, bring the car around". Janice swings around as I am reading a news-paper and keeping my cool. She is wearing a pair of office pants, the cotton, dark gray ones, with a silk like texture, a white shirt of the same plushy/eccentric quality, and a bit of make-up. It was a new way to see Janice. "Hey Dude!!" "Hello" "Did you know the carts at target have self locking wheels?!" The discussion I was about to have about the cute old lady trying to drag her carpet out got shot down as Janice handed me a bag, I felt rather fluttered. ("Hey what is this, did I just receive a gift, is it a holiday, whats going on? I gotta give on back"). I dont do good with gifts. It could be caused from my parents, the time they returned my christmax present the next day (a Nintendo 64 and I had to cry about it) or because any gift I would get for a birthday or christmax from either my dad or mom was allowed followed by "if your not a good boy I am going to take it away from you". It could also be from the disgust I have for the whole industrial way of seeing gifts and how companies struggle to market products for people to buy. Most likely it is because no-one is as good at giving gifts as me. I always get the right thing. I opened up the bag, with a vibe that was kinda like Janice...what did you do now??. Though she was un-staggered by it. It was a nice shirt that said "no sleep till Brooklyn!" and a few chords on it. I figured it was a song I did not know. Janice explains how it was a industries shirt, and they have plenty of merchandise that fits into the "inside conversation for New Yorkers only". We both did not eat a thing, since she was working and I went off to play guitar. "Have you ever tried 5 guys ?" "Nop, did run into that place yet" "Well they have the best burgers around, you wanna go there?" "The best burgers in around? Id like to see that!" We head out, she drives a big ole sports utility full of personality. The dash-board is filled up with little people, the back is occupied with the days affairs and the outside is decorated by life (a spider on the antenna and a big ol ding on the left side of the truck, to big to be a ding but well consider it a ding). The first time we drove around, I felt a little scared, but now I trusted Janice a little more and was learning from her how do the nyc clutch and gas. Five guys could not have been to far away, or it did not seem that way because we just talked about so much. The subjects would range from her studio in Michigan, our dogs, the song originally recorded techniques, people we used to listen to (singing a few songs along the way). We walk into five guys discussing how ice cube (or was it ice-t) was better than ll-cool-jay, this was a conversation that started when I started mentioning a really cool rapper who rapped about a little boy who robbed somebody and went to jail (the same guy who sang the humpdy dance). I was saying cool jay was not that good....She said even if he was a bubble-gum rapper he was really good, and at the time. Even if my eyes would keep getting diverted constantly, and even if I would observe things on the road that peaked my interest, at times mentioning to Janice what I seen, now my eyes were reading the tabloids filling the space of the restaurant known as 5 guys. There were article clipping (it seems that is how everybody in America does business, news-paper clippings) of the places performance, just anything that would bigget about how good things are. "Remember that song, Mama said knock you out!" "Oh yea!!! That was a great song...alright cool-jay was good Ill give you that" Janice is greeted by the fella across the counter, she greets him with a very warm greeting, something we do not see very often in Romania. There if our friends are working and we come in to visit them..... "Coie ce-faci mai? Hai nu vin in parc??" or "Brother whats up?! Your not coming out in the park with us?!" Sadly, I stink at small talk....even more so I small talk in situation where other people dont. Lets say, there is a bank robbery, and everyone in the bank is left to lay on the floor, I would be the guy laying down asking people "So you think their gonna shoot any-one?" or "Hey mister robber, do you like Metallica, cause if you do you cant shoot me man, I am the only guitarist alive who knows how to play jump in the fire". But yes, Janice was an expert at being friendly. When we ordered our meals, she seemed surprised that I got a single burger and the double burger. Now a few things different from the food here too say other places of the world. 1. You get a cup, which you can refill as many times as you want at the fountain drink soaker. 2. The portion of fries five guys give you is stupendous...they make sure you get fed. 3. In all fast food restaurants the client is required to bring his or her tray up and throw it away. We sit down and she gets a little worried that her burger is too big! "Oh well Ill just give the other patty to Brandon, he loves um." Brandon the Doberman. Studio time was scheduled for 3-5. It was 1, we had to make a visit to her place to give the dog a patty and take the opportunity to give him a little attention (and maybe pick up any more equipment we would need). We left the food place, and got out of the car where-ever she parked, I just followed her around, even if I have been here before...I forgot where I was. "Hey I dont live there!" She said in a surprised tone as I almost walked into a neighbors house. "Looks just the same" "Ohh there it is !" As she opened the door, Brandon jumped out and straight behind Janice to where I was, he seemed to know she brought along company. I chased him inside, grabbed his ball and started playing with him. Being a Doberman and not a Beagle, I took the opportunity to stand in his way as he charged for the ball, clashing bodies and really getting him thinking (Hey here is some-one who is going to treat me like a brother and not a fragile puddy cat...or something like that). Janice hopped in a pair of jeans, and a black shirt, we might have walked the dog, but I forgot....as for not every detail in life can be remembered. But we went on our way, driving through NYC (through parts of it that looked and felt just like parts of the city in gta 4). She turned on the gps of her phone, I called Tony to see if he can show up just to hang out, we were crossing the bridge to Stanton island (finally made it there too). We passed through the toll, I kept thinking that we should record. Janice mentioned a very complex story of a band she worked with showing her this studio and how one of the guys had a route to getting there. But she followed the gps...which took us back on the bridge. Now we took an exit and got on the "high-way" but... the weird thing is that there is no-way to turn around off that road. If you make a mistake you have to cross the bridge and turn around on the first street than pay the toll all over again. I did manage to snag some decent pics and I saw 2 signs that got my attention the first. "Honk your horn you will get funked up" the second "The asshole who is shooting cars with a b.b. gun is wanted, there is a 500 dollar reward for information leading to his arrest". There was also a Prius which was burnt to the chassis, with a brand new one parked in-front of it. On the bridge crossing (third time around) Janice is really Erked off about how she is not gonna pay anything and shell just mow right through that toll she will... I take out my equipment and start to record, I wanted to this is a sign that I should. The drive was long...we made it to the studio. I was not impressed with what was going on. In the parking lot there were some bags of weed (empty bags) bottles of sorts (all over a liter and all from vodka whiskey cognac, none from rom). At the door, or in front of it where a bunch of guys with reflectors and cameras. The studio was in an industrial building that handled I think it was ...cakes? Well, I follow Janice down a rather decent hall-way, and I start to notice the memorabilia on the walls. With a few classic pictures of the Ramones. She opens the door leading to a hallway side-ways to this one, and office booth square in the wall in front of us housing microphones cables and a computer. We are greeted by a very friendly guy, I thought he was Carmen Appice...but he was not, and are led to our studio room. The manager opens the door and walks in first, followed by Janice. A dim blue light of my favorite hue was the first thing I noticed as I started walking in, it felt as if I flowed but I hope I did not. It got bigger as the door-way got smaller, and soon realized that it was the 2 side walls! They were lit. The white background of the lit wall and the opposite side of the room showed itself as well, now that it could be distinguished from "oh just a piece of the door frame painted white". The drum set were to high to understand what was going on, too centered to understand where I was. My foot was inching closer to fully in the room. The amps where full stacks, there was a stage right in front of me, a big stage. it was made of high quality wood. There was a couch to my left a black leather couch, with a table, with room for 4 people. There were closets on both the left and right side of me, both holding up big 2000 watt speakers. The mixer was on and in the wall next to the stage on the right, I could see a pad for plugging in cables, I could see monitors... this place was sweet! Robo studio "How are you guys going to set up"? (Asked the manager obviously) "Well I am just gonna plug my laptop in to the mixer" "Really, we never had any-one do that before" "How do you plan on doing that?" "I have an external audio card with a very good digital to audio converter and I just need big jacks" "What do you mean by big jacks?" "Well a mono phono chord" He looked at me like what? "An xlr?" "Oh you mean a quarter inch!" "Oh yea, thats what there called here in America" "Yea, I can help you out with that, do you want any help with the mixer?" "It seems pretty straight-forward, I got it" Janice was setting up her lyrics. I walked with the mysterious man to the office booth and got some cables, checking out the recording part of the studio while I was there (the mixing room and the recording room). He handed me 2 xlrs which one was stereo. But I figured the stereo cable will work fine, signal will just go down the left or right channel and itll get panned accordingly. My laptop (Retob) was already on the floor turning on with the audio card (Bill) plugged in to him. I got back hopped the cables in from outputs to the mixer and played the mp3....yay... only one channel worked. I kept myself the sound off as I monitored the mixers inputs and outputs (using the peak gain indicator as the tell tell sign that electricity was coming in). I go back to the office, "Ya the stereo one didnt work, got a mono?" The manager hands me a mono one, calmly and surly. I managed to wrap up the stereo cable on my way over. "Here ya go" he said with a very pleasing tone as he handed me the cable, rather slowly. Off to our room I went again. Plugging in the missing piece of the puzzle the jigsaw fit. We played the song and listened to it on big speakers to make sure it sounds good. It sounded great. Though Janice really wanted "that kick beefed up even more". I set her up while loading Acid, and in no-time we were recording. We stopped when the song structure didnt fit the vocals, most of the time a verse was to short, and I quickly fixed that but just copying over the sections. Its strange how some producers take hours to arrange a song... Any-who Janice has a good time warming up. If I did not give her the luxury to listen to what she did after every warm up, and we just forced through the song it would have been a much crummier session. But I was eager to see how her voice fits in, I also wanted to know what kind of idea the vocals give me. Plus it wasnt that exciting just sitting around hitting play....I am not saying it was bad, it was great. Hearing what I worked on so hard on hearing on big speakers in a room that sounded this good was sweet. I felt as if though, it was not all there. Since we were working with a draft rather than the full version of the song....we werent listening to the full package...Grrr. We did take a break at one point. I went to the bathroom, and I went to the vending machine. Strangely enough the bathroom was in the first hall-way and the vending machine was at the entrance. But in the bathroom I will never forget the sign that read "Hey tarzan the bathroom mirror isnt for you to cut your hair in front of". We get back with a good 20 minutes to spare and we record again, slowly getting closer to that perfect take. Janice locked the door and the manager is banging on the door....oopps.... well any-ways we open up and Janice has a chat about how our time is up, well just get an extra hour. In this hour we figured out a progression that just slams with the vocals (and you cant get sober) and we spent some time figuring out the timing. Finally everything was perfect the perfect take was in our grasp... we have 10 minutes left on the clock. We get the take (even if 2 words are messed up, I fixed them up in heart beat r and s are 2 very easy syllabi to edit in). Than Janice wants to have an audio cd version off the little doo-hickey that records audio cds..present there in the studio (which I forgot how to turn on). The cool guy gets involved and calls over his son, I soon start thinking this guy is the owner.... no doubt about it. We get the cd to start recording, I hit play, Janice start singing. We had a great studio session taken care of today. Leaving the place Janice goes up to the office to pay up, while I hawk-eye whats going on in the studio, beside the fact that it smelt like ganja, there was a bunch of equipment that showed up, and a new guy talking about some mixes. On my way out I mentioned. "Who does the mixing here? "Oh we have a bunch of engineers, it depends on the genre really and sometimes the budge" "This is, a really great studio, Im helping to build a directory of studios across America, can I list your studio" "Ya sure and publicity is good, do what you want" Well that is offely nice of him. We get in the car pretty much forgetting about the little issue we had recording the audio cd...which was another demo that we put together literally in 3 minutes. And drive off, popping in the cd right away and listening to what we did. Sounded good! Sadly the real song was in my bag on the laptop and it was going to be a night of hard work later this month. Oh the bridge off Stanton island I remember an interesting discussion. "Janice, I hate taking pictures, but sometimes there are just moments and things that you can either take a picture of or try to remember" "Oh ya I love taking pictures, I took a photography class back in college" "oh thats cool, glad to hear you like photography as well" "And they taught us about the responsibility a photographer has when given a moment, that of grandeur" "They stole my idea!" "Haha" "Ya Id always be all up in peoples faces, being a geek and taking all sorts of pictures, you just gotta enjoy it and not worry what people think" "Thats not what it is for me, I think photography has been ruined by the development of digital" "Instead of photography being a science, it turned trivial, its just point shoot, review, try again" "Ya digital did bring photography to alot more people" Since we spent a good 4-5 hours to visit the studio Brandon deserved some attention now. We had our fun now its his turn. Janice asked if I had any plans and I mentioned my trip to Albany, which led to a discussion about visiting America before we arrived back in Brooklyn. Now either the discussion was so involved that paying attention to the road was obsolete, either way, it felt as if I had been teleported, and again I did not know which way her home was (I am willing to bet I can find it on foot though). Brandon greets us with a warm welcome, I reach down to grab his toy and he likes my face (something he really enjoys doing is licking peoples faces). Janice hands me the choke collar, the same kind I used to walk my German Sheppard (Rex) with. God....I still remember that one day he hoped in the river, which cut off a good 5-7 years of his live...because the cold of the river shivered his bones. It was a very sunny day in May. It was hot out-side, but the water was still close to freezing at it was mountain water. I thought of crossing, but realized the cold would be to much for the dog. He had been walking through the woods and along side cliffs and climbing rock walls all that day. Some-how he figured to show me that he is a strong dog, and attempted to swim across. Not even 1/10th of the way he realized his mistake.....shivering and shaking he calmly made his way back to shore. The problem was, he had a very thick coat which absorb the cold, we would wash him about once a year as he lived with my grand ma and there was no place to dry him up, and the winter and fall seasons were no good.. We continued to walk through the woods, trying to stay in places with the most sun-shine, and I managed to pick me up some of the right mushrooms, so I was watching a rather skinny bull and hearing trumpets in my head "Toro Toro!!!". I walked the dog back home keeping him in sun-light, and when he got home he stuck himself in the shade of the grape-vine. He was left to roam the lot of the home, while I went out with friends, I figured he is a smart dog. In the fall and winter I noticed that he had a slight limp and started packing clothes in his dog house to help him keep warm. Spring came along and he got worse, his upper body swelled with muscle as he was using his front legs more than his back to get around. The dog was whimpering constantly and begging for mercy, the local vet also agreed that there is a very small chance that Rex will get better. I spent a month or 2 working him out, but...to no avail. Anyways, I was very good to that dog, and he lived a great life. Brandon wont ever have to deal with the dangers of the wild, even if old age will catch up with him, thats why its important to have fun with him. Now, you would expect that walking a Doberman around the city would scare people, especially one of Brandons look. But some-how people are rather pleased to see him. I was lucky to find any-one spooked by the "beast"... Now if this was Romania, Muhahaha! People would flee the street in horror ! Along the way we bumped into a few other dogs, Brandon always kept his leash with a slight curve to it, never pulling in any direction and walking proud with us. Finally before we got home there was a man walking a few dogs, one of which was a pug, and another a cute little dog so small that it could fit in your hand. These were rescue dogs, and they were so happy to be rescued...they would jump for joy, they would sniff everything, and lick anyone kind enough to give them the time of day. We only circled around the block once, very slowly, than it was time to go to diner and head home. Janice had mentioned a nice little Spanish restaurant with some of the best fish in town, so thats where we went. Again as we entered the place she was the main attraction acting as a true diva. Sadly, I cant remember the restaurants name, but I will take people to it, and I cant remember the name because there was just to much going on. As I entered, the door (which I opened as wide as it would go) got caught in a refrigerator, containing many drinks of which had yet to be explored, ranging from soft-drinks to beers. In front of us was a deli like counter, white, with smaller glass viewing panes which contained if I remember correctly, cooking oils, and chilli sauce and things of the chefs nature. there were 2 guys, both happy to see Janice that looked as if to know how to handle a kitchen, of course they wore kitchen garments that were painted with various hues of food. To the right a window barely visible was. And to the left the dining room. It looked as if a million people had gone through, and it was cozy. The tables along the walls surrounded a well geometrized group of other tables, everything care-fully aligned so that there was always walking space. It was very well lit, not the kind of light people are accustomed to at wal-mart but the kind of light from a 70 watt light buld, not the eco-friendly type, not the sophisticated brand, simple light from a simple switch. There in the dinning room was also a fridge with more drinks, it seemed as if it was a go get your drink kind of place. Too bad it was not an all you can drink buffet. There room was almost full to occupancy, and we got lucky that 2 tables were still free. We are greeted by a cute girl, whose physic boosted the knowledgeable fact that she was a true American, though not of first generation as where the Americans who came from lands such as Scotland, France, England, or Africa but of 3rd generation which came from places such as Peru, Brazil, Kazakhstan. She had a face that I had seen before in an episode of family guy, the one girl Stewie fell in love with, the British one. We had a started a quick conversation about how her schooling is going and everything related to letting her know we under-stand the working class (some of us are parts of it, others of us ignore social class as if it were an obnoxious odor leaking out of a small pipe which could be so easily fixed). She was not waitressing and hoping to be an actress, rather she was attending classes to get involved in the medical field, it takes a strong personality to deal with sick people, and it takes a loving person to care for them. So she was not the typical waitress looking to become an actress known to the world even if for just a brief 2 hours, as soo portrayed by so many bits and pieces of international culture. Good thing we got away from that stigma. Mentioning how Janice bragged about this restaurants fish, it was clear what we would order, and when asked for drinks "Ill have one of those fizzy bubble things" "Which one" "Ill just go get it" I really enjoyed walking up and pulling my drink from the fridge, it felt as if I was not a baby begging some-one to serve me...hell I was kinda hopping theyd take me with um in the kitchen and let me cook the fish, giving me directions on how they do it as it burnt along, but that is not American society as we know it, and that is not something many people would do on a day as crowded as today, maybe next time. It is a new trend to describe foods with words, as it is a new American hip-ster movement to take pictures of your food and blog about it, it seems the American author is beginning to lack inspiration or is attempting to a attain a new level of appreciation for life, when all anyone has to do to appreciate life is to smile. The fish was amazing, non-the-less, and so were the patatoes that went along side it. After I took my first big bite, Janice warned that there are bones in the fish, soon I felt one crunch in my teeth and started picking out the food in my mouth (at first with my tongue to not be rude, than gently inserting my finger in to snag out the bone, making sure no-one was observant of this). After calling Janice up the name of the place is, It was getting late, darkness had set in and the street lamps now had to lighten the path around town, though the many vehicles present on the streets did a far greater job at that task. Along the way we spotted a Land rover that had its left front wheel knocked clean off the suspension, and its left frontside ripped to shreds. "Thats why you gotta look out when driving around in the city, you never know when that could happen to you" A kind tip of Janices. We were heading to pick up Brandon, and than to walk to the sub-way stop which would lead to the bus terminal and than to Broome county, again.... I had to leave because the last bus was with-in an hour of now, and everything else was either at 4 in the morning or later. Since I had to go to Albany and spend some time doing some other stuff that seemed interesting than (the musical peaches and crime, which I am sad to say they got to work with there old guitarist again....good for them, they have been shunned). We hugged before I left, the walk was really nice, and we talked to a few people on the way. Some-how, as I got my ice-cream to sit down and wait for the bus to leave. As soon as I took the wrapper off we were bordering. Not even half of the thing got eaten by the time I was on the bus. Sitting next to an elderly gentle man (late 50s), I had to save myself from looking like a bloody idiot with an ice cream on a bus (think Dumb and Dumber). "You know the ice cream is actually an Italian invention?" "Yes, I know, I just came back from Italy" Ya...we had a long long talk about Europe and Italy. He mentioned how there are plenty of places besides the main attractions that are just that much better. But as always, 20-30 minutes into the conversation I dozed off, waking up when the crowded bus would stop hoping to see it more empty, and if it was not, hopping out-side to stretch my legs. At the second stop though, it got empty, the fat girl sitting behind me literally ran by me and jumped in the seat across from me, while I calmly got up and witnessed everyone darting for chairs...boy that was funny. It could have been the darkness of the bus and the extremely uncomfortable seats but these people would have killed each other if they had the right. A few chairs were still left though, after the cold war, and I had my pick. I woke up as always minutes before we got into Broome county, and watched out the window for anything of interest. Boy, the family has tickets to the speedie fest and the Train concert? My rule of thumb is to never by tickets and never go to a show or concert unless, invited or on the vip list. It happened once, that I got put on the list and than it started happening more and more often. Soon I found myself feeling responsible to keep up the relationships that evolve into having my name on the list. Making the rule that I am not allowed to anything unless other-wise, helps motivate me towards building relationships. Yes, I do make exceptions, but even than I end up standing out. So the tickets to these events are just an excuse for me to go and have some more fun. Oana, the woman my father married, had the weird idea of taking me to the park before the event to make sure I knew where everything would be, and I would know where to park. The place was empty, and there were just people going about the place as if it were a normal day when she took me along (a few days earlier in June) to explore the vendors, of course I just a lemonade, and it sucked. My pops got himself something to eat, and we walked a little bit more as I keenly observed every-one around, to see who was walking and talking, who was eating or drinking, and who was doing something else. Well, about 2 percent were doing the latter. We headed out after 20 minutes there. The speedie fest audio My father decided that I would take the x5, well we only had 2 cars any-ways. I decided that I would take my laptop and record the thing (event), seeing as drinking anything is out of the question since I have to drive, and I had 3 extra tickets to either scalp or for friends I would make. Well I made it to the event late at night. Parking in the grass just like I was told not to, and just how I wanted (though some other guys had the same idea). I soon started getting me bag ready, turning on the laptop, pluggin in the audio card, setting the laptop to sit in a position that allowed the usb cable to plug out freely(on its side in the laptop portion of the bag), placing the mic in a position where it would stick out of the bag and capture things well (front pocket of the bag) and setting my levels, the audio card was too sideways to prevent the usb cable from moving around... Even if it held in place by a tooth pick and some tape. The whole time hearing some band playing an emo-metal kind of thing. I jumped out of the car (literally, it was tilted the other way and this end was pretty high off the ground) and made my way to the stage. It was right behind a puppet show booth. It was in a tent, it was 2 big p.a. speakers that cut off at 500 hertz. It was a decent stage. It was a public consisting of a few of the bands parents, a few of the bands sisters (well one smaller 5 year old girl who ran around dancing and spinning) and a few girls, one which got my attention and I soon made a plan in my head on how to get to say "hi". I would sit here and listen to the band, in the most depressing of all venues and than I would post the recording on facepoop and meet the guys, and soon we would get along and make our way to a party, and she would be there. Well... I did just that, the band sadly displeased me because I sent them a message on facepoop about playing some gigs (after I posted the recording and they mentioned how bad ass it was) in New York, because (we will call him Anubis for now) Anubis is a promoter and has plenty of killer shows every week. Well they said they would do it, and than never followed through to actually give me a phone number, as far as I am concerned this is just some high-school kids who are living a fantasy, the friends they hang out with are not people I would have around me as it seems the lack of motivation to get up and get herd is dead with them. I sat through the show. The whole time my body wanted to get and walk away though, but I have responsibilities...and they include sitting around watching a bunch of whiny teenagers. Attempting to liven things up, I made some noise as well, and as soon as things ended, I cleverly watched people disband and then made my way around the grounds to the main stage area....For some strange reason it was on the exact opposite side of the "picnic" grounds. Keeping my cool and because the "guards" at the entrance were just 2 high-school kids pretending their flashlights were light-sabers, I did not have to pull out my ticket to get in. Of course, as always, I made my way to dead center and about 15 feet away from the stage. A very good position for recording mono , mind you. It was easy, no worming nor "excuse me miss" nothing. The path to this spot was laid out. Around me, there was 3 people who looked to me as if they might be smoking weed. Surely enough, a moment later they pull out a joint and start smoking. One was on a lawn chair and 2 were standing. Now it could have been the tyd out shirt on the blonde haired woman who had loose jeans with a few rips and the blue hue of the sun-lit sky and a rather friendly looking white back-pack on, or it could have been the loosely dressed training gear on the hippie in the lawn chair that gave away the pot present with these guys, or it could have just been my instinct. To bad I quite smoking. I stood around every-one listening to the wall of sound. It was nice to hear so many people talking at the same time. Not talking at me but talking. And I herd every-word they said. Though the organ in my body known as my brain filtered out all but the interesting bits that I over heard....Which were none. 10 minutes later after the local capitalist radio host made his speech and handed out cheerios to the public, some girl came out and explained. "Sorry guys were having technical difficulties, we will be with you in 15". 20 minutes later a guy with a slender build tries to sneak around the stage with a laptop, I seen him hit play and I knew what the technical difficulties were....he was still in the bathroom wanking one off to some weird midget porn on that laptop instead of getting around to being responsible. The backing track starts, your typical "orchestrated" intro. The singer tries to sing something, it comes out incredibly flat, my laptop has a moment of "Screw you guys, Im going home" and stops recording. From the looks of things I thought he turned off... but hey ... I walked out of there and took a look at Retob. He was still going at half battery. I put him on my lap on a bench next to the woods after walking far away enough from the show to not hear it. Now we are talking about a venue with a professional sound-system, big array speakers reflectors, over 50 lasers, to walk away far enough to not hear is a mighty big distance. Anywho. Retob and Bill (along with Mike the microphone) get along to recording. This time around I decide to explore the small line of forest between the park and the river, as it is 10 o clock and its pitch black. Secretly hoping I would find either some people with guitars hanging out and maybe smoking weed or a girl by the river watching the moonlight. All that was found was a walk, brushes of leaves could be herd though as they gently swiped Mike. I did keep my foot-steps light as to not interfere with the sweet sound of nature. I walked back and found a girl dancing along to the music, we talked a little. "Hey do you know the artist?" I asked "Ya its "pop singer x" "Is she from Cali?" "No from Kansas" "Oh like Hana Montana!" "Who?" "Miley Cyrus" "ohh yea" "I just figured, because she has a black bassist and a black drummer, with a white dude that looks like the guy from Deep purple on keyboards she was from Cali, they got the look right" "Ahh yea" Apparently mocking a bad someone likes doesnt help your chances with um, but I still asked her if she wanted to go closer to the stage...she declined than turned around to look from the side-lines. The choice to either stay by her or walk away was now to be made... well I tallied up what she has going for her to what she has going against her. For is Blonde hair, good height, nice body, cute dress. vs Weird smile, no boobs, likes the band, hard to talk to. ((This bit was not recorded because I dropped the laptop in the car to let me walk easy). I went to walk some more and found my way to the car just as people started to leave. Being of the first to leave it was easy to get out. It is really strange though...in such a big crowd of people, I felt compelled to actually not talk to any-one. Ah yes... when August first started off I was doing exactly what am I doing now. Writing this little log. It was rather calming, sitting outside on the balcony of my fathers home and typing away in the warm sunny breeze of the early morning. Distractions to my writing are always present and this month it took 4-5 days to write out everything. But hey....That is what happened in August for the most part, chronologically from the end to the beginning as so seems to be the trend...well actually the trend is to start at the end than go all the way to the beginning and than mention something about half-way through than go to the end again and than continue...and what-not. I did how ever forget to mention that my guitar was out of order for a few weeks towards the end, after Albany. The 5 way switch pretty much burnt out and I had to get a new one. Instead of going to every guitar shop in the area, I had Benny from music city order me one. It came about 2 weeks ago, and it really was something very easy to talk about, though I rewired all the electrics in my guitar because of that. And the 5 way turned into a 5 and a half-way. Basically the second position from the bridge has a blend incorporated on a pot instead of going into a volume circuit (I play with no volume pot on, if I want quieter I just play quieter) so now I get to blend between middle pup and bridge pup instead of just have um mixed hard-core on that circuit. That also cut out the possibility of having mid pup and neck pup set-ups so now the neck pup is on 2 positions, but than again, because of the blend feature it keeps the 5 positions, and than the bridge pup has a tone manipulation due to the blend on the second position...or something like that. Ill post some more recorded bit soon as well. Only happy on guitar. September you say ? This is a month when summer-time ends. Winter is going to come along and snow is going to fall...but first there has to be a slight transition. Nothing in this world just happens spontaneously, there will be and always is a build up. The draft to Verbal had been taken care of...some-time in the timeline of this month... And Wykyd Diction has gone to stage f11 (f12 being the mastered thing). Diction Homi September starts out with me and a Buick century out in a field writing out what happened in October....Well after I talk to the owner of the beautiful field, I parked by, about what the heck I am doing out in the middle of no-where. His concerns are that I am one of those slightly challenged people who litter on his property, ruining the beauty. "In my Mother land people do this all the time, it is hard to find any piece of nature that does not have a beer bottle or a candy wrapper laying around spoiling the view" "Well Im glad you can appreciate a good thing, good luck on your writing" "You know, it is a pretty good read, if you want I can give you the address" "Ya sure, you have something to jot it down on" By now his dog already ran half-way of a mile down the road and was out of sight, he was in a hurry to get back to his morning routine as well. "Well its really complicated, I just enter my old phone number and it shows up on google" Well... I forgot my number....Luckily my computer had saved the blogs web-site in the browser, so even with no internet connection I could still get this dude the 411. We bid fare-well and we both got back to our (morning) chores. Everything happened as I was sitting in the car, in the back seat, all stretched out (my head on the drivers side). My back was on a blanket I jimmy rigged to be a pillow, my bottle of IBC cream soda was on the left on the floor, and the door to my feet was wide open with the window behind me as well. The view was a field and than a big hill, with the 11 o clock sun shining like a diamond off all the green grass and high tides. As I wrote out, a Rottweiler came by and started sniffing my feet. I put the writing bit away and gave the puppy some attention... I am a dog person. The rest of the day was pretty straight forward, go any-where but my fathers home. The key-strokes of my laptop were to loud, I would have to argue over the fact that this is one thing is something the communists are going to have to live with....Even if this was all an arguement to stay away fabled up by my imagination. There was a possibility of going out to enjoy some Lasangia and a cold beer on the other side of the fence.... It was a pretty hard choice. Most people if given the choice between being sodomized and eating a cup-cake. A good 97 percent would pick the cup-cake. I still have not met any-one from the 3 percent, yet (sadly). The next day, I found myself out again, looking for a pristine spot to write. I figured I-17 could lead to something good...but 2 hours of driving around Pensalvania without finding a nice place to write or to at least have cell-phone coverage, to use the google maps feature to scope out the surroundings. I had to head back up to up-state. The 20 spent on gas where all consumed by the time I got back and another 20 had to be wasted on gas...40 bucks just to look around. The next day it would turn into 60 and 2 days later 100! That is just not effiecent! Along the way, there were slight contenders, there were places I could write. But the risk of some-one comming along and talking to me (wasteing away the precious battery life of Retob, my laptop) was huge !!! There are chicken farms. The same kind of places I have seen in documentaries mentioning how crude the food industry has become. They are white on the out-side. With just a few vents along the length of the walls. It is black inside. Light comes in and it never escapes. It is like looking at a black-hole, the vents are. Inside I knew there are thousands of chickens crunched up together and fed chemicals. The feeling to me made me think of the concentration camps of the Nazi regiem...If only we would take better care of our food instead of treating like a few cents on a dollar. This was a place I could not write around. I had the slight urge to open the doors and force the chickens out, but it was going to be just me and the cops arguing over the fact that I am a manged lunatic....not me and some animal rights organization making a statement. There are body shops and hot-rods along the road as well. Think of the movie grease lightning and that is exactly what you will see in these shops...Well not John Travolta and the car but close to that. It was a journey mostly driven down a 2 lane road dotted with homes and ranches. The void between them filled with forest. I thought, to leave the car by the side of the road and just walk through the woods finding some place, but it was my friends car. The risk of it being towed was not one to be taken...It is like playing poker with your rent money. After you just lost all your spending money. The tavern I found on the road reminded me of something straight out of Romania. The road went either left or right and straight ahead was an old building. Round and built of bricks. Romania had plenty of these spots, it was always bland going in. I was to scared of stepping in and minutes later walking out and being in Romania again. This is the twilight zone after-all. The spot I found though, was right next to a baseball field and it was quite splendid. It was not in Pennsylvanian, but rather back in upstate N.Y., after I spent another 20 on gas. Originally I followed some signs that were supposed to lead me to the observatory. Where back as a child in vestal middle I got a salamander stuck n the vent....and did a few other things that kept my class from ever going there again. I made it in impeccable time. Having left at a good 9 in the morning it was now 12. The car was parked in a stone pebble parking lot that was traced out by a large heap of boulders... I got out with a vial of vitamin A and a packate of pills just to swallow them down in the mid-day sun. I ate after-words, a burger I picked up from some-place the night before and had it packed to go, other-wise it would be a piece of writing complaining about how hungry I was in August. The writing bit forces me at the beginning of every month to take a breather. To find places that re-energize the soul and spirit and to care-fully dwindle with memory and thought. The process of writing out all these things becomes hypnotizing as a warp in time and space gets distilled and the more memory pertudes into the conscious the more vivid the recalled experiences become. It came be considered a form of meditation, and it can also be considered a form of therapy. But they are the same bloody thing any-way. This month I am taking my medication...my cough has been at ease for the past 4-5 months and the cure still involves meditation and pills (and speaking with as few words as possible, carefully chosen words of course). I have been trying to keep myself as far away from a stage as I can and to sing as little as humanly possible (and to talk just about the same). My one show a month rule is being bent to the limit and this month I will need a proper setting to indulge. It better happen. I figured I could drive truck for a few years until my throat heals... and I stop coughing...but well.. I just dont get along good with the exam instructors.Having been scheduled to take my road test again to make up for the failed exam of last month. Again I went to visit Albany. A 300 dollar investment. I was confident that I was going to pass all the way to the hotel. It quickly became clear though that I would fail the exam the second morning of my stay in Albany... Ya sure... I got to visit the whole city this time. Eating lunch on a boat (10 bucks for a spinach quasa-dia...that was actually worth the 10 bucks!), and watching the local musicians make a hoot of music on the street... Sure I got recommended to read a book called mystic and gave some-one else a link to read this blog (an actual novelist and beer enthusiast). But I still did not find one place to play pool. I had a place to shoot darts, even if it was just byme-self. In the hotel I finished writing, I arrived late to check in. At around 9 at night. After entering the room I pulled the drapes and wrote away in complete darkness. Falling asleep at who knows what hour and waking up at 6 to wait in the lobby for the CDL school to pick me up. Being very well rested. An hour later I was on the bus to head down to the school myself as no-one came to pick me up and the school did not answer the phone as they opened the business at 9. On the bus I still felt confident that things were going to be ok. Even if the 3 omen rule had been broken. It still did not keep me from feeling as if today I would get a license that lets me drive big fucking trucks. The 3 omen rule is simple. If when you try to do something 3 bad things related to that goal happen. The goal wont happen. The 3 bad things today were 1. No-one was at the lobby to pick me up. 2. I could not call any-one as the business was closed till Eight. 3. I just missed the first bus out towards down-town. I was on a bus towards down-town Albany when I got a phone call regarding why I was not at the school, where I was and how to get to my exam. After a few phone calls and careful planning we organized that from downtown Albany, in front of the University, I would get picked up by a nice big rig from the school. And I would be the first one to take the test. Everything went great with the pre-trip inspection. Everything went smooth with the break test. But before I even took 3 turns we were already heading back because I took the turns to wide.... As in ... When you turn KEEP YOUR LANE ! Returning to the testing area, where a few cadetes I ran into last time were waiting to take their exam, we greeted each other and talked and laughed about never giving up on this road-test. Every-one gets it one day. Ed tried to convince me to stick around and come with him to the school, but I needed some time alone to relax the hatred and anger from failing again. It was just the fact that I would not have 2 thousand dollars a month to invest in things. It was also the fact that I will have to find something else to do, something that could potentially involve my throat. I still failed at something that seemed so easy to me. Must have gotten cocky. I said hi to the girls and boys at the office at the CDL school after I took the bus over. Announcing to the nice people at the CDL school that I give up on truck driver and I am going back to book-keeping they were a little disappointed to hear that they had their first failed student. Sorry guys ! I made my way back to down-town Albany via the bus. And got off at the ole londo pub. It was time to solk in self pity. I order a black beer and side of fish and chips, and quickly started practicing darts. Going through the finishing chart. "ok...Triple 20, double 20, Triple 19" 12 minutes later "Finally...whats next. Triple 20 Double 20 double 19" About an hour later I was sick and tired of hitting double 19s and tired of scrapping the salt off the fries. Mind you the fish was incredible. I packed things up, got another beer and sat in the sun a little more just thinking... "Ok... look... the whole truck driving thing was to make people happy that you have a solid income.. it was an idea and a direction of travel not fitting of me." Was the final conclusion. I walked around the rest of down-town Albany. I had allotted myself 60 minutes of being a tourist to visit things. Sadly 20 of those minutes were wasted at the theater looking at all the pretty pictures of shows that were put on. God-Damn is America better than Romania!!! The rep-eh-toure and imagination in Romania is worse than a 4th grades classes first recital of a bloody act! I also saw a condemned house in down-town Albany and thought. "Well the door is open...why dont I just crash there?! I could walk around bugging people to record with me and go play gigs !..." Than I remembered the fact that in about a day or 2 I would start to smell really bad. Bummer. If it was California I could get away with it. Though the adventure itself would have been interesting. Enough people have went down that path and lived to write about it. I will not be another. At the bus terminal it was funny that a cabby kept haggling me to let him drive me. And because I had another hour (my clock must have been ahead or something) I went down by the river to take a nap. Ignoring the cabby altogether. There was an apple tree near by and I had a snack... there was a rock placed right on the margin of a 30 foot drop perfectly shaped to let me lay on it and the sun was enough to really achieve a level of relaxation only mother nature could achieve. Hot sun, burning down, gator getting close he aint got me yet. I spent some time on the phone, and napped and than quickly made my way back towards the bus terminal. But soon got caught looking at all the bronze portraits of events that shaped the state of New York. They were under a bridge on the supporting walls. I left Albany a bitter man to go back to where I have been living for the past 3 months. With my father and his demented wife I had been for the past 3 months. He convinced me to stay under the notion that it is cheaper. I listened to his advice. Sure...it was cheaper to stay in the house and watch t.v. or practice darts. Drinking beer or hiking through the forest. There was also a rule in the house that no-one is allowed to cook unless it is on the grill and out-side. No oven. No stove. It was nice to eat out every night. Always some-thing different. But I started to miss cooking after being out of the kitchen for so long. My passion burns blue, my love shines red. (Thats a gas over-top and pretty red guitar reference). Having spent time with Victors cars, I spent more money on gasoline in 5 days than I ever did on guitar strings in 5 years ! I may have been toying with the idea of getting a car, but 200 bucks a week on gas! Than I would have to pay for insurance !! Holy crap!! No way! I can use my money for other things!!! More use-ful things. The red speeder bike in the garage seemed like a very good tool now that the car has shown me that there is fun to be had and joy to be brought as long as I do not stay in the forest like some kind of a anti-social gitter-bug. The fact that the bike would potentially save me a thousand dollars a month also beckoned on-to me. And as far as the MMA stuff is concerned the bike it would also help me train myself into a more fit version of "The dude". Come the weekend we have the typical (awkward) family get together, where they do nothing but stay home and complain to each other. "Mihai what the fuck, you didnt fix the shades?" "Why didnt you cut the grass, douche-bag" Now when you hear a 39 year old married woman talk like that...eh... you get distraught. Suddenly Gator wants to start asking where his money is.. We had a wedding to go to though. My father and I just picked up clothes from the shop and shoes and were dressed to kill. We made the reception right on time. Vic handed me a camera and soon I was taking pictures of what every-one else was missing. As the Bride and Groom gave their everlasting ever loving promises and vows to each other, a feeling of great pride and honor came over me...if even for a little bit. I smoked at this wedding to. Bummed a few cigars off a few people and slowly started talking to people. I really did not know any-one from there to well. Except the bride, she was a dear friend of my fathers. Well it went all just fine. And at a good 9 o clock we were back home doing nothing. I did not stick around much for the rest of the weekend...it was fruit-less, the family was not going to do anything positive but sit around and mope. The cultural setting around me still had to be explored and I still had to set myself in a comfortable zone inside all the music, art, poetry, yoga, and everything else harmonic to life. Saturday I would be at power of one... Sunday I took the dog out for a very long walk which involved meeting some pretty french fur balls (and breaking my phone trying to pet the doggies, they were a breed that is very jumpy and about the size of Mastiffs), getting invited by a neighbor to say hi to her doggy, and wondering around in the woods with Vinny (the beagle). Now the thing with Vinny is that I like to let him loose in the woods to than chase after him when he has made enough head-way through the woods to actually be a challenge to track down (I am the predator and he is Arnold Schwartzanagga!). The silence of the forest usually gets broken by some-kind of sound the dog makes, than I have to take quick but faint steps towards that direction in order to still listen, to change my direction every-time another branch breaks or another bunch of leaves rustles. Sometimes he barks, some-times a bird flies off, a-lot of things happen when that dog tries to go hunting. Vinny has a very distinctive sound to him-self, one that I never confuse with any other animal. The sound he makes is hectic and frantic... sudden and weighted, it is the sound of my beloved Vinny. The forests them-selves are always beautiful, as long as you are not on a trail. The foliage is always some sort of mix of a million different types of plants care-fully orchestrated into a contrast of greens. There is also a carpet laid down over hundred of years of seasons. Fallen leaves from last years fall, branches and twigs, trees...and some-times skeletons of animals (I have actually picked up a bone that I thought was a humorous on various occasions). After a good hour in the woods I usually start wondering about just staying in the woods and never coming out, and than the argument that I am a member of society and must contribute to culture and blah blah blah comes to mind and I wonder back to asphalt and concrete. It is easier to think out there. Now, Vinny manages to get far enough away after I think to myself (for the most part of the trip). My worry is not that I will lose the dog, but that he will end up in some-ones yard. Or some other animals food. There are foxes where we live and there are also reports of mountain lions....can not wait to bag one. I manage to hear some-thing in the distance that resembles my dog sniffing about. Not the actual sniffing but the noise he makes from carrying that nose about. I walk in that general direction and after I get with-in calling distance...the dog ignore my calls...so I sprint to him and push him down. I smack him with the leesh, but more play-fully than harm-fully, hoping the dog under-stands that he has to obey my commands. It is not because I want him disciplined, but for his safety. We could wander the woods and wind up near a high-way for example. And if for some reason I can not get to the dog in time, lets say, I would be on a hill. He has to obey the command of "Bad Dog". Which means to him, come to owner and wait for affection. I let him up after he starts being cute again (usually starts laying on his back with a wide open mouth begging for me to pet his belly). He follows me around and we get back on a trail in the woods. He wanders off again. And again he does not respond to "Bad Dog". After I stalk him down and call him, again he ignores me.... This time I flip him over with my arm, and hold him down for a minute or 2 tapping the whiskas on his mouth and saying "Bad dog" over and over again. The guy I ran into by the field the first this month mentioned that his beagle was a very bad dog, and even after he beat the dog it just would not obey and ran around biting people so he had to put the dog down. These dogs do have a strong personality...and training them is very tricky. If you are to mean, than the smallest amount of attention will suffixe to give them happiness. If you are to nice. Well they just get fat and jumpy. Finally, I set the dog free after he (hopefully) got the message and he runs around, like nothing happened. I test out the command and he seems to have gotten it just right. Randomily saying bad dog at 5-10 minute intervals, he responds just fine. My phone than rings and I talk to my father...the dog runs off again, as he sought the opportunity for something like this to happen ever since we walked in the woods or maybe it was just that I was not being responsible any-more. Getting off the phone I knew exactly where he was and let out a slight roar before I charged in his direction. I love sprinting through the forest, even if it is in flip-flops. All the things that constantly come towards you at a full sprint, the footing drastically changing from step to step. It is a little exciting to run through the forest. A spider web will appear in your field of view and you have to either take it or go around it, a broken out spline of wood sticks out where you want to step, the leaves hide other mysterious dangers. Running after him is my little way of playing with him. The sprint was short, as I saw a stump over-looking the hill my dog was going down, and figured I could stop right there to get a good view and watch the dog, just had to jump on the bloody thing. Well... putting my right foot forward in slippers from a full spring on woodlands that are slightly wet deleviered a broken toe by means of righ foot slipping on something before the jump. Right and left hand both desperetly seeking something to grab as I was tilting backwards (and it was my left that caught a tree branch strong enough to stop me from flying over the stump or smacking it with my face) and my left leg which had become an emergency break by running straight into the bark. The fall on my back would have got me dirty. Staying on my feet broke my toe. I felt it right there and then. I screamed, no-body herd me. Who the hell was going to hear me ? (Though it is sad no-one recorded it...the sound of me in pain is something I truly want recorded...the screams I make...) I made my way to the dog and picked him up, I did not stop after the slip. The dog, he had to under-stand...we are not going any-where for the next 30 minutes as I sat on the hill waiting for the toe to swell up and numb over and to be use-ful again. It was fun.. being stuck in the woods with a broken toe like that. The dog noticed the high level of aggravation in my voice and obeyed me very nicely. I wandered through the woods hoping to find my way back to the road and thought to myself...man Vietnam must have really sucked. I walked through thorns, I walked through bushes.... it was a night-mare getting out of there. The same beutiful forest I felt so at home in now felt like a pit of dispare. The heading was clear to me. But the distance was grand. An atv trail soon made the walk a little more pleasant and that soon wound up on the road. Again it was 12 o-clock and the mid-day sun was burning me down...again. I walked with the dog up the same hill we went down on. This time around it was not as joy-ess as it had been earlier. "Its 5o clock some-where" was posted on a sign with a blue parrot holding a green martini, it now looked evil and despicable. The same tree where I ate a pear from, looked meek and poisoned, the up-hill road looked eternal. Hot sun burning down...burning my feet just walking around. I took my shirt off as I stumbled up the hill, walking by an old western interlocking white plank fence with a beagle on a leash and the same walk you would have seen in a 17th century hill-billy carrying a loaded revolver and missing a toe, I still managed to get the ladies attention...A few girlys slowed down to get a good look. To bad they did not stop. Hose teasers. This is the night I went down to the Beagle pub and found out that the dart board is lower and the throwing distance is shorter than regulation, the ceiling was also so short that it felt like it was going to get whacked by a throw ...Why ?? The foose-ball table was coin operated. And the wood floor was looking as if the salon had been open for 100 years. How is the food ? Please do not ask me to try. The next day. I would be at the MMA gym. Luckily I had a car as biking down with my toe the way it was (it was my big toe!). Would not be such a fun thing to do. This time around the gym was fun. I got to go into the ring with Bobby, who has a way of taking a pounding and not giving up or getting hurt... his body must be made out of some sort of new-material (maybe he is a terminator), and some-how always comes back strong. Video here. My comrades could not know about my toe and that is what made everything fun. Having to hide an injury. I did good Bobby and I got in the ring to throw some light punches and kicks and really spare....30 seconds later I got a technical knock out because a zit on my fore-head popped and blood was gushing off of my face.... Well not really a zit, because my head pretty much just split. Blood was literally pouring down my nose. It was funny, really, how it happened. I pushed Bobbys guard open with my hands, and had only my head or feet to attack with, jokingly I bolted forward with my head, and he did the same. I saw blood on my finger a second later and the look on his face. It was also a very long day of training. Yohans (hope I spelled it right), the 250+ pound heavy-weight came in to train as well...only a few people grace the 200 pound mark. We had a lesson about side-mounts and working with them. Yohans enlightened us that all he does is lock his hand straight, by either moving his body or whenever the opponent leaves an opening to put a straight arm between the two fighters. After-wards you use the force of the "bad guy" pushing against you to pull up. Some people have done that for ages, other just found out about it tonight. My gloves had-not come in...sadly..and I trained with a normal set from the gym. At one point I over-heated again and ran to the car, in the rain, to grab a cream soda...to find out that it tasted horrid...The taste of corn with vanilla sprayed on it. I filled it up with water after dumping out the toxic contents and sat down in the lounge baked like a patatoe, looking at everyone still training and wondering "Why the hell dont they get hot !" Yohans wanted to go out and I got his number, but sadly nothing happened that night except for everyone going home to rest. The next day I was to hang out at one of my cousins home and visit the kids. I brought over a playstation 3 and soon that poor thing never got a break from delivering mind numbing "entertainment" to the young ones. Victor finally took the car back earlier that day and I complained to him that I spent so much on gas. He gave me a pretty nice ultimatum when I delivered the car to him. "Where do you want me to drop you off" Hmm..the boring home far away from civilization and melancholy or my cousin place filled with youthful play-full-ness and energy surrounded by the down-town area. It was a hard choice. No doubt. Any 20 year old human would make the same choice...unless they were anti-social. Some-how I managed to bring along a few toys as I stayed over at my cousins, the next few days. And I imagine it was like christmax for the kids. An android, a laptop, a playstation 3, an electric guitar (which no-body touched) and a royal court jester. New things at the 3 kings disposal! Well that first night I had to work on putting the bones together for verbal homicide (taking the samples from the original and popping up some drums and getting the timing right). I had already taken care of the draft and got some guitar bits recorded...but the draft was very very rough. It was a loop with a guitar on top...no composition or thought seemed present. But I had the guitar recorded and more importantly I had the bass-line. The steps now for the song how-ever were to implement an actual drum beat that would be consisting of 2 kick drums designed by me to create a very profound pounding sensation. Than a snare to actuate the groove. A hi-hat just like in the original - a clicking sound that just ticks and tocks. And the sample re-harmonized to sound as if chore voices were on top. But this song needed space between everything, something I usually do not do. I set everything in a song to be right on top of each other. Well, tonight I managed to just order thing around and than nail the kick drum sound. I went through a good 20 different sample (out of thousands) before I found the drum I was happy with. Tonight the kids would play what-ever was on the ps3 .. they found "Just Cause 2". I would sit in the very same chair I sat in 10 years ago to do my home-work. A dark black leather arm-chair, that has become as soft as a lazy boy over the years but the color still has not faded and I still do my home-work. My fathers place of employment was right around the corner from her home, so I would visit to sit there and have talks for hours about...just anything. Sometimes taking my little cousins along as well. The first night though. I had to wait around for him and met the head honcho in charge of the radiology department. Where was he from ? Morocco ? Well either way. Very very nice guy. We had a talk about how people screw over their lives and we had a talk about how great music is. We also had a talk about following your passions. It was nice to run into some-one with the same kind of positive and constructive mentality that every-one in the world should have. The talk led to a few things being noted. Such as that he has a passion for medicine and helping people, even if they do not have insurance, and that business is his job, he managed to take his passion for helping people and combine it with running a business. He reminded me that here in America I can actually go after what I love to do and we soon talked about how I should just get a job cooking (of course after I bragged about how I can have 4 dishes on the oven top and something in the baker and still have enough time to smoke a cigarette and play a little guitar between the 5 tasks). My father came along just as we were laughing out in the lounge and quickly caught on to our vibe being slightly winded towards cheering up. Today I had the opportunity to visit the world renowned cross fire recording studio. After putting it off for so long. It was not going to be much of any thing just a simple meet and greet, listen to the acoustics of the place and see exactly what can and can not be done there. Since I had no car, I begged my cousin for hers. And since I was going to a studio my lil cousin begged me to come along (weird how that chain works). Well. She was alright with it, and gave me direction on how to get to "kirk-wood". Along the way we spotted some military trucks and immediately I had to promise the kid we will visit them on the way back. "Just go up the road until you see a yellow sports car" "Thats what the guy said" "A yellow sports car?" "Oh there it is!" It was a nice little home, far away from every-one. surrounded by calm and quite. A good place to kill some-one and bury their body in the woods. Or to have some ritualistic blood baths and chants. Or just a nice quite place to raise a kid in pure tranquility. The next day I decided that I should go drop off some job applications for the restaurants in the area for the position of cook. Number five as it is called was right by my cousins place, so I took the kids out for a walk and stopped by. But it was closed. Go figure. Me and the kids walked around a bit, we crossed over the river and hung around at this memorial. I hopped in the river and practiced balancing on rocks...which led to me slipping off and falling in. I mentioned to the little ones the fact that every-thing in the world vibrates and started striking a part of the bridge that causes heavy vibration on the whole thing. I got a good chunk of the metal frame to wobble back and forth. My little cousin Nicky started doing the same thing, but off time when Cornelius said. "Look lets not get in trouble for breaking the bridge, nock it off both of yous". If the kids were only a decade older we would be the three stooges. While I do not believe it is possible to break the bridge by vibration alone. I would try...and something will fall off. We did not hang out for much. Just about an hour. Than we headed back home to play video games. Soon the hour of reckoning was upon me and I left to drop off job applications to hopefully get hired as a cook. So far no one has called, but it could be from the fact that I asked 15 dollars an hour. I thought that maybe if the person looking to hire saw 15, they would try to haggle and we would settle at 10...Maybe Americans do not like to haggle... So yes. My cousin has kids and those kids are my cousins to...I think? A few days pass and soon my cousin and I get convinced to visit the social security office. Mainly she convinced me to visit. I was curious to how the bloody thing works. It is a pretty straight-forward deal soon was I to find out. You wait around, take a nap, walk out for a drill fire scare, walk back in, get skipped and than get called in for an interview, a week later another interview is scheduled and you could receive benefits. Now...free food sounds pretty good to me. You know the more the marrier. And the whole bit about paying half of your rent (or all of it) sounds pretty good too. And even if some people say that there are people who actually need these services...such as mothers in distress and war heros, the truth is that the taxes I have paid for the past 23 years should be enough to let me on for at least a year before affecting any-one elses benefits (talk about being a smooch). Sadly...I screwed this whole thing up because I went to Virginia the day I had my interview. They never called me to reschedule and it seems I wont be getting any free food ... well actually... I get plenty of free food... maybe I wont be getting any canned soup and food stamps is the right way of saying it. Besides I would buy all the good treats out of the store and soon have people complain that "He does not use his food stamps properly". It could happen! The other thing that really bugged me was that I already applied for work at all the frikking restaurants in the area (well a good 70 percent) and I was sure that by the end of the week a job would hit me. These guys wanted me to make a list of 20 places I applied for work after I visit the social services office, but I could have just filled it out with the places I have been to....Easy stuff. To bad on the 25th I would be in Virginia..Eh..maybe next month. It is very time consuming to be on S.S. I still feel sad I do not get to stick it to the man and take some of my tax dollars back, but hey...Thats life. The only good thing out of the whole experience was that while I sat there... in the lobby. A pretty little thing caught my attention. I am sure her first name was Rachel...sadly I forgot her last and my phone failed to save any of that information. I did not go up to her and start a conversation because, well I could not figure out what to say to her. Plus she was very short. So that was almost a complete waste of my time. I still felt compelled to remember her. In case we run into each other again. She looked exactly like the kid of girl I like to be with, not to be confused with the kind I want to be with (here is a hint, I do not want a girly...yet). What am I doing at the cyber-cafe again ? I really can not remember why the heck I showed up, but I did. It could have been because of the carrot cake, maybe I was supposed to meet my father and go for a soccer game...But I ended up here again. This place is slowly starting to grow on me and become a second home. Even though I constantly get beat at chess... It was a good night here at the cyber cafe on the 19th. It all started when I was sitting out-side on the back patio after playing some basket-ball with a neighbor of the cafe named Levi. Who would have thought that you could get a beer at a cafe and go play some basketball at the same time! America is so sweat some-times. The kid, he played pretty good, but damn... I forgot I could actually make baskets! "I have not played in so long, hope I dont make a fool of myself" "Its alright, Ill take it easy" "Well look out for my defense I still got that" I scored 2 points in a row. One lay-up and one 3 pointer, when I said to myself. "He is younger, let him win the game." I started playing my defense. Catching the rebound and making Levi chase me for the ball. I started doing my old cross-overs mentioning how much I liked to put the ball in my shirt and twirl it around. He started to sweat and I let him have his first point. It went on for a good 30 minutes or more. And we only played till 5, but it was win by 2. Levi invited me to play whenever I was around and I made my way back to the patio and my beer. So I was sitting back there on the patio thinking... Absolutely nothing. When from the corner of my eye I spot a fox. She was moving towards the stage entrance with a guitar dangling from her right hand as fast as if she had a rocket strapped to her back. From the corner of my eye, she came into view as I quickly jolted my head and moved to stand over the wooden patio, the view was from above, so I was looking down on her as I said hello... She seemed to be my friend from Romania who has such a power-ful and unique spirit. It was the hair-cut really that did it. Short and blonde. Everything else was some-one else. But that vague impression from the corner of my eye startled me enough to start being socially agressive. But that was the impulse that made me talk to the girly. I do not talk to people unless I get an impulse. After getting a better view she became who she is. "What are you doing with that guitar?" "Oh I am playing here tonight". Now she looked like a punk rock kind of girl. Dressed as one of the Robin hood (men in tights) characters on the lower body, and with a deer skind jacket on the upper half. She had a pierce some-where on her face (you can decide where) and a look on her face that was both kind and ...some-thing else, very hard to describe. But her voice! It rang of pure innocence. So high pitched yet so soft. Loud but still gentle. It was hard to continue the discussion with-out asking, what is up with your voice!!! But the question was avoided. "Do you want some-help un-packing" "No no I do this all the time." I glaced around and saw her sports utility sitting with a in the parking lot with a hitched up camper. "You mean to tell me you travel the country and sing around ?" "Yep" I let her run off, to only dart around the club (jumping off the patio as soon as she and any-one can not see me) and greet her in-front of the stage..no not short-breathed. I start asking more questions, and soon jump on the stage and walk out the stage exit with her. Who knows what the hell I asked. The second I herd "Travel and Sing" a bell rang out in my head like a silver bullet cracking the moon in half. """Shit!!! Quick!!! See what you can do, maybe she can take you with her!!!! Get out of this fucking town!!! LEAVE !!! NOW!!!""" That is why I jumped off the patio and darted around the club and asked all those questions. I needed to know exactly what my chances with this girl were for going south. Phun intended. My father arrives and I hop in the car, shocked and speech-less. While Liz is still fixing up her stage, and she asked me to stay at the show (well ... duh... thats what we singers do, we tell people to show up!). "Did you smoke something?" "No its my feet" "No no no, you smoked something" "Look, there is a girl in there, playing a show. I have a chance to leave with her" "Oh you smoked something !" "No its my feet" I take off my shoe and pull it up to my fathers nose. "I accidentally fell in the river a few days ago". "And how the hell do you think some-one is going to want to take you along across America with feet that stinky! How did you fall in the river?, did you smoke something ?" "I was hanging out with the kids and I slipped in, we were bouncing around on rocks" "Look maybe we can get some socks and shoes and I can come back" "What you dont want to come home any-more?" "No way, its boring there...look Ill come back in the morning..Ill walk if I have to, it will figure its self out. Maybe I wont even come back, maybe Ill leave..." "Why dont you stay at Mariahs again?" "Well things are gonna be over at 2.. I dont really wanna bug my cousin again" "You need to figure things out fast, the baby goes to sleep at 9" "The chance that I leave with this girl are about 45 to 55..." "Thats not much lets go home" "no.. no .. there still is a chance, Im going back I dont care" My father is entertained by the idea that I want to go try to skip town with this girl. As we walk into big lots to look for new shoes I am already thinking """Crap..travel all across America? She is not even cute! Well dont say that out-loud....""" Big lots has nothing and we head out to wal-mart. I pick up baking soda to wash my feet. I pick up socks. I pick up 10 dollar shoes and I pick up a jacket for the night. In the parking lot I powder my feet and throw the old shoes away. They were nice, but they died tonight. The smell was so bad, it smelt as if some-one was making a stew out of old leather pursues. The night went along well. I bought a cup of cider. I stood in-front of the stage watching this girl bounce around from guitar to keyboards, from keyboards with backing tracks to guitar again. Now her mac did not like the usb audio card she was using for her sound, but she was doing it still even with the technical difficulties. Her voice was always spot on, and I finally found the magic thing about it. She sounded as if she was taking care of kids at a day-care. She mentioned that she got a major in classical composition, though everything she composed was simple, slow tempoed and very lyric driven....the instruments them-selves were really just their to turn this poetry recital of a wandering soul into something close to music. Her words told some decent stories, the under-laying being that she is either in love with some-one that has no musical expression or is looking for some-one who supports and under-stands her. Some-how I end up talking to some-one named John. He mentions that the girl is from Ithaca. Which is 30 minutes away from Bingy. I was hoping and praying that she was from at least 4 states over. Bummer. My interest faded. Johns discussion led to the fact that he is going over to Fitzies later on because its open mic night and his friend Dan is running the thing. We leave Liz early, Tony gets in the car with us as well. John mentioned that Tony is the areas best drummer, and Tony is just sad that he broke his arm and it is in a cast for the next couple of months. "Hey, wait a minute." "Did you go to Vestal high?" "Ahh, yea" "I used to hang out there by burger king" "Oh no way" "Hey this is one of the Burger King kids" Said John to Tony. I felt a little weird... being labeled like that. But hey...everyone has a way to sort the past though. We both remembered each other from years ago now. This helped. As it turns out... we were friends in another life, but now we grew up and ran into each other again. Tony did not come with us to the Wednesday review. He was tired. He went home to sleep. It was a lofty long discussion about what every-one has been up too, along the way to Tonys home. It was good. Me and John had continued our little chat about what is going on with music in the area. Who is playing who is touring who is recording and it felt really nice to have a friend from the past filling me in on all the missing parts of info I could use. He seemed to have settled down and is a family man now. Crap I am slacking ! Arriving at Fitzies (Which I explained to John that Fitzy in Romanian means Snobby, he assured me the place is anything but). I start greeting the same people as John. A big body builder who was running the door. Another tall and slender guy with long hair (Dan). And a few other people...well a-lot of other people. At the open mic was another girl. This time she was more sincer than the other (Liz) and she was playing for her father (who was in front of her by the bar...across the room). I think... her name was Johanna. Blonde pretty, great voice, I thought I had found the next Sheryl Crow! She was playing on a nylon stringed guitar, she was using a mic to pick up the sound. She was playing slow songs, but she was putting her heart into it. To Dan I said. "Why did you bring back the high-shelf so much on the vocals" "what do you mean?" "You cut off the high end" "Your going to have to show me" We walk down to the mixer. "Which one of these is the Vocals?" "That one" "Look see, the high-shelf is brought back" "Oh thats what that is." I inch it a tad and start hearing something bad. The bricks behind the singer reflect to much noise off the monitor and it comes back and creates the dreadfull loop that is called feed-back "Ok what-ever you do do not touch that" "I see now why you cut the hi end so much" Dan and I talk about me drinking some-thing...after John was kind enough to explain to Dan what I explained to him in the car. I am a sound engineer, I have come looking to make music! I wanted to sing so I got no drink. Drinking, it gets me carried away. Instead of singing the song with feelings the alcohol numbs everything and the song gets treated like a used rag drenched in tears and disregarded because of the reflected pain from the wet cotton. Before I could hop on stage and take out that old hanky. A few other people have to go on. I quickly find myself on the pool table enjoying the music of the night. Singing along and warming up my voice. The next guy up was a big fella in a fur coat who sang teenager in love. It sounded great. After him was Dan. Holy crap! Dan has a great voice and he really puts everything he has into a performance. It is actually hard to go on after him. I got to join in with him on a djembe, he may have staggered his rythm at times, but we had a photographer taking plenty of pictures of us, it could have been from the flash. The sound of the djembe got hooked up by my skill as a sound engineer and it started sounded really sweet. Johanna played it first while I tinkered. Than Johana and Dan had a duet, and that same vocal mic that was used on the djembe did not sound good at all with her voice. Crap... I had to fix it in under a minute. I looked at the mixing board scared, with Dan right next to me and I felt that if I did not fix it I was going to get kicked in the nuts! Well.... I am a sound engineer and the second I touched that eq section of the mixer I knew exactly how much to rotate all 4 bands. I got back to pool and was content with where I ended up. John and his girlfriend were hanging out and happy, the audience was spell-bound and restless. Soon I would go on...Yay. O wait.. Nop, before it turns to 2 in the morning and we have to vacant the premises. The same couple that was playing pool earlier is on stage. They get the last spot allotted tonight, I get treated to a beautiful blues duo. The guitar playing was standard and strictly rythmic. But the girl really sang the blues like she had um. I met some other interesting fellas, 2 guys walking around with sun-glasses at 1 in the morning...Really in this town? And the whole lot of the club. 2 something in the morning we all part ways and head home after hanging out-side of the bar chatting about. I would stay at my cousins for the next 2 or 3 days. Going out for lunch with the kids and giving them most of my attention. Just recharging the old batteries. It was a nice transition to everything that was to come. "Can you drive me to Virginia" "Are you kidding me, Id love to take you down there Vic!" "When are we leaving" "This Friday" "I am going to need you over Thursday night because I need you rested and were leaving in the morning". Well.. Me and Vic meet up for lunch. I desired to take him out to a place I liked called Patheos. It was a Greek based food place run by Somalians. I had not problem with the place and usually went down because I liked the waitress... Ya... I know.... We order some food after chatting up with the girl, who has a wonderful personality! Vic was the chatty one, I just chipped in with words of wisdom now and than. When we order we get a piece of Lasangia, even though I told Vic it wont be good because no-one in this town can do Lasangia right. A burger, and a Chicken sandwhiche. It did not go well for Victor. His ordered medium well burger turned into a crispy burger. My chicken sandwhiche was great. The Lasangia tasted as if the cheese and meat were expired. "Dont eat that, Ill take you to Mama Gosepies, they have great food there". "Come on Vic ! I did not eat a thing all day, this is actually good". Vic explains to the waitress that the food was horrible, but the fries were great. He explains to her that he is sorry that it has to be this way and that she is a wonder-ful person. I on the other hand was dieing to get some good lasania. For the past 3 months I have not got any good Lasangia. We drove down around downtown Endicott. Vic knew where the restaurant was as he gave directions. I kept mumbled on that there was not to be any good Lasangia there. At Mamas Vic is just as friendly with the waitress and just as clever in small talk. Something I do not have the luxury to partake in.... Vic got himself some squid pasta. He asked if I wanted to try it. "Is that Squid rings? Off the tenticales?" "Yea" "No way" "Your just like your father" "Gimme that" ...It was ok... but it really made me think that I was eating something...feminine. I was enjoying the Lasangia alot more than the squid. It may have been rather filled with tomatoe paste but it was really good. We head out and I am left with the car again. This time around I forgot I even had it as I was still pissed off about how much money the damn thing ate up ! We did not leave for Virginia yet.. but soon! My cousin Cornelius discovered that there is free wifi in some parts of the house, he has also put a password on the phone. Further more he has started taking pictures and filming stuff. Soon he will discover the app store. I started playing Borderlands and soon Just cause 2 got replaced and we started playing co-op. If I am going to Virginia I do need to be well rested, dont I?. At my stay at my cousins I was convinced earlier to go visit some military shops. Google maps led me straight to one of them, taking my little cousins with me. We arrived at the place after walking for a good 20 minutes and it was closed till after 12. So we went down the road to look for food, Cornelius arguing that we wont find anything and that we should just head back home. We arrive at a nice little Chinese restaurant and chow down. We each get a soda and some great food. That is a place I am going to visit again soon. The antique store that also sells military stuff was open now. And we spent a good 2 hours looking through everything in the store. I even picked up a wwf magazine from 2003 just to read the articles about China and Mankind. Cornelius got a free lure from the shop, and Nicky convinced me to buy him a model of the Titanic. I also found myself a pool stick for 15 bucks. A really nice blue one, and it comes with a case. We ended our visit to the shop by listening to an old analog record player. The thing was amazing ! A spring cocked a turning mechanism and a needle vibrated down a metal tube into a cleverly designed enclosure that amplified sound. We got to listen to one of the best models and best vynals. It was a true treat. Though the level of distortion was huge ! Cornelius gets to go home as Nicky wants to visit another shop in the area. About a mile down another road. Well... sure lets go... That day it rained and we all had umbrellas. The shop moved and the sign said further down the road. Another 2 miles. Sadly the shop was gone. The walk exhausted Nicky and soon just wanted to be home. 4 miles away we were. It was a good experience to deal with an aggravated child and I truly felt responsible for getting home even if he tried running away. I kept my distance and let him walk....as long as he went the right way. Soon he was inventing stories of how his friend Dan lived up the street and Dan would drop him off on a motorcycle..... "Ok.... Go visit your friend." "Well stop following me" I hide behind a car. "Hey get out from behind that car, your stupid !" We made it home. The kid seemed ready to kill some-one (and on the way he did try to kill me...punching me in the face a few times....). Another day left before we leave and I met with my pops for lunch. The lunch quickly turned into us visiting the mall and than that turned into me getting a pair of really nice red suede shoes. Because the 10 dollar ones apparently were a tad lacking in style. We talked about how I am and how he is, and got along just fine. Really there is not much to say about a shopping mall. There are people in it. It is almost the same as in Romania... and no I wont compare. I head back to my cousins to have her ask me just how many pairs of shoes I buy a month. Friday rolls around and it is time to hit the road! A 7 hour drive turns into a 4 day voyage. When you have the combined energy of Victor and Dude...some pretty funky stuff happens. And all in the good way. Victor likes to come into your home and fix things, if your his friend. I like to come in and cook, clean and than sit down and play guitar. We both like to drink. Its like that joke. A Russian and a Romania walk into a bar, 5 months later they drive a Bently out through the window, while throwing Vodka bottles at little children screaming at them to grow up a little faster. We planned to leave...I think Friday but got caught up because of all the loose ends Victor and I ended up closing. I spent 3 days with Victor. He rode a motor-cycle down a hill with no brakes. We edited a photograph slow enough to drink a bottle of Vodka and a half (the big one not the little one mind you, the 2 liter Vodka!). It was 3 people editing one photograph on 1 computer. It was for our good friend whom just got married, we had to sort out the thank you cards. For some reason.. There is always a dude involved with these sort of things. I enjoyed helping write out the wording as it was of such significence. These words would be placed on a card that people will cherish for..hopefully..ever. I learned also of the bad in this world and how close it is to every-ones door-step. Not that anything happened, just a night of story telling led to a concluded thought. There are people out in the world who are weak and prone to acting in ways that are just wrong. People get shoot, people get robbed, people get turned to dust in a social environment and everyone in some-way gets oppressed. Vic forced me to sleep early as he did not want the risk of having a drowsy driver. Smart man. Every fucking night. It was always... "We are leaving at 7 in the morning Alex get some sleep." I would sleep and wait for him to wake me up...always getting tricked into sleeping in.The final night was at Victors parents home. He was finally packing after 3 days of constantly finishing up responsibilities. Among the last was to move a giant fish from a car trunk into a closet (in a cooler with ice of course). That last night I jammed my thumb in the car door. It felt as if the nail was going to fall off. The finger swelled up and the pain would wake me as the finger got stiffed to the point it could not move. The last errand to run was for me to visit a place that is a potential new home. Vic came along to help lighten the mood. As far as I am concerned... its a place pretty much downtown. Now, the question was who are the room-mates. We only texted each other the few small conversations we had, but we found each other a time to visit the set accommodation. I was greeted by a very kind and calm spirit, things seemed good from the start. We talked about this and that, gently making our way through the home and mentioning how every-one is. Mostly busy. The room that was potentially mine was a purple color, with a pretty tablou in it off a clown fish. It was big room, in a big house. We headed out as Vic still had packing to do and apparently I had sleeping to do.We left in the morning after we prayed for a safe journey. His parents are very nice people. I enjoyed the praying bit. It would be really nice if more people would do that. My finger was still stinging from the car door that rapped the virginity and sweet necter out of the flesh and nail combination of the thumb. But I was heading to Virginia! I made sure to post on my facepoop "Cant wait to meet Virginia" Cata (a decent singer from Romania that could actually keep up with my pace), of course wrote "I cant wait to meet a virgin..." The road trip begins the way all road trips begin and it is a typical road trip except for the fact that we do not stop to go pee the whole drive down. We only stop for 1. Cigars. 2. Tanks. 3. Donuts.4. Gas. If you have ever been on a road-trip you know what its like. You get in the car you take your shoes off. If your with some-one who is taking you someplace you never been to you ask which way (every 2 minutes). Usually you drive at the speed limit but it does not hurt to follow traffic. Always looking out for any police men trying to gun ya down. Vic suggested we try a doughnut shop that he was just crazy over, he got about 6 of the ones he loves and because they had such a wide variety I got 6 donuts. Each one with enough sugar in it to feed all of Romania for a decade. It was like eating a bag of cocaine ! Only worse! Now this was my first American road trip. I was still wearing the pyjamas I slept in and was doing everything possible to keep my back ...straight. Vic pointed out a helicopter hanging off the side of the high-way (which I some-how did not noticed) and I said we are going there. Taking the exit. "Look we cant visit that museum without any a cigar." "Ok comrade well go get some cigars." We head into town, just following the narrow strip that is the main boulevard (most likely). Hoping to see a cigar shop. We dont. We pull up into a parking lot. Where we both active the gps feature of our phones. I find a spot before he does and notice that we can walk to it. It was hard to convince my buddy to come along for a walk. But we soon started cutting through parking lots and backyards... Vic turns to me "Look its to far....its point 2 of a mile we gotta turn back and get the car" "Fine..." He argued as well that we are in a hurry...but who knows really... Well it was nice to drive to the cigar shop. I made a wrong turn and ended up in the wrong parking lot, than did something that frightened some lady and got my first American finger ! To bad she did not honk.. In the cigar shop I spent as much time as I did money. As it was complicated for me to pick one cigar from the many. And a cheap one would just make me feel cheap. I bought myself a 5 pack for 16. And did not spend 4 less to get a 10 pack. The tin case and last cigar is now with my cousin....who does not smoke. The little town was in P.A. The home of one of the American Heritage museums (http://www.armyheritage.org/press-and-media/photo-gallery.html). It was a truly beautiful sight to see, but first we had to find out way over to the tanks ! Asking the natives for direction led to one guy bitching to us that we were supposed to take a left when we got off the high-way! Ok....ya... we wanted cigars first ! The rest of the drive was sheer boredom. I started to realize why I do not want to be a truck driver. Vic and I had plenty of discussions...from what we did in California to what I did in Romania. To how he is scared that if he visits Russia he wont come back to how to make tortillas. ... Every time I fell asleep I would cram one of those atomic doughnuts in my mouth and the torture of having to swallow the thing would wake me back up. Not to forget the sensation of having a kilo of sugar forced in your mouth and the sensation of my teeth melting ! We entered at one point Mary-land where we ate some fish prepared the night before. And by the time it was finished we got out of Mary-land....kinda weird....thought the state was bigger. Along the way Vic mentioned the blue ridge which runs across a few states, and is a great place to go driving a Ferrari. I started toying with the radio searching for music and only finding comical things. "This is mary lou gross thank you for listening. "The sinners of our planet are bring us all to a pit of hate". But what cracked me up the most was the classical music station. The announcer came on and he had a voice of and was an old man who could barely talk. He stuttered at every-word ! It was not his voice that was funny but the words! The man could barely speak and he made such an effort to explain the piece of classical composition where it was from when it was written and etc. I did not like the piece because well... it did what every pop song does. Which is come hard with the chorus.. take stuff away from you... que the big heavy strings... etc.. Vic finally pulled out a cd of stuff, good stuff. It was a Spanish singer who reminded me of a girl I grew a crush on, via just youtube videos...ya lame..I know.. The cd information was later jotted down, the actual number on the cd not the artist and what-not (because he did not have the case and on the cd it did not say who it was !...really that is just bad marketing). When we ran out of gas we were in Virginia and I took the opportunity to sit in the gas station a little bit more than I had to. I visited the beer fridge (pretty cool thingy, first time I ever seen one) and looked at the shelves for something better than the doughnuts to eat. Nothing...everything had food starch... "Dont buy anything from here!! Your supporting the petrol industry" I gotta remember that buying stuff from gas stations is a good way to let gas companies know they are doing a great thing for humanity. Heading back into the car. The shoes are breaking in, and they are making a fit about it. My feet start to get cut by the leather. Seems this bull does not like to be stepped on. We start heading back on the road. And I pull a barely legal u-turn to get us heading the right way. Finally we made it !!! A little early. "Take a left here" "And now a right here" It was sooo surreal the neighbor-hood we just drove to. It looked like the set of some movie about something in suburbia. This actually has been my first visit to a suburban town. Now all the houses were not the same, it was how close together they were bunched. It was the jolted trees growing in places that looked as if they had been sent by a lightning bolt into the yard. It was the perfectly geometric lawns and the lack of side-walk. The storm drains and lack of utility poles. The shape of the complex...as I like to call it was later discovered. We had to wait around and I lit myself another cigar and walked through the neighbor hood ..hoping to run into some cute girly. There are times when I would like to talk to a girl...but most of the time... I do not consider starting a relation-ship. It was dark out, people were home. But the only girl out on the streets tonight was already well taken and raising kids. We did a circle back (as the neighbor hood was a straight road that split into a left and a straight which if you went straight you would come back to the fork and either go left or right...if you went left you would be on lap 2). Well we sat by the door on the steps after the walk. I put out my cigar as it got to the half-way mark (that is where the clean smoke starts getting mixed with the old smoke and the cigar starts to taste like the filter of a cigarette). And soon a car comes, Debbie would be the first to greet us. Now the pills and the driving coupled with the sugar bombs made me stick into a very dreary place... it was mostly the pills but I felt it. We sat out-side for awhile waiting for Wesley to show up and lead us to the other home, the one being built. Every-one was there....I soon found out. It was strange greeting people in the upstairs of an unfinished garage. It felt as if some-body owed somebody money and was going to get fed to the sharks. Touring the newly build home, in the darkness also led my ears on a fantastic journey. We walked around and I got to play a game of "guess what room this is", it was my idea. Did pretty good mind you. To me...the whole looked well, un-finished and dark. But the darkness helped the imagination, Bonnie was describing things very well. "This glass door actually diffuses the light that will come from that window and the walls are the right length and set far enough apart for light to build up as it comes towards this glass on the door" "Here is the studio room, it is on a floating floor and we have had speaker cables lined through the walls to create the perfect cinema room". "This is a really fun bit of the house, this little hallway wraps around and comes back to the main hallway, the kids are going to have so much fun here." But I wanted to play some guitar and sleep... She opened us the door and I had stayed behind to take off my shoes. The went straight ahead into the living room. I found myself on seat by a piano and as soon as the shoes were off (and not cutting away at my feet) played 2-3 notes on the piano... I think I said in a voice loudly "Dammit why are they never in tune!" Its not like I know how to play the piano with both hands, but I do just fine with one. It was imminent that I follow the two and try to socialize, but got intercepted by a poodle ... a toy poodle I believe. Victor was waiting for me with a big bottle of vodka (sky I think...yuck.. I like the cheap stuff..straight from Russian...not this vodka!) as I started playing with the doggy just a little bit. The kitchen and living room were both one room and they could see me being a dork..I noticed another puppy in the corner and thought "That must be the shy pup". Deb mentioned the dogs name was Emma as I was getting ready to take a shot with Vic. And a discussion about poodles began. Soon we were greeted by yet another woman, a younger one, but with the same really cool vibe that I picked up on earlier (at the door). She was my age, but I was already to confronted by a million things to pay attention.....plus those bloody pills. Vic and Deb and Maggie were already discussing at a pace that was far to quick for me to keep up with. I went back to playing with the doggies. Soon there were 6 people in the house and 2 guitar cases. It was an acoustic Takamine in one of them, with these groovy shell coated strings on it (high tension mind you) and a fender electric...yuck..fender ? Well both guitars were grand. I was happy to have some toys to play with. But also did not want to draw any attention to any bit of it. Those pills...they give me the sensation every-one hates me. I took them to call my throat, thinking that the people we will meet are not as sociable as me...and probably deep down inside wanting to have the experience of "being on a bad trip". As I played the guitar, and it really was just me improvising music to fit the mood. "I really like it when there is music in the room" I herd Debbie say. I wanted to say back...well your going to hear it until morning. But I knew that I could not raise my voice...yet! I sat there on a comfy couch ( a psychologist one, the one for the client ) observing people. Not summing the up or judging them but just taking in who I met today. Not paying attention to the words or the gestures, but to what a musician pays attention too. Bonnie, the woman Vic talked about with high regards every time he got the opportunity too had a quality too her voice. It was soft-spoken yet the whole house resonated, she would finish a word and a ring would sound out, yet her voice did not pierce through the ear drums and demand attention. She changed her tone melodically and the guitar seemed to be right in tune with her voice. She also has the nack of thinking before she speaks, carefully sorting through the library of intricate words and definitions trying to fit into words her feelings. This was true for Debbie as well but, Deb seemed to react to the physical gestures of a person and look towards the plot of a conversation where as Bonnie seemed to follow the vibe. These 2 woman were in no doubt candidates for role models for younger generations. Maggie and Wes had good mentors and family. Ah heck when they hugged each other the whole room lit up with warmth. It would be a long night this one. After we settled in and greeting were set aside Vic, Wes, and I set out for food, and a bottle of rom...apparently. Me and Wes had a nice chat about music and living in Romania. He mentioned playing an open mic night and the beginnings of his musical career. We listened to the same cd as mentioned earlier. The liqueur store was like a candy shop and I quickly found a bottle of rom called "Kraken". Now I have a song named the kraken and further more it is a mystical creature that ate ships.It should be a grand rom !!! Well.. to make it short. The rom was way to spicy. It was a rom for girls. I made a bad choice. Though I want the bottle! After-I got my rom and spoke with a genuine Russian accent the whole 10 minutes we were in the store. We headed out to a store that resembled the typical giant super-store that sold everything related to food that so is found in every Big American town. We picked up half prepared pizzas and I found myself very scared that they are going to be bad. I have never ate one of those pizzas and found it to be good. I hid my fears from the fellas as we wandered through the store looking for cheese to pop on top. Soon they left me at the isle to cash out while they ran around the store probably looking at girls. As I made my way to pay I started a discussion with the teller, about how she loves the pizza from this place and that it is all made right there in the store. We head out. Things are going smooth. I can not wait to get home and drink my rom. Along the way Vic mentions how I am going to love down-town Virginia, when we visit the next day. I was probably looking out the window with my tongue out and droll coming down my shirt but, we made it home in one piece. There was not much to do other than play guitar and let the folks cook the pizzas. I got involved though, I opened the pizzas up and dropped one on the floor giving the little poodles plenty of cheese to nip on. We soon started dicing up onions, and I noticed that Vic was very skilled at cutting them up, and just making the pizzas better. Soon I was on the lounge/patio portion of the home drinking a cup of rom and thinking .... "Shit this rom and these pills are gonna give me a killer head-ache". The food snuck up on me as I was playing more guitar and soon Vic told me to go eat. Me and Wes started talking about music and he showed me one of his songs. Which I listened to as if it were something Jack Johnson was singing. He had a very pleasant voice. He had intricate playing. It all was glued together by a confidence and discipline that made sure the tempo was always on the groove. The lyrics were clever as well as the melodical structure of there singing. With a little push and a good sound crew Wes could have something solid in terms of playing festivals and getting out there. Than that whole argument come to mind...when Dwayne Johnson tells a young boy that for every 13 year old guitar player out there, for every shredder that thinks he is the bomb, there is a 12 year old just as good. The truth is that it is not just about guitar playing, the music thing is a life-style choice. Wes explains to me that he has recorded stuff in a church basement, he also went to a professional studio and he has really invested in his songs. What I under-stood. He has control over where it is going. Wes showed me a song he is working on, and than I slowly started exploring where he would go with it. At first... it seemed like I could not play the song. But it was a 1 chord song for me. It had a ringing note that just kept getting strummed. We brought in a big ole fender amp. Tube, which I got to play with a fender guitar. But again because of the pills I was slugging along with the dynamic atmosphere of these newly found friends! I got to work... Wes ran off to join the chatter. In about 2 hours time I discovered the proper way to play the song. Bringing in very complex chord progressions (trust me, I invented 4 chords that night) all around a basic chord progression. Sadly. Without my guitar in my hands I wont remember it. And write now I am righting. Wes loved what I did and he had me write down the progression. I soon played this crazy bar chord on his acoustic and showed off my skill as a guitarist..just a little. The rest of the time I was playing for myself and no-one else. Finally, at around 2-3 in the morning we go to sleep. I played a joke on the guys that I am tired and sleepy and really brought them down, even if I still hung around drinking rum. Wes had to leave though, in 3-4 hours he would be at work and in 12 laying in bed with a pretty woman. The tour of the home Bonnie gave me earlier explained where everything is. Most likely she gave me the tour in case me and Vic got really hammered and accidentally slept in the wrong room...or in the wrong place (as in the bath-tub). Now I am not the kind of person that falls asleep in the wrong place. Ever. But we did not get hammered. My room, for the night, was a place I did not take a good gonder at. I knew that there was a printer and a window. Luckily I was till in pyjamas. Pffftt-Boom.... ............ Zzzzzzzzzzzz zzz Hmm .. its cold.. wheres that blanket..... zzzzzzzz ZZZZ "Something warm is on my face" "I am looking at something white" "Is this heaven?" I open my eyes. The sun light came from the window so elegantly warming all the blood in my body. It was a small window, but yet still perfect. Well...from the sound and look of things every-one is still sleeping. Good. Pffff----ZZzzzzzzzzzzz This time I waited for some-one to wake-up before me. The guitar was not left behind for me to torture people with any longer. Than again...I did not ask. It must have been around 7 the first time around, but I found myself awake again at 9. This time... I noticed something odd about the room. There was a black metal star on the wall...or around the wall... I had just tied a shoe-lace with stars on my wrist as a bracelet, and I have had a star tattooed on my left arm for years. This place really does get along with me! . It was Deb who was also awake, and a little worried that she over-slept. Vic....who was still sleeping, and Bonnie was probably taking care of her goldy lock curls. The opportunity to read that Bob Dylan interview from the rolling stone was upon me. It was a long interview indeed, most of it got read under the 12 o clock sun while the rest at another location as Bonnie showed Vic around the house just built for her family. Today I had the opportunity also to view the home as it was in the splendor of light. Well we waved good-bye probably 25 minutes after arriving. What was to par-take afterwards was a journey into American culture, it started with a lunch at a garage that had been converted into a grocery store. The owner also did his own little thing to make sandwhiches. A big loaf of hamburger bread filled with shredded pork drenched in vinegar, and yes the owner was nice enough to throw away a bun he broke ever so slightly, letting me taste the home-made pies was a great part of the deal as well. Now the thing that stuck out about this little shack was that everyone had the notion....that now ...hundred of years in the past, when wagons rolled around the Americas exploring and exploiting, this is where they turned from going straight into a sharp right. Now that is a typical mentality for an American. Put it off till the very last minute. I argued that they could have just went at an angle and not go straight than make a sudden right....The house at the end of the road also is known to have been around since the Civil war. No-one lived in it, but it still looked decent. Now from driving around with Wes the night before I found out that Richmond Virginia was far far away from us....well just about an hour of driving. Vic needed to pick up a bolt so I used my phone, again to get direction towards the nearest hard-ware shop, with Victors knowledge of getting around and Bonnies forth-telling of a closed road we made it down the road just to where we needed to get. Now...Richmond was at first glace one straight boulevard, a big one with 2 lanes on each side and hundred of businesses lined up on the left and right. There were more pretty woman on the streets than I could chase down with a big hard stick... but... I was not here for that. We had to take a turn down a certain street, Vic was guiding me, we took a right down the boulevard and wound up on a smaller street, just as crowded with pretty woman. Good thing I did not crash into something. We parked the car right in front of some hipster vegetarian cafe place, with prices as high as gold, with a few well dressed college kids talking about some weird weird things....random things. The hard-ware shop was small, and a man whom reminded me so much of my good friend Theologo was in behind the counter, we had a good chat, and he walked out to smoke a cigarette when we started talking about how there are more woman here than in NYC. He mentioned some things he did and I started wanting to move in. We left, but not in a hurry. We went to visit a bar to grab a beer before exploring some more. Vic was very anxious to show me a spot down by the river, but first beer ! (Well Cider because its nicer to drink), it was weird how we were right next to a bar that resembled CBGBs, or what I always envisioned CBGBs as. It was packed with arcade machines and roomy. There was an epiphone sg with a bent and broken, there was random shit all over the place. It was a typical venue set-up. 15 foot stage with big jbls and a mixing cradle pretty close to it. The bar was on the right of the stage, and before the bar was the kitchen. With about 7 square feet of space to dance and jump around and than a good 30 feet along-side the bar. It was a pretty big place. All black, cute bar-keeper but she did not shave her arm-pits, to many reason why she would be all natural, but if its not all natural I dig it not all natural. ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xgGA85XTkU ). We rush out because soon it was going to be rush hour. Soon we would be cramped in grid-lock. We had to make the best of what little time we had. I visited the college, we walked to it, so that Vic could get himself some cigs from a shop along the way and so I could take in the thought of enrolling. It is weird to walk on a campus, surrounded by kids! The whole town was people under that age of 25 ! Now it is not nice to say that some-one is wise and experienced, but I have seen some shit, I got stories. I kinda find myself feeling old when surrounded by people my age. Well any-way, we make friends pretty quick as I smoke another cigar on campus and Vic bums a few kids some cigarettes, we check out the girlies, and we check out the hipsters. To bad I did not find the admittance office. We took the long was back to the car, doing a full loop around and walking by a few oddities worth mentioning. There was a spiked fence, surrounding a building. But at the ground level, the fence was flat, only on the taller portion of the fence was there spiked. If it was not for Vic I would have not noticed it though, I was busy looking at all the chained up bicycles hanging out back of some fancy tall office building. Walking up the boulevard there was a little black girl playing guitar along side all the traffic. I kneeled down to tell her. "You know this is not a good place to play music" "Ya, but the people are nice" "Music is not about money" She started playing again and singing, ignoring the slightly rude and truth-full fact. She was in-between to restaurants. I honestly thought it was illegal to pan-handle in America. Vic tried calling Wes to come hang out with us, but he never picked up. So we darted across this enormous bridge, very classy and wide. It reminded me of the ancient Roman bridges that always awed people as they would cross it. The river it spanned was mighty grand itself mind you. Of course just as any-thing me and my friend do, we do it in a more comic fashion. We were not supposed to cross the bridge. The thing Vic wanted to show me was on the other side of the bridge. We drove around and found a parking spot next to a gallery visited before in the past by Vic. Along side us parked a wolf....a rather starved wolf. She was dressed in a skirt barely breaking the fanny line. She had long fish-nets and silky black hair. She was of good height, and had a great body, but seemed really rushed. She ran away, to do something weird behind a pillar. Her toyota corolla was packed full of personality. Vic nudged me back to reality, "Pretty girl, you should talk to her". We walk and talk, Vic leading the way. "It does not work that way" "I want to have kids" "Ya ok" "Now, Imagine that years after our kids would ask how we met" "Right" "Oh she got out of her Toyota corolla and I really wanted to bone her" "That sounds like a pretty good story" "No, no, no..." We arrive at some little Canal. And there are old people getting on a small ass boat. "This is what you wanted to show me ?!" I started to wander the area in a slight bit of panic. Hoping to find some route towards the big river I saw from the bridge. Here is a spoiler, the parking lot we where at was pretty much a cut ship. Here is another spoiler on the other side of the ship was the river. Vic kept walking me around. The girl I was looking at was now right next to us, at a restaurant on the terrace, the wind blew her skirt up and a funky purple under-garmet appeared... to bad she was at work. "Ahh crap, they ruined it!" Vic bickered. It was a model of a locking system, a scale model with working locks. It was made of solid bronze and about 20 feet long, though only 3 feet across. I imagined that a scale set of boats was around and it had running water before it got shut down. Now I would lead the way, I followed the vibe of the place, and soon walked under a cave...on our left was the same small canal, and in front of us on the left was this full scale locking mechanism driving water from the dam. It was so beautiful, there were turtles swimming in the water. There was 2 water-falls, there was a pretty wooden step case and on the other side a metal fence resembling a chain of spears. On one side were white granite steps on the other cement steps that lead to a pebble walk way. As we walked up Vic remembered that ahead was the pieces of art. We went towards the left to visit the river. I found a beautiful spot with a small lake and a good shade. Vic took pictures. That is what we went out to do. And he got some really nice pictures. Glad to have helped. We make our way up to the art gallery. Here is what it looks like. Of course I got my hands dirty climbing around posing, and soon washed my hands in the same cave canal thing that I earlier passed through. "You know thats sewage water right?" "What why did you tell me ?!!!" Walking through down-town Virginia. In the district, that belonged to the adults, well kinda. I walked by a cafe with some guy playing good ol J.R. Cashes tune, folsom prison blues....Go figure. Vic argued that the guy worked hard to get the gig, I should not jump on stage with him. Though I stood in the cafe and started singing. We were trying to find a place with darts and I constantly ran into bars "Oh This is an Irish place! They have to have darts !!" Well..Nadda. There was an art gallery open, and it had a gallery being exposed. Vic being a fan of arts (or at least I think he is) and my interest in visiting galleries...We walked in, I greeted the 2 gentle-men having a sit and a wine in the galleries main office and began chatting. A short worded but lengthy discussion about culture. When we finally, received a que, to visit the art, after I started staring at a tablou, which I found out was just a piece of a 20 footer. "Oh you could put the 20 footer up on the ceiling" "Follow me let me show you our gallery" Now because the walls were white, the building did not look like it had a hall-way leading to another room anywhere in the square complex. The manager showed me around to where the art was, and around the hall. I had to drag Victor along. Soon, we are three in a room where a pin drop sounds like a grenade and I compliment the manager on his beautiful expozei. He let's us to our own devices soon enough, and just as he clears the corner. "family", "self centered" "bored and family" spew from Victors mouth and I begin to argue that the miniature couch and mirror are decent arts. The manager over herd us because he rushed in with a list of pieces and materials and prices. I noticed that there is a fine little jazz room down-stairs, the gallery had a balostrada over-looking a lower floor. Beautiful classy checkered vynal tiles lined the ground and a good 200-300 people could fit in the room. If Frank Sinatra was still alive and only 20 he would play that venue. "That is a very nice place to play some music, could I come in and perform here?" "Yes, my business card is right on that paper, just send me some demos and we will go from there" In Romania...well ok... I should stop doing these comparisons but.. in Romania when some-one says send me a demo. It actually means. Fuck off and Die. The younger fella walks away to his cup of wine. C Since we're all alone in the gallery, I took the role of guiding Victors energy and quizzing him on the art. Mainly asking him what is acrylic plywood and fiber glass, he just continues to creatively mock everything. Saying things as "this is made of spare ribs" or "this is a sample of textures available for the couch" (there was a hanging mess of colored drapes). "Now this one I like it represents my dad" he takes a look at the list "it's priceless" We headed back to the office. To be greeted by smiles and questions. A long discussion about the current state of prohibition in America and Myron (the older gentle men of the two) suggested I go to Chicago, his friend owns a pretty bar over there. The story of bars open until 11 a.m. in the morning makes my heart pound. Myron than has a discussion on how there are no pool halls or darts clubs in Richmond...and ever since he was young it all disappeared. An hour later me and Vic are still conversing with our friends, soon the possibility of sitting down for a vine would become mandatory. So we left. I wrote down on a paper where to go in Chicago, Myron Signed it and told me to visit his friend. Kinda like back in the Roman empires times. Myronus sentus me. Onus the 6thus dayus comethus, arrivus, playus musicus, ahh hell here is the paper-work sentinel! Arriving back where we parked, I soon found out that what the pretty brunet was doing wasnt having a seizure behind the column or taking some crack... she was getting a parking pass! We ... skipped the whole parking thing, and even if the cars around us got tickets we didnt! Ya baby ! "Ok lets go play some darts!" "Ohh do we have to" In the car I start looking for my phone. "Vic have you seen my phone?" "Oh yea, I had it on me that whole time." "Ohh come on!!!" "You could have said something" "Well I didnt have any battery, I figured Bonnie or Wes might call" I used my phone this time to locate a place with darts, it was near by. We drive around the block of said bar twice looking for a parking lot. The first time Vic tells me to go back to where I took the first of 4 rights because there was a spot there...which by the time we got back was taken. 2 rights later and again, there is a sign that says "no parking from 4- 7 for more than 2 hours and some other complicated stuff that made me think its fine to park there"...plus there was some-one already parked in the "no parking zone". Vic has a fit, and spends a good 2 minutes looking at the sign trying to understand the complicated wording. A pretty woman was walking my way, I approach her, I notice the dumpster that would be at the point of intersection, I take a few steps back to clear the wiff of bad air. "Excuse me miss, I am looking for the ...whatever.... bar" "Oh I dont know where it is." "I herd it is around here" "Ya it could be" I tried to get her to look at the map on my android thing, but she seemed as if she was about to get fired from her job for spending to much time at lunch, not to mention she was wearing work clothes. Though, I still kinda hoped she could come along for a beer? "Is it alright to park here?" "It should be" We dont park and we just leave...Vic does not like the word tow on signs. After I look up another location, this time across town. On the way, we stop, and we visit another museum, this time by accident. Vic mentioned something about some fast food stands selling hot-dogs or something, I pulled over thinking he wanted one, along side us was a museum of visual art. Apart from the typical clay models and textile working mill. The gallery was a tad bit hard to find, and when we walked into the room of projected images (yes from a projector) on window curtains Vic asks me. "Why did you bring me in here" "I thought you wanted to see the art" "I didnt want to see the art, did you?" "Noooo". We were dead center of the gallery looking at a curtain and our voices echoed strong. We quickly marched out and got back to calling people, taking a break in the suburban "ghetto" portion of Richmond. I made myself comfy on some homes steps and waited for Vic. We were still heading to a darts bar....when we found out it was closed. The plan than changed to get a slice a pizza....well 2.25 for a slice? No. Tomorrow I would be in NYC and I could get it or a dollar and better. Walking down the boulevard on this side of the street we seek food, and find a cute little diner called the galaxy diner. It had all sorts of sci-fi memorabilia but the most grand was the Le-roy and Judy bathroom markings. Next door to the diner was a cup-cake shop. Where I spotted a girl I was sure to ask to begin a friend ship with-me. But in the 5 minutes I spent there 3 bad things happened that just closed off the possibility. The first was her Lady Gaga tatoo and how she flinched when I went to see if the mole on Gagas face was either a mole on the girls leg or a blob of ink. The second was that she never has been to any of the shows.....but still got a tatoo...gee really ? The third was that I missed throwing something in the trash. The 4th was having a discussion about Gaga was nearly impossible as the girl only liked the whole mtv icon aspect of the singer. I got cup-cakes for every-one back at the home. I over-herd something about gluten and got 2 gluten free cakies. It was late now, and we were not going to stay out tonight. We head back, after a spiral discussion over which route to take, the one my gps says or the one Victor knows. Vic decides to go my way. Earlier that day I say a speech given to the U.E. or the U.N.... it resembled very much the speech from the dictator. It was entertaining. Debbie was watching it now and Victor did not want me to spoil her watching the show with my talking. I was ready to black-mail him. That night, some-body cooked chicken, very good chicken, and not much happened apart from sitting around telling stories. No guitar playing, just sitting on the patio drinking tea after taking a bath. I, of course explained to Deb that ... "I like taking baths more than showers, because I can just take a nap and relax" "Well go ahead" "The other thing is that I dont like having people around me...knowing that Im taking a bath, its not really masculine for a guy to hope in a bubbly tub of water." She just laughed at my childish remark. Now I take a bath only when everything is in good harmony...and I do it to meditate more than to wash. But enough about that. Again I hung out with the folks till late, talking about this and that. Some-one mentioned that they say Dylan and he was not that great....his interview stated just that. Dylan does not care about pleasing people any-more he is just doing it because he is an incarnation of pure music and more than that he is a pure soul. There was also a mention of "reconstruction" which was a term used back in the 60-70s for people who ....well I forgot the details... but it was something of a time period were people were more "spiritual". At night its me and Victor and a bottle of vodka, some-how we got into showing each other pictures, originally I just wanted the picture of me jumping off the bridge and a few other good shots. Since my external hard-drive got connected to his computer, I noticed a picture of something I had an exact shot of, but with blood (real blood on corn syrup) in it. It was an old style tile road. Both of them where the same shade, but in my I cut my lip really bad eating some Romania food called Nuga and started gushing blood out of my mouth, I took the picture because I liked giant spot of blood I made. That was the pebble that kept us looking at thousands of pictures the whole night through and remembering things we have once forgotten. I took the opportunity to look at my mothers pictures from Paris as well, they got snagged when a back-up was made. We head off too sleep in a perfect state of drowsy and drunk. The morning comes, and we are off to the train station. I am excited that I finally go on a train! Bonnie drives me and Vic around and we chat a little. "So I do this bit of writting... it is not really a bit its alot, but its everything that happens every- month." "Ok, thats nice" "I was thinking of how to describe you last night, do the words a soft spoken woman with a strong and resolute voice, a golden curly hair that whispered free spirit and a body that emanated responsible, her eyes ordered discipline and compassion" "Do you think that fits you well?" "Oh just write whatever you want, but yea, it sounds good" It was a very subtle way of asking...do you mind if I write about my stay here, while also paying a compliment. There was no air of flattery as it was a very authoritative and diplomatic dialog. Bonnie made one stop to the gas station to get gas, than when we arrived at the train station 15 minutes early she drove around the neighborhood in a figure eight. She must have been an ice-skater when she was younger. She mentioned her friend who had her political signs taken down by a neighbor, and the church that used to have real fine celebrations. I took a look at the college and was fascinated by the beauty of the facility. Shit !! In Romania colleges do not look the way they do here. Sweat shops in Asian look better than colleges and universities in Romania! Anyways, Bonnie pulls her car up to the station and we go to a diner right at the station to get me a lunch for the road. Red velvet cake and something that wont stink on the train, something with no meat. As soon as I order a good 30 people walk into the place. Right on time. We walk out to the plat-form. I take a picture of the coming train, which was right on cue. When you have 3 people that just seem to be harmonious with the world things get happy pretty quick. On the train I was planning to get a good 3 songs ready for my surprise visit to Janice, and also take care of a picture Galvins pops suggested we (me and vic) do for giggles..in honor of Johnny Cash. Before I got on the train I hugged my friends and bid them fare- well. On the train, I grabbed a seat and set-up my laptop after I waved to my friends. I pulled both lunch tray support thingies down to place my gear. It was a tight fit. I did not like it, but it was just fine for what I wanted to do. I worked and gazed out the window every 2 seconds to see the beautiful American landscapes I would pass...more swamps than I expected. Soon, some asshole sat in the seat in front of me and the whole support tray started to vibrate. Before him a pretty girly walked by and went to sit in the restaurant wagon. How do I know this, because as she walked by I walked in that general direction to, to get myself a beer and noticed her sitting there on a laptop and an android at the same damn time.... It just happened that way ! Well this assss-hole made it hard for me to work, and I quickly found my way to the restaurant wagon as well, with all the rest of the cool people. The lounge was a much better place to be. To bad I could not smoke a fancy big cigar. I over-herd conversations from my "neighbors" and did not get interested in any-thing. Though an older dude did try to hit on a college girl. He was fat and bald, and clearly had a rather stable job working in a bank or something, he started the conversation just as any .... predator would "what do you study" "Oh economics" "I am an accountant" ....He kept trying to weasel his way into her "heart shaped box" and I just kept sitting there enjoying the company of Americans on a train. At points... I kept expecting to see a gypsy with a plastic cup of raspberries, or a dirty raggedy con trying to sell todays newspapers for 2 times the value. I was expecting to see stinky folk begging you for money, or crack heads pretending to be def, or blind and walking around with a plastic icon of god and a hand out.... Non of that nonsense was present. There was one police man and his German Shepard. The train rode so smooth as well, and was air-conditioned to a good temperature. The whole thing was clean enough to eat on, and modern enough to not seem out-dated. New York Penn was about 5 hours away. I kept my head-phones on and ignored every-one the whole way through. Well... in NYC I was lost. I did not know where the hell I was. Penn station ? Did I not take the New Jersey transit to the beach last time I was here...maybe I should go down there again. There was no signal on the phone in the whole terminal and a moment had to be spent up, out-side. I called Janice to mention that I was in NYC, and the question of which way do I go George which way do I go was answered. Now the other question was ... the same. Janice said something about taking the A Q or L train... I think. I was sure A was one of them though... so I hopped on that. It was crowded as usual. Not hundred of people but thousands. The 30 foot wide hall of the Penn station was clustered with people. Locust, Humans, Birds, Herds, Schools, every creature on this planet does not escape the crowd....We could have escaped the primordial dance of slight posturing and pacing that allows some-one, any-one to comfortably or shamefully/pitfully make their way/worm threw the crowd. The subtle-ties of getting through the crowd can be explained, but it is important to make eyecontact. When some-one comes towards you with the potential to run into you, pull a knee in the general direction of some-where they will feel pain. Bring a shoulder to gently nudge towards their face. But most importantly bluff and be strong. I have changed over time from confronting collisions in crowded situations. To just walking (some-times pretending I am surrounded by zombies or than I am a ninja ...). Than again, I walk at half the speed of everyone else, but I never run into anyone....well... very very rarely. On the train ride over I met Kenny. A kid who worked at a p.r. company specializing in music. I asked him for his phone-number to hopefully promote my friends band EastRoots. But .. the asshole did not hand it over, he was to suave to give people his number or any kind of use-full detail. We just had a talk about what it is like to work with musicians and how most of them are slackers and flakes. We also discussed the difference between an American office building and the law-suites that are always being seeked by illtempered anti-socialites. All I know is that Kenny is from Michigan.... and he does not work at a company big enough to actually step in and attain new assets in the terms of musicians and bands. He got out first. I got out some-where else. Met up with Janice and Brandon, got myself some matches and lit up another Cigar. "You know, its really nice smoking a cigar here in America" "So many people are against smoking here" "Ya, its not like in Europe were people are smoking all over the place" Brandon tries to eat my cigar along the way. I guess Dobermans like cigars eh ? Janice and I talk about alot of things.... Parties, concerts...America, people, philosophy, dogs.. She also mentions that she wants to make a video for verbal homicide. Sounds great ! Arriving hours later at Janices home, after giving Brandon lots of attention and love and running into a girl with a French Curl that turned to dreads after years of intentional neglect (whom also was a tad sour that people mocked her hair to much). I did not grab any-food because I already ate, but Janice on the other hand, was starving. We set up a little make shift studio in one of her rooms, it was a table and 2 laptops plus 2 audio cards. The wiring though for the speakers was 1 head-phone out for the speakers used as tweeters and than 1 phono out for a guitar amp she had laying around, which I placed in the corner to create a make-shift sub-woofer (it did really good). While I tinkered around with her Tascam 4 track tape recorder to see what broke in it Janice went out for food and rubber-bands. Brandon the Doberman kept my attention though, I would chase him through the house, I would wrestle with him, and he would just not get tired.The laptop belonging to Janice had the slight problem that some-times it has to be restarted to keep the audio card running other-wise it just ... makes no noise. While I kept de-bugging hoping not to reset, Brandon would keep trying to jump on my lap. When Janice got back, we would listen to the 3 songs, she loved them all. We started freestyling ideas for what could go on the lyrics and than I showed her how a track comes together in the world of an editor/engineer/composer. Showing her piece by piece every detail of the song. She complained about an un-orthodox drum pattern used on the chorus... "That snare, it just doesnt groove right" We quickly change the subject from my bad snare to her childrens books. I mention to her that she promised last time I visited to hand some over. Well she takes out a pretty big card-board box and inside it, as if prized collectables are all these books, with a handdrawn look to them. I get a few copies and decide to donate them to various places that have been instrumental in my youth. Since Janice is looking for an illustrator as well she hands me once copy just for that purpose. Now, I really do keep myself busy...just not busy enough. Before I know it, its 2-3 in the morning, and I got a cup of rom as we are walking towards the metro stop. In Nyc the subways run 24.7 baby ! I had no choice. The next day I would have to be at a show...hopefully making some noise. We were at the subway stop, the one in-front of the stadium Jay-Z payed to build. Inside it is also Jay-Zs club...hmm Cool. I bet its really expensive and you have to dress like a cock sucker to get in. But I wont judge before anything involving the place actually happens. We part ways, hug and I let Brandon lick my face one last time. In the entrance to the under-ground rail, there were a good 12 cops hanging out by the turn-stile, probably just shooting the ... shit. Well... some-how I wound up by a protest, where people were laying down on the ground trying to make a statement. I felt the urge to take my clothes off and scream. "My children! I have come ! See me, touch me!" But no-one dared me to do it..so to bad. Plus...these cunts were laying on the ground being depressed...the chance of one of them helping me out of the complete legal lynching received from such an act. Just kept my head-phones on and walked on by. Besides there were not any cute girls there. I spent about 30 minutes at the bus terminal, and I organized a little protest of my own...me and some guys smoked cigarettes in the terminal. Ya whos bad ! While sitting around some kid pretending to be a rasta got involved in a conversation with I. He said his name is like Bizzy. There was one girl there, knitting, very cute girl, really pretty. But she was sitting and had traveled alot. Sooo many people, as she mentioned hit on her and she was sick and tired of guys treating her like that. Well we just had a little chat about how the up-state area is, she did not know a thing about music but I convinced her to consider seeing some shows. Bizzy on the other hand swaggered over to her and tried soo hard to get her digits... with that fake gangsta shit. 4 hours later, Bizzy would get off the bus and go hug his mum. "Anthony how was your trip" "It was good mom !" I got in early in the morning and went to my cousins. I promised the kids to be present around 10. The bus arrived around 9 in the morning. I made it in at 12...somehow...Bringing along beer and ...? More beer? The kids were happy to see me, I was happy to see the picture Cornelius had taken and to show them the pictures of the tanks (which I forgot to take off of Victors computer). Soon I would be at a bar in Endicott playing music. I took my little cousin along and we visited various bars to grab some food...sadly they all had darts and I did not bring along my darts (idiot). My other cousin dropped us off and his appreciation for music became apparent. About every week he gets a different piece of "era" music and listens to it. Usually staying with-in the 1950s or classical compositions. Along the way Nicky and I had our little chat about this and that. He would say things like... "Can you hot-wire that hummer?" "What hummer?" "The one over there" "Oh, no... look you have been playing to many video-games" "no I havent" "Look, if I did not live in society, and if borrowing the car was legit, and if I would not be frowned upon by my family for taking the car, then yes I could and I would" "Than Ill hot-wire it" "You have got to stop playing just cause" "Thats not the way to the cider mill" "Yes it is, it says entrance right there" "Ill bet 5 dollars were going the wrong way" "How about Ill just get you a doughnut". "I dont want a dough-nut" "Ok" "Can you get me a beer?" "What? no!, we came in here for food, focus" I found a place with 5 dollar honey barbecue wings that are incredible thanks to Nickys un-quenchable appetite. And I also found out about the Southern Tier Dart league. But we were on our way to Kellys. The cute red-head sitting out-side her home along the way to the bar became the reason why I would play. "Hi, do you know where Kellys is ?" "Ya, you just go down the road and take a left at the fire-station" "Is it a good place for music?" "Ya its good" "Well if our not doing anything, feel free to stop by" "ok I will". Well me and Nicky get in and I spot a pool table, and I spent the next hour convincing Nicky to play. I also ordered more food (fries) and ran into Scot, the guy who invited me over. Great guitarist, we met on one of my unmentioned bike rides around town. I made my way over to Guitar center and spent a good couple of hours talking music with Scot. Well we all sat down, as it turns out Scot knows some of the family because of his passion for guns, Nickys grand-pa helped him customize one of his rifles. Scott gets to taking care of the stage and the kid and I play a little billiard. Well he lost and he got very very mad. It was hard and pointless to calm him down. An hour later we were sitting across the table from each other, he kept trying to bully me....I ordered some Macho Nachos, hoping to lighten the mood. Nadda. I call my cousin to come pick up the kid, before he runs off or something. Well...it does not turn out good....And I learned the hard-way that kids are alot more than I expected. Getting back to the Restaurant after Nicky gets taken home. The first thing I do is bum a cigarette off one of the cooks sitting out-side. "How did you get a job as a cook, I am not having any luck" "Oh you just gotta have experience" Said the guy who I bummed a fag off of. "I do" "Just apply to places" "I did" There is a silence between us...for a moment than the other guys start talking about golf. "The only time I watch golf is in the winter" ... same guy "Ya I hate it too, where did you learn to cook?" "My grand-ma" I head in, gran myself a whiskey and hang out at the concert. Meeting enough people to not seem like a creep. Scot handed me a nifty zoom portable video and audio recorder (does 10eighty p with raw pcm 24 bit 96khz audio!). And soon found myself reading the manual for the thing and than filming the band. The venue in question was a typical sports bar. It was a long dining hall, with a bar on one of the walls, the wall that was closest to the hallway that separated the bar section of the place from the eating portion. It was neatly decorated but it was just a big cafeteria. The gear the band brought in was decent for what they had to do. It was a small 500 watt p.a. that sounded more like a 200 watt. But hey... if you want to listen to the band get your ass up and come closer to the stage. I also got the privilege of tweaking with the mixer as the concert went along, but after my 3rd cup of whiskey I gave that up. There was also a photographer and his wife there. She was dressed to kill, and the kind of woman that jumped into attention with-out wanting to. He was the kind of guy who was more self indulged and protective of his personal passions. We got along great, I helped her get to dancing and start a little swing thing, before retiring and sitting back enjoying the show. Things started at 9. At 12 on the 30th I was on stage singing and contributing by holding a small jam session. I got to sing one song.. House of the rising sun. The room went silent as I roared through the lyrics...sadly the whiskey made me numb from any feeling. Along the section were we jammed we tried to do an acoustic version of krptonite but the singer was also just as drunk as me and completely ignored my cues. Now back to this band! They were pretty cool to listen to. A typical American cover band playing all the great classics of America culture. Things from Black magic woman to ... A bunch of CCR stuff...Free-bird Beatles... Even if the whole idea of a cover band does not spark my interest it was a pleasant treat and the musicians I met all had good advice to hand over for free. I decided to walk that night. As I was rather .... well spirited. It was what? Saturday night? The pool hall had to be open, I would walk to the pool hall and play Billiards till morning! I remember pointing myself in the general direction of the pool hall. I remember walking down the train tracks and a powerful white light started shining towards me, than the ground started to rumble. "Maybe....I should move" It was not a big distance that I put between me and the train. As it moved across the line a sudden jolt pushed against my body and I started watching the freighter dart by at a good 60 miles an hour. I was close, the weight began pulling me towards the train. It was a wise idea to move a little further way from the train. I watched from a more safe distance the wagons go by. Huge metal chunks just wising by. It was not the visual sensation that was breath-taking but the vibration itself. It went by and just the pounding of the pistons was left to be herd. I started walking towards the pool hall again. It was only about 20 minutes away. I get there.... Ahhh pula.... Its closed. WHY?! They call themselves a pool hall! Well.. After having a long chat with my Mother that got me from downtown edicott to vestal before I even knew it, and a shorter talk with my step-Dad. I found myself in the position of running a mile. It is impossible for me to run if its to warm...it has to be cold to prevent over-heating... go figure. Walking in the general direction of a good place to eat break-fest my timing was perfect. At 6 in the morning I would be there getting breakfest. "Hey wait a second... maybe my pops wants to come too" After sending a simple text message, "Breakfest at the greeks" We meet up at 6 in the morning. I took a detour along a road I used to live on. Gates road. At 5 in the morning it was a cold place to be. It was also a silent place to be. But the memories of my child-hood there were very strong. I thought to come back and see if my old friends were still living there. At least Celeste. Break-fest was ok. The diner did not open till 6.10 my father did not arrive till 6.30. I fell asleep waiting on the bench out-side. It felt good to go inside after freezing for the past 30 minutes. I went to my cousins again. The month was still not over.... This day I would visit the new home again and negotiate the terms of how to move in. There was something about "is it cool if I crash on the couch?" as the administrator and I discussed matters over an apple tea. I was already pretty tired... I remember some nights sleeping on bunk others on a little fold out camping bed and others in a normal twin, may have slept with bee a few times as well. The point is there were nights for rest and nights for play. Soon I was to bike around with a bag full of childrens books going to my middle school and the public library and also stopping by the high-school to get my old records (the ones about me being bad). I do not remember when I left, but I remember that I took the route that went onto the college campus from my cousins home. It was a beautiful sunny day. Not like the days of October which are freezing and cold...well kind of. The bike to the middle school was a good 10 miles. I did just fine, listening to music on my headphones and passing red lights with pride. The school did not change much, same building same paint, the only difference is that there is an intercom system for allowing people into the school. I push the button. Moments later "Who is it?" "I am an old student." "Ok come on in." 10 years ago? A decade? That is how long it has been?! The first set of doors smelled just the way they did back than, and they were still just as wide. 9 doors lined up and than another 9 in front of them. It was a confident step, but as soon as it was taken...again... back in time I went. I remembered everything, except the names. I remembered the faces. The classes I was in, exactly where they were...I was drawn to go and sit down and learn....wait... a second... Even though, most of my time at that school was spent in the basement in the detention hall for really bad kids. It was because I would skip class and go do mischief that I spent it there. But for a second I was 12 all over again with a skate-board in the school. Walking towards the main office, I felt compelled to visit the attendance office, because skipping school alot brings there more than any other place. Also, I remembered all the times the public announcement system would go off. "Will Alex Stingu please report to the principals office, Again". No-one even looked at me as I opened the glass door. And I had to pick which nice lady to go to for the act of donating the book. "May I he "Hi, I was a student here when I was this tall, ....well, I wasnt really that good of a kid so" "I have some books to donate" "Ok, may I see them?" She said it as I was reaching in my bag with the smiley face. She looked through, rather taken. "Did you write this ?" "No no, a singer I work with did." "Well do you want to leave some for the elementary school too?" She must have seen that there were another 3-4 books in the bag. "Yea" It was pretty easy to take care of that and soon, I would be off to the Library. Well... I went to visit my father at his work place first, leaving he bike right out-side the front door, with pride. Inside I was greeted by his co-workers, we got introduced a long time ago (2 months ago I believe) and they told me that my pops is busy and that I can wait in the lounge. I got myself a tea, again an apple tea. A few of the doctors came in and we chatted about what is up with the big selection of tea, "Ohh there all gifts" Now I really like tea....and they have some really good tea in that lounge! I snagged an apple tea after I opened the pack to make sure its good. Yes, I asked if I could take it with me. Now I mentioned in the lounge as we were talking because the question of my presence at the clinic had been brought up. "Oh, I am just going around donating some childrens books..." "You should meet doctor....."I forgot his name....dammit"..." Well.. My stay gets prolonged as I sit down and read another book, this time a fantastic book written with passion and love dedicated to the guys son. Well...I quickly took pictures of the book and ran out to the Library, after biding every-one fair-well. My father was brought up by my visit. I was in the neighborhood where an old friend used to live, and I found out that he still does..... I went to visit. He lived across the street from a cemetery. I instinctively went to the prettiest house on the block and found myself in a interesting predicament. There is an open door. And a screen door. I need to ask if Kyle lives here.... Well I open the screen door to a home I have not been invited to and was greeted by a lady on a couch. Before she could react. "Hi, is Kyle here" "Next door" "Thanks" Soon... I would be playing guitar on a porch. With a new friend, his name is Sean and he has an incredible skill at improvising lyrics. Apart from that a very very friendly vibe. Kyle seemed to be caught up with a pet puddy kat (or as I consider it whipped...though I may have to look further into this). The thing that started that whole discussion about playing guitar was a little pedal out on the porch, which I found out was from Rockband.... and my sad tone from hearing the news warranted a small cheery up side note. "But I do have an acoustic guitar" "can I see it ?" Usually one guy does not say to the other... Can I see it. Unless of course.... We hung out for about 20 minutes, before I headed out. We each showed each other 2-3 songs. I got back on my bike and pedaled away. Getting to the high-school took 5 minutes. And it seemed completely unchanged. Except for that they built a grand opening. Put up glass with engraving about the schools mission and made the offices look really fancy, while making various other improvements to the school. Yet still....the clock at the entrance is tiny and the Roman numbers can not even be seen. Smart guys. I wondered around an empty school, which was good. The last thing I wanted to run into were teenagers... Yuck...At least the school did not smell of packed lunches this time. In the office closest to the entrance I talked to a nice lady about where I can get my records, she sent me to the counselors office, soon I started remember my 9th grade counselor and how sexy she was...."damn... maybe she still worked here...Ok focus.. that was a long time ago shes old now.. get over it." Now in this school I managed to achieve quite a level of influence amongst the mortals. I was one of the few that helped destroy the clean and disciplined structure the school had worked so hard to maintain. Ya sure.. there were kids smoking pot before in the school but I was literally handing it out for free. Than again, I did it to get myself around and meeting people. It was never about the pot for me. So yes. the counselor mentions that the records I want may not be around any more and that only one person is in charge of them. Yippeee. The paper-work in question is a transcript. A word by word dialog between the superintendents and what they wanted to do with me and how to recuperate from the damage I did. If I could remember things from back than more clearly, I would not need it. But....it is just so hard to remember anything from my years in high-school...or from 5 years ago. Snowboarding, skating, and just being an idiot has knocked me out a few to many times. This writing bit might help with the memory issue... The nice lady at the counselors office gets my number and I soon wait for her to call back. Now at the library I go. To spend a good 3 hours.... The idea of just walking in and handing over the book got quickly destroyed. Discussions with the employes there began as they seemed old and wise and ... really I have not been in an America library for years ! It was a nice place to be. I found out that there is a computer dedicated to taking books and creating the digital version of them, that this library is part of a system of libraries and they will move books from one place to the other, that its free to get a membership and so on and so forth. But most importantly. They do not have Monty Pythons life of Brian. Only the quest for the holy grail... So I picked up 2 books for my lil cousins. One novel about some war in some pacific theater and another cute little Halloween book. Which reminds me... I gotta go return those books soon and pick up that book on audio engineering. I also picked up a good 5 books on music, which I read in about 2 hours. Francesco Corbetta, Fernado Sor, Dionisoi Aguado, Antonio de Torres. Just a few people I want to find compositions by. Well the last 2 things to be done this month are to bike up to my friends home. Josh, who happens to live on a frikkin mountain. I always use the heaviest gear on the bike, the 3rd on the pedals and try to keep the rest of the gears some-where between 5-7 ?? So going up the hill was brutal. It was a good 70 grade. Along the way a car drives by and waits for me at his home... A college of Joshes mom. He congratulates me on making it up the hill, and gives me a number to call to get in touch with my old buddy (his mom). Music people!! The last ordered chaos of this month was to Move in. September ends rather happy, surrounded by great people, conjured by vast opportunity. Becoming a Ghost. It ends rather soft. I dont want to move for fear of making the wrong move. If string theory was a practical science this is when it would come into consideration as a theoreticall equation into what will happen. This wont let me freeze. It will just be a 5 minute phase. I know whats to come. Its a matter of catching my breathe before I have to hold it again. This month is also the last one where I will be using an audio kontrol 1. Thoughts of replacing and updating my arsenal of toys to record and make music with has been lingering and growing into a demented beast of a creature eating away my brain. Logic to has jumped in the war against myself and ....myself. If the goal is to record bands and musicians, how the fuck is that possible with just 2 inputs. Well.....if ya wanna be oldfashioned about it, left and right channel off a mixer. But the cold truth is that it is 2012, a responsible producer has the tools this domain demands. Since, it will be Bills last month with me before he gets set free (either sold at a pawn shop, donated, or just handed over at guitar center) it is nice to say good-bye Bill and may Corey and Pepper take good care of you !. None of this is planned, its just the way it turns out, strangely enough. So Bills last stand begins as a small voyage out to the local college to interest myself about the possibility of taking some courses in cooking, than with the certification from the school get a job as a cook for a good 15 an hour doing something that drives as much passion as guitar. The bus rolls around at about 9.45 at the bus stop 90 feet away from the Margaret home. Waiting around for the past 45 minutes has been calmed with the soothing music off of rhapsody. What was I listening to this time ? Blade runner sound-track by the new American orchestra. It was a beautiful warm fall day, full of different hues of death and life, there was mud to avoid walking over and breezes gently swifting through my hair. As usual the bus almost drives by, the slight motion of my hand waving at the driver to slow down prompts his attention to retard his velocity and make a pick up (thanks buddy). "Sorry about that, I thought you were just walking down the street" "Oh its alright, does this thing get me to the college?" "Ya it does, do you need a transfer?" "Ah no Im good". Well, the 1.50 spent on the bus was just fine, it turned into a 5 minute drive instead of a 30 minute walk...hmmm... its still summer out-side, but the re-assurance about having to take this route every week to go to cooking courses aided in taking the damn thing. People on board where all college kids, a few of them on idiot-pads, a few of them consumed by there head-phones, some reading books, others talking to each other. No big discussion, nothing special here. Just a few souls getting fared along in life to the next stage of their adult-hood. I make no attempt to draw attention to myself. Why ? Well... you can feel a person. What is inside them. Pay close attention to the way they sit, the way their ears react to sound, what hairs on their chin stands up. Listen to the subtle sounds their bodies make. Pick up the energy they draw or surge out. Most importantly watch their breathing. That air in and out of the body, is a language all in itself. Stress-ful breathes always have a slight hiss as they roll out through the larynx. Happy people always have a rather hollow tone to their voice, and confident and happy people always have a resolute strong dynamic and standing persistance. So metaphorically. The stress-ful folk sound as a razor, the happy people as a ballon and the happy and confident (joyess) as a knight or a king. With that apart, as always, the instinct has to be there. A compelled movement, not an orchestrated social gesture to communicate my presence and impose some-thing on someone. That impulse to-day says. "It is rather pleasant to observe humans.". Campus is the next stop, its a nice sunny day out, things will be good today ! I made the choice to ride the bus till the very end. Or at least the very end of the campus (its a giant ring, the bus either stops there or makes a full circle, and I want to find out what it does). It stops at the end of the line, as usual. The bus stops. We wait a minute before the doors open. A strange habit of buses and trains here. In Romania they come to a stop with the doors open! "Get the heck off the metro!! We got people to move !!!" This college is also the school my mother taught at, there were buildings she used to hang out in.... maybe there still is someone here who knows her, well, first cooking, than building relationships, if an attempt to recover old relationships was to be made the converstation would start and end something like this. "So what department did your Mother teach in ?" "I think it was math, but I only came in to see if any of her friends or co-workers are here" "Like who?" "Ahm.....I think I am going to have to ask her, thanks anyways!" It would be nice to meet up with them and share stories of her, but the active pursuit of this would kinda be more of an un-healthy obsession than a respectable gesture (or that is what some-people may think, others may consider it to be such a kind and noble gesture), besides. If I take classes here to get involved as a cook and a chef, than Ill run into them. I figured that the campus is easy to navigate. The administrative office as well as admissions would either be located dead center or some-place more towards the entrance, walking through the schools main boulevard of kids and future doctors and engineers, a little kid comes up to me and asks if I want to have a bar-mitzva. "I would love to, but you should know that I am not jew-ish." "Oh, ya thanks any-ways". Further down the line there were some people with a mega-phone trying so hard to draw a crowd. "Say anything into the mega-phone and well give you free stuff!" My thoughts begin... "Go go go !! Grab that fucking thing! Have some fun" The argument continues "What?? Is this some- kind of a bad joke ? I have protested before this is a mockery !" " Ya but I can teach these kids how to use that mega-phone" "Maybe they should get a career in accounting than" "Please...come on we can make friends" "We will make friends at the cooking class come on focus dammit" "Look your walking right by them!" "There arent any chicks give it up it aint happening!" The admittance office comes into view. It says on it. Admittance office. It is a nice dark glass building. The slanted glass reflects the whole body as it walks towards, the out-ward vertical makes people have a look at them-selves, if they are observant enough to look. My reflection did not look like it fit in good with these kids. But damn am I a good looking dude. In I walk. The lady there is busy having a conversation with some-one, I go admire the propaganda. Alyisia Dekadance - Major in psychological science and minor in human behavior, Vice president of the school club of blah blah, organized charity events, managed the board, current occupation - John Anderson - Major complicated engineering, current occupation- making toy air-planes for lock-heed. There were pretty faces and big words lined up on big posters, to make sure that people would under-stand. They can accomplish some-thing here, make something of them-selves.... Ya... spend 30 thousand dollars to get a confidence booster and the right to a good job. "Look dammit I just spent 50000 dollars to sit on campus read books and play beer pong, I have the right to work for this company, not that asshole who has been working his whole life and never listened to the current current". But if you have enough money to spend 50000 dollars on college alone than its pretty obvious that you bring alot of "asset" to the company in the form of credit. "May I help you" Asks the nice lady in the office. "Yes, I am looking to sign up, for some cooking classes" "We dont have anything like that, I think, let me see" "You mean, this whole college....this big facility does not have anything culinary to offer?" I was shocked. The school is well regarded. Cooking is a very important skill and art. How could they not have it ! "Well, the b.c. charity is always looking for cooks for charity events and the school cafeteria is hiring". "Ya I already applied to the cafeteria. But I wanted to take some courses." "We dont have anything to offer, I am sorry" "Oh its not your fault. Have a nice day, and thanks". On the verge of saying something more like.... What the hell is wrong with you people ? You bloody blood suckers !! Your teaching kids the wrong life skills ! Look at that girl right there she does not even have a job and you guys put her up on the wall ! Its what I thought but, I was going to make my way back home. It would take a short walk to another bus stop. Where there was a cute girl to talk to. "Can you believe they dont have culinary courses here" "I dont think they have them any-where in Broome county". "Holy crap ! are you serious?!" "Yea". "So what are you studying" "Electrical engineering" "Oh Im a sound engineer, its a pretty fun field, but you have to deal with complicated laws of transformation, and ohms laws and resistance, I just worry about what sounds good" She gave me a look. "Im on my first year". "So is the bus coming soon?" "Ya in about 5 minutes" "Thanks". If you break the conversation down, it was a male mentioning to a female how he enjoys cooking. Further-more this was a intelligent male, a strange one, but a smart one. A conversation could have been kept, but after the sequential failed efforts to spark a dialog. It was her turn. Eh, what-ever. There were more errands to run today. I went back to the liberty tree after visiting wal-mart and picking up some death-cakes. Just pure corn syrup and everything else that can cause cancer. Than I walked a good mile towards the location of the tree. Sat out on the out-post and ate my lunch....if you can consider it a lunch. I didnt have much to eat or spend and it was the begining of the month. I had already spent all my money on groceries that involved tea, soap, patatoes, doughnuts, cheesebread, and liberworst. Thats all that was to eat for the rest of the month as far as my Mothers support was concerned, which it more than enough, besides.... thats whats to eat at home. Out here the last few pennies get spent on some really crummy junk food. But you know what ? It felt good to eat 1 lb of corn syrup! Even if the last cinnabon wanna-be cookie was just to nasty to ingest and had to be thrown in the forest for the birds and the bees. Since Seans home was only about 30 minutes away, by foot.His knowledge of the area is also a little better than mine, he would maybe have some advice to offer regarding the whole "cooking classes" thing, and even more maybe some tips on how to get back home ! It was a pleasant walk, the out-post by the liberty tree had a walking trail around the swamp through the woods which, I took as it was a pleasant day. And if I had to choose to walk on asphalt or walk through the woods I would choose the woods. Always. Plus, never have I seen swamps. The walk was rather littered with the pollution of cars running down the high-way which was a good 300 meters away on one side and about .7 of a mile the other way (left). But the moments when not a car went down the road and the North American wilderness finally came into existence where very grace-full. There was even a little creek separating progress forward that had to be crossed by bridge ! Mushrooms grew every 2-3 steps. On this land, in the middle of the valley, half a mile from the river, there once were natives who lived. It was fertile, lush land. Land good to sleep on because it was soft, and covered in soft pine. This is the same land that it has been for thousands of years. The dirt path around the swamp was carved by millions of walking steps. Everything green around it, and the path just a flat black some-times just a flat what-ever was laying around in the forest and some-times the path would just disappear into nature its-self. It was really a nice walk to experience. The vegetation was of great diversity and there were hundreds of plants that never graced my gaze, trees of different colors and kinds, and than the swamps. Crisp water, with green colored algea. The colors of each both dark and cold, the water murky and the algea the same green as the felt placed on billard tables. It didnt look as if there was anything that could screw your immune system up or cause illness. It actually looked like a swamp that could be swam in. The land went into the water at such a small angle, than the light from the sun reflected and diffused all around so beautifully. A swamp is a pond, and a pond is a lake, and everybody agrees that a lake is beautiful. So why not a swamp ?. Sean, was home, with a friend who happened to have some spirit on him. They were sitting on the porch with the acoustic guitar hanging out. Pretty much the same way I left him last month. We went back up-stairs to where Sean has a mixer and a vynal player, and some huge fucking speakers. Retob (the laptop) was with me as well and we started playing songs to each other, drinking, listening to each others tunes and just hanging around till about 4 in the morning. Seans vynal collection was a blast, and I had reaper running loops as he scratched and we freestyled some "dope" ryhmes bro ! Than we refilled the whiskey and kept at it ! The whole night. At around 2 our friend Chris headed out, after we had our cups of coffee and smoke break. Here I managed to confuse marbles with rubber balls and started stacking words on the refrigerator in a crude attempt to create new ones. Before the night was over and we learned to sing "always look on the bright side of death" together. It was a pretty good night, to put it the way Dudu would put it, we had alot of fun! But instinct had taken over and at 4 in the morning on this day the last sun-rise of summer would occur. This thought went off like a bell in my head. It was loud it was power-ful and it was beautiful. "Dude, I am going to go watch the sun-rise, can I borrow a jacket, its kinda cold out" "Ya sure". Sean runs off and brings back a cotton zip up hoody of my favorite color mix. Black and red. The red trimmings are the red that I like the dark strong red, not to be confused with red burgandy. We hug and we part ways. The walk now turned into a rather chilly endeavor into a stupid idea. Number 70241554. At least I got a pretty painting for hanging out with my buddy and a nice jacket. Streets glowed a pale orange from the weird tubes that are called light-bulds on the streets, which was probably some wise ass c.i.a. mans idea of how to keep people off the streets at night. "Oh I know well just put on some lights that fuck with people heads, and make them feel uncomfortable". The orange makes everything seem as if its in a dream. because it is a slow light, it as well gives the appearance that things move slow, and most importantly it tires the vision cortex. It makes you want to sleep. Luckily for me. The rail-trail, the walking path of which the liberty tree and the out-post are situated on is not lit. Rumors are told that after 12 it is closed and police arrest people for walking on it, even beat them, and I am more worried about a frikking bear showing up than I am about a cop. Obviously, I would like to find out if this is true. After all, some of us are sons of patriots, born of liberty (the bit about the cop not the bear, the bear can stay away, its better for its health). A huge moon was in-front of me, dead in front of me. Walking for miles with eyes glued to it. The darkness of the hour making it that much more beautiful. The lack of lightning that much more powerful, slowly, it began to get more and more light out-side and soon, "Hmm what if we lived under this light, what would life be like?" The only light artifical light, from a traffic light made itself present as a beautiful red glow on the trees and the bushes. For some reason...it felt as if the street lights where not so invasive this country would be alot prettier at night. Arrive to the fork in the road in no time. It was a choice to be had. Walk through the pitch black early morning on the path around the swamp avoiding foliage and mud and swamp, as well as porcupines and skunks, or the other option to just walk straight. Obviously the decision was easy to make. Go through the pitch black mini-forest. Now that the traffic has slowed to 1 car every 40 minutes, it can finally be enjoyed. Even though, nothing was to be seen, the path was beaten and taken so many times, that it was more a game of walk where it is the darkest. This is a bad place to be if zombies come and attack, really. A zombie goes through pretty easy in a body of water. Than they have the advantage that the sound of a few zombies going through the foliage of the swamp lands would be rather confusing. Startling noises came from the bushes, luckily none of them were skunks, just birds. Than the blair witch project came to mind. About how its a little disorienting to be out here. The zombies were still the fun part. Avoiding them is hard here because the land is un-even. Roots from trees sprout out every-where. Dimps and little bumps raise out of the ground every-where. Swamp land is un-even and than the water and mud part of the deal come into play. Because of the nature of a swamp some-body could just get slowed down by mud so much that the zombies would just jump on him right there and soon bitting creatures would tear pieces of flesh off the skin and 2 deaths would race for the one soul. Drowning is almost as bad as being eaten alive. But still, drowning and being eaten alive is even worse. Than logic comes in again to save the day from irrational fears. "Well, if supernatural stuff does exist than I would have supernatural powers as well, so I could smack that witch with my super-natural cock, if she came after me, other-wise life really wouldnt be fair at all...if we have a few zombies walking around than I must have accidently ate a bad mush-room". Logic always prevails over fear ! Still though, the steps taken were care-full ones. The read suede shoes could not be dirtied just because of my sense of adventure. A respectable gentle-man would not do that. So the de-tour and the walk got me to the out-post at a good 5.30. I have this notation that the sun comes up at 6.30. Some-thing that really does not have any-thing to do with reality. But... logically speaking, if you want to catch the sun-rise. 6.30 is the latest you can wake up at. I lay down with my laptop and write out some of "only happy on guitar". Writing until the battery dies. Than just lay back and wait for the sun to rise. A solor powered lap-top would be pretty use-less out here. The out-post is facing the exact way the sun is going to come up, the wooden bench allows for a fully relaxed laying position to wait. Well... the sun came up at around 7.52 that morning. I got pissed that for 2 hours I was completely motion-less and every-thing began to freeze. That as the first light began to hit the sky, I got fucked in the ass. It was a cloudy morning. Rain clouds were hovering over. Sun-shine was blocked. But, I still sat there...hoping it will just float on by. Another 30 minutes go by and I walk. The sun came out and it was behind clouds. First, a light jog to warm up everything. I get a good mile in and than .... its hot out-side. Luckily I have the problem that I over heat easy. Well now using the phone is possible as my fingers arent frozen. My father gets a text from me early in the morning. "Wanna get break-fest?" He calls. "What are you doing up this early?" "Oh, I was at a friends the night and I figured I could go catch the sun-rise. Im at the townsquare mall, pretty much" "You stayed up all night?" "Ya, I told you I dont sleep" "Well I cant, I gotta go to work" The conversation continued till the cold broke into skin and started slowing the blood flow. "My hand is starting to freeze, Ill call you back later" The last sun-rise of summer is never what you expect. Arriving at the bus stop to go home at around eight.20. Logic states that with-in ten minutes another bus will come by at the town square strip mall, right in front of Wal-mart. It would be nice to have more than the bus fair, to buy something to snack on....but than again the food in that store is not healthy at all. More than that it makes you fat. Well, I started passing out of boredom. Stuck at a strip mall a good 14 miles from home, and not very enthusiastic about walking in the rain. Originally the plan was to visit the local audio shop and play some more Taylor guitar than walk home. Using the 3 dollars for things like water and patatoe crisps. Instead. I sat there motion-less, waiting, slowly freezing and begining the metamorphasis into a stone statue of a man waiting for a bus. The cold and the light rain slowly killed reality and compelled with the lack of sleep, darkness begins to set in. Eyes felt numb and as if they were balls floating in a skull, rather than an organ. But the cold. It felt as if pieces of skin were slowly falling off every-time the wind would move. My breathing slowed and as the wind breathed I breathed. Some people call it meditation, in Texas they call it freezing to death. Yet I still refuse to put up the hood. The bus arrives, its noise strong enough to wake me. The bus driver is wearing shorts and a tee-shirt. The air-conditioner is on in the bus. We sit at the stop with the doors open for 10 minutes. I got my ticket and my transfer. Now, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS GUY ?! Is one of his parents a polar bear ??? Was he born on Pluto ? It is colder in the bus than it is in the rain ! And worse than that ! He has got nothing on !!! He wasnt even cheating, there was no secret little vent blowing hot air any-where. I stood there and talked to the .... Eskimo bus driver about routes and how to get to "Floral Ave" just to make sure he didnt have any heat on, looking over the whole dash to see if anything was set to hot. It wasnt. Everything was set to "Freeze dudes balls off". Well....we men are simple creatures. If the cold doesnt bother that guy, it wont bother this guy. At the campus the transfer to the other bus was pain-ful. My laptop had to take the risk of getting wet and dieing. Luckily the school had awnings on almost all the buildings to keep the rain out. All the doors were open as well. Shortly after the "get under the awning quick the world is going to end scene" another bus came along and it took me where I had to go. It was a morning that felt more like purgatory than life, and it was the first wind of winter blowing our way. Being, tired. It felt good to go home and sleep. A habit has grown, this month as well. It involves going to a place, a bar called the cyber cafe for a piece of carrot cake. The carrot cake is the only reason to be bothered with the 10 minute walk to get down to the pub, they have an up-stairs with a pool table, than they have a bunch of other tables and chairs to sit around. Apart from that theres games such as monopoly or trivia pursuit to sit down and play. But (as I found out in the next 2 months) people dont really bother to play anything up there. Most folks just sit around and read or surf the net. Social interactions here are casual, and only at times do they get actually interesting... It is a typical bar in a typical town, it has its few twinks and twanks, and oh. The wraps are horrible. As well as the occasional conversation and befriend-ship that there is to be had there, chess players gather in the local as well. Not a bad place to go hang out and relax. Every-night there is music playing, from all over the country. Yet I have still not managed to come on in and play a gig there. Im at the cafe because its Tuesday. I had an interesting phone call. "Hello is this dudes recording company?" "ahm yea...but its not really a company, I just record people and produce stuff" "Oh ahm, I am looking to get hired as a studio guitarist" "Ya, thats a pretty hard job to get, I guess I could tell people about you, but well have to meet up and talk" "Yada yada yada blada blada blada" "Theres an open mic tonight at the cyber cafe, we can meet up there tonight" "Ok, sounds good" "Ill be there early so I can sign up and play" "Alright see ya there, sign me up too !". Well, today I was going to go to the open mic either way. This is just an added bonus feature of the whole gig. On the walk over, taking the back-roads and cutting through a park and mainly staying in the shadows with head-phones on, trying to walk as normal as I can...but the truth is my Texas business shoes have a little collar thing that acts as a bell and every step I take clings. There was a home on the route with an open door. On the bar-beque grill sitting out on the porche there was a nice big Epiphone sticker. Walking by the front doors open position shows just a variety of acoustic guitars laying around on the walls. "That is a place I have to go visit, it must be the home of some really cool guitarist or something". But there was no time to step in and talk today. Gotta get to the open mic and take care of signing up all these people. On the way over I called Sean as well. "Dude theres an open mic at the cyber cafe. You gotta come" "Oh I know about it, ya Id love to but... I cant really get there" "Look just take a cab" "I dont have any money" "Ill pay for it, if its just 20" "Ya ok, maybe my mom will give me a ride or one of my friends, Ill call you back". Ya...the last 20 bucks of the month and Id gladly give um up, I guess friend-ship is more important than money, besides it is said that a friend with a couch is a friend indeed...lolz... D I got on the list only because the owner remembered me haggling him so much to play..More or less I still could not under-stand how there are musicians booked for every single day of the week. I was put down on the list as "Dude", I than proceed to inspect the club and see who is around. Pretty much no-one, just an acoustic guitar sitting in the back lounge area on a table. "Ok...there is an acoustic guitar just laying there....cool" It was an Ovation. Just like all of um it had an action that was harder than die hard 1 2 and 3 put together to make die hardest. The back was round and slippery, the strings felt fine, but it was a harsh guitar to play, easy to tune how-ever. But it was a guitar non-the-less, thanks! I played right there a few of my songs, singing and dancing along to um, and than put it down. "Yap, played at the cyber-cafe too, now to get on with it". The trip to the bar to get a beer had finally earned its merit. And that is what I did. Its nice to go up to the bar and not have to show your i.d. Guess I am one of the cool kids. On the way back to the acoustic guitar (it was a bloody ovation any-ways) there was someone new who just sat down, he looked so familiar. The same height as Christy. The same face structure. The same body build. It was strange. The guitarist from Romania from East roots must have an evil twin or something. Christy is a great guitarist and a responsible one at that. He plays one note and understands the importance of that one note in the whole damn song..this kid just has straight black hair and a very... "give me your blood" kind of vibe. But why must he meet with me ? The truth is that I am evil. I am so evil that doing good is actually evil to me. I greet the kid. Well just call him Dick because he is a complete dick. His evil twin does finger tapping ego tripping acoustic stuff and cares more about being an amazing guitarist than playing along with people or for people. Just "Hey look at me look at me !!!! Im awesome!! I can do what you saw on that youtube video!!! YAY !!!!" >. Dick is complaining that he cant get on the list to play tonight, so I offer him my spot, he should have the spot....Dudes production is a company that puts its clients first, and we value their feelings. We put them on stage and in the studio to make there life better not for them to work harder. That is. If they pass the first set of exams. As a conversation piece dick was alright. He seemed to have a level of respect for people, that was nice. He also had some friends over from far out of town that came here just for the chance to play the open mic. Which was nice, he has an entourage...even if it is of 17 year old kids. Well...one friend over another, this one a very pretty girl, who got up there and sang her heart out. Pretty much sealed the deal as itd be nice to record her. She even brought along one of those Spanish sit on me drums, just for me! The night of course began with poetry readings. I had made my way to playing chess with Benjamin. We made remarks about some of the lyrics and just sat back and enjoyed the tranquility of it all. Noticing of course the one screaming fire-cracker of a poet, (whom I later found out was also the singer for a local big band...go figure). By the time my name was called up, dick was having a hard time getting up on stage...so I had to help him weasle his way through the complicated web created there by the few artistic minds. Giving him the possibility to go up and have his fun. Some-one handed me a dark Guinness to go on top of the hard cider and things were looking good. Than some-thing weird happened. Another pretty lady was there. With some rather profi recording gear (one of those fancy zoom hd recorders and a big pretty camera). She suggested that we play a song... a cover of course, I got the little group together and we ran how to play the song. Which was a pretty easy one any ways. Than, when it was up to see who would go, Dick didnt seem to have any interest in my musical aspiration any-more as I didnt want to get involved with this boring little jam. I let him step on my toes, just because I didnt want to play symphony for the devil. "Ha...who has the big ego now biatch !" I thought as he got up on stage. "Ya my ego is so big I am not gonna play this song and enjoy it, ya thats how I roll motha-fucka!". It got handled as a 3 piece. Jeff the owner on lead guitar. Dick on rythm and the girly singin it. The illness of not knowing the song got cured My phone has the ultimate guitar program. The problem was remedied quickly. "Look its just D C G A repeat. Than on the chorus you play F C B A". Maybe, I should have gone up there...but eh, I didnt like the song. They all took pictures and some-one mentioned some-thing about posting the video on some newspapers web-site. Dick and the girly left early, and it was just the local alcoholics sitting around the bar telling jokes. I told the long one about the Scotts man and the Octopus. No-one laughed though. It was one of those moments where the owner said "If it aint funny I am throwing you out". And it wasnt funny.... Closing time rolled around and some-how I had another Guinness, Benjerman must have been up to something.... I slammed the thing and Jeffs remark "Wow you really slammed that thing" "Well, the kind of people that drink Guinness are real drinkers, what do you expect". Out-side the party keeps going on, and we are out and about on the street with beers talking about this and that. Mostly every-one is drunk. But, closing time, as it turns out. Might as well get my ass home and sleep, write, practice guitar, or keep looking for a job. Good thing home is about 10 minutes away and not 20 miles away. Wednesday is pretty much the same deal, only this time its an open mic at a place called the Bel-mar. This time, there aint no drinking. And this time, I am going to talk to every-one there, and remember not one name. Why ? Because it is impossible for me to remember names and it is just as hard to remember faces. But still-yet, once some-one earns just a little of my trust, or makes some head-way into a relation-ship. Than they are never forgotten. This open mic was grueling and long. The bar was packed and cramped, walking around meant rubbing against people, the timing for getting around had to be good. The risk of rubbing up against a guy was just to large, and it wouldnt happen! In other words it was a success. People played until 12 at night. I told about 15 people to call me to record, and than I made some friends as well, well... a drunk guy hugged me and than tried to kiss my neck...not really some-thing most people count as making friends. But, the guy, reminded me so much of prince. The clothes he wore, the way he talked. His height. Maybe I will record my first gay artist some-time soon.? I was in the sweet spot of the list that night. When my turn to play came around the bar was full, I got applauded by every-one (why the hell do people applaud anyway?), yet still, because of my nature. No-one managed to remember a thing about me. As soon as I exited the stage I disappeared. Well, not really disappeared but placed myself in a position that was rather unapproachable to most people imaginaton.. I sat in the corner, sulking in the pity of forgetting the microphone and audio card at home, as this would have been a great night to record. Idiot ! Idiot! Idiot! No beer for you ! People offered...but... NO BEER FOR YOU! In all honesty. I was hoping to pick up chicks at the open mic. But... I just cant do it. The microphone aint around with me and neither is the audio card. Im not the cool kid today. It happened in the past, it worked out just fine. But now the whole pick up girls at the open mic is, boring. Just the conversation to be had is always the same bland "let me in" kind of discussion, I prefer solid substance to my relation-ships. Not, "Yea so I am sound-stage engineer and I play hella music girl, let me holla at ya baby, ohhh baby, dont you want to get to know me? I wanna hold you baby, please ? please ?? Ohhh, you dont have to go, ohh ohh ohh ohh". So better stated I was looking for some-one to spark a decent conversation with, not entertain with petty musical talent and skill, besides, there will be plenty of time for that later on, just not now and not in this place. There were about 30 musicians there. What is this a conservatory where are all the babes you nerdS!!! And conversation quickly started talking about guitar strings and hammer-ons, cleaning strings and paint-jobs. We are like that, most of us, but there are the few musicians that like to talk about how they got some girl to do I dont know what with whipped cream and others who tried to jump off who knows what after drinking some hard ass shit. There is variety, todays meneu is a dish of dedicatation to varied styles. One guy, whom bar-keeps at the cyber-cafe does the mountain-blue grass with the voice and mustache to knock any-one else who trys some-thing like this straight outta the water. Another one, does the finger-style tap the harmonic here and there and over there and everywhere as if he was born taping the guitar, theres a flute and jazz guitar duo, and I am treated to a concert of truly beautiful proportions. To bad everything else about the veneu was a little blaa.... You know you make a bowel of chilly and it tastes like cinnamon toast crunch, you prepare a bubble bath and the water is clear after ya emptied a whole bottle of soap. Dan, the host, is a great guy and has a great voice, its just that he is more about staying in control of his own world that venturing out into the realm of humanity. As far as recording is concerned his ideal is "what happens here stays here, there is no need for any-one to review it, they either show up and have a good time or go fuck themselves". I can agree with that. There is no reason to bend over and take it like a slut when it comes to pleasing and creating a following. These guys have the luxuroy to go down there and just make their egos present. Walking home at 2 in the morning was pretty cool, because home was 20 minutes away, I had the luxury of thinking. Winter weather started to nip at my exposed skin, but it wasnt a thing to complain about. Still warm enough to sleep on the street and still cool enough to drink tea. There is nothing better than a fresh cup of tea and a crisp clean white snow. It was the last few nights of current reality of which I had the pleasure of partaking in. But not to my knowledge. The next day sucked. It started off over-cast and cold. I went down to wal-mart to pick up some fucking gloves (and cheese-cake). There was no way winter would catch I un-prepared. A white bandana and a set of 4 gloves which quickly turned into just 2 gloves as the extra 2 went into the normal 2 and these things kept me warm. I visited the pub down the street as well, one of which had a darts tournament next week! But didnt stay long, as I walked back home thinking all the way over. "Why the hell is wal-mart fenced off from everything else, and they force people to go around, if they think I am ever coming back they can go fuck themselves". Sadly, I went back for Halloween candy later the month. It was a chill day where I was excited about going down to Fitzys to record and play at the open mic. And there was some-one there whom really needed to be recorded. Johana. (you give me hope Johana give me hope Johana give hope Johana till the morning light, that song alone would be sang every-day if I hooked up with a girl named Johana, we would wake up in the morning and Id start singing, as I would fall asleep Id mumble the words.... I try to keep myself amused). There is no-one at the bar. Its almost empty, and when I walk in every-one starts to stare. Mainly because I walked into the center of the bar, did a pirouette and than stood there for 10 seconds thinking. "Shit...theres nothing going on... But Dan said every Thursday....ok... why did I get every-bodies attention than??" Didnt bother to ask any-one a thing about the open mic. There was a kinda icky vibe to the place. Went home, wrote, hung out on R.R. and slept. Morning, wakes me and the first thing is to continue the dialog with Deajaun, the guy who tried to smother my throat. Mainly because he invited me to a party over the weekend, it was a funny discussion, he talked about wanking it and stuff, but we still met up that night to hang out at the bar, and for a little clarity to be shed on the situation. He arrived later, his few steps towards the bar as he attempted to walk rendered him cold and he took a cab. I just walked the 2 miles and enjoyed my music, worried that I would be late. For some reason... I just dont like being late. Ever. I thought that a wager should be had, some-thing like the first person there buys the other beer. But, I was broke. The 500 a month allowance went to paying a safety deposit and rent for the first month. Yay ! No money for beer! Traisca apa ! The bar is still packed full with a 4 o clock crowd. And there are plenty of girls to mingle with. But the tone of there voice and the hasted collection of vocabulary killed all interest, as if cut down with a big axe. Wifi was present at the bar and soon I was surfing the net like a hipster. Mainly spending time on craiglist and recording review....by now I had gone through every single post in every single category on craigs, and on recording review I barely get to go on any-more, so its mostly to read and keep up with things rather than post..Soon though I will go back to occupying the bash this recording thread and be the minotaur in the labyrinth of the nice folks trying to navigate through making good recordings. Mu-hu-hahaha... Luckily I found a post that Brandon or GB posted about how bash this recording for the time of my absence has been just a bunch of ... well... nothing interesting. Deejaun is tasked to find a guy with a green shirt and head-phones, the only guy with a green shirt as every-one else wore neutral colors....except for that one girl with the leopard print leggings... I could have gone up to her and said "Nice leggings" and she would have replied "What ?" "Your leggings they make me horny" "What the fuck are leggings"...... "Oh sorry, I forgot in American english their called panty-house? Stockings? Wtf ??? what are they called in American?" By the time I figured that out she was out the bar. And again, cock blocked. This time by the language barrier. (Still havent figured out, I just call um long socks...leggings, plm). I took a seat in the back of the bar, being one of the few people with a table and the whole set-up seemed like uncle Polly coming to collect some money from Tony. Ya know what Im talking about? Mafia big boss instinct of how to do business, besides. He is a potential client, and it is nicer to sit around observing the town folk than to get involved. As I still have to get acquainted with the American way of being, and there is just some-thing about the fact that smoking is prohibited in the bars the just fucks with me. I can sit there for hours watching people sit at the bar and just because no-one lights a cigarette I am captivated. "So, if they are not allowed to smoke, why do they still go to the bar? They should protest the right to smoke...wtf ? But I am against smoking and it is so nice to be in a bar with no smoke, ya but still..." Deajaun makes quite an entrance as he greets every single person on the way in, 20 of um. When I said this guy is like prince I meant it. He is a pop-star under-neath his clothes (Shakira reference). Now, if some-one would take his creative energy and push him in the direction of singing he would be set! I greet him at the bar, he is talking to a bunch of girls, what great timing huh ? There was also some-thing strange about this place. There was a phone just sitting on the bar. It had been there for the past 20 minutes. No-one bothered it. Deejaun new exactly whos it was.... We started talking for a good 10 minutes, "Oh wow your from Romania?" "Ya, whats it like around here?" "Oh we have house parties now and than, but its kinda boring and bland, nyc is much better" "why dont you live there?" "its cheaper here" Hahaha.... "Look you want some-thing to drink" "Well in my country its not polite to refuse, so yes, Ill have a Guinness" "I never liked that stuff" And he ordered a drink specifically made for him...go figure... Diva... We sat down with our drinks. Him in front of me. Separated from the rest of the bar. His back was towards the crowd, and this forced him to pay attention, eh ? I know a few things about picking up clients as well. "Look, there is a strong aurora over me that shields most people from praying into my complicated web of energy. Some-how you managed to see past the fields of confusing vibes and pick up on what emits them. Deep down inside, I have been lonely for about a year now. My friends are all gone, and I am here on a land surrounded by strangers. There is no-love to fill the space, yet I am happy with it the way it is." "What you felt was some-thing I hide from the rest of the world, I admire you for being so spiritual". "Well we are going to go to that party and your going to make plenty of new friends!" "It still wont change the fact that I am heart broken" "The best I can do is hang out and have fun, for now". The conversation that shifted towards culture of the local area, the schooling system, the welfare system, and life around Bingy. We than headed back to the bar to talk to his friends. Deajaun was drooling over a big 2 meter tall guy. As I am a skilled wing-man of the single male looking to mingle. Just the whole manipulating people into building a relation-ship, when there is a crowd of people and my pilot wants to talk to just one person of that crowd, sorting through the care-fully netted web of words to create the conversation between the two, and the whole aiding in saying the right things at the right time with the right tone to achieve the right results...its fun. Its like helping your son hit on a girl for the first time, guess Im practicing on other people to learn how to take care of my kid. Weird... The guy in question happened to be from Germany, and was visiting his brother at college, Deajaun had the possibility of inviting the guy over a party but, he gave the guy the address, and played the catch me if you can game. Or so it seemed. I started joking about how in Germany every-body is bi-sexual and they are very sexual being over there sooo there aint no need for him to fuss, more than not likely this dude swings both ways and he caught him-self a tall Fuer. We also had to hang out at the bar for a-while as to not arrive to early to the party, because we are Divas! Yay! Another Guiness!!! Whats better than a free beer? One that is enjoyed in the company of new friends! The conversations we had were actually pretty good. It was nice to talk to people about mature topics, and not be consumed by "Oh I just studied for my mid-term, or my teacher is such a jerk, or whatever else college kids say". These folks were adults, not children. They talked about working and all the life choices that affect the future and what-not. I thanked them for getting me away from the crummy discussions of college life I have been hearing for the past few days. Heading out to the party at around 3 beers later, we had to spot at a store to pick up some more alcohol, well every-one else did. We were a group of 4 now. Deajaun took one of the pair of gloves to keep his hands warm. The gas - station had a pretty good supply of drinks, and the raspberry ale caught my attention and had to get a 6 pack (dammit...there goes tomorrows lunch and next weeks dinner). I was now left with 15 dollars to spend for the rest of the month. Dont worry be happy! You got no food to put in your belly, dont worry be hungry err I mean happy ! The party was at a house. It was crowded. Hmm... I like crowded places, leading the pack through the crowd as a proud Tiger leading his cubs through the plains on a hunt, stalking around like nothing and no-one can stand in our way. Watching which way Dejaun would head and than leading him into that room, I was rather excited because there were supposed to be bands playing that night...but there was just a fucking dee-jay playing some really shitty tunes. Luckily I spotted another sound-system. We headed towards the kitchen, where there was a huge tray of bacon being taken out of the oven, and 15 people sitting around talking, drinking, the dejay had a crowd of about 21 people. The other 2 rooms along the left side of the course we took both had 10-12 people in them each. The hall-way had 7. Deajaun greeted who he had to greet and I made my way back to the d.j. On the back-yard porch, I got my beer and greeted some dudes I thought I might know...um...yea... nop...just got confused. I dont know any-body. Well, its no fun to party with a 15 pound bag on your bag, it just sucks....do one twirl and some-bodies head flies off, maybe line dancing is posibble but nothing as dangerous as the hockey pockey. That bag really makes doing things pretty dull and calculated (cant reach with my left cause the bag will swing and nock down all those beers, cant pick up that 20 dollar bill on the street cause the bags gonna fall off, etc)... Making my way to the d.j. (dum jack-ass) "So their arent any bands playing to-night?" "Oh noo just me" "Crap, I brought along my recording equipment, you mind if I put it here?" "Ya sure, what do you got?" "Just a really good mic, an audio card and a laptop" I handed the guy a raspberry beer for taking care of Retob, Bill and Mike. Than ventured through the party, being greeted by a few dudes along the way...some-how we met somewhere... and I just couldnt remember where. Eh, good thing some of um had spirits with um, we cheered to the party! Being a creature of curiosity, I investigated the rest of the home. To see just what is going on. making my way to the first room on the way towards the stairs and the entrance to the home was a bunk bed set-up room, with a lock on it on the inside incase any-one wanted to make out.... I figured ? Than there was the dinning room which had a couch along the door side wall facing a view of whats out-side of the house, if the windows were a little bigger. The room was stripped down to just 2 couch at 90 degree angles to each other, a table and alot of beer- pong. People were talking from every direction. But no-one was drunk enough to be entertaining. And beer pong is just that boring.... Than heading up the stairs...there were even more people and more rooms. Luckily 2 of 3 were locked and the forth was more of a laundry room without any-doors so that is considered to be part of the living space. Nah. The open room, had in it an electric guitar and a huge bass amp (full stack). But....we didnt plug um in or play um, just looked at the guitar and got asked if Im interested in buying it (later found out it was the birthday boys guitar). There were also crushed up pills on the table, When I picked up the guitar some-one there, gave me a dirty look, or maybe it was the whole room that did, hard to remember the details I got pretty wasted that night. Traisca Berea !!! Sitting down and playing around with the Schetnar, getting a feel for how it is. My thought was...hmm... run guitar rig, and use this guitar to jam along with the dum-jay down-stairs. The birthday boy asked now, "Its for sale if you want to but it". "No no I have mine, and besides, its a pretty sweet guitar, just needs to have the volume pot fixed" I ran back down to the d.j. and told him that there is a guitar up-stairs and to let me plug in to play along. "No bro, I cant do that" "What you dont have enough inputs?" "Look just enjoy the party alright, relax" THIS MEANS WAR! I investigated the other sound system. It had a few jbl speakers attached to some huge homeaudio power amp. Clearly eight ohms and over 500 watts of power. Up-stairs the door with the guitar was locked as I ran to fetch it and run things. And while I waited, I joined in a group circle. It was a bunch of various people sitting around with drinks talking about things... Sound and relation-ship to feeling.... than vibration and electricity in relation-ship to existance. Ahm.... ok, good discussion one that actually sparked my interest. The door opened and I asked to plug the guitar in down-stairs. "No I cant let you take it" I just stood in the door-way for about 5 minutes thinking... maybe I should just burn the place down... and electrical fire or some-thing... no-one will suspect a thing! Ya...not the best thing to do, or the best way to think.... moving along. Glass viper was installed on Retob, and had to under-go field tests. I hooked my rig up to the jbls and soon started pushing against the d.j.s speakers. At first I did a sound-check to make sure my levels werent to high...they were. The D.j. looked at me like "Dude..turn it down a bit". The second sound system was so power-ful that it just muted the p.a. that was brought in for the party. Hmmm this is going to be an interesting field test. I didnt. Instead I found a preset, Minotaurs Labyrinth. It had a nice swell that covered the octaves and the 5ths. Perfect for creating a strong resonating frequency in the small living room. An all wooden framed home helped. Playing a G Gsharp progression, against the djs set-up allowing the volume to swell against the rythm of the kick drum he had periodically and letting the volume never get more than to the threshold were his sound waves get phased out... This viper is pretty hi-fi. It didnt take long, I got to enjoy this noise cancelation phenomina for only about 20 seconds. Soon rendered one of his speakers was into a blown speaker. The one closest to the jbls....of course. For a moment he stopped the music and I played some rock n roll. He asked me to "turn that shit off bro, I got a blown speaker!" Than realized that he turned the music off....Started playing some tunes on a lower volume. People gave him a few funny looks but nothing serious....just a few "What the fuck ! Wheres the music!" Muhahahaha. He asked of me to mind the dj rig and I started twinkling around with the eq on the mixer bringing the mix to the party, all while holding my beer and some-how... having sun-glasses on! Talk about being the star of the night. To bad no-body new what they just witnessed. College kids with no knowledge of simple applied physics...seesch. Though the me being the d.j. thing only last for about 5 minutes, as the guy ran around looking to get new cables and plugging things in and out figuring out exactly what part of the speaker blew. As it turns out the only problem was the power-amp. The speakers were 200 watt each. Self powered. I told the guy that he put them to close to the wall so he did not allow any cooling of the bits. Truthfully it was a situation of 4 ohms versus eight in a little push pull kinda thing. The high fidelity killed the lower. The specs of the jbls were 500 each at eight. My glass viper striked and killed in seconds. I moved back up-stairs, it was boring down-stairs the only thing to be enjoyed was the strobe light making the party tolerable. But up-stairs was the fun! Drinks and a cute brunet bassist girl...whom.... I promised myself I will hunt down ! But, life has a way of getting in the way of things. At the party I went from being the dude with the sun-glasses and beer dancing (or humping) the d.j. console to the guy walking around with a giant birth-day card telling people, "Sign it or die!". This brutal attitude was sparked by my room-mate Derek, who just baught him-self a tazer...or stun-gun...what-ever. He talked about how it is a good weapon, and I showed him my guitar cable, a heavily wrapped rope. With thick rubber on it. At the end were needles, strong and rather sharp. My passion for martial arts comes out at times. Oh yea...thursday I experience my first electrical shock by one of these self-defense weapons. I liked it ! Derek laughed and told me that I shocked myself in the wrong place. You shock people dead center on their chest. "I train for mma" "Oh do you do it competetivly or for fun?" "Well, for fun at the moment, but I want to get competitive" "Do you want to spare? This party is kinda boring". Its pretty easy to figure out which one is me in this discussion. It was a talk that started a small session of sparring their at the party. Soon we started a small fight up-stairs. Punches were use-less, there was not enough room to get a swing in on some-body. We both knew how to handle an oppent and grab him and throw him down, so the moment an idiot would try to make a move to throw a fist one of us would counter it, we tried. After tossing each other around for a few moments and almost damaging the up-stairs laundry room we took a small break. "If I had a knife you couldnt block that hit" Now I handed the guy a bottle. "Use this, its like a knife". It was use-less. Hand to knife combat is tuff. Reaction timing has to be .... sober timing not had a few good drinks and some whiskey timing. "Look, thats not fair, let me get a weapon as well". I took my pretty blue cable out of the gig bag. "Do you think that this could be used to hurt some-one ?" As I showed him the sharp bit tips... "Oh yea, that could really do some damage on preasure points, put that on some-ones temple and you could kill um!" So now it was bottle, in the position of knife versus guitar cable. Still it was a hard battle and we came to the conclusion that if I would whip the guitar cable, both ends at the same time...it would suck... further-more after I crushed a can on the washing machine with the rodes m3, the census was that my equipment could defend against a knife. We did one more fight involving me having the guitar cable and the guy, Ryan bare-handed. He thought he had a chance. We started the fight, I let him throw me down as I looped the cable around his neck and he now had a noose over his neck holding him down right where my knee was. "Game-over, your stuck in a horrible position" Not even 5 seconds. Akido is pretty use-ful. We got back-up and he insisted that we try again. It started off with me wrapping the cable between my thumb and my elbow. It would confuse the oppent. Convey a thought that an attack on the left side would not happen. This time I used my speed to run around his back, on my left side, and started tickeling the back of his spine with the metal end of the cable. Since we both were trained fighters we didnt act like animals. We fought as the respectable men we were. "Ok not its my turn". It was fun, since my skill with the cable was fine tuned with the stray dogs of Romania and on dart boards as well and various other encounters in Romania, long story. He tried to attack but I just wrapped him up with it and stuck him in the ribs. Because the cable was also wrapped around his left hand, as he tried to immitated my last attack. Than Deajaun showed up. "I am leaving, are you comming with us?" "Where are you going?" "Downtown, its going to be fun" "Ok". We hoped into some-bodies car. The alcohol I got from people as I greeted and headed out started to trinkle more into my brain. By the time we made it to the parking lot I was dazed...but not confused. We agreed to meet up later that night where we parked. As I walked towards the stair-case on the other side of the parking lot and began to hear the voices of hundred of people all confused and moaning about as if convulsed by a spirit of exhiled anger..... could have just been the side effects of alchohol... but the crowd I witnessed looked as a horde of a mess of people clumsied together trying to get laid and wasted. It, the night started becoming more and more strange. The view was from a forth story parking. Seeing hundred of people on the street flowed by dark yellow light. At each end were 2 police vechicales, in-case any-one got out of the playground. Fucking college kids... Deajaun wanted to go to some club, we weeded through what I imagined were zombies, at the door he passes through with no worries...just walks right in the club and skips the line. I just follow and people start yelling at me...ok...What do they want ?! It was point-less to talk and try to flander the bouncer at the club, the impulse to go in was burnt out by the impulse to go any-where else. But as I turned around, "I cant let you in with that bag" "What bag?" "Whats in it?" "Well I dont want to come in". I wasnt very happy about going into a party around here. The place was really tainted with young ignorance, plus they wont let me in with my bag....which I could have left, I should have left in the car...but whatever if they want to be communist about it, than that is not my scene. Worse of all....I really had to pee (that was taken care of in the parking lot). Getting home I more or less teleported myself layed down on an air matress that now had a leak...great. At least I went to a party. By now I had the luxory of being the only thing out and about at 3 in the morning wandering the streets with a creepy shreek sound off of my guitar case that just was made on every right foot that stepped. The creature I became was one that ate 4 baked patatoes a day. Moving in caused my funds to be null. Broke but I am happy baby ? Next up was a writting session. Originally I considered that it might last just a few days, I mean come on. 20 letters each 5 pages long ? 14 font ? Thats easy ! It should not take more than 3 days. Than I can get my 500 bucks and get some food or something. Well... strangely enough the letters began to consume me. It was a task of writing out 20 different words, sentances and stories each from different men whom had reached points in there lives were it seemed necesary to write down something for their son to pick up. Some had cancer, some were just frustrated that their wife was such a bitch and was ruining their lives, others just became world champion at boxing and the moment of victory sparked these words that had to be told to his son. Eh, my favorite one was the platoon commander. Strugelling with the winter freeze of Poland. Dealing with nazi soldiers attacking there base and the fear of a bombardment. The tyranny of dead comrades and the cold white snow that washed away the blood every morning. If only every day life could be like that. Its just to frikkin complicated. The day to day struggle of society to include our thought patterns and developed webs of socialism into conversation.... Sleep depravation was something this man suffered from all his men suffered from. They had become numb of the cold. Sitting out days motion-less. The snipers of the platoons being the best of the bunch. Just sitting around for hours buried in snow motion-less. These men were true warriors born of the harshness of reality and the world. They felt a pain from the betrayl of there brothers and now have become as cold as the bullets they loaded. But that was work. And....I promised not to talk about the specifics, rather under contract. So back to the writting bit.... I would say to myself. The first night it didnt go well. 5 got done out of 20. Not even 5.... it was more like 3 and a half. I found myself literally screwed....my mind was starting to distort itself and in the morning I passed out to a deep trance of words and thoughts over how to create the next letters and what to say. Waking up I moved from my lazy boy to the couch, because different places give different energy when it comes to writting.. This went on again and I finally got to 7 and a half. Slow progress. Before I went to sleep the task of creating the names of the other characters came into play. And I organized everything into 3 categories. Started, not started, finished. There were to many not started ones but each character now had a name and now had a title. Boris the butch, Thomas the medic, Johnny the jail-bird.... It was starting to take place. 3 days later I called back the "boss". "Look its going to take me a little longer to write these out, the detail is kinda hard to put in without damaging the characters". I channeled energy from every-one I knew and know and meditated hard. Eating baked patatoes 4 a day and drinking tea with brown sugar. Not ever leaving the house. Just sitting in my pyjamies writting all day long and all night long and while I slept. Than sleeping like a mother-fucker. Heck one day I slept 24 hours. But, everything got taken care of in a week. My father brought over some red velvet cake to cheer me up and keep me motivated and soon I found myself eating cake patatoe and drinking tea. My room-mate had a friend as well, whom I met just once this month, and later on at the cyber-cafe. But now he was here and reminding me that there is a place called the cyber cafe where I can go write as well... hmm why not ? "Thomas, thank you for reminding me that we have the cyber cafe" Heading out the door in a rush to get the hell outta the house and being in a social environment. Surrounded by normal people, not some weird writing creature that lingers in the house. I went up-stairs this time, to the more loungy area. It was funny because an hour after getting installed and relaxing on the couch and writting hard and steady. A group of 7 people came up to start discussing writers and writing... "How come there are so many writers up here today?" "Well there is a writing thing going on at the bundy museum" I over herd 2-3 hours of conversation about some of the most weirdest things - "So basically the wolf rapes the grand-ma and locks her up in the dungeuon that continues to have his way with little red riding hood" "He talked about his testicales for 4 chapters of the book !" Ok.... this is coming from a group of writers. Weird..... What-ever though. Thats modern literature for ya, always staying bold and evasive and more than that staying ahead of the curve of current culture. As much as I would have loved to sit down and talk to them. These had to be done. Once I set myself to accomplish some-thing, it gets done! Ya sure...in my own special chill out relaxed kinda way, and yea some-times I have serious doubts that it will follow through as it needs to follow through and more than that it is more or less a risk I am taking. The rest of the days become very very blurred and I wake up in Itacha. So far its Tuesday. The last 2 letters were just wrote in a park in the mid-day sun. Very very relaxing place to write very beautiful and very perfect. A few days before that I had to take a break and went over to cook the huge 30 pound Salmon my cousin had brought over on the second day of the endevour. It was a Sunday, it was at a friends of Thomas, Cory. We hung out and played music on the sunday before, but our relation-ship was just begining. As a bassist Corey is amazing. He loves to tap and slap and comes up with some beautiful rythms. More than that he uses a capi on a 5 string bass. Why ? "Because it changes everything when you play". I dont ever use cappies, I hate them. You can do that crap with your fingers.... you can change your tuning. You dont need a capii. Anyways. We cook up the fish at his place, I get none of it because the task of writing. I bitch and moan about my job... and on the way back home I get to rest my brain and relax. So Monday and Tuesday I finish editing the letters. Which editing involves reading them. I pass out when I read. Its boring, even if its my own words. In Itacha the letters have to be printed and poped on a usb stick. I had spent my last bit of money on a dart tournament (they had a barbeque so I got myself a good meal and a few drinks for just 10 bucks). More over, I got to see how real professionals play darts. This guy who was there, is the number 3 in the whole state of N.Y. The other guys there can stack darts on top of each other. Talk about tuff competition. I just sit it out as it was a team game competition. Sure...I got to have my game against the pros. I lost. It was non contested. But the very first game I still won!. So in Itacha my father gives me eighty bucks to go. He came over to talk. "Look I gotta go to Itacha, I got bills to pay" "Rent is due tomorrow!". He didnt have time to take me down to the bus stop, but that wasnt a worry, public transportation is a good way to get around. I wasnt going to rush myself either. Everything went smoother than originally planed. The bus I got on didnt charge me a cent to ride. Some-how my small talk distracted the driver and he thought I had payed for the ride. Hehe Transport public gratuit ! I am screwed and broke, these small breaks are really welcomed. . But by the time I get to the meeting spot with the contact the eighty bucks is gone. So it doesnt really matter what I do... broke is my natural way of being. 25 for bus, 15 for prints, 5 for usb stick. And the rest on food baby ! Chocolate pie, blueberry muffins, coconut home made cream puffs. Me gusta !!!! The phantom wanted to meet up at a place called the coffe shop. Gee....really ? ? Well I found the place, but only because Itacha is small! We sat down, he begand reading random letters and quickly fell in love with things. I got handed my 500, even though I was scared that he would try and get me to take less. Thought my instinct says that there is some-thing else going on here, honestly, I wont ask any questions. At the coffee shop Ï cant get any beer, my id and wallet is back in Bingy. Why ? Well what would I need it for ? I am broke.... ohhh... maybe to put my 500 bucks in ? Next time I will think things through a little better. "Whats to do around here ? Are there any pools halls ? " I asked after we had our conversation of introduction for each other. The phantom is a pretty good guy from what he said. Works hard to help atistic kids, has a contract to release the book and keeps the conversation very professional, where-as I just tinker around with things. At one point the question arouse to how exactly I wrote all those letters when in reality I barely speak, I dont use big words or... anything, but that was just the image I wanted to convey that night....and after writting so hard, it was nice to take a break from words. "Well you can go visit college town, its just up the road a bit, the beta house has a pool table" The phantom drew me a map, on a towel to help me out, pretty cute. I headed out, could have stayed and hung out but, I wanted to see where I was and what was around here. Visiting all of college town was very easy. It took no more than 3 hours. By the time visiting was over with, everything was closed already. I had visited a few shops already. One of which was a huge place. The building said this out-side. "Trade in what-ever clothes you have on with what-ever is in here". I played around with the idea of getting a different jacket. But the vibe of each one that was tried out just.... didnt get alont with me. The jacket on me was my fathers. It was black, it was simple it was nice. The vibe was of a hard-working man, the kinda vibe thats always welcome. Walking around town now, I got to appreachiate the art-work there. The first splendid one was a fish. A big giant metal angel fish. Colored blue. Floating in an alley way between a parking lot and a 2 stores. Pictures wont describe it. The few other arts were a mock solor system. With the planets all set out and about in orbit as they are today...as in. If the Earth is here, Mars is here and if Mars is here Saturn is there. I found all of um except for Pluto. Am.... than again they probably took Pluto out. I visited a church, because there was graffiti on the ground that said "a taste of china" with an arrow pointing towards the church, so I walked in and was welcomed by big Marble slates with engraved names on them. Than the sound of an organ, a steam powered organ began to play from the room next to me. I walked in. All it tooke for this night to be perfect was an audio card a cable and a microphone. Why didnt they come along, because I am an IDIOT!!!! These kinds of opportunities always present them-selves here in America and they must always be .....wait?? Why must they always be captured? The same way art is priceless so is music timeless. It exists than and forever, resonating with the Universe. In the church I spent a good hour listening to this guy play it. By the time the hour was over I knew every pipe and the sound it made and how in tune or out each was. The middle column, second left pipe is flat. But does it matter ? Getting out of the church, I should have asked to play, but...eh... It didnt sound as good in the room where its played as it does in the room where it is played. Ha ! How is that for a phun ! Ya, sure, I talked to kids around town. All of um where complete strangers to my style of life and knowledge of humanity. In other words they had limited them-selves to what they can and will be. Which brings me to Issak. He is about my age, he bikes and works in politics. Going against everything that means petrol, more or less... Because of his active life-style and constant contribution to anything intellectual and his constant pursuit of activities to bring his goals closer to reality. He is the kind of person that will have a future. But I met him later on. Not on this day in Itacha. For food tonight, there was a place that made really good calzones. "You want the pineapple express?" "Whats that?" "Its a calzone I make myself, its not on the menue but I make it." "Oh ok yea." The guy behind me got the same thing. I called my cousin while I waiting for the food to get prepped. Making and having small talk over simple things, ya know. What bands are cool, how Itacha is better than Vestal and etc. I got to poop. And my cousin was coming over to pick me up. Yay !!! Now I would have to pay his gas, and get him a calzone as well. Glad I got paid. While I am waiting for him to show up, I walked around more this time by the other river. The first walk around the river was sweet. It was an over-look about 20-30 feet above the little river, and at the end was a water hole complete with water falls. Where the land and water met at the same level. The path was dead yellow leaves. They made no sound as I walked on them. This walk was across rock pebbles, towards an hydro-electrical school boy project site. I was listening to MDMA. Why ? My mother loved Madonna when she was young. Than my cousin calls and he has made it in to town, we meet up at the calzone place. The first calzone I get is to spicy, I am laughing my ass off, the girl made it extra spicy because I complained that the first one was to whimpy. So this one would come home with me, my cousin cant handle it. I get him another one and the girl explains to me the concept of Roller Derby. Which actually sounds like a fun sport. We head out to the gas station. A skinny looking girl walks by. Her legs were the size of tooth picks her arms the size of feathers. Apart from the empathy I felt for her, I cant say I was attracted at all by her "good looks". "Yuck dude, Id never hit that" We walk out of the petrol station. "Damn look at that booty!" He was looking at the same girl. He must be bi-polar or something. My cousin.... The ride back was pretty chill. "Bai coi stie cat de bine conduc eu ? Eram intrun Tico, si langa mine un Bmw, si baitul creda ca ma face, ca pula tico incarcat cu pizde...pula...mea... nare chanse motorul e de 3 cylindri, ala avea macar 6, dar el nu stiea ca la 7 mii de turratii tico e ca bmw la 3". Apparently he still knows Romania. Maybe not to speak much but he knows it. Pretty much the whole way I talked in Romanian with my lil cousin. It must have been nice for him to take a break from watching the kids to come down and just hang out. To bad we didnt go play poker or something. He got me home, I had him over to play some chess... he kept dropping the pieces at 3 in the morning and laughing his ass off because they were glass and it made so much noise that some-one was bound to wake up. We also had a bet.... He bet me 50 bucks that he would hook up with my room-mate. He was trying to wake her up. To bad, she is not gonna hook up with him no matter what. I went to sleep, woke up to the sound of Rachel baby talking the doggy. "Who loves my little doggy huh huh huh ? I love my little doggy, whos the bestes cutests lil boy ever ?? You are snuggy woogyy" I got up to hand her the rent. Tonight Ill be at a halloween party recording. Some-body talked to me and we set up to go hang out on this day and do the whole gig. Ah...man.... His name is Freddy. Great singer, great musician. But has a little trouble with his people skill. As is typical with most good singer/song-writer people. Fred calls up and wakes me from my vacation. We talk and we would meet up at the church on clinton street, because I wanted to visit Corey to eat some fish. I didnt make it in time. He was waiting for me, I hoped in the car and we went to pick up equipment for the show. Speakers amps, drums we loaded everything. As a sound-stage composer, some-times the hard work has to be done as well. Its not just sit in a nice comfy chair and listen to music all day. The house we got to was between an abandoned home and 2 churches. "Ok... it should sound good.". It was in the basement... "Ok....must be a nice basement.". Pula frate. The suspense of waiting around for some-one to show up with the keys build up. We opened the door and were greeted by a big puddle of mud sitting right there in front of the stairs. "How are people going to enjoy them-selves when they have to roll around in dirt like a bunch of pigs ?"? Than we had problems finding the ligth switched. The basment was not even half done. It was stripped bare. Dirt on the ground. And a carpeted room to play beer pong in. This room. Had become a swimming pool. Lets not talk about the night-mare of taking cables out of the ceiling to have electricity where we needed it. Which was far away from everything. But it was also a halloween party. Think about it. Great venue for this gig. The cremator buried under the dirt was the center piece of it all. A big ass drum where things were thrown in to burn down to ash. Who knows what things, but it was in a very weird place. The rest of the house was nicer. But there was a new room to play beer-pong in. Still though, as people started showing up to the party I was in the basement running cables and moving doors and amps around. The gear list for the nigth was full stack guitar amp, half-stack fender bass amp, full drum kit with small kick, various microphones, powered loud-speakers, a 6 channel mixer, and my laptop and audio card. The guys were nice enough to set out a little zombie sanitarium for me to set up the mixer, as well as hold instrument cases and instruments. It was sweet ! The pipes from the ceiling held the doors in place. On the parallel with the stage was 2 doors stacked ontop of each other that could slide closed. Than an L shaped wall, than another door to complete the box. This door was laid down on its side to get another one laying diagnolly above it. Here I was surrounded by zombies drinking beer out of a keg and recording music. My friend John told me a few days ago that he was going to get jumped tonight, so I borrowed Dereks tazer to make sure no-body got violent with-out getting there ass kicked. But more importantly I wanted to field test it. I just walked around random people zapping it. "Omg did you see that guy walking around with the Tazer" I walked up to the girly, with my beer in the hand the tazer dangled from on its wrist band. "Cheers !" Lifting the cup high enough for her and her friend to see the tazer. She hesitated, but soon figured that I was a good guy and everything is alright! The tazer kept every-one from doing what they do to everyone else at the party which is.. soak them in blood. Hehe. Every time some-body came towards me with blood I took out the tazer and they backed off. Ya... I know. But the most memoriable part of the whole night. Was how some asshole got drunk...well ... or started acting like a real zombie. Since the doors were propped up on a pipe they fell down pretty easy. Soon I found myself taking doors to the head. By the third one I got so tired of catching um with my hands that I just let them drop on my head and continued drinking... letting the drunk guy pick up the doors. By the forth and 5th ones I already saw it comming and moved half an inch to avoid further head-ache. Up-stairs there was pizza, pickashu, a pirate and a zombie tuxedo man. It was a nice break to go up stairs and sit back relaxing. The night turned in at around 5. The puddle of mud we cleaned up was back. The calbes had to be taken out of the ceiling so did the christmax tree lights. The amps had to be put in the cars. And all 3 kegs were empty. We finished things up, Fred dropped me off at the church next to my place. Which now is our meeting spot. I left the car with a laptop case. A fake ear a bloody plastic knife and a guitar string to hang the ear off my porch with. Halloween. The knife would just go in the ground in front of the home...which kinda looks like graves. https://www.dropbox.com/s/2nuecvlqc993tpl/Freddy.mp3 The next day I woke up just fine. No hang-over nothing. Got myself on the laptop and edited the shit out of the recordings. Clearing up every band and making draft mixes. Than I headed out to the cyber cafe with all my equipment. Why ? Because ! Dammit... Instinct. I talked to Steve and mentioned some-thing about how he was at the Belmar the other week...I asked if I could record he was enthuizistic about it. "Your not gonna charge me some hidden few are ya ? "Nah just a beer, its my day off". Its hard to charge some-one money for a 2 track recording. The zoom h2 came out and that took out all the need for a sound techy when it comes to recording with a condensor. That thing sound good no matter what. Plus its only 90 bucks. I set up. One mic on the stage right next to the threshold of phase between the stage and the "Sala" or hall... I guess... theater would be a better word. The other line in was from the house mixer, a presonus 24 channel digital mixer. It was a pretty good deal. The presonus was just used to see if any-thing use-ful could be captured out of the stage and it got pretty good. Things sounded great. Steve played for a full 4 hours to about 5 people. "If I could reach one person". It was cool, I got some free coffee. The rest of my money was at home...duh... and I did not have a bloody thing to eat since the halloween party. Ya sure there were still spaghetti packets at home. But no time to cook anything. Just filled up on coffee and good vibes. Whats to say about Steve Straus ? He loves what he does, he keeps it simple, he has played for about 20 years so far and has a normal day job. This is just a hobby he enjoys himself with. Glad to have befriended him. He gave me his email and number and 3 days later had his recordings. Took him a whole week to reply. I got back to work on the Uniters stuff. They agreed to re-record the bass and guitar bits as it would bring out the recording more. We had a listening session at the bands studio, after we had a nice long jam and I hooked up the bass and guitar amp up to my laptops 1/4 out-puts. I set up fab-filter in stereo mode with seperate filterings one for the left side which was bass amp and one for right side which was guitar amp. The volume level though, because the laptop throws out 10 watts of power had to be kept down. Dont wanna burn out the guitar amps. As much work as I did for the song the only thing that was saved very well was the ambience, energy and vocals. The vocals came out so clean...kinda. But that was because the second input was the vocal mic out of the mixer via bus send ! We tried to re-record the drums, but got carried away every-time. "Ok we gotta do the kick and snare" And Id start playing the whole kit having myself a blast. Fred tried....nothing... he got carried away, Paige my old friend and Freds girlfriend got carried away. .... When all you have to do is hit a kick drum to the beat it kinda gets boring....plus the drummer wasnt making it easy. The drums I would take care of. Id just listen to what Greg did on drums and place a kick drum every-where I thought he would. Than Id do the same thing for the snare. 2 out of 5 songs got this treatment. To record the bass we went over to the bassists home. He plugged into guitar rig, guitar rig plugged into head-phons. He played everything perfectly on the first take. I got to hang out and eat some death sauce. The night before at Seans recording session I got to drink Devils Blood. How did I get to Seans? ? I took a cab from Audio Classics where I spent time studying sub-woofers for this thread on recording review about 2 thousand dollar sub-woofer versus 200 dollar one. The verdict. While the more expensive one is better, the risk of breaking it because it is more sensitive is huge. To use the home audio equipment for monitoring purposes is silly. The speakers would blow from the un-conditioned audio or at least get damaged in the process. Ya sure...its nice to hold a 50 pound subwoofer as it shakes your body at eight hertz. But it is not good for the equipment. Since, cabs around here take for-ever to get around. And I walked the 5 miles to audio classics, recording sound-scapes on the way. It was 7 when I made it to Seans. I had 100 bucks left from the work I did. But the cabby couldnt change 100 bucks. I bought 3 sets of ghs strings, and at 6 o clock I herd Dan from audio-classics mention on the store phone system. "Could some-one tell Dude that we are closing? Its 6" I walked out of the guitar room. I usually go in and play a Taylor GS grand auditorium. I play only one of the 2, because I dont whike the other one. Ya sure, there are great guitars in that room. Martins, Fenders, there is even an up-right bass... And than there is vintage equipment as well. Its a great place to go in and hang out. There are couches to sit on... but... dammit .... I never visit when there are other musicians there. Anyways it was funny with the cab. We talke about drumming the whole way, when I got to Seans no-body had 15 bucks to give the cabby so we went out to the ice-cream shop. Where the cute girly didnt have change for 100. My cousin worked at the restuarant just around the corner. Went to visit him to see if he could help. And my old boss was there to greet me and chat a little, he gave me the money to pay for the cab. Back in the kitchen I washed dishes like a slow mastura some 9 years ago I was with a huge fucking ice cream asking to change a 100 dollar bill. It felt good. I just walked in the back door like I always did. Every-body I knew was still there. The cabbie got his money and I walked to Seans. They had a car, but I had ice cream to eat. The thing was so huge !!! 20 minutes later I was still eating it. We record out on his porch. Than went in and recorded some more. Now than. How did I get home ? Than to make everything perfect. Friday at Freds open mic at the local pizzeria. We had to launch the recording as done. Everything had just re-recorded and we were ready to do so. It sounded good on the loud-speakers. Not as good as it sounded on other systems but good. Off boy.... now I had made a system. Before I leave the house I pump up the matress. So when-ever it may be that I come back home. Ill have a firm bed to sleep on. If I do sleep at home. The next day. I am at a halloween gig. Another one. See things picked up ! Now its a haze of confusion illusion and magic ! Its a tragic chaos filled with extreme ends of fun and excitement. What I always wanted ! Because me and Corey get along so well. And not just musically. I learned to play magic the gathering from him this month, and I taught him a few things about recording as well. Tom brought along a Fender passport, 500, I brought along a laptop and mic and guitar rig and a few other friends brought drums. We brought over the bass amp as well. They brought over keyboards. Setting everything up in the attic was a little strange. There was no stage or anything. The acoustics in the room had to care-fully thought out to get the tone of everything just right. The passports 2 speakers got spread far into the room. The kick drum got itself a long strate to bounce back and forth off of and the snare and hats got rotated at a solid 20 degrees to throw off the tsss sound of things. The bass amp sat where people could cross and trip over cables, and it acted as a wall, as well as that it got put away far enough to not cloud the over-all sound. Its like a 1000 watt ampeg...or at least it weights as much as a 1000 watt amp. We had one night-mare about how we had to much plugged into one outlet. Lights, speakers, amps, laptops, keyboard, little amp for harmonic... We took some things out to make the tension smaller. And than Bucket head showed up with a pretty Schetnar guitar. I hoped on drums and we had quickly started playing a great show. Act 1 the drum solo. Its about the only thing I know how to do on drums any-ways. My feet just dont stop moving. By now the attic was filled with really sweet costumes. Vampire mistresses, ghost-busters, cat-women...every-thing. Than one of the cute hot chicks sat on the African drum...and I was turned off for the rest of the week. Poor drum. There was a good 30-40 people there, it was a cool party to be part of. It was all fun until my rodes mic got its head ripped off. Than I got depressed and bummed out. But.. Molly was good with a glue gun and we soon found our-selfs in the kitchen...2 people working with one glue gun to stick a microphone back together. This is the kind of stuff that attracts me to a woman. The mic was back in business. I took the lil felt filter out of it and now it turned into a super microphone ! YIPEE!!!! At the party I had the responsibility of not drinking though, so I made sure everything also sounded good. When Corey played flute, I held the mic to the flute, when nothing else was going on I got down and dirty and started singing. Just improvising lyrics. Not ad-libing. Its easy to tell a story. The night turned out sweet. At 6 in the morning as I played the nights last song. "Rent a home in the big city and live in the country". Cory was ranting on about how he wants to do this to get himself money to stay alive and happy. Rent a house in a big city and than move away from everyone. As he talked I sang everything he said, to some 6 o clock morning chord progression. When the sustain died from the guitar Molly came upstairs to tell us to go home. Parties over. But... I had gear to pack up. She started following me around the attic "Are you done yet?" "How about now?" "Do you need this ? " "are you looking for this?" The cutest thing was when I asked her to turn of Retob. She just closed the lid. "Its not off". I opened the lid and did it myself. "I have to take the P.A. I promised Tom I would". Oh god... I can be such an asshole some-times. I also took all the gummy vodka worms with me. The next day, I went down to the grocery store. It was about time I bought some damn food. I spent all my money buying stuff. Most of it got eaten on the first day. But the rest of it.... the 4 pounds of ham and the bread. Would last till the end of the month. Than I would get into the spaghettii. Lets not forget that I picked up candy for the kids. I baked a couple pies after I carved out the pumpkin, which I left hanging around the house with 2 knives for a day. Baking a pie in America is pretty simple. Buy the frozen pie crust, throw what-ever crap you wanna fill it with inside than let it sit in the oven. There really is nothing to complicated about it. Than ran over to Mollys to deliever a pie, because she fixed my mic. She wasnt home, but her room-mates were over. So they had me in, gave me some lamp to eat, and we chatted about crossing America on bicycle, the size of pistons on car engines and played some chess. Not a bad time. I got invited to stay over if the rain got to bad. But I liked it. I didnt get to drink anything at the party but I got myself a bag of vodka jellos to make up. Went home to eat those. The end of the month ends up with my room-mate Rachel asking me if I could move someplace else. I just said yes. Didnt bother to ask why. In all truth. It is boring hanging out there. Derek is pretty fun to hang out with, but as room-mates we never really do anything, or talk about much. Me and Derek do....at 2-3 in the morning we talk about eh... random things we find amusing. From how nascar drivers half small tubes in the penis so they can pee. Too working weddings. At the end of the month I spend a good 3-4 days at Corey and Peppers and Issacks home, and had to explain to Corey that I can stay the month, but I wont. Because I made the 500, I payed for rent. The next helping hand my mom would give me Ill use to just go to another part of America. Its about time any-ways. This has been a month that let me sleep as much as I showered. A good one. But at the end of the day I was always the last one up, and always enjoying my time on guitar. It has been a good fun month. I found the local studio where everything started from around here. I met pretty much all the musicians in this little town and I started making a name formyself. Now, to start getting more organized. This involves having things to organize. At the time being there is not to much to organize. If I break things down to simple. Work, bed, food. It does not catch my attention to organize any bloody thing. I need to have hundreds of things to organize for me to be happy. I got introduced into the game of magic this month as well. What I love in magic is having rules and cards that state how things work and systems. It is a complicated game that can be enjoyed. In life I love the magic that goes into the beautiful birds that sing with the morning breeze. The warming sun that burns the sins off your skin and lights the worry into a flame of passionate energy to drive dreams and hopes. You cant keep me still for too long. I will pass out and sleep. You cant bore me. Ill start to get hectic. As I edit this on the 22nd of November. I pass out in the Texas terminal, thinking...shit man. November has been way more fun than October. I also got a set of studio monitors from my good friend Corey... but thats a story for next month. https://www.dropbox.com/s/sldriz7k9pozczv/Metro.mp3 I wrote a note to myself... "Look, its going to take me a little longer to write these out, the detail is kinda hard to put in" The hunt. I dont like being a ghost one bit. Its no fun. Just walking around the world being an entity and not a person is kinda boring. To make things worse, I met a guy named Stone who told me stories of people he knows, that are ghosts as well. These ghosts....as we concurred, run, and bike, and hitch-hike across the whole pacific high-way. A few of them actually live on it. Kinda weird, but it makes sense. The world is a pretty big world all kinds of things could happen. But I am a hunter. The days of December pass by me with ease. I could be out here all alone with nothing on and happy that no-one is around. Just a man and the nature. Orange trees, cactus fruits, and all the pretty herbs and spicies that grow out here in the wilder-ness of California. There is chamomile tea, there is peppermint. Heck there are even wild Avacoda. The bare necessities are out here, it is all about finding them. Sleep deprivation has no affect on me, I managed 2 weeks with no sleep. Pain keeps me reminded that I am alive, and that is why it is a good thing. At times on the beach frozen I can be found, sitting with fingers poised ready to move onto the next note of the next chord (the first night I discovered this happens was my forth night here, the police were patrolling the beach looking for trouble, trying to be the mid-night super-man of any un-suspecting victims of any crime, as they would drive by my than frozen body, the light would warm my joints enough for me to keep playing. 4 in the morning...5 in the morning....7 in the morning... it didn't matter I was waiting for the sun to come up! And I would wait until she came.). It took a walk down the beach with a few tears jarring to wake that weird reality. In front of my eyes were all the lights of California, and the vast distance of human life that inhabits this place. Behind the ocean, moaning a soft melody and the wind blowing a gentle freeze of a breeze. "Dammit man... pullyourself together !" "What am I doing here ?! I have no-one! I am not going to have any-one forever!!" "You will find some-one, chill out" "But I do not want to find some-one, I do not want to play that cruel game of joining in on a tango of the soul" "Some-one will find you come-on be strong" "Oh its point-less really!!". "Ya...lets question more why there is no-one to cuddle with at the end of the night". The argument continues as the foot-steps taken slow even more to persist in keeping the internal dialog. There is some-one out there, the thing is. They have to be some-one that is paced and breaths as I do. Some-one who can go countless distances to accomplish what some consider impossible. A positive being of love and kind-ness. Now instead of being a man I have to be a creature, one that lurks the shadows of intellectual spontaneity. A decent sized humanoid figure that walks around with a guitar in one hand and a backpack stuffed with oranges and pretty smelling plants. I am bringing together messages of hope and state-ments of progress from my fellow brothers. Standing resolute with the words of many other souls. Time-lessly honoring the many blessing received on the way and pushing on. Responsible and noble. Yet in the end confused? Disoriented? Awed? All because the human condition begs for companion-ship. This month what happened was a trek into a world of everything un-known and un-familiar. Apart from that, every-one is a stranger. The feelings of this new abyss bite into my heart and cling with teeth as cold as the darkest crevice of emptiness out there in space. On the Santa Moniq beach, on the right side of the peer, a good distance away, far enough that the pier all fits with-in view. Perched on a mound sifted by the sand-tractors. Thinking of playing the song "Not your fault", be-cause of the lyrics.... "I sing a sad song, I sing for no-one. I know the lyrics cause there all inside my head, and I sing this tune, I sing aloud, I sing so proud and its so sad cause no-one no-one ever listens to my ....Sad song" There are probably some stories of some guy who had some kind of a manic depressive condition and just stuffed his head in the sand deep enough so he could suffocate on bits and grains of sand. He probably felt a little bit how I feel...Some of the time. It all began, in a opposite situation to this one. Here are the pictures as well. In chronological order. November in a nut-shell Having agreed to move out on the request of Rachel (the room-mate in charge of administrative stuff..more or less). I paid to stay the month as this little lady was not smart enough to figure out that maybe some people do more with their lives than hang around some boring little town. It would have been nice to not have paid a full month and left Bingy with an extra 500 but than again... I would spend that money in 2 seconds (or 50 meals) depending on which comes first. Of course now... the m3 rodes has to be replaced as the old one got lost along the way... and that 500 could buy some pretty sweet high end mic, but when life gives you lemons. Eat um. In the spare time between social interaction I entertain myself, my shoes help me walk around in pride. Having a pair of red suede shoes and a pair of black wedding loafers with bells on um really kicks up the "its ok to walk around at 2 in the morning" mojo. By now a few things were going on in the old train set up-stairs (the brain). Molly sparked a little bit of interest and I actually cared about having a conversation with her. I now had Fred, Tom, Corey, Pepper, Benjamin, Derek and Sean (and a few other fellas and gals) as pretty cool friends. Socially I was growing here in Bingy ! Soon I would be a local celebrity ! And a big one at that...to bad that is not what I care for, even one bit. And that knowing every-one characteristic involves remembering alot of fine little details from just to many damn sources but its not remembering them that is important, bringing those things up in discussions is the important bit. "Hey remember yesterday when you said your nose tickles when you say the word pink?" "Oh yea I do!! I havent said pink since than" "There ya go you said it!" "Oh pooey" So all these meek things set aside. There was a pattern to how everything would happen...daily....emerging. Tearing away. Before leaving home the air mat would have to get pumped, as every-time I left it was impossible to tell when Id return. Even if it was really comfortable to sit in a blue soft cotten lazy boy and recline that bad boy, staggering away to sleep (though I am pretty sure if I spent another month with it, it would be a broken bunch of sticks) drinking away at my tea and enjoying the warmth of a wool throw-over. The collection of tea built up was great ! Raspberry tea, peach tea, mint tea, and jasmine tea, and they usually got mixed together and than had a cookie or something thrown in. On one occasion I came home with a bit of brownie and placed the chocolate goody into the hot tea. Since the cups never get washed and usually the same tea bags stay in for 3-4 uses, my teas always come out as a calming relaxing smoothy of herbs. There is no t.v. in my room and there never will be one. There is my fathers play-station 3 which sits comfortably hidden in the closet along-side a bottle of a very good cider which has now become my favorite drink. But playstation 3 will not get used. The room is used for pretty much changing clothes, sleeping, living in the cyber-world and mixing things, nothing else....ok maybe I sneak in the occasional dinner pot and eat here too... Most of the time I eat in the dinning room ! The first week of November is pretty simple....I find out exactly what audio interface is going to replace the Audio Kontrol. Its a Tascam Eighteen-hundred. It costs 250 on Amazon. Now the weird thing is that getting this audio card is going to set me from ameatuer recording engineer to semiprofessional. The other things that set me aside from the novice kids who just open up garage band and never even care to edit the mid stereo information of an audio canvas is that I out-source. But I do not truly believe the idea that I am a sound engineer, simply, I have an un-healthy obsession for anything that vibrates. The sharp vibrations caused by the tazer last month should be proof enough. Ya sure.. Mr. Strausses recordings pretty much set the limit for what can be done with 2 inputs. I could have had every-mic in that room d.i.ed straight to my hard-drive! Ya sure.. back when I got my audio kontrol 1 it was a huge thing to have 2 inputs on a usb interface for under 500 bucks, phantom power and hi-z were also really "dope" to have. But now some 3-4 years later (or was it 2-3 years later) the market has evolved and I too can have some sweet piece of gear at a price that wont make me say "you better get me laid if you want me to buy this thing"...while that isnt a very good state-ment because any audio interface can get any-one any-where if they know how to talk the talk... its still like buying a Maserati when every one else is driving a mini cooper. My recording knowledge also has not been strong enough to handle using a complex audio card such as the ones on the market today. But now... things are different. Heck I even made the migration from Acid to Reaper. But the one thing that wont change is how much I love to use a touchpad on a daw and more than the pleasure from using a touch-pad is the pleasure of using that little piece of rubber in the middle of the keyboard... ahm... So the first thing I want to get is a fire-studio pro from presonus. Because I paid the rent the allowance from my Mother can be spent else-where. Now before I just run down to guitar-center and buy the thing I sleep on it. A night-mare jolts the thought that "wait a second...does this thing use a big fire-wire cable or a small one"...futher investigation leads to the fact that my laptop has a fire-wire card that I have disabled...for eternity. Than more research into the matter and the firestudio actually has issues with laptop plug and play ieee1394. That quickly gets taken out of the option for what I can get and the mulling process begins again. Soon the Tascam eighteen hundred shows up right next to the firestudio. The difference is that it has 2 more inputs and costs less... its not on tubes and its usb. A stackable firestudio pro is pretty sweet as you can connect 3-4 of them and have a total of 64 channels to input on. Usb has a limitation that if to much sound gets processed it will slow down (maybe that is just the lap-top though, who knows). The night-mare woke me up early and I walk down to guitar-center to check out the audio card. There is one thing that could keep me here in Bingy in the winter. Some-thing no-one knew. Last month when I went to the pool hall there was an atv parked out-side nearby. It was a beautiful machine, and I started imagining me in the winter driving around on that thing. Well... being on the high-way would kinda suck but, every other road would just be pure fun ! Today the price of the ATV can be observed as the path to guitar center leads right by it. Ya sure.. late at night, when I had the opportunity I did look online at atvs and quads in the area to see which I could buy for a cool 300-500. But there really was not a thing out there on the market. 2000. The weather was over-cast with a light drop of rain every now and than. The price of the atv made the day go from just rainy to. Cold damp and depressing. I walked under the high-way and than parallel to it. Sticking to these really gloomy residential neighbor-hoods. The houses were nice, just the people did not care at all for them. Every home had window shades drawn, as if some-thing you were not supposed to know and see was going on inside. Lizard people !!! The walk led to a park, where I discovered the stupidity of man-kind. The foot-ball field was open, and I saw from a distance a gate which led to the main park, which looked open, just that the doors were closed. The risk was to walk across the foot-ball field and to have a locked gate in-front of me. Well... it was locked. But I just jumped the fence. Cause your not hard-core. Unless you live hard-core! Than walking across Toys r us and partys r us and there respectable parking lots...stepping to the christmax tree shop just to find out why the hell its called the christmax tree shop. Expected was a shop with nothing but christmax trees lining up the aisles of the whole ware-house. But it was just like target, only a little more, trying to be snug. Than I walked to an empty lot. A vacant ware-house where some-other really big store used to be. The only things left were the flags and the signs that read various things, such as "please do not leave carts in parking lot, we can not be held responsible for damage to vehicles caused by carts", also there were some posters about sales for some brand of ham. But it was a nice little abandoned "store". I do not consider these places stores because a store in Romania is a little ma and pa shop that sells what people need and want. A store here seems to be a place to wander in and find some-thing to spend money on. It was nice to see this one closed. While the walk continued this parking lot, with cracked asphalt growing plants, allures to the impression that one is alone on earth. It was adequate to call Corey now and talk to him about how cool this place was. Only problem he knew about it already and started making me feel bad about the people who had to get fired from the closing of the place. Than he started mentioning the economic crisis... and than we discussed my audio card and how he should swing by...than my father called and I had to hang up. The second discussion was more or less a reminder for my father that I am against the petrol industry. Ya sure its foolish to be against it. Its also impossible to do so as everything in our daily lives is a product of the petrol industry. I am also against car insurance. If only for one day every-one in the world would not drive their cars...just for 1 day. Things are not that way though, society is a very complex chain of ideas thoughts rules and standards, which are also constantly changing. As if having to discover them was not hard enough. My father is the incarceration of the typical American dream. Which involves getting divorced at least once. Good conversation any-who. About 400 steps away from guitar center Fred calls and we talk about meeting up and hanging out there. I am a kid in a candy store when it comes to music shops. Everything is open for the business of me trying to pick it up and carry it home. If only it was the type of place that did that. Give it another couple hundred of years and every shop will do that. I was carrying with me a laptop bag, to turn in the audio kontrol 1. Which had been prepped for sale, which ment taking the stickers off it and removing the tooth picks that held the loose usb connection on the back of it. They checked me in, at this g.c. they have you check in your bag, even if it is in a small little town where every-one knows every-one for some-reason the company policy still stands strong and thick. Anyways I bother the nice folk to see how much they will give me for the card. Even though my first thought was to just give the bloody thing to a friend rather than sell it.... They offer me 20. 10 times less than what I paid for it. Fine. We go test the card out, it starts shorting out because well the connection at the back aint getting made the same with-out that tooth pick. A good 5 minutes goes by of the card constantly flickering on and off and the girl says she is sorry but store policy is not to buy broken gear. We than move on to opening up one of the tascam boxes so I can take a look at the next card Ill have. The thing is huge !! It has so many knobs and holes on it ... I fall in love with the thing as soon as I see it. But I did not buy it right than and there because I still was not 100 percent sure of getting one of these. There might still be some other options. Maybe a baby-face ? Either way. That is taken care of, I promised the girl Ill come pick it up "tomorrow" and headed to the acoustic guitar room. By now about half of the guitars they have in the acoustic guitar room have been played. They had a good 200 lining the walls. Strangely enough no Taylors... just Martins and Sea-gull. Ibanez, Laguna and Yamaha. There also were not any Staggs or Peavys. Most of the guitars in the room were good guitars, just priced really high. I was playing around on a really good banjo when Fred arrived to the store. Getting his text I made my way to the electric guitar portion of the store and met up. It was not really making your way, just opening a door and taking a good 10 steps. Here in the electric guitar section of the store there were about 3-4 hundred guitars. For a guitar center store that is not alot, but they had the bases covered. One of the dudes there, who I usually talk to about this and that spotted me and showed off one of the new guitars they got in. The bloody thing had an auto-tune equipped ghost pick-up system that tuned each string electronically. So no matter how out of tune the guitar was... it still sounded in tune, even though to the trained ear it sounded synthetic. It was pretty spot on (I prefer the ever-tune system, the automatic tension adjusting mechanism over this though). Fred walks in to find me playing around on this guitar. I of course take advantage of the fact that he does not suspect a thing. To tune the guitar you push in one of the knobs and strum the whole string set. This allows the electronics to pick up where everything is tuned. So it calculates the pitch shift parameter long before any-playing is done (i.e. its not a per fret thing which would create a pretty cool guitar as every fret would be in perfect pitch, having a corrected intonation). To get the guitar to go down a step you just bar the strings on any fret and "tune". Getting it to go up a pitch or 2 is harder as it actually involves turning the tuning pegs... lolz. Fred sees me playing this thing. I think it was a Peavy and is barely interested. Than the guitar makes some weird noises and its now tuned lower. He gets a kinda weird look on his face but its not anything that concerns him. Apparently he came here to find himself a bigsby! "Whats up with that guitar?" He finally asked after about 2 minutes of listening to the weird tuning sounds coming out of it. "This thing has an electronic tuner fixing the pitch of the strings" "Can I try it?" I explain to him how it works and he starts playing around with it. For any guitar player its weird because the tension on the strings is to soft for them to be in tune, but they are! If your strumming along and you hear the guitar and the amp at the same time...than it gets even weirder as the guitar tone is horrible if its not in tune!!! We have or fun with that thing, its a novelty and a pretty good idea to for a guitar for some-one who is just learning how to play. A professional would not have anything to do with this thing other than collect it...or burn it. Fred here to get a bigsby and we soon have all the big salon guitars taken down. Originally he wanted to get a Gretch, but I was trying to convince him to get an Ibanez...mainly because I want to get one of those big body Ibanez jazz guitars as well and than put some flat wound strings on it...oh yea... We sit around playing these different salon guitars, some do not have the tremolo and are not worth getting, some do not have a tone full enough and etc. Corey makes his way over and I finally get to introduce these 2. Fred knows Corey from a jam, he remembers that Corey put on a capo on a 7 string bass and Fred did npt know if the bassist knew what he was playing or just was really stoned. Corey just knew Fred because he went to a jam session with him once. That was as deep and as meaning full as there relation-ship was. Today they got to hang out with me at guitar-center. Fred having left earlier than the 2 of us. Now real havok started to rain down in this store. Corey gets carried away playing bass and soon we are asked to turn down the bloody bass amps. 20 minutes later its back up to really loud and we made ourselfs to the drum room where we start banging away at the djembe and congas and salsa pots and pans. I get stuck on a deederajiboo for a good 10 minutes of my life trying to remember how the hell it works. Most of the type it sounded like some-one shitting in a dry toilet. Shitting harsh thorny ass cream. Not the sound a deederajiboo makes...but I try. "So I am going to head down to Citizens action and volunteer, you wanna come?" "Ya sure". This would turn into a voyage of involvement in the political aspect of life. One which I try to avoid at all costs. Politicians are a group of people hard to understand, no matter how many countless attempts I make to ponder into their minds. There is just something about charging people sums of money that are so large just for helping them out. But any-ways Corey drives us down to what is called Citizens Action. Its a nice cozy little office where we sit around and do basic campaign work. On good days we call people on bad days we sit around and eat. There isnt much to say about the place.... apart from the kind and caring souls who work there, some who have been in the same office for over a decade others who have just recently gotten involved. Maybe there is not much to say because I can barely remember anything from the days worked there. It was pretty much punch in and punch out... Though I do remember Mr.Demary who was a biologist at the university and just came down to volunteer to get away from hanging around plants all day as he put it. A pretty big dude at 2 meters tall and a good 220 pounds. It was weird seeing him sit in the office sewing a sweater. But hey, if that is how he un-winds. At the office was also Pepper and Issak. Tom stopped in on the occasion but there is reason to believe he came down just for the food. I kept myself from eating until some work actually got accomplished as its hard to just walk in and eat with-out earning your keep. Not every-one thinks like that though. The first night there my task is to simply put a few pieces of paper into an envelope. The seniors who had been working before me were shaky and it was time for them to go home and relax. Of course the husband had to be begged by his wife to come home as he felt a new stallion came to the stable and was stealing his attention. No biggy...just keep putting envelops in letters.... How fun. On the way over Corey informed me on all the little details. The campaign is for a candidate named Albedazim. The other candidate is wolf and the difference between the two is that one is against a new drilling technique and the other is for. That is what the big picture is about. My little protest against petrol is starting to take shape it seems. Now I am fighting along side fellow companions ! Even though I would rather just move to Mars and forget about the whole night-mare (if in the past 100-200 years nothing happened to stop the petrol industry today nothing will either). So here I was at the office. It is customary for me to sit at the head of the table. It makes me feel good. The place was laid out pretty straight forward. Ya walk in through 2 double glass doors, than through another set of double glass doors. If the place was mine it would be set up as a decontamination chamber. That leads into a giant room with an equally giant table. 50 people can sit down on this. There is room to walk around on all sides. Sweet. Walking straight there is a wall with a small opening at the end. There are rooms imminently to the right of walking in. In another small alcove of a hall. There is a room in the head of the hall, and one on each side. The main hall...the undivided hall leads straight to the kitchen, which has no doors any-where. Just a fridge a sink a stove a microwave 2 cabinets dangling off the ceiling. And of course 2 tea pots and enough tea to make a herbs man happy. Than there are scattered rooms through out the main hall.. followed by the last board room, which sits 30 people comfortably, but there is no room to walk after they have sat down. It is a very masonic like room here at the end. Corey usually hangs out in a room right next to the main board table. This allows me to hear him call people. "Hello, how are you tonight. Yes I am calling from citizens action, I am calling to tell people to help us stop fracking." The way he talks to people is remarkably friendly. Some-times a bit funny as well. Some-body explains to me what to do to help out and after 20 minutes of work a tea is merited. Coreys phone calls help lighten the mood. Than when all the work is done I start making phone calls as well. 5 minutes into it Corey mentions to me that... "Hey you know your pronouncing the guys name wrong, your making him sound like a terrorist". We have a talk and I try to get the name right, than get a tad melon-colly that its impossible to pronounce. Eh.. What-ever.. Ill just sit here and drink some tea until we leave. Well, Corey warmed up to me, mentioning how cool it was that I was calling people even though I could not get the name right... And that night we decided to play that game of unreal. Where for everytime you get fragged. You drink. Each of us had a bottle of tequila. The first one, we picked up by car. The second one we biked all the way down to the liquer store to pick up. It was fun biking down. My competitive side ment that I ran that bike as hard and fast as it could go with-out breaking it. Corey just calmly rode behind me the whole way. The bikes were pretty nice. Corey rode a cruising banana bike kinda thing with a big plus seat. I was on a road-ster...with a seat that kept trying to go straight in my ass. I made an effort to stay away from the seat. Since I ran over to guitar center the laptop was with us. We got up on the wifi in no time and started playing. Corey had a mouse laying around and I goofed off with a laser mouse for the first hour or soo. We played a map that Dudu, my friend from Romania loves to play because its simple. Personally, a map with a BFG is a good map any other map is a waste of time. But Corey is a good opponent. He manages his armor and ammo very well. The first game we play is quake 3. I get mad at times and slaughter Corey. But the tequila is here for me to drink...ya tequila is my favorite drink. Letting my guard down for just a second and Corey owns me. Letting him on a map that he likes and I am fucked. He also learns map a hell of alot quicker than me. But.. the moment that sets him being a decent player in stone is when in the final 5 seconds of a match he pops up in front of the quad damage which I was sprinting over to pick up and blasts me to oblivion... my BFG does a little damage but the rug-rat was running around the map collecting armor as I was attempting to hunt him down. I hate it when they do that. So after an hour of playing with the mouse it was time to get back to the elements. To bad the laptop got drunk as well. The touch-pad didnt work. And even worse than that the buttons were flipped and the right click was stuck. This downloading the drivers off the internet. Bummer. Corey uses a trackball, and I got stuck using a mouse. In these games. It is very important to spin around very quickly and dart the point of view...something kinda hard to do with a mouse because it flies across the table trying to rotate the character. I never had enough room to do that. Hence more drinks of tequila. We took breaks to play music as well. But tonight was dedicated mostly to playing quake and unreal. The night quicky turned to 2-3 in the morning as we constantly killed each other. Insults started to rage from each other lips. And we both cheated. He had his girl-friend help him drink and I poured my Tequila in his bottle when he wasnt looking. Haha !! Unreal tournament is a fun game to play. There are levels with a ruined city, and tanks and flying fighter craft (think battlefield earth). The game-play is real-time resource management. That is... Get armor, get damage amplifier, guard power-ups and good weapons until enemy shows up. Than kill him. The levels are very cleverly thought. Some have vines and plants and go vertical, others have fog and canyons. The weapons are a lightning gun, which is a sniper rifle with lightning and than a normal sniper rifle. A flakk cannon, which is a super-charged shot-gun, that has flak which bounces all over the place or you alternative fire a grenade. A rocket launcher, which can fire 3 rockets at the same time towards the enemy either in parallel formation or in a spiral. There is also a gatteling mini-gun, than a bio-rifle, which just shoots gooze on people...green gooze, and you can charge it up and throw a big blob of gooze on some-one and kill um instantly. Than the funnest weapon of um all the shield gun. Basically in one fire-mode it blocks bullets, but not explosion. And in the other it chargers a spike that on contact kills people...but you have to touch them with it, something very fun to do! (but a little tricky). There are other weapons. The Redeemer is a gun that fires a big fucking rocket, which is guided by the player, and it explodes just like a nuclear bomb! Theres the Avrail too which is pretty sweet, that just shoots giant missiles at people and of course locks on-to vehicles. The rockets are slow enough to be dodged easily but when they do damage they hurt. Alot. There are a few other guns that do not even deserve to be mentioned. So ya, using my skill we had a fun night of playing unreal and quake. I had the ampeg 1000 watt amp amplifying the sound of my gun-shots. That made my night. As well as the Tequila. So what if I left my studio head-phones at guitar-center. The back-ups were at home and I was plugged into a huge speaker. Screw them all they had to do was hang around my neck how the hell did they fall off!? We went to bed at around 3. I got a blanket and a couch. It was a night I actually felt really good about the way things were turning out. The table was scattered with bottles of Tequila and such, the cold barely made its way into my skin as the alcohol warmed everything up. But...ya know. There is an acoustic bass in here. Falling asleep with that thing in my hands was really sweet. We than woke up at around Eight. Usually I am the last one up and the first one up. Most of the time. This was not an exception. We cleaned up but just a little and .... I think it was the weekend. Come-what-ever else. Which means more days of going down and volunteering and more days of hanging out here and just playing music. But that morning I walked home. There was music on my phone to listen to... just no head-phones. I had a bandana on instead or a hat... if a problem comes along as well do solutions. It was early. To early to eat. I walked down the train tracks. A cup of warm tea was cooling off but the gloves kept it hot all the way home (20 minutes in the freezing cold youd think itd be cold...). It was beautiful there was small traces of snow here and there. But in remote sections where no light or living being made its way around. There were various grass herbs growing by the side of the train tracks as well. These tracks ran for miles into the distance of America. Some-one could hop a train here and wind up any-where else in the country. Kinda thinking about it. Any-one can hop a train anywhere in this country and wind up someplace else. In Romania there are usually people on the train armed with ak-47s...well on the freighters any-ways. I pick up some of these herbs and put um in my cup of tea. My fill of tea was filled awhile back, now the tea just has to be made for later. Home was the destination for me to shower and get back to the digital life. Ohh yeay... It was also the place to study where the hell to go. The hours go by quickly and some-how I wind up walking with Tom down to citizens action. He shows me the quick way to get there. We also chat about this and that along the way. As it turns out he is in love with a girly who is slowly breaking his heart. Luckily he doesnt love her enough to get hurt yet and is at the border-line between staying with her or saying "bye bye baby bye bye". Its cute to see young hearts in love. Ill never fall in love again, instead Ill love every-one just as much! (well kinda... some-people still deserve more love than others..ma..pa..jess..dudu..gg..etc...). We stop by some place and Tom gets him-self a slice of pizza, and we have a discussion about why people eat bread and cheese... and why its not just called a sandwich. Than back to work at citizens action. This time around its time to wrap up hand outs. Just place to pretty "business-cards" into a folded a4. An exercise in origami..or how we say in Romania - Munca de Chinez (China-man work). There were about 200 to fold up. It was easy work. These hands are made to move and dance. Now the complaints start. "Man I got this freedom to go any-where I want and do anything I want.. Now what do I do with it ?" "I dont want to stick around here!" "Its boring over here.. Im gonna kill myself if I hang out here anymore".. "I gotta get outta here!" There were many ways of putting it.. It most likely was very annoying for my friends to hear all these complaints every 5 minutes. We would have a moment of silence between some-thing we did than. Boom "Shit.. I gotta find out where I am going to". The answer came in the form of a strange string of events. All leading to more questions... the voyage being a very tough road. But hey. Its a long way to the top, if you wanna rock n roll. Its also nice that after all these days of boredom here in Bingy the journey contrasts all that calming life-style of up-state. But well get to that later. "Look go to Austin Texas, its a great place to go. Every-one there plays music. My sister is there". "Texas? Come-on its just desert and cactus over there" "No its not, youll love it" (A small chat at second home). Thats all it took to convince me to get a ticket down to Texas. I leave the room where this discussion was going on, between Corey and I. Hope on my laptop (which now had been repaired and the mouse was working again) and got a ticket off of orbitz.com. A train cost some 300 plus dollars and some-one would have to take me down to some train-station far away from here. The plane was cheaper and it included a meal. The flight leaves at 4 and arrives at 12. Sweet. Taking care of that it was time to get a new audio card. "I am going to go take care of that audio card." "I got a ticket and Im heading down to Austin". It was a short walk to an available atm. There was a good 220 bucks left on the card. 20 for cider and carrot cake 200 for the audio card. I should get a good 300 bucks back from Rachell, The card is 300. Things add up. At home I find the audio card on amazon.com for 250 instead. There is also a 2 day delivery thing on it. Fucking awesome! To bad I took all the cash off the card...to bad. I started calling every-one I knew trying to get some help buying this thing. "Look Ill give you 200 now and 50 later on". But no-one could help... I didnt bother Corey with it. He seen the goof-ball antics I pull...didnt need him to find out about another one. Derek makes it home and we talk about the card. He offers to buy it off his Amazon account as doing so lets him have another few points on his account. He makes a couple clicks on his computer and soon the card is coming. Handing him the money, he begins to count it. "Oh yea.. Ill give you the 50 when Rachell hands me my depoist." "Ok" He knows where I live. He can trust me. Now a big piece of suspense is going to build up. On the 14th Ill leave. In 2 days the card comes in. Today is another day of going down to work. Well... I make the decision to cross the river over the train tracks instead of taking the normal way and soon wind up on a bridge with no railings, walking on top of pillars of wood with absolutely nothing in between them listening to music on my head-phones remembering that first train that went by so closely and thinking.. "Ok... stop listening to music... your not going to hear the train coming and your gonna get run over" "Its a train, how can I not hear it". It was a beautiful sunny day (cold but sunny) and a few photos were deserving of being made or taken... whatever the term is. Their was a sign that said no trespassing on the train tracks but it was better to pretend it wasnt there. It was a nice breathe from everything right here and right now. A small discussion with my father gives way to the information that formula 1 will have its first race in America in Austin the weekend of the week I head down there. Either good timing or good fortune but that is pretty sweet. And here I was pretending to be a train walking down these train tracks trying not to fall into the river. This walk was kinda like that other morning walk. The only problem was that in order to get down from the tracks I had to jump a good 10 feet down....Whatever.... Good thing its not 15. At citizens action we have to call folks to remind them to vote. Its going to be voting season soon. Real soon. I get around the problem with the names by just asking folks to vote for the democratic party (or were we the republic??). There was a script to follow and it was incredibly easy to do. The food there was really good though. There was hummus and burritos and quiche and chicken and pasta... man... and tea and best of all. Red wine. These folks know how to keep hard workers around! For some reason I was walking out of citizens action that day. Going down...I dont know where. But I was just walking down the street singing. "Theres a lady whos sure all that glitters is gold...." I guess I was headed down to the second home...Corey and Peppers place again. The walk was just for me to chill out between the constant phone calls and it was a little time to think over whats going to happen. From Arizona arr I mean Austin Ill either settle down there or head out to California. It was here on this walk that I made the choice to go to California in an attempt to set things up for my friend Cristina. She mentioned some-thing about getting accepted to the UCLA and giving up politics for art. She mentioned how she will be down there instead of N.Y. So go to California to produce music huh... Sounds cool sounds fun. The only problem is that I dont like California. My last visit was kinda shaggy. Cali was not a nice place for some-one under 21. The weaknesses I had allowed the state to tear me apart to shreds and I turned out to be a kid who just sat home waiting for things to happen. Last time here I applied for over 50 jobs and the musicians I met were only slightly impressed by what I did. That was 5 years ago ? Since than the stay in Romania built me into some-thing much more than that little eager kid with a dream. California would be treated just the same way Bucharest was... and California will be seen the same way Bucharest was seen. There was also a shop on the street with guitars in the window, acoustic guitars. I said to myself that if there is one for 50 bucks, Id buy it. This shop wasnt open. Lazy bums... its never open. But the guitars in the window are sweet ! Further down the line there was the mad hatter shop. This place was purple. Corey has an obsession with purple. So here inside the store is time to explore. The first man in the shop is the owners son, who does guitar repairs and is the areas best luther. At my disposition huh. We talk for a good 20 minutes about music and than finally he lets me explore the rest of the store. All three stories (a basement and an upstairs). Dammit ! There was so much stuff in here. There were even musical instruments. There was a full knights armor suite, there were trophies made for IBM employees there were goods and goods... but no 50 dollar guitar. How-ever there was a pretty little woman who picked up some ancient mid-evil instruments for her kids. We kept walking around each other the whole store. And finally talked up-stairs. As I was reaching for some other weird instrument (and played smoke on the water on the thing)... it was a Chinese variation of the guitar. It just had the frets with-out an actual fret-board. It was a pretty cool instrument. The lady took it in a heart beat. Down stairs at the counter I mentioned to the store owner that her son should take a look at the thing and fix the 3rd string key to get the thing running smooth... some-how the pretty lady mentioned how thank-ful she was for me helping her find it and I got a pretty rain-bow pin for my services. Finally made it down to Corey and Peppers place. It was going to be another day of playing Magic, music and unreal. Oh man...what-ever I did to deserve such a horrible life. It also makes no sense to leave. But... on earth Eden was and we have been cast out a long time ago. Now Corey and I talk alot. Some-how. One of us always starts a discussion about some-thing... And its not a cycle of subjects that repeats.. its actual discussions about everything. Pretty cool. But yea we have our fun. By now in magic I started to mix decks together randomily and playing with a good 150-250 cards. Some-times there is not a move to be made, other times the deck is ridiculously power-ful, but its always fun. Tom usually cooks some potatoes and meat. I get introduced to a weird pickled cabbage of sorts, well its not cabbage but that doesnt matter. I dont like it. Most of the time I just get a bite or 2. My friends feed me, and so I do the dishes for um. And by now they noticed the weird tea and red wine with a ginger cookie mix I made and they usually stay away from my cup of ... experiments. Afroditi being one of the ingredients of these good little "soups". I still go home and sleep most of the time how-ever. Figured since a new room-mate moved in, who is actually cute... maybe just maybe.... But a probe into her mind soon renders all hopes null and void. The day she laid down on the living room couch in a school-girly cute position and said the most ridiculous thing ever instead of something clever and sexy. It was a shame... she was there with her ugs on, laying with her hips facing me, her soft wool clothing making her look that much more cuddely. But than she talks. There were some talks about a half full bottle of tequila she brought along that she mentioned we would drink on Saturday. But eh, some-how one of the other room-mates turned the girl off of drinking for good. Sad face. By now Leo the cute little puppy Rachel adopted started to warm up to me. It could have been that I would occasionally hand him a treat. For example I had a pound of honey ham, of which the doggy got a good half a pound. Id go to snack and it was one slice for me, one for you, one for me, one for you, two for me, one for you. Leo got used to seeing me and thinking food. The fact that I also left goodies in my room made him even more friendly. "Oh hey?? Where the hell is that brownie I left in here ? " "Hey my pumpkin seeds are missing!" "What the hell happened to my doughnuts!!" I tried hiding things on the lazy boy, behind the door, behind the chair... nothing. I left things on tables in the house to find the plate empy in a matter of minutes. Eating my food wasnt that big of an issue.. but he also drank my tea. Leo also started hoping in my bed when no-one was home. Id cover him up with my blankets to keep him warm and happy. I remember one time after a drinking session (dont worry ma! I didnt spend my allowance on the booze, it was a special occasion and we were celebrating something) Leo made the mistake of hoping in bed with me, Im not much of a fan for cuddeling with animals but boy did he get treated like a Teddy bear. In the morning we kinda just looked at each other. We were spooning, Leo had to turn his head around to look at me. Naturally he gave me a kiss...And I went to shower. By now the land-lord up-stairs got his sub-woofer back, and when he saw how I engineered the speakers he gave me was a little worried that by splicing out one of the speakers and replacing it with one twice the size something got messed. "Dont worry I am an engineer" "So am I and so is my father but I would have never done that" "Look, it sounds better like this" "I dont have room for this stuff" "Ok Ill put the old speaker back on" "Bring it up when your done" If he didnt tell me he got the speakers in the trash, maybe the idea that it was ok to tinker with um would have not occurred. His speakers got put back together and I rigged the speakers Corey gave me to the laptop. The things were really sweet and sounded amazing. Great monitors. But by now I was already going over the inventory for the trip out further west. 1 guitar, priceless Ibanez from Alexandru George aka Dante GG or George (and some-times Sid). 1 xlr cable and 1 trs cable. 1 audio card. 1 hoody 1 purple and grey vest 1 laptop 2 pairs of jeans 3 shirts 2 socks 3 boxers 1 pair of shoes 1 headphone 1 snazzy leather binder with various notes 1 microphone 1 adapter for the laptop and 1 adapter for the audio card Now ... there are alot of things I couldnt take with me. My father argued that Ill need to take um with me but this stuff alone is to much. Another day rolls around. I am getting eager for that Tascam to come in. Another 2 days I have to wait... I can do it. The middle of November and its Christmax ! Snow hasnt even settled in ! The days luckily get blurred as I attempt to time travel. We go vote, after more nights of playing quake and magic and drums and guitar. After more nights of hooking up the fender passport and jamming out all day. I even sat down and read Coreys blog. ---____-------------- Things got pretty sweet. Tom and I hung out a little more and we grew to know each other more. Now I was building strong relationships with these nice people. And this all was done by being honest and sincere (and also good to your fellow brother). Corey and I had a bounding moment when he took me to vote, which... I wasnt very excited about doing. The first part was going to "myfuckingvotingplace.com" and typing in some crap to find out where I vote. Than we had to go down to my old middle school and wait behind 2 nice folks. When I got up to the registration table the lady asked my name and the nice elderly lady opened up another book that had it in there, right above my fathers and his wifes. I signed, than got a ballet and went to vote. Putting a nice big check on my choices. Popped the paper in the machine and found out that I did it wrong. Now a big line had formed and I went to the back of the line, the nice old lady took me to the front of the line (see in Romania you always go to the back of the line) gave me a new voting number and I went at it again, finishing the voting I headed towards the grapes and pizza, "Sir! are you done?" The other old lady barked....Guess I get no grapes. We left the place and Corey was mocking the looks of some of the folk down there, I noticed no-one (mainly because every-one was a couple). It was very early in the day and we headed to the local guitar shop I used to live right up the road from. Just to hang out for a couple of hours. We found out they have no bass effects or 7 string bass strings....7 string acoustic bass strings mind you. Corey played his basses at the store, I showed him one I liked and we headed out after a fun visit down there.. Then there was a nice little political party at some hotel where I showed up with a hard-hat on me head and a guitar in my hands. The guitar had to be restrung, and more than that a few things had to be repaired on it.. like the fret-board which was covered in mushrooms...green stingy mushrooms. Instead of working at citizens action on the day I put the guitar back together I sat around and scraped a guitar clean...noone seemed to mind a few folk were surprised "an Ovation cool who brought that?" Soon the group of musicians started talking bout strats and teles as if a bunch of school ids who just hit puberty and were getting bored of toying around with their wood in shop class (oh yea how do you like that simile huh!). The guitar got fixed up in the 20 minutes I had between voting and going to the party and some-how I still managed to call a good 50 people to remind them to go vote.. By now we didnt care for who they were voting for or trying to convince them to vote for use. We just wanted to get them voting because its the American thing to do. Vote. It didnt make sense to me. But every-one was actually excited about the voting thing! Heading to the party in a van with a few party pieces. A brief-case of magic cards, a flute and an acoustic guitar. In the back there was a hard hat which helped me keep my balance as it shielded the tin roof of the van from my head. Pushing my back on the roof to stand up. I could have sat or something but it was fun to stand in the back of a van and play guitar. The guitar also had a hardcase full of goodies. It was Toms little baby. We arrived to a room full of suites and dresses. "Hey, you were at citizens action for the working class people right?" I said to a co-worker who was now dressed so snappy. "Ya, your Dude right?" "I thought we were the working class people, really whats up with the suites?" "Haha, gotta fit in" "Ya I fit in" Pointing to the hard-hat. Than because there is a briefcase of magic cards that cant be lost and an acoustic guitar along I gotta find a place to set these down. So I make my way around the parameter of the room. And than cut straight through the middle. Some-how I run into a little kid and soon he is climbing on me and the guitar. At first his guardians were happy that the kid was so interested in the hard hat man with a guitar and they loved having him strum the thing. I am ready to have kids, but what do I do with this one. He climbs on me and I pick him up, hes crying..his mother finally comes around. I feel panicked because I made the baby cry...yikes. That worked out fine, kinda. Maybe I did all this to get the attention of the cutey with the kid. I was trying to keep a low profile. I had the idea that maybe just maybe. There was some place to put this stuff down and run back to the bar and grab a cock-tail or something. Well... the hunter instinct took charge pretty quick and I was scoping out the whole hotel. Finding a little spot to pop the magic cards the guitar, it was a "guard-de-robe-ah" the English term for this room slips me. There was a sign on the door that read "We are not responsible for any lost or stolen objects" it didnt bother me at all...though if Coreys magic cards got lost he would not be happy for a long time to come. He spent a good decade or 2 building that library. Figured if everything is all the way in the back, on the top rack no-one is going to bother um. I went down to the lobby and played a little guitar. Feeling the suspense from all the locals as they waited to find out who won. The votes were cast and soon the vibe changed. We lost, the bad guys won. If Corey had not taken me to vote earlier that day Obama would have not won. But in the mean-time I went to the lost dog cafe across the street and sat in the stair-well, between the door from the out-side and the door to the bar. The hall-way between the bar and the restaurant. I sat there for a good 20 minutes playing a song that has been giving me hell for the past few days as I tried to learn it. At the last open mic at the cyber-cafe. The words sweet salvation were last spoken by a poet. Those words reminded me every-day more and more of the last band I got involved with in Romania. The one I gave up on because the will had been lost. They released an album which no-body noticed full of good vibes and great tunes. Just... bad publicity. They had one song called sweet salvation. Which I was going to play sax on. Long story short, on the many walks I took down towards citizens action to volunteer, there was time to study up the lyrics and turn the song into a different variation. I remembered the lyrics as if they were my own. Tonight here in this hall-way. With the 2 stories of stairs creating a little echo-chamber of reverb, pretty harmonies on a chair that was waiting for me to come in and sit down. I played the song for the first time.... I warmed up of course with another 2. But it was really nice to just play a new song. Out of the 10-20 people that walked in no-one stopped to listen. It could have just been my cold gaze that said to them "Leave me the fuck alone this is my room". I do this often....play venues with-out even knowing about it... since they werent paying me enough to stick around and play another couple songs, heck all I got was a sticker on some other day... I walked back, Jay-walking in front of a few cops with a hard-hat on. The nice folk left me alone, guitars go along way towards making friends. Some-how I walked back just in time. The competition was taking the stage. "So we lost huh" I said to my friends as I found them standing right where they should be "Ya, now we are just going to have to protest" "We can just throw this hard hat at her" We all wanted to do it. But I was not going to be the idiot who did. The offer stood though. A few more minutes go by and the party is over. The only thing good was that Obama won the erection. We head out the hotel and Corey and I just sit at the entrance playing guitar and flute. Than 2 of our work colleges ask if they can jam out, we hand over the instruments and quickly become back-up singers. Ha ! We crowded the hall-way for a good 20 minutes having our selves some fun.But everyone was going out to the after-party. I had a second to run in and grab the bag of cards as well. We headed out of the hotel, Corey and I last out the door because we were the cool kids. We got the direction to where we were going, everybody else going there in some other form or another and Corey and I stood a little bit in the parking lot to sign a song, my voice got to experiment with a few sounds and his flute got to tamper with the reverb...sadly I couldnt hit that one note I was going for, these vocal chords aint as soft as they used to be. I am pretty sure we went to Tarricks house.. but I cant be sure, we went to some-bodies house. Corey parks about 2 miles away from the place at 12 at night when its barely freezing cold out-side and we walk. Of course, he locked his keys in the van. Dum dum.... After he panics for 5 minutes he calls Pepper to find out she has a spare. Things are just fine. The after-party was pretty sweet. It was a bunch of the co-workers drinking a little beer in the back-yard and playing guitar. One guy talked about the flame these petrol wells shoot off and I argued that its about time the American people see what they have been doing to the rest of the world. But every-one just wants to un-wind and forget about the bloody trouble in this world. I end up just playing guitar the whole night. Before I leave I joke around about a whiskey bottle in the house, and me and ...the host end up drinking a cup. Than we start packing up to head out. By now... I have already learned the very important lesson of layering for the winter. So there are pajamasa that go under jeans, and a long sleeve shirt that goes under-neath everything. Gotta stay warm. When arriving at homes, some of this stuff comes off, gets folded and placed in a corner. Most of the time, nobody notices the change from Jeans to Wedding pants... But sitting out-side in the cold in frikking pajamas and a tee-shirt really sucks !!! I also made that night some speech about blowing our noses with leaves instead of paper... Corey completes the statements by explaining that we do whipe our nose with trees, just that they gets processed first and we dont just use the leaves... We have a few moments of song singing, where I dont capture the moment of the rebellious spirit in its glory and instead capture purity. Good enough ! The party gets split into 2 groups as it goes on. The big group in the living room talking about some weird political related aspects of working towards goals.... and in the kitchen a normal down to earth discussion about the future of man-kind. Cool folks. We head home I was happy staying with my feet on the vent warming up from the cold of the porch. It was the kind of party where we said we were leaving 2 hours ago. Pepper Issak and Corey go to their home from where I walk home early in the morning. Most of the night was spent on a keyboard with head-phones on exploring what those bloody keys do. In short, nothing interesting. In the morning I head out, first to grab a beagle at the beagle factory than home to nap. The beagle shop is amazing. They have some of the best beagle on earth. But there also cheap ! By now it has been 3 days of not visiting my bed. I walk and reflect on whats going on around me. With some of the day sun out and about. The kids from town are playing on my head-phones (the summer people their called). They have a nice song about sitting by the river and watching a dear get attacked by a wolf and than the river swelling and killing every-one...and thats how we know the river is alive. Their actually pretty groovy folks to listen to. My thoughts are wandering what am I gonna do, where am I gonna go. Home the wind matress is soft and flexible. Sleeping in it is like sleeping on a cloud. Than Corey wakes me with a phone call or something and he invites me to visit his pops in ahm... Norwhich ?? N.Y. ?? I show up at his place and we leave... I think...maybe he picked me up and we had a cup of tea at my place... I cant remember I dont live in just one dimension ya know. The road over was pretty short. We had alot to tell. I told stories of what the things missed from Romania he told stories of where he grew up, we exchanged jokes. Something about a worker who was mad that the boss got to sit around and do nothing all day so the boss told him to punch his hand and the boss moved his hand and the idiot punched the wall. It also had a moral.. but eh. We talk a little bit more about his sister, because Corey mentioned how cool it would be to find her in Austin...she as it turns out runs a community housing sort of thing in Austin. Where artists and open minded folk meet up and live together in a ware-house. Pretty good idea, changing the way people live and what not. Arriving at his pops home I am greeted by a very very psychedelic home. The up-stairs is half-finished. Its hall-ways that move out-wards like a star. The sun of light breathes through and there are no doors. The paint from these rooms fades from a bright yellow to a deep orange...all from diffusion. The master-bedroom is how-ever the old home and it shows. It was so beautiful to see the home, out of all the places I have seen this unfinished home looked like what I would imagine my home would look like. The master bedroom was a typical American kinda set up. Just some wood and some ply-wood with boring colors. There were alot of things in there mainly a bed that took up 70 percent of the room. But everything was also of a different elevation. Very trippy to see a house in an on-going transformation. Who knew houses transform. Down-stairs on the parter everything was stripped. Bare frames. There was a bar at the front of the house, as you enter you could grab a drink right from there.. it was on the left of the stairs. Which the stairs sat very comfortably, and gave more the impression that they werent in the house. The living room had a giant t.v. on a table. There was also a piano in there and a throne. A big leather chair and an acoustic guitar... Good thing we brought along the ovation. Which I played the whole way down. It was an un-comfortable guitar to play sitting down in a car. Mainly the back round crap makes it hard to frikking hold the thing ! It would just constantly slip and finding a decent position to play from was like trying to get a blow-job from a hegira. Or worse than that splitting a cube of sugar in 4 ! The kitchen and down-stairs bath-room were what reminded down here of the old place. The kitchen was going to be made 4 to 10 times bigger. The new fridge was in its place. Basically in another room. There was also a bow-flex type home gyme laying around! It was cool that everything could be seen and the out-lines of the room were just wire-frame. Very trippy, but it didnt affect me much. I later found out that we are here to work on the foundation of the home. Deep in the base-ment.... But first we drink some joy-juice and play some guitar. I grab a mountain bike and ride around the whole area. "Take this bike, its a 5 thousand dollar bike" "Ok, I might break it" "You wont" I run down the road with the bike, testing the bunny hop capabilities of the thing and some of the lights or something pops off... I stop scrapping the back tire to half the thread and grab what fell, making sure its not broken than taking everything else off the bike. Than start heading towards fun again. At the end of the road followed theres a choice. Go down a little path which leads down to a river, or go on the asphalt. Well... Ill obviously think lets see what this bike can do. Going down the 79 degree slop is easy for the bike. The tires dig in with pride and the brakes lock the tires. Now at the bottom of this little hill, about 14 feet long. There is a small river with a nice solid bed rock bottom. Ya I hit rock bottom. I pop the bike in the river and start pedaling... hmm it does just fine and soon I am thinking. STOP STOP STOP!!! I quickly make my way back to the bank...thinking...shit ... dont break the bike dont break the bike. Rust rust rust. It didnt occur to me that I could fall in this freezing cold water or something. It was the fact that this bike was going to suffer from Rust and it was going to be all my fault. 5 minutes out and I found a way to break it... amazing. The next thing I do is get back up the bank and get to asphalt. The bike had to be carried, luckily a 5 thousand dollar frame is pretty light. Popping the bike into the highest gear leads to a jolty race down the streets. Cutting through a school play-ground getting air when-ever air is to get. Than in no-time I am heading towards a little mountain. Just thinking... No no no no dont go with the bike in the mountain you gotta go back and help with the house. Well... I take the path following the other little creek and ride the bike through plains and over dead branches. The bike does just fine. Than I spot a little patch of wild grass growing on the side of the path and cut with the bike through there thinking. 5 thousand... eh it better be able to go through there! The trick was to hit the lowest gear on the bike and just mow down vegetation. It was fun getting the bike through 1 mile of shrub...well bushes as big as a semi-truck dont really count as shrub but eh. I originally thought it was possible to cut across the brush land. To make the trip shorter. But it makes it out just fine and I am back to riding on thick grass and bumpy hills. The bike rolls around surprizingly smooth....it was as if it had a motor this little bike !! I road down hill with speed than switched gears quickly and went up them gradually shifting down. The gear shift on this thing ? I think it was lever operated actually. Arriving at an area that is fenced off in every direction, except that lil path going by one of the fences which had to lead some-place. Spoiler alert. It ended up to being fenced in with the only option of jumping the fence to make it back in time. We werent really on a time-schedule except that it would be slightly inconvenient to stay to late (I think we left at 10). Finally the last test for this bike is to apparently get over a fence. This one was by accident. Well hell... I lift the bike up and gently roll it over the fence. It makes its way nicely over. The pedal gets stuck and so does the handle bar. They prop themselves in the fence. Now the bike has become a clicking timer. Its slowly coming down from the fence. The back wheels traction with the pole and other various chunks of metal maintain a slow pace of rotation. I climb up a tree and jump the fence. Than get the bike down as it was still falling off in slo-motion. Now I am stuck in a locked court-yard. A big one. Now...most people get locked out of a place not locked in it! I ride around and find the way out, it was pretty obvious but I also biked the whole lot before hand to have some fun with the bike. There was a big long circular road that resembled a dirt track made for racing which as I speeded down felt as if the bike was going to go into a power-slide. It didnt. The way back was pretty straight forward. Get past the rail-road tracks than look for Elm street. Ride around in a spiral from Elm street till I run into the home. I spotted a bell on the way. A big bell from most likely the 17th century. It was on the street here right next to the rail-road tracks. It was still working (well a cast iron bell that doesnt work is kinda hard to find). The bell was actually created in such a way that the pendulum swings at the infrasonic frequency range and helps sustain the sound. I slowly build momentum on the inner pendulum, which most have weighted in at a good 20-25 kilos. The swing motion of the giant metal ball had a presence to it as it swung. The hinges squeaked in what sounded like the grinding bone of a dinosaurs arthritis. Every time it swung I pushed it closer to the outter bell. One more swing and itll hit... one more and itll hit... finally it makes contact, after one final push. It doesnt slam or smack the side it just rings it. Gently. The whole thing began to vibrate and create this beautiful sound. Standing there with closed eyes listening to this iron pure-tone lasted for an eternity it seemed. Soon the bell stops moving and the sound of traffic made its way back into eternity. Back to mankinds time...yay. I bike away, happy that no police officer came by to arrest me for being an anarchist or some-thing like that. The little road was fun and I pedaled that bike as if I was Forrest Gump. There was a small hump in the way that got the bike enough air to stop a car behind me. Hearing the sound of tires squeeling I turn back to see a confused guy. Maybe he just smoked to much of something good... Eh...whatever. Now at the end of the street it was evident that a left turn had to be taken. I ask a pretty girl down the street for direction to Elm street. Not because I was lost but maybe just maybe we could have a conversation cause all this aggravation aint satisfaction in me. But she was in a rush, and it seemed as if she was on a heavy dose of some highly illegal substance (cocaine one hell of a drug !) Bummer. She had the look. Taking the much needed left and a few streets over Coreys van can be seen sticking out like a dead thumb. Yay !! I didnt break the bike. I hop off the thing and pick it up at the same time as my feet hitting the ground and run it up the steps. It doesnt break and its soon back in the house and safe. Maybe its still in warranty any-ways ? Getting back things get pretty interesting. Apparently play time is over and now its time to work. "The house is falling apart". Coreys dad says ever so calmly. "The foundation is rotten and its going to fall on itself any-time soon." "You mean its going to buckle" Adds Corey. Now both of these dudes are really calm about the fact that at any second we could die. We have a 3 way (conversation!! get your mind outta de gutter!) and I find out some-useful information. The house is over 100 years old. It is built on a solid rock foundation which after all the years the rock has deteriorated into more of a sandy dusty composition rather than the boulders it once was. We head down to take a look first and to prep up the work zone. I can say that the basement looked more like a messy castle than a typical basement. The floor was just solid dirt. There were a few places with poured cement where the things such as boilers and water pumps sat, some of which were going to be moved. The ceiling was completely bare and all the supporting frames and cables and pipes could be seen as they routed their way around. Mostly everything was very badly left to just dangle there. Heck there was even a hole where the tool shed portion of the up-stairs was. There were also these big cement pads, about 50 pounds heavy each and a foot and a quarter by 1 foot and a half in dimensions. These were either all lined up along the front entrance of the dungeon or put in function. Than there were these strategically placed columns of metal shaft placed under-neath huge wooden supporting frames. Tim seemed to know what he was doing. What was going on in this basement was pretty complex. Ill just follow directions. We head back up-stairs to prep up. The guys get a hoot by turning me into tool-boy. Basically I get a tool-belt and gloves. The other 2 just get safety glasses. I start grabbing everything I would consider fun to use down-there and they mention that I should just stand still and theyll give me what we need down-stairs. But I just couldnt stop from sneaking the circular saw with me. Down stairs we prop up a horizontal support pillar, which I had to hold between the boilers for a good 20 minutes as the guys adjusted the supporting rod to the perfect equilibrium. Put a 50 pound pillar on my back and Ill stand on one leg and complain about it. Ill hold it but be prepared for complain after complaint after complaint. And than.."Whats taking you so long, you should have let me do that!". We get done with that and a slight worry that the pillar is going to fall over-comes me. Than the 2 have a fitting father and son moment as they cut up one of the pipes to the proper length. It was cool being the witness to that. It takes me about an hour to under-stand what is going on. In the basement are strange supporting rods "jacking" the house up. Pillars are strategically placed below the foundation to hold the house from falling on itself. Took awhile to figure out, because it didnt make sense how those little things could hold a whole house from falling down. The marvels of todays engineering. It felt good to know that we got this taken care of. And it was fun. Now we head up-stairs to hang out a little more and than call it a day. Up-stairs we watch some videos of dudes playing home made guitars and stuff. One guy actually rolled his own pick-up. I think those things were called boadiddleies... but cant be to sure. Than we end up making a guitar slide for me. Out of a copper pipe, which I fasten to it a brace and roll it up to look like a finger. Pretty groovy guitar slide. We ended the night by making me a guitar slide. The next forty-eight hours or so before the plane flight a change of clothes was in order as working all day in the dirt got everything dirty. Showering at the second home, I get fitted with some of Coreys clothes. A pair of thrash metal jean shorts. A big thick black jacket and a set of black steel toe boots. Than to top things off Corey hands me a purple band-ana and a few things he would like to see get to their right-full owners. He doesnt want to mail a gift to his sister as the gift means to much to him. And the other dog tags are better delivered as he doesnt know much about where Twinkly is other than that the guy might be in North Carolina. Its weird because the other day we were talking about how I dont get to hang around and play T.E.S. Skyrim this winter, but today a few side-quests get added to the list of tasks. The object to be delivered to his sister gets wrapped up in the bandana and usually stays around my neck. Its fun because I use it as a choke collar and just swallowing is hard with it on. Training... in a UFC fight when some-one chokes you it gets uncomfortable. If those muscles get trained well enough opponents can attempt to choke me all day long and the only thing that will happen is their arms will get tired. It happened to me at the last training session. The guy let me hold on to his neck from an improper position for a good 20 minutes. Finally when he sensed the tiredness seep into my arms he took full advantage of that. Smart guy. Great lesson. So I head home to get my rent and spend the last night at the Margaret street hide-out. Walking home in the leather jacket short jeans and what not was pretty sweet. Here was a genuine punk rocker on the streets of Bingy. The next day I hung out at the cyber-cafe just because we were going to go to a little jam at some studios. Tom and I would meet up at the cyber-cafe and than head to Coreys place to go make sweet music all night. There I finally ran into Jo-ana. A pretty girl who makes music and what not. Her pops is a big guitarist in the area and she is just guiding her-self along to where she thinks she wants to be. Well... we hang out, and get to know each other pretty well. I invite her over to the studio party we are throwing that night just to get a sense of the musicians around here in the area. Ya know "Yo baby check me out". It was kinda interesting because she asked how will I get there and I told her.. Walk. So we hoped in her car and on the way there was an air of sophistication creeping up from some-place. Here was a nice girl who likes to play guitar but just seems a little to up-tight. She has to be though, the industry is hard and cruel. She seems to have a hard time believing anything worth while is going to happen, but I brought her along so she will make some bloody friends here locally. She is from way out of town. We arrive at Nipen and than give her friend the directions on how to get over. The whole time Im tinkering away with her djembe, her pink djembe. It was an odd one because the skin was so sensitive. Most of the time on these things you have to get at least a little velocity on your fingers to get it to make noise, this thing is blasting away just from taps. On the road over I got the opportunity to look through her disc collection. "Sweet, S.o.a.d. Steal this album". I popped that in, happily. "So do you like System of a down ?" She asked. "No I hate them". "There like my favorite band" 5 minutes down the road Im singing along with the songs begging her to turn it up and she just kinda looks at me with that look a driver gives a hitch-hiker who smells like a bag of mangos and piss. Luckily for me we were there! Out of the car we hop and we are facing a corner of a room. But its not a room. Its a parking lot. And instead of walls its a ware-house in the shape of an L. Hmm... sound reflects off of objects. By smacking the djembe a really nice reverb is produced from the instrument and it really kicked ass! I mentioned to Joanaa but she had absolutely no interest in the whole realm of sound related to reality. She just wanted to play her damn guitar. I was depressed because my audio card didnt make it in yet. Even if here we were a pretty blonde girl with a body under that shirt. And all Im doing is rubbin my face in the dirt. At the studio was me and the other guys waiting for Tom and our grew to show up. I already met some of um and confused others with their brothers. We were going to set up for a normal jam. Basically we pointed all the amps at the drums. And in this 20x30x15 foot room we had just made a circle on a carpet. The rest of the concrete walls of the hall... which looked like prison cells for Tyrannosaurus....or rather holding cellz at the zoo as humans came in to clean up the poop. There were also no holes or windows of any kind. Just a ventilation system that was as big as a walk in closet.... if the walk in closet was on the ceiling. There was a lobby area, with a table and 2 couches. There was so much there !!! Even a nice 500 watt speaker just being gave away to the lucky dude. Now than I have a rule about remembering people. One of which is that people dont get remembered before a set number of hours spent together. Usually a little process in the back of the cerebellum takes care of the measure. It picks up vibe and multiplies it by bad energy than divides it by "aberatii" or how much this person vents. Its really wonderful what I feel when I remember some-one. This sudden familiarity with them....but it doesnt happen as often as I would like. If every-person on the street was to be like this, than this world would be beautiful. My brain power suffers from a few concussions. Skate-boarding, snow-boarding, luckily none from mx, but plenty from bmx and just taking the wrong bike up the wrong hill and than down it... and than up again and down again. Sa-i la vii.... Heck I cracked open a few helmets along the way....thats why I dont wear um, if I have a helmet on, it feels as if everything a person can do is that much safer. Than again a cape seems to have the same effect. While we sat here we didnt have much in the lines of equipment. Ya sure the guitar amps were good. The vox ...both one of um. And the tiny little bass amp could barely keep up with a room this big. Than the drums were perfect. Set dead center of the whole room.... more or less to one of the walls now deemed the back. So the door is on the side and the room turns into 30 feet across 10 wide. I would consider it an echo chamber of sorts... We of course are a 2 piece. Alpha team Silent has the guitar amp and the drums. Bravo team Bronco has the P.A. and the bass amp. So alpha meets up with me first and we hang out waiting for the broncos to arrive. we jam out and we drink a few beers. Johana does ok on guitar but not so hot on the singing bit. Mainly because the bass amp we were using for vocals just didnt cut it. Eh. By the time bravo team arrives on site she has already started to doubt us being her sweet salvation. To bad sweetie, life will sometimes give you lemons and other times limes. You gotta eat them all and enjoy. When Bronco team arrives we set up the Fender passport as a 500 watt guitar amp running guitar rig. This is to compensate for the large fucking room. If the room were smaller than maybe the p.a. wouldnt have to work so hard... The vox doesnt have a problem as it too is on full blast. The little bass amp has to be limited by its internal circuitry to avoid frying the thing! Than again its a bass-amp for practice and most practice rooms are treated. The room we had was a night-mare. All the sounds in it were naturally reverbed and brillance was brought out by the vibe of the room. So when you have a piece of gear from guitar center engineered to work in the conditions that most California based bands deal with...... etc etc.... We all jammed out and had fun until 2. I helped Bravo team carry the gear to Alpha teams lair. I found out that Tom doesnt like me carrying his P.A. because he cares about his baby too much.. Considering the way I carry it. Which is in one hand, compared to the more secure to handed method Tom employs... But I still have to sit around and wire everything at the end of the day. Which isnt much its just that it has to be done quick. Why the hell would any-one want to spend 30+ minutes wiring things up? And the whole time I am wiring things up I just want to play some-thing. To wire was a bass amp and a p.a. and than a microphone to the pa. We later found out that the vocals cut away at the guitar tone and that the vocals are going to have to go through a separate amp. Tom is a good guitarist he can hear these little details. Most other guitarists wouldnt have a problem with it....mainly because they are obsolete to the sound. So no vocals. Both guitar amps are taken and there is either a slot on bass or on drums to fill. "Lets just do some-thing chill on acoustic" Johana remark gets no response from any-one ... just a oh yea we will... just lets finish this riff and than that bridge and o wait this bass sounds so good this loud ! Ya sure...we could have turned the guitars down to go along with an acoustic guitar but than the drums would fall out of the equation. DUH. Out of every-one that came and went she was the first one out. Which is strange. One heck of a musician she is... lolz.... The next day my room-mate Derek wakes me up. My audio card sneaks in the mail, to think that after such a build up, it makes it over un-noticed. I really passed out after staying up for the past 2/3 days. But more or less pass out because at this time in the morning there is not to much to do besides sit around and sleep waiting for the sweet release of death to come around. Derek knocks on the door and its more than enough to wake me. When people are around and they want my attention they get it. As the words "The audio card is hear" come out of his lips slowly. Things speed up to a good 50 times faster than usual.. Shoot out of bed and running through the door (luckily Derek open it for me after jumping out of the way). Startling Rachel a tad as I started running around the house for no apparent reason. The box was on the entrance table, and I had to gently open it up to avoid attacking like a child. Inside it was packed up in a bit of packing bag. Which was nice of um to do...Derek made his was around as it came out of the box. The damn thing was the size of a small lcd tv ! Big black and with little tiny knobs here and there. This little audio card is going to do wonders. Eventually... but first it needs some field tests and than one day it will eventually break. At first I glance I give it 2 weeks of life before something breaks on it. Now, today, a good 3 days away from leaving. It was supposed to be 2 but having read the times wrong for those bloody plane flights... any-who. Having even more friends..some-how things began to pick up over here for me.. And before I leave we throw down a big recording session to celebrate the arrival of Erik. The sound card gets poped up on a pedestul, for some reason there was one laying around at Freds old studio (the same place I took Joana the night before). I used a few different mics and constantly changing mic positions but got good recordings out of it....or some-what good. We kept jamming the whole night through trying to see if the audio card is gonna have any hiccups. And it did pretty good. It just kinda sat there on a pedustoul recording everything as if that what it did all its life (its an audio card thats its life). The mics werent the best and they did just fine. Later on that night I went by the dudes who gave my wine last time. I figured I could at least invite them over to jam out with us since we were having such a blast. They came in with 2 really nice mxr 990s and another guitar amp just to make our night better. Every-one pretty much hopped from one instrument to the other the whole night, but only Pepper and I had the cojhones to actually sing some-thing. But we werent really focused on recording the mics were just there to document things. And more importantly it was me experimenting with sound. The Mxrs got placed extremely wide. With on each side of the drums pretty much and the second time we recorded it was 2 mxrs and 1 m3. The first recordings were 1 m3 and 1 no-name and 1 shure bm. Cleaning things up was a whole nother story. Because this was a set up where the goal is to get the best live recording possible and not some heavy production with bells and whistles, cleaning up was kinda like the mess youd get after a nuclear reactor fails. Eh.... It started with Tom and I meeting at the cyber-cafe. Were we hung out for a little. Than kinda raced over to the second home. We wanted to see who will get there first so it was a race. Some-how I made it there first and because I happened to be listening to music, didnt hear or notice a thing around me. In the back-yard there were no cars parked and no-body was home. In the front a pick-up truck came up. Eventually Issack made his way over and started talking to the driver, than Tom made it to and started talking to this guy. Ahmm ok... I headed over as well just to see what the heck was going on. By now I had gone to the back-up head-phones. The yamahas were at guitar center and they did not find them (assholes). In this pick up truck was Corey who tried to get my attention for the past 5 minutes with-out succeeding. He mentioned that. He was going to get his van from the office and than we were going to head out to the studio. Pretty straight forward deal. What could go wrong ? Thats how it all started. Us loading a van full with equipment. Me and Tom sitting in the back of this Van as snug as to peas in a Ferrets asshole. Two really big peas, the size of grape-fruits! So at 2-3 in the morning there are just 3 people left. Mark, The snake lady and Me. We are sitting in the long hall-way of the studio facilities (the now converted school). Mark is plugged into his Epiphone practice amp and we exchange his strat back and forth playing songs for each other. Watching you watching me. The things he does, the way he plays is incredibly fluent. This guy really knows his guitar. Than when it comes to playing the song as in singing um he has another quality about just not giving up on the music, and making his way through the lyrics and melodies even if he forgot the words. Mark and I get along as if we were brothers or born with the same brain just in different years. He has stories of Hawaii and pretty much all 50 states, I got my stories of Romania and all 50 regiunii. He knows the big cahuna who owns the facility, the empty school and really. To own a school that big must cost a fortune. Just the bills alone. Any-ways, he tells me that most people end up crashing at the studios here and sleeping here and living here. At 250 a month thats not bad at all for rent. There are some pretty sweet bathrooms, but there is no kitchen or bath-tub. Showering is done with cold water, and so is washing your hands. By 6 in the morning Mark heads out to sleep and I can walk home at 6 in the morning. But after hanging out with the dudes with mxl mics in there little crawl space above their studio where we listened a bit to what happened that night. We played a little game of "guess who is one what instrument". It was fun when some-one was playing some-thing really good because we would start to argue "no I think that was me" "Oh thats clearly me". Until 3 and than with Mark till 6 It was time to go to that room Mark showed me that has a wide open door. Well my logic says move the couch out of the hall and go listen to the recordings there...working out the tunes and eventually passing out at an undisclosed time. My Jacket was keeping me warm, and the couch was comfortable. Hitting the light switch at the other end of the room left me in complete darkness. I figured Ill hang around until Mark shows up because we were gonna play mini golf through the hall ways here. I called me friends up to tell um how I ended up getting my own room here and just chilling out. I explored the rest of the building and looked for people (early in the morning) and than went straight to sleep. Now... mostly every-body here sleeps with the door locked, but I was on the other side of a 30 foot room. And to make things even more safe I am a light sleeper and the second some-one would hit the lights Id be up. Thats why it was safe to sleep with the door unlocked and a laptop and recording equipment just laying around. So the next day rolls around with me waking up and not having much to do. Didnt bother to eat as I was broke... spent all my money on the audio card and the plane ticket (and everything that I ate in between). But some-how at the end of the night I was waiting for Mark with a cold beer and he showed up with a pizza. Ha! Sweet ! Another thing was that I didnt really want to poop. The bathrooms werent to cool. Going home to poop was out of the question it was just to far. So we hung out again till 5 in the morning. He loved what I did with the Couch and it was cool to have a lounge room like this. The Epiphone sounded great set dead center of the room. Mark headed off to sleep at around 3-4, maybe he took the snake lady with him, maybe not, but he left his guitar and amp over. I was not the bit tired. What happened next was a session of heavy aggravation as I recorded 3 songs, experimented with sounds, built a piece of art out of a few laying pipes, Taking a plastic chair and wrapping it in rock-woll to make me a weird looking thrown. I poped up the monitor speakers Corey gave me some how on some metal rafts in the hall and the place turned into a reflection of a bit of my thought. Than... A pipe burst and soon the studio was getting flooded with water... that was remedied quick by panic and I sealed the pipe with a giant wheel. But at 7 in the morning to be scarping water off the floor with a pair of leather shows and an old rag... It was a nightmare. The water came out like a shower... I dont know how I got away with-out flooding the place. My hands bent the copper pipe into a shape that leaked less water out than when I ran to the entrance of the studios where lay a great deal of scrapes I found a wheel a big 20 pound wheel and another one... so that wheel helped bend the pipe closed. Poped a glove and wrapped it up and etc and it was closed in no-time. Finally I slept here at this studio. The door un-locked again. There were alot of weird sounds but the complete darkness was very relaxing. It was also warm as hot water ran through the radiators and into my heart. Who-ever owns this place is a pretty cool dude! I had to stick around as Mark wouldnt pick up the phone or open the door. So from when I woke up till his arrival I had nothing but forced free-time with the place. The night the pipe burst I was working on the 3 songs that got recorded today. It was nice knowing that there was not one soul any-where in the vicinity that would hear me. And if they herd me would not care. At all. Mark shows up in pretty good timing. He takes a look at what I did on the wall and how I cleaned the carpets and the little piece of art I built out of scrap metal and that night Mark made me the offer to remain. To pay 250 a month and just help build this studio. ----Ж=== The last thing that happens is Corey tells me about a thing he wants me to give his sister. Its a piece of jewelry. He thinks that I can find her there in Austin. But since I am traveling I might as well get it and bring it down...I have a bigger chance of running into her. And he would rather have it delivered this way than by mail. He hands me some dog tags as well and I take a pretty purple vest with me...which is now locked in another studio down here in North Hollywood....grrr I leave his place and go troll my bag down to the laundromat. I checked out of Rachels place a few nights ago. When I was still wearing some of Coreys clothes (a nice big black leather Jackets and these really punk black steel toe boots). But now I was to be gone ! Out of Bingy ! My dad takes me to the air-port at a good 3 in the morning. We already took a drive to the local shop to pick up what-ever Ill need for the trip (a bag and a jacket as I am traveling light). I head out with my red suede shoes and a very big laptop bag on a roller. I left the archive with Corey, which is cool because I now must check in with him every 5 months or so and empty out Retob of all the recordings and projects. Than at 2 in the morning I headed out to a laundromat that was open 24/7 to wait for my father. He would be there at 3 (and he was a good 30 minutes late) Here at the laundromat I hung out with another dude who played a little magic with me. Ya. Corey gave me one of his magic decks to travel with just in case I got bored. My father shows up and he is very worried about how exactly things will work out for me there. Basically I knew no-one there or anything there. But the hard part was the 30 pounds of luggage that has to be lugged around. His concerns and frustrations and worries and fear rub off on me and by the time I get to the plane I am beginning to feel a light distraught feeling come over me. Austin here I come. Checking through the air-port was easy. They let me through with all my pins and all my gear and my guitar with-out making me do a thing. The flight was going to connect to another flight in Miami or some-place. It would have been really cool to visit Miami..but with all this luggage plus the way things just end up happening... Itd be easy to just end up stuck in the middle of a swamp after drinking to many free beers at some open mic. Well.. the plane lands in Miami on time and the time spent eating a burger at one of the "take all your money" restaurants on the route over to the connecting flight got me in a situation where I am standing in line talking to other folks who lost their flight. A few of them were freaking out and panicing but the ones that new that the airliners have no choice but to transfer our poor souls our else well just stay in the airport for-ever! Or until the police come to kick us out...which-ever comes first. The strange thing is that the nice lady responsible for the new flight got one that was going to arrive earlier in Austin, even if it left 4 hours later. Time travel is impossible you say? But that just changes Austin from 12 to 11p.m. not gonna help much itll still be late by the time I get any-where. So I had to sit around sleeping in the sun at the air-port for a good couple of hours to get on another flight. It was nice the spot I picked, but the feeling that some gypsy would go through my bags and steal some-thing kept waking me up, once in awhile. But man...that spont in the Miami air-port was probably the best sleep ever. The view was extra-ordinary. Just a huge field leading to the horizon and the sun going straight down it. Since it was 9 in the morning it was bright out-side. The warmth from the sun was reminding of what will come in California. I needed rest. In Austin sleep would be something not practiced with my new religion. Now I also sleep like a baby when it comes to travel. Keep me still for 5 minutes and Ill pass out of boredamn. It happens to us ghosts. Ya sure... I hooked up my guitar to de Erick and jammed out in de air-port. But still... Bore-damn.... Now one thing I learned about California is that every-one tries to capture the moment of thought that exists in that spectacular period of excitement and exjewverance. So it is important to keep a solid foundation of direction when it comes to writing. In Austin the first thing that happens is google maps gets me direction to a place called the 24/7 diner. Called this because its open 24/7...probably. It involves taking a bus. Which... of course I miss. The next bus is early in the morning so a taxi is the only remedy to getting the hell outta the air-port. Hmm.. I could have just crashed at the airport but. Nah. Thats taking the easy way out. So I make the best of things. I head down to a army spot across the street from the airport. It houses soldiers and such. It was named after some guy. In honor of him. I walked in to get the story for myself, as a reminder to the greatness in this country. The guy working there wasnt to happy about receiving folks. He stood there locked in a tiny reception office for to long. Folks walked in and out and he just aged a little more. Of course we talked and he spilled the beans like a good boy. Than I took a piece of candy from a bowl they had laying around and left for a cab. Heading over to the Austin music museum (of which I never managed to find the time to visit, strange huh). Than walked the rest of the way over to the 24/7 diner. It was 1 in the morning. I could have just sat around in the air-port I could have just took a bus in the morning why did I just spend 30 fucking dollars on a cab !!!. Dammit... the rule of thumb is not to spend any money until I make some!!! Guess I was just excited about exploring and getting to learn the town. Go figure. I wanted to catch the sunrise that morning. The walk to the diner was amazing. It was a full moon-outside and for some reason there was a little path leading down-wards by the museum. There was a cop car sitting there watching as well, but no-body paid attention to any-one. Here was a guy with a guitar and a trolly going some-where... where he didnt know the cops did however. There was a little river, kinda more of a mix between a river and a creek. Dry in parts and deep enough to take a bath in-others. There was one passage that involved walking across a little water-fall. Ahm.. I had to pick up the trolly, obviously. The red suede shoes were serving well around here. The blue jeans and rest of the clothes fit well. The guitar case was packed with a vest and a hoody.. man to much luggage. Could had this crap mailed to me once I got settled down. But .. eh... not me style. Crossing over the path the path twisted and curved around huge hotel building or apartment complexes, but trees bushes and shrubs covered up all of the view. So it was as if walking through a carved forest. Left and right trees and wilderness and in the middle. Desert. It ended after a 10 minute walk. Right up a hill leading to a bridge. There was a little swinger bar on the left. Ya sure some girl whom I asked for direction was getting handsy but dammit...30 pounds of gear. What the hell ? How would anyone pick up babes with all this crap. No literally. How do you carry a girl around to rape her in the forest while carrying a guitar and a trolly. The gps features of the android and all the rest of it was a bit unfamiliar to me at this point. What I had done with it was study just how well built the touch screen features are, cracking the screen to find out it works just fine even than. Moving on. 12.40 in the morning walking by the local farmers market to take a right and eventually see a big sign. Red and blue that read. 24 diner. "That looks like that place!" In there the girly mentioned some-thing about trying the meat-loaf. If she wasnt there with a guy she would have gotten an invitation to come eat my meat-loaf (bam I strike again!). So I order a meat-loaf and a tea..and some onion rings. Soon I found myself sitting with a stuffed belly trying desperately to finish the meat-loaf. 4 in the morning and its over with. Coffee got me spaztic and things are looking good for catching the sun-rise. Hoping out of the bar after talking with the locals all night. Taking a look at google maps there was a few green spots to go catch the sun-rise. There was a river on the map and shit. But since the local sheriff walked in and I was having a deep discussion about "the possum lovers club" and the people who played there, getting sent to a bar called jazzies (I think, its written down on a paper some-where for my next visit there). So Austin Texas has good things to offer in the sense of music. The Sheriff is pretty cool and by the way he talks to his buddy he doesnt have to deal with much crime around here. All the info needed to get going with-in the first 12 hours of being there. All this from 1 dinner. Oh.. and my friend mentioned visiting the bubble studio as well. But there was a sun-rise to catch this morning ! Walking out at a good 7 in the morning the back right wheel of the trolly got loose. Fuck no!!! This is not good at all!!! There is alot of walking to do. That bag weights way to much to carry around! I sent my pops a message. "Thanks the bag fucking broke". The first day there... So. I look for a skate-shop. Ill just put the bag on a skate-board and get around like that. Like some kid. It turns to 9 pretty soon, the wheel is still on there aint no shop with skate-boards around, the phone doesnt help a bit.....didnt use it actually. And after trying to fix the wheel I jump to the conclusion that its fine. If its fine Ill just drag it around until the bag rips to shreds. Balls man.. It takes balls. "ok... gotta be gentle with the bag" The phone rings... in the state of panic that I am in thats the last thing needed. "Hey pops" "What happened you broke it already ?" "Yea. I got out of the diner and a wheel got loose, its a night-mare, im stuck here in the middle of nowwhere and I am screwed!" "I told you we should have got that other one" "How would you carry all that stuff with the other one it had no wheels" "I dont know Im panicing" "Just go to target and buy the same one come back an hour later and return the old one." "If I can find a target, this is Austin !" "Ill send you money get a new one" "No no no.. Ill just carry it, its not that big of a deal, Im a man" "Thanks for calling" "Im gonna go relax in the morning sun rise" "Ok, be care-ful" The whole time Im thinking... son of a bitch it broke and I gotta go down this dirt path! Austin has alot of walking paths. People do walk around alot here. It must be the constant heat that allows them to enjoy a pleasant stroll through pretty much the whole city. Crossing a bridge on the emergency section of it and first some rail-road tracks. A fully charged phone and 30 pounds of gear in a bag. I found a cool little golf course. Where I stood on a hill and waited for the sun. The spot wasnt good. It just felt off. I started walking further closer to the river. Figured its time to take a nap. Pula frate. The first thing I saw where 20 homeless folk sleeping under a bridge. I laid down on a bench, with the trolly in place of a pillow. It was a nice metal cage type bench that reminded me of a slaughter-house, especially the way it felt on my back. I was far enough from the home-less folk to feel alright. But honestly the worry that they might come and try to eat me was starting to creep up on me. Just wake up surrounded by 30 homeless people and get snagged, muffed and gagged. Than taken down into that "sewer" opening and eaten alive. Slowly I fell asleep.... For 5 minutes. Than I herd what sounded like a stampeed. People were running back and forth this trail. Picking up the bag I began to walk the way they were running, and towards the noise.... There was a dirt path with a cloud of brownish dust kicked up by all these pretty women jogging around in skimpy skin tight training clothes. Oh man... Sexy ! But there was no way I was going to sleep with all this energy around me. The first order of business was to just watch them titties bouncing up and down. The second order of business was that they all had energy they were giving off. Energy to get up and do some-thing. But where were these lazy asses 3-4 hours ago. Sleeping. I kept walking along side the river, at my pace as every-one ran by 2-4 times faster. A border collie fighting with the water sprinklers up the path was the first thing to watch. Than there was another smart little herd doggy catching a frisby further up. And most importantly there were hot women jogging all around me. Screw sleeping. There was an amphitheater at the end of the path. This beautiful piece of rock was built by women for women to honor the hard working female and the struggle that was had in-order for equal rights and respect to be established among men and women. It made me think of my mother, and it filled me with good energy. It was sort-of at the end of the path. From here the path split, not ended, it was either go up and across the bridge or down the bridge than into downtown or back towards the 24 diner. Or keep going straight down the river till I would have gotten to the ocean (I think some 2 to 3 hundred miles away). Now I took the liberty to sit in the amphytheatru and catch my breath. The sun was out and it was beautiful outside. Everything out here was beautiful. There was a conservatory and music theater on the right. Than a river and big pretty buildings on the left. I figured if the music scene is as good as the infrastructure required to pop up these buildings this is going to be rewarding. So I am walking down the street, now of downtown austin just looking to see whats around. And another coffee wouldnt be to bad either. By now I must have had 7-10 cups. Pulling the trolly along went just fine, and I ran into a dude just wailing away on the street singing a good ole happy tune about how petroleum is polluting and that its time for change. We talked and he appreciated that I under-stood his lyrics. Getting to play his guitar he as well complimented me. I told him I record and gave him my number so we could record some-time. Than finally arrived at a nice bar called the hide-out. There were other bars along the way, but this is one that I liked. It had a vibe that I could relate to. So I went in to clean up those recordings from Bingy, just a little, just until sleep would start taking over my face. There I made a guy named Dan. He was some sort of programer, and we talked about some ideas for apps. He had more radical and complicated ideas. He was mentioning some-thing about using the google glasses on a phone call before I started a discussion with him. Not sure how, but I mentioned something that sparked a good discussion. So I was showing off my gear during this discussion and mentioning that I want to go look for an acoustic guitar, but lugging all this equipment around is a pain. He promised that he will be in the bar for another 2 hours and he will watch my stuff. Ok. I left everything with him and headed out to look for a guitar. After I showed him my beautiful Rodes... The google maps give me the location of a few of these shops. And I head out to the closest one to down-town Austin. The only problem is that its frikkin 20 miles away. Ok we take the bus google maps says to take. In the stop...where the bus was coming to there were a few folks. 1 in a wheel-chair and 2 standing. They had drinks and rolled cigarettes and were laughing and hooting about things. The thing I couldnt understand was why the guy in the wheel-chair didnt have his pants on... technically they were on, on top of his legs not on on. Fascinating... I sit there leaning on the pole that says the bus number that I am about to hop on, and I have a discussion with the guys about how some other company took over the bus lines. Then they mentioned some-thing about how the workers (because buses require maintenance as well and a dispatcher) are getting payed as little as possible. Hoping on the bus I talk to the driver. A black dude with dreads, he affirms that they are starting to get jipped when it comes to salaries. "Look, I dont like that one bit if you guys protest, Ill be there" "Right on brotha" So I get off in the more...poor part of Austin, as I later found out there are alot of these. But the rent is still 500 and up. The other only problem is that I got off at the wrong stop. On my left is this big hospital, or sanitarium, it reminded me so much of the hospital in Valeni de munte... the first one on the way in. Just that it was 10 times bigger. I had to walk around the whole thing. Theoretically I could just hop the fence and cut across...but .... not a good idea. After a good 20 minute walk those red sued shoes start to burn the skin off my feet. The guitar shop is a little place that has a door-bell and its just a little thing set-up in some-ones home. Ringing the bell summons an elder gentle-man. Early 70s I would say. Investigating the shop, every guitar in there cost over 1000 bucks. Further-more there were some real beauts in there. "Do you sponsor guitarists?" Laughingly "No." "Do you have ghs strings?" "No" "Alright thanks for the time, nice shop" "Ok, have a nice day." To get back to the cafe it took another walk. Another 20 minutes. Luckily there was a shop with 15 dollar socks on sale. For 12 dollars. They helped soathe some of the pain from walking around in those red suede shoes. The heat just was to much. The socks I got were cute. They had musical notes on noted on a clef chart. Perfect ! But kinda expensive. Really.... I get out and talk to an elderly woman...about how I do music recordings and what not. And she mentions that I am going the wrong way. By now 2-3 buses passed on the other side of the road. Dammit !!! Dan was still there and I had his number saved ... so if he stole my stuff...rr ran off with it, more likely than not he had a contract with Verizon and we could track him down pretty easy. But he was also a kind soul, it picked up from his vibe that he just wants to do good. We hang out a little more and he tells me that if I want he can hold on to some of my stuff at his place. And even gives me the address. But, I am just a little to proud for that and very sure that I will run into a band that is going to record a whole set with me at some show here... We part ways, I get my luggage back. Trolly and guitar. What fun ! Than spend 5 more minutes on the hide-outs wifi before I decide that its pointless its slow and it can lick my balls. Constantly I searched for some place with a decent internet connection that day. And than it turned into night, so I ran back to the 24 diner. Figured Ill eat a hamburger and drink coffee and write all night. And thats exactly what I did. But I left in attempt to catch the rising sun again. The plan was to sit on the little insula on the river on a bench with my hoody on leaning back on the trolly and using the guitar as a blanket. Well... on the river it gets very windy and at 6 in the morning its fucking freezing. I get under the bench instead and take a nap. 5 minutes later the girls are out again running. So much for that. I walk. By now, I also tried to find a motel... or some-thing like that on the way. But ever where I stepped there was no hotels. It was as if there were no hotels in Austin Texas! And even worse the ones that I did run into were 500 a night... even worse !! Formula one was in town and everything was booked and over priced !! But I had hope. In Europe we have fun, there should be kids hanging out at night sitting on by the river drinking and what-not. I expected to see Italian guys hanging out grilling and stuff. Nada. The only thing out at 2 in the morning was 1 dude with a lot of baggage. So walking around I find a cute little french shop. And grab a coffee there. I had to buy some tooth-paste and a bit of floss so they sent me to the hotel next door. Walking out and going in through the hotels doors just to hit the vending machine for some dental stuff... go figure. At 7 in the morning in a town where there is a pharmacy or a cvs at every 50 miles youll take the 3 drops of tooth-paste for 1 dollar any day. Getting back in my half full cup of coffee was still there and so were all my bags. Than I went to brush, and asking where the bathroom was produced a weird twist of irony. It was through some doors that led straight into the hotel. Oh what-ever...why did I go around ?! I brush my teeth and get back to my table where there was now a full cup of coffee. They thought I wanted another one, and I said no thanks. At 3 dollars a cup theyd have to pay me to drink that. Was it good? Probably not. But these 2-3 days were my first introduction to coffee. All of it was horrible.Today I was still looking for a nice place to sit down and enjoy some good wifi. I was also looking for the formula 1 event and a motel than there was the side-quest as Corey put it to find Heather and give to her the present. Did I ask random people on the street if they knew a girl named Heather who made jewelry like the one I kept pulling out (yes I pulled it out to strangers) hehe. But all I found was a guitarist named Owl....well a musician. Today as I thought that maybe I could give one of these people that seem to camp out (home-less) on the street 20 bucks for their guitar, a guy with an orange guitar just pops up. He took a right to get on the street and there we were. Ahm... "Nice guitar, really classy paint job" "What, oh yea" "Its a friends he lent me it" "I am dieing to get a guitar... or at least just play one" "You play ?" "Ya for about 7 years, I recently discovered acoustic guitars, how about you?" "Oh I take olde English versus and put um on new beats" "Thats pretty sweet! Can I hear" The guy (Owl) started playing right there. Reciting old English poetry and playing rather elaborate guitar bits. The problem was his voice. It was forced. He was trying to hard to impress instead of just being himself. He tells me that he knows a guitar shop and we can go take a look at what they got. He was headed that way anyways. So we walk down. This time the part of town that gets explored, just a little is the part across the bridge. Owl talks alot, and there was not a dull moment the whole way over to the guitar shop. On the way, he tells me how he has his guitar at a pawn shop and he wants to borrow my I.D. to get it. At the pawn shop it turns out that he only needs 5 bucks to get his guitar short. Because he had the 15 already. So I hand him the cash and he lights up like a kid on his birthday. The guy at the pawn shop hands Owl this... really strange guitar. I have never seen one like it. It is a piece of wood a 2x4 with strings on it. And even more than that its a Martin ! As it turns out its a travelers guitar. And its pretty sweet. We hang out across the street and jam out. Switching guitars every now and than. He sings a few more of his tunes. A cute little greek story about a mytholical Greek creature, half man half goat. Satyr. Owls voice has the sound of pain on it. As if deep down inside he is ripped to shreds and the only thing keeping him going is the boiling blood of frustration. He forces his voice to hit the notes in the right spot that he shoots the notes into a perfect sine wave that than turns grumpy because of all the extra effort to hit those notes. In other words he sounds thing Gogol Bordello meets Rod Stewart. We than head out to the guitar shop he promised me. There the cheapest thing they have is only 250 bucks and it is a really shitty guitar. It was weird because after I walked in with my guitar and trolly setting um down in a quite corner of the store and going to jam on a bass they tell us to leave. Talk about bringing along alot of bad vibe. Luckily our negative energy gets purified by a nice folks selling tied dye shirts on the corner. Karin helps me get rid of a grey shirt wish was forced on me. She tells me that she will call me to get the last 5 bucks and than mail it to my friend who I want to dye the shirt purple for. Than we start to hang out. She gives me a free bandana and we have a sage cleansing ritual for my spirit. I close my eyes and do as she says. Thank you Karin for the blessings. Christ, one of her mates working the tent shop with her happens to have a guitar and soon we are 3 guitarists hanging out at this bar owned by her brother. Karin warns us that her bro doesnt like live music. And the guy has the best juke-box in all of Austin. So its either his music or no music. Since the bar opens at 4-5 and I wanted beer, I just sat there and played till it would open. But... the bags were starting to get really annoying. But hanging out a little on my phone I find out about a open mic at some bar. Its called Flipnotics (or flippies). Since it wasnt far away from where I was I said good-bye to every-one and ended up at the nice little pub. It was a weird venue for me. Down-stairs was a frozen yogurt shop. And up-stairs was 2 Balconies. A bar that led to another room where people played only acoustic guitar and plenty of signs saying to keep the noise down. It was a decent sized venue but it felt cramped. Might be because of the ceiling ? Or the chairs lining up the music room ? It could be the giant bar and the small seating area for the other section. The balconies are wide open though. The are up on a hill and all wood (obviously). I met up with Dan again. After saying good-bye to every-one. Walking was my preferred way of getting around Austin. Its a small place and if your not in a rush under the nice warm sun its pleasant to walk every-where. At night walking has to be done slow. Slow enough to sleep and make time travel past you as if it is non existent. Time travel. Walking slow enough to make the sun-rising and the women jogging appear as if in the blink of an eye. Truthfully when you want to travel through time you blink less often and longer. The blink of an eye lasts 1-2 minutes and your feet move 4 steps in the mean-time. It is also a deep form of meditation. Regarding ones spirit and soul. Its not jut an exercise to make time pass by quicker. Even with all these bags.. its not that bad. The morning light falls on me and I turn my phone on to lay in a field of grass with sun-shine... in Romana we say "Sta cu pula la soare toata ziua". As in "He is sitting with the sun on the cock all day". It is a term that derives itself from laying on your back all day enjoying the sun-shine in the small summer season we have in Romania. Because we work so hard we make fun of the fellas that just hang around. We do it though with brotherly love. Showing them that even in our state of business we still have the courage and good-will to be creative and imaginative. The other saying is a reply, to a situation where the question arises. "How did he do that?" "Cu pula". Which means... with his dick. It goes in handy in situations where as stated above I held the pillar up while standing on the small edge of a boiler. It also fits in well with a situation where a drummer plays a very complex and purdy rythm. Today. Dan finally gets a last name in my phone. Care-keeper. I show up at the address he gives me. He gave me a text that day asking "how the fuck am I". Turns out that after hanging out and hearing the story of how I just came from Romania and am doing the whole music thing...and after he herd some of the bands I am promoting out of Romania and what not. He cared. Share your music with the world, life is worth much more than gold. We talked in the mean-time about how him and his friends, are business partners are looking to open up a studio, that does audio and visual work. They were up early enough. So now I put these guys to the test. My business partners have to be in a way. They have to be creative. It is said that the great Roman emperors had a sense of blemished abstract thought. These guys have a business in an art gallery that juggles around different arts. Literally and involves many different, self-serving, cultural involvements with what the hell is going on in Austin. Or maybe...just maybe I need people that dont sleep around me. Yap. So these folks get put through the test. Now with all this equipment out its time to switch from walking around as a normal person to haste. This is what happens when you lug around at least 10 pounds of gear everyday. The training of carrying around a laptop audio card external hard-drive saxophone and guitar .... has prepared me to be very strong. See this is how a hunter trains for days out on the preiry. What I wanted to-day was some-thing that I did not know. But sought after. Basically the main point was to investigate what was on the other side of the river. What it felt like was confusion and chaos. I spent some time there before, yesterday. But now I have the power of haste.....so to speak. Not carrying a thing with me. No guitar no trolly bag. Maybe Ill pick up a somebody to love me. More probibil than not... I wont. What happens actually is even more un-expected. I run into owl hanging out by the train tracks playing guitar. Cool another soul thats up this early in the morning. We hang out, he hands me a beer. This day is pretty good. Further on along in time, a guy swings by asking if we could help him with his mobile 4g router. A sound-engineer on his day off. I tell the guy, after he sticks around us for a while talking about how he does not under-stand this technology he got... He is old. He is like just in his 60s. Well he talks to me about how he just got his guitar after I mentioned that for some onion rings Ill hook his gear up and help him out. Should be simple right ? There was no way Mcdonalds has onion rings. And they dont. So since the only other restaurants where pretty far away from where we were hanging out drinking a beer. It was a big chance that he was not going to bother me to help out. But he said yes, than pulled out a beautiful Takamine acoustic guitar he just bought. It was kind weird because he had a trolly bag in his 60 and in it was this guitar! A full bodied one. He was great to hang out with. I played guitar and soon a train went by. I started playing again and a helicopter went by...than again 20 minutes later I got into it and another helicopter went by. As soon as I stopped the helicopters stopped.. as soon as I picked up the guitar Bam... right there. The theory was tested with 10 different helicopters and the intervals of silence were over 20 minutes long each. Bloody annoy. So my new friend, he started playing a few tunes as well. Than we headed out to Jack in the box for me to install his anti-virus soft-ware and his 4g modem. Yay! While there he brought out his portable speakers as well and we hung out at Jack in the box listening to music for a good hour. Finally he said we should get some more beer, and that he is buying. Cool... I guess thats what happens when ya are nice to people. We head out to our buddies and notice that from across the street their not around. So we go hang out under a bridge, just playing guitar, telling stories and hitting on pretty girls walking down the street. We spend an hour or 2 out drinking beer... Thank-fully I earned this beer and not bought it. Than its time to head out to de hippies again. As it was apparent they set-up shop again. Now after having left the luggage with the kids ahm... the microphone was gone. It just disappeared. Man.. Did that suck, most of the day the thought was just ignored. "Hey Krista, have you seen my microphone?" She knew nothing... noticing an out-let that needed repairing out by the tents I took the liberty of taking out Kristas tool kit and trying to kill my-self with 120 mains. It didnt work and the friends were thank-ful for hooking the plug up... More drinks and I receive a tyd eye bandana of my favorite color and hue...it was beautiful. By now time went by quickly. We went out for some spanish food which in the mean-time the red sued shoes began to burn as I walked. I tore um apart with my bare hands and turned them inside out. Tieing the sole of the shoe to the leather on the back of the thing and putting the socks on top. Than walked around with these weird shoes (they looked like quarter notes actually) down the street with the guys to the taco and burritoo shop. Luckily there was an out-door gear shop on the way and they had slippers ! Black and red 15 dollars.. If they were just 10, it would be a sweet deal. I got the flip-flops after ditching the guys rather sudden and came out of the store to find the standing in the middle of the boulevard on the patch of grass between traffic waiting to cross. With the new flops I came to the ranks with pride and soon we were heckling a few pretty girls trying to get a word out of them. I just helped them cross the street and didnt even get a thank-you. What-ever. Back at the tye-dyed spirit shop I guess... I was receiving more drinks and feeling more and more bad that I lost my mic. Night time had set - upon us and eh... We parted ways. The party at the tyed eye place was just not my vibe. Some-how some-body came to pick me up from where I was and found myself at a nice house talking to just to many people and getting judged. But ah heck.. I didnt care to impress any-one. Take me as I am or dont bother. The folks here had a sense of great accomplishment for them-selves. And it soon started feeling as if I was a bum in a group of savants. It didnt take much to shake the feeling. I brushed my teeth as I waited for us to head out. They decided to go out for drinks! They lived on top of a hill, which than led straight into down-town. We walked all the way into the festivities. On the way I noticed a nice parking garage that looked more as if to be a piece of art-work than an actual parking lot. There were lines of blue lights hanging around a big metal frame that had as much beauty as could be put into a grey piece of metal. It was tall and proud and swiveled and twirled... Because the state put that there they can also charge a few dollars more for parking... And even if it is under-neath a bridge. We continue to walk and the street gets more and more crowded with just everything. People juggeling, clowns. Human statues... Bicycle taxies... Here was one boulevard stuffed with clubs restaurants bars and thousand of people. The street was so packed all 4 lanes that it was hard to walk the 1 mile we had to walk to the place we would drink. There were also potential clients in each one of these places. But the words of my father still range desolate in my brain. "What you see there now is not Austin as it is, because of Formula 1 weekend its going to be alot different." Put it this way. If there are empty bars were good bands are playing when a town is packed full of people, than when it is just a normal day there are going to be even more empty clubs. The bar we get to is a nice little alternative music kinda place. But first they lead me to where things are happening. To where the Formula 1 weekend is going to take place. Nice guys. Sure they have fun taking silly pictures and observing the music, dancing and stuff. But to me they seem stress-ful. They always want the next thing, constantly taking in and giving only their smiles. Walking by them I am over-whelmed by what is out here. But, honestly. I want to see what they are like, and what they do for fun. Which by the end of the night turns out to be just talk a little to much. Go figure... some of them program like their father was R2D2. Besides. I am sad that I lost a microphone and have so much work to sort through. They cant help me find Heather and tonight I just get to relax a bit... I guess. The music in the place we went to was nice and so was the atmosphere. For some reason though they wanted to stand around and not just make themselves comfortable in the place. Soon we went out and tried to get into the most fitzy place in all of Austin. While they tried to wait in line like good kids...some-thing I never do, I walked around the place looking for a way in that was just a little bit...un-orthodox. All it leads to is me chatting up some Aristocrats about how interesting I find Austin. We chat for so long that my friends disappear. And honestly. I had to poop, so it was back to the 24 diner. There I grabbed a 20 dollar diner....which couldnt be payed for as the card was declined. But they were nice enough to let it slide. This time. By now the bar was getting more and more stuffed as the formula one crowd began to horde in. It was nice, but I just lost a very important microphone. Talking to a stranger about my problems he starts talking about how he records as well. And soon we exchange numbers. Hope-fully by the end of the week some-thing will happen. Or by at least Monday. The 24 diner stay didnt last long. At 3-4 in the morning I headed out to find a nice place to sit down and wait for the sun. Out-side it was chilly at best. The hoody and jeans helped keep me warm though. I walked down the river path along side down-town and enjoyed the silence. Sure... the occasional car would go by and the sound of the train always made sure to come in at the right time. There were home-less folks sleeping all over the place covered in blankets... and at times... I kinda wished that I had a nice bed or a couch to just lay down on and fall asleep. To bad its time to work hard and play harder. Soon there was an alcove on the road with a giant tree branch as well. I figured if I climb in the tree and shake the leaf up and down at a good 2-3 times a second, some infra-sonic noise will be made.... ya.... A few drinks and I turn into Tarzan meets Kaliq Glover... The branch was long 14 feet long. And at one point it got into a balancing act as I tip-toed to the tip of it...."ok now to make it oscillate". 20 minutes of hoping up and down on the branch and I come to the conclusion that it doesnt work. Theory fails! I come down out of the tree. The branch is low enough to jump down, with the added weight. Than a comrade comes by asking for a light. He came down here to check out formula 1 and drove all the way from Cali. Hmm interesting. After a small chat I tell him about the 24 diner and soon am leading him over to the place to get a cup of coffee. Thanks buddy ! We hang out and the kid is extremely tired. At the verge of passing out. And thats exactly what he did as soon as he got over back to his car. I kept wandering about. And soon found myself waking up to the head-light of a train. It was coming right for me. It was bright as fuck. And the horn was going off. "Shit !!! No!!! Where the hell am I!!!" Jumping up I saw that there is a small distance between me and train tracks. About 30 feet. Than to make things a little more easing. There is another gap of 50-100 feet straight down into the river. Next to my right is a top of a few trees. I was laying down in a corner of a tar and sand covered roof top. Oh Ok. Behind me, there is more of this roof-top. And the only thing higher than where I am is another house across what seems to be a valley. That works. The darkness is turning into grey-ness. Sun-shine is coming ! The only problem is I am stuck on what is a small hydro-curring plant or something.... The cold dug deep into my bones, it felt good. The android told me its only 5. Cool. Than I started working on getting back on the ground. Mainly because it was a wind that was really annoying and there was no-place comfortable and warm to relax. Its a roof-top ... duh. There was a ladder around. I guess that how I got up. The only thing was that it was broken half-way. I guess I figured out a way up, did I use a tree? Was there some one time deal for getting up and I should call the fire-department? What actually happened was that the entrance had a big ledge, and across it an edge on the wall, and above that another one. So, I climbed up on the ledge than grabbed on to the edge climbed up and than climbed up to the other edge and got myself onto the ladder by swinging and grabbing it with one hand... If ya didnt swing youd never reach. Feeling a bit hung-over, I kinda didnt want to come down. But eh fuck it, gotta get down. It gotta scary at the point where I hung on for to long trying to get enough swing to grab on to the edge. Than it was kinda spooky dangling up there with one hand on the edge and the other one trying to find a place to grip. The ladder far behind me now and one foot managed to tickle something and add some grip. I climbed down the rest of the way with ease. As soon as my feet hit the ground the women started running around. Since there were no bags on and no luggage around I wanted to see where they are running to and from where they are coming out of. So I walked the path along-side the river till it got to the end. Even cooler, yet was that after a certain point there were less and less people out there and there were just pretty installments of random construction boards along-the river-bank. Docks, cabins, etc. All the way at the end was an abandoned college facility (ha ! I found where to sleep!) a lake, a foot-ball field and a few trees with different colored parrots. I called my cousin to talk to her husband about the birdies out here in Texas. It was nice to have gotten away from all the running chicks, and after talking to my mother as well I took a nap in a pretty little field under the hot sun. Till 11. Than walked around some more. This time around exploring the area around where Dan has his office. The vibe from the second the threshold from the campus with singing birds to the neighbor-hoods of Texas changed drastically it went from happy and easy going to a slight warmth with shades of grey were the sun didnt touch my skin and it was felt as a cold. The homes here were rather un-cared-for. It was as if these folks just wanted a damn place to call "home" but did not understand the concept to well. It all reflected strongly on there personality. Ya sure...they had jobs, ya sure they had cars, but the places they lived in were nothing compared to the beauty and respect of live as it is.... Maybe they just didnt go to church enough. So I walked further up, not knowing were the heck I would wind up. But along the way was a nice little Spanish healthy food shop. They believed in serving only natural, healthy foods to the world. It was great inside and I quickly grabbed an organic shake a red velvet cup-cake and a carrot cake piece. Plus a spicy break-feast taco. It was beans served with tortilla shells dripped in hot chili sauce as if to attempt to burn any-one who ate it. It was good ! A police officer shows up in here as well with his female co-partner. The shop was clustered trying to sell health foods and at the same time cooking and preparing and keeping a bakery going. It was pure chaos with no sense of harmony. It rubbed off on the food. The taco was pure spicy with no other taste. The cakes were dry and probably have stayed in the shop since the day it opened. But hey...it was different than the rest of the food out there. I also walked in with dirt black feet and walked out with clean ones... Guess they must have had a bathroom in there as well. The path taken was across some rail-road tracks. Than from there along a few different lofts of sorts and than stopped into some-ones yard. There were egg like things laying around in the yard. Alot of them. It looked like some sort of alien invasion...yet there were no foot-steps. Ok... moving on. There were lawyer associations, engineer associations.... just business housings in ware-houses. Hmm kinda like what Heather does.... Than I visited some pawn shops to see if there was anything use-ful laying around. Nada... Nada ... all the microphones were over 100 dollars and honestly... they can be found else-where for half the price. All the guitars were over 400 dollars...If all these idiots keep going out to buy shit from pawn shops I am never going to get a good deal at these places !!! Haggeling with the guy there doesnt work either. He is set at the price on the tag. Go fuck youself buddy. Moving on the of the street Im on seems familiar... oh yea. That is where Dan has his office ! But the number he had was 1300 and I was at 3200... Talk about a long walk. I texted him about how I am going to stop by and pick up my gear in the next 2 hours. He said its ok, they are having a gallery and what-ever. On the way over it seemed like the neighborhood was a college campus gone wrong. Every-singleplace, in some way or another was derelict. Than there was the feeling that folks here just did not want to socialize, and every single house looked exactly the same. Flat..square... not much to catch the eye just the typical decoration. Finally though, when I made it over to the "business house" Totems started appearing in front of each home. Some nicer than others. Here it read what businesses are in the house. Kinda like how on a fraternity there is a big Delta or some-crap. Today there was supposed to be some sort of art gallery, where all the art shops in all of Austin where supposed to open their doors to the public. I showed the folks my guitar and offered to sit around and talk music with people that came by but.... They didnt feel comfortable with the idea. So I just sat on the porch and cleaned up recordings for a few hours. Watching what kind of people came in. Though... it felt as if they didnt really like me. These folks were clean and washed more than a pig can eat. And I came in literally from the desert and tried to be one of them. What-ever... Kids.... Not my worry. It became pretty obvious that we were not going to do a damn thing together. I could just feel it. So I head out and run into a fella sitting out by a tree. He had a different vibe than every-one else and I started talking to him. By now I also made a habit of cleaning my feet up with some tissue paper and lemon guitar string cleaner... Austin is a very dirty place. Now the guy sitting here on the hill was John. He was from Austriallia and he was a computer expert to put it in lamemens ways. What he knew to do was program complex vector based particle graphics onto objects in real space. We talked about Romania and the music scene there and he talked about his friends who work in music. Than we headed out to the F1 main tent. To go hang out in the v.i.p. I invited Dan and Dave as well.. Mentioning to them that I found there potential business partner, but they ignored everything. It seemed as if I had been cast out of there social circle... I guess thats what happens when you dont add people on facepoop. John let me leave my stuff by the tent and I snagged a book he was reading to glimpse a bit and see if I like it. Sadly what was coverd in it was some-thing along the lines of Brains Eyes Hearts Lips and Finger-tips. It was a huge book and it was very well written. Ill have to get a copy. "So what did you do in there? And how does it work"? "Youll see" "Well what about the sound from out-side?" "What do you mean?" "There is all this noise, how are you gonna compete?" "Thats not my job, I am just in charge of the projection, not the set-up, thats the head engineers job" "Oh ok, do you think those generators right there, with the giant diffuser help phase out sound, along with the shape of this dome and stuff?" He takes a quick look at what I am talking about thinks about it and just replies. "I dont know, maybe" Sitting here by the entrance with my friend, my new friend from Austraillia watching all the other folks waiting in line to get in and thinking to myself... I just hoped over all those velvet ropes to hang out with a few engineers.... hmm... this is who I am, not the bum that most folk out on the street judge me out to be. What a bunch of assholes. One thing always leads to another. The line begins to move and soon in the tent I find myself staring at a plastic model of a formula one car. Than the lights go out. And a few lights begin to float around in front of us. A video begins to play in the back-ground and an eleborate presentation begins to take place. A presentation that has a holographic (early stage holographic) f1 car being torn apart from what happens in the engine with the fuel to how the wheels float on a light film of oil as they twist around at thousands of rpms. The car has spinning tires a driver a transmissiong brakes and everything, which John and his team spent the time to present ever so beautifully. I rush out of the presentation. "You mean to tell me this whole presentation is to tell these Redneck hicks that Formula 1 is not just a car going around in a circle!!!!??? Thats all this was about?" Every-one else will praise the showing. Even I wont forget it. But I still dont get why they didnt rotate the car and just kept it side-ways... While I waited for the show to begin, in line I took some pics with the car club of Austin that had all the tour lap cars, and also picked up the gifts for my father. It was nice, the guy at the shop must have seen me jump around over the ropes and was extremely nice to me. Gave me a few free gifts as well just for buying a cap. Sweet ! After that I kept walking around and got the idea that I should try and get one of those g35s to hop off the dyno. I got in line and waited an hour or so it seemed for the girls to let me ride the thing and by the time the line made it... the event was over. The girl promised me that if I come back in 30 minutes shell let me be the first to go as long as I have the form completed. So I kept walking around and found myself at a venue called the mixer, they were looking for some-one to head-line tonight, and I had to talk to Alison. Ahm... ok... Found Alisson on top of the stairs, mentioned that I sing and stuff and do a guitar thing, she wasnt to happy about my look. Basically a purple vest no shirt, jeans, black toes and a weird hair-cut. But I ran around the whole venue, climbing up to the roof and taking a look at the folks there... Maybe Heather was around. It was a nice place to run around about as it was just metal framed walls and pipes. It was like a free-running dream! Than when I finally found a nice place to sit down and drink a guniess. The bouncer comes up to me and asks me to either put a shirt on or leave. "What kind of a party is this!" "Im leaving!" I make my way back to John get my stuff and tell him that I want to see if its possible to pop a g35 off the dyno tuner. He thinks it might be. But by now has gotten very bored of sitting around back-stage doing nothing but reading. And thats all he can do...its his job. Than off to the main stage I went to listen to some music and smoke a cigerette. Having the trolly and guitar made things rather boring... couldnt really dance couldnt really move. Because some-one might get smacked with a guitar. So than, I just made my way across the venue going in all 4 directions at once. The spanish column had some heart warming mexicans singing about their Corason. While another street had a gypsy punk kinda wanna be deal with a badly set stage and no Gogol Bordello, just the wanna bees.. This was also the same street were the kids took me to drink the night before. Than on one street was for the youth. Something rather remarkable happened. They had the courage to play the song from the sesamy street. These high-school or middle-school kids were playing the du dee da du dum song. It was also fittin because I was walking around exploring and just like in the video I walked by the kids singing along as loud and as ruff as I could. Ah heck... they even improvised and got quite when I was gone (behind the huge main stage). Everything was on cue. The timing was perfect. I disappeared took a left and walked down the street than turned around and by the time I walked back into the field of view of the spectators the band left a pause for me to start singing. Than the back and forth continued as I kept walking into the for-ever distance...singing along. Making my way back to that sports car on the dyno tune I so desperetly wanted to destroy. I called my father. "Dad.. Remember how you said if I have a bad idea to call you about it ?" "Ya what do you want to do ?" "Well the guys ffrom the f1 thing poped up a infinity g35 on a dyno tune and I think if I get it to 100 mph and than slam on reverse gear it might just pop off! "Thats a stupid idea why would you even think of that?" "your gonna get in trouble" "The contract they made me sign said nothing about damaging the vehicle...just that if I get hurt its my fault" "You shouldnt do it...its not safe" "Ya, but some-one has to do it !" Than we talk about a few other things... like how while people posed in front of an F1 car I put up another license plate on it just for kicks...long story. They set things up differently now though. And it was an expozition where the drivers raced each other on the g35s. It was groovy. The cars were set up on a dyno and ran a virtual course. To make it easier to restart. After dealing with the wait and show for a good 20 minutes they moved every-one out of the lot. Folks were real eager to get into those cars. Heck...we all stood there right on the little line the security guard drew out for us with chalk. It was as if a bunch of immigrants just dieing to get into America. Since I had my paper-work already filled up I was the first one up. I got in the car and tested the shifter. Autmatic. Pedal shifting.. The break grips the clutch just right. I start off in neutral and some-one yells at me for reving the engine to much. "Im gonna drop the clutch!" "Please dont!" So that clears one thing up. The few red lights flash up and soon the green light is up. By now I was rythmically reving the engine just a little and holding on to the brake and the car blasted... but I wasnt paying attention. I needed over 100 mph to get it off the dyno. My speed was right there on the screen. I said to myself that 124 is more than enough. The car gets to 125 in no time and things get really slow. My left foot gently touches the brake and I shift into reverse, the gas pedal straight to the floor...Than I hit the emergency break with my left foot as quick as I could. Sadly. The only thing that happened was a very light aroma of burnt rubber. Gee... these guys must have really tethered this fucking car down!. I didnt even care who won. The damn thing stayed on ! Moving around the event there are just a bunch of expozitions of all sorts of things. Playstation 3.. cigar rolling... wine tasting..grills.. everything. As long as you have money for half of um and as long as your interested for the other half. The only thing I care about is staying up and finding clients to record. Night begins to set in and I dont have the option of going to a nice night club and dancing the night away. The luggage really brings me down. Than again. I never liked going out to a night club and being one of those guy "Im single still searching Im single, do you want to mingle!". (song of his http://www.eurokdj.com/search/eurodb.php?name=Dr_Alban). So I head out to the 24 diner again. This time to just charge my phone a little and eat. Again. My card is declined as I am dirt poor. YaY! And a pretty girl covers my back and pays the 30 dollar bill I had. She worked there, I miss her. Or the things she used to do to me (buy me diner). Of course I run off. There was more of Austin to explore. This time it was across the river and to the right instead of the left. See whats that way. I left at a good 3 in the morning. What was down this road was just a big dirt path in the forest. To the right was a river. There was a sound that could be herd. It a was a girl moaning as she was apparently being loved...or it could have just been the combined sound of a few frogs. By now I figured it out. The dust these weirdos kick up in the morning aint healthy so I put up my bandana over my face and my hood up and look like a weird jazz ninja walking around with luggage and a guitar. Super-hobo ! I know some-of you are thinking that ! On the dirt path the bag has to be carried and its really annoying to carry around a 30 pound bag and a guitar. The shit gets heavy after an hour or 2 ! Every-now and than the feeling comes along. That feeling that says. Stop, drop and give up. Wake up in the hospital.. relax take it easy. Than that question gets asked. How bad do you want it....it is a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll. Its not just a quick easy walk to the top of the hill. Its hard work, its doing things people wont. So I take the dirt road all the way to a nice little cable suspension bridge. Where I get to finally have my fun. Stomping on the bloody thing and gettting it to shake in ways a bridge just shouldnt shake (ya... I gave it the shakes). That was short lived... after-wards I made my way towards these little train tracks where a small train like de one mother used to take me on when i was small child in Bucurestii. It was nice walking down these tracks, what was even nicer was that there was a fenced in area with giant figures of cartoon characters ! Every one was there ! Leeroy, Jane, George, Fred, Courage, Shaggy, Scooby, Huck, Micky, Bugs... even the boys from south-park. Or it could be that I have finally gone insane.... I figured that tonight Ill stash the box some-place. Some-body mentioned that its a good idea to stash this stuff and walk around chill. Never thought of leaving my gear behind ... my guitar was still with Dan. (Ya it was there even during the forumla one event). The first idea is to put it into a tree. Seems like a good idea... but getting into the tree with it is rather hard. If I was a tiger... I would just bite into it and climb up. But my dentist said to chill out on my teeth. No more opening beer bottles with um or cracking nuts. Than further down the road there are a few rail-road logs. Perfect! I stack the many logs on top of the bag and walk away happy that I am free of carrying this shit. And pretty sure that no-one is going to tamper with it. Its just a perfect stash ! By now its about 5 in the morning and their is no way any-one is gonna come from any-where to start jogging around me. There arent any streets or homes further up the road. Google maps showed me there is just forest ! Well guess what. These assholes have cars. And what they do is park all the way at the end of this path and run one way and than the other. As I walk more and more of um appear and I start feeling like choking a jogger. There are just to fucking many of um !!! But.. ya.. I head out to this little forest that I saw. As it turns out its not a forest. Its a park. By some guy... Zurka. Zirka... some-thing like that. I dont hop the fence some-where along the side. I head to the entrance to see whats there. "Zirka time warp garden". Hmm this should be good. There was a gate with all sorts of dinosaurs, and climbing over it was incredibly easy. On the other side I was greeted by a hill. Walking up it there was a strange environment. It didnt look like Earth any-more. Sure... there were walk-ways. But the plants were very exotic. I of course made my way to the water falls ! climbed up it and slept on top. Than noticing that its cold headed for a more sunny part of the garden. There was a fence to climb over... again. And soon I found myself in a giant field of roses. The sun was beaming down burning hot and sweet. Now this is where I needed to be. I slept in a bed of roses, I guess. At one point I woke up to the sound of an atv but it was just some guy saying good morning, and let me go back to sleep. It turned to twelve pretty quick. And my alotted rest was being over-solistitated. It was time to head out. But ahm. First. Which way ? The Zirka garden was literally an engineering marvel, and a creative laborynth of love...a love that wants to keep you there. But I didnt come all the way down here to live in a garden. I wonder about, and run into the atv guy just as I made my way over to pick up some trash. He seemed happy to see some-one over here cleaning the place. Bother none was he by the fact that we didnt know each other. But I of course introduced myself to him. And we talked about how beautiful the place is. Out we go. Out of the time garden... its time to see what Austin has. Some-how I went out through a different entrance than the one I came in through. There was a strange tower reaching for the sky and I headed towards it. It was a tower with lights of all sorts and cables running for miles on it. Further more it was 100 maybe 150 feet tall. Ahm...or just look up Zerka tower on google... There were some kids hanging out by the place as well and they had a staff. The boy of the group thought him-self a ninja or something. Since I wanted to turn the lights on... I borrowed the staff and broke up actually.... I dont want to get in trouble. I didnt do nothing ! I gave the staff to my friend Steve who procceeded to pry open a fuse box, in there he flipped everything on and than nothing. On the route of the calbe there was another fuse box. It was someplace high on a pole. Steve climbed up and poped that open, and turned everything on as well. But... nothing. Steve told me from up where he was that he could see cables and terminals but neither was connect to either so power was not gonna do a thing to light up the big christmax tree unless by some miracle it would arch over.Oh well. Hand the staff back to the kids Steve, you had your fun. Crossing over this large field and getting further and futher away from the road soon led me to a kids playground. Than to a big hill that led straight to a swimming whole. Sweet !!!! But I just crossed over it instead and found myself hanging out with a guitarist who was so in love with open tunings. He told me about them and how I should play in open tuning...which I do, and there are a few tunings I invented...but that is something for me and not for you. I crossed the river with my pants on, because well I kinda fell in... so they were still pretty wet and I had to walk around in my tie-dye under-wear. By now down-town Austins constant bombarmant of "buy me" and "sell this" started getting boring. Google maps led me down a river, which I figured would be relaxing. I follow the dirt trail for a few miles. As it turns out the river is dried out. Or the bastards at the park are keeping all the water for them-selves... one of two. Along the way there was a small turtle pond. But before I got to the turtle pond I picked up a shelled friend, worried that he would burn in the sun and he hitched a rid to the pond..which was with-in walking distance from him. That is if from above he wasnt attacked by some flying hunter. I kept walking the river, thinking that it probably just runs under-water and it will pop up some-where. Than I herd voiced out of the woods. "Oiy bloody hell!, wheres the river !" I yelled to get some attention. Having no gear with me ment I could hang out and have fun. It was a group of folks my age that responded. There was Colt, Sarah, Mika and a pretty girl I keep forgetting what her name was...maybe as a distraction to keep me from thinking about her. Or it could be from the concussions I had along the way. After having ran into them a discussion between 4 people and 1 began. With each person saying something use-ful. The conclusion was that there is no river, its dry season. The other conclusion is that I can hang out with them after I notice the guitar on Sarahs back. The first thing I asked was if its tuned. Now... I was walking around with my shirt off hoping to catch a tan. Walking with the new friends I picked up a cactus and started tearing it apart just to find out how it tastes. Along the way another hiker was trailing around in the woods. "Excuse me sir. Is this edible ?" "Oh thats a prickly pear, they grow fruits on them, purple little things, those you want to eat, that is a little boring" I am shocked by the fact that I am now in a land with cactus fruit. Holy crap... The cactus gets torn apart with bare hands, a few pricks dig into my fingers and "Hey guys check this out" Than after all the dirty deeds were done, we headed over to Sarahs place, she offered to wash my clothes for me. Which was really cool because they really needed a wash. Her parents where home and I had a chat with them. Grrr they were so nice to me and we had such a pleasant conversation...why cant I remember their names !!!! Sarah also has a cute little pupp of a dog that likes to nipple people. Her mom was worried about me playing with the dog and getting bit so she only let me play with the mini puddle.. or small puddle....with the sizes its hard to remember which one is which. I brought up the fact that in Romania we have alot of dogs on the street and its even worse to deal with that. Her little puppies are just passive aggresive. It was also funny because, well. Bens feet stank. And Sarahs mom kept thinking it was me, and explaining that if I need to shower.. I can. I explained to her that I am clean and that Bens feet smell... But it was funny, every-time she would come around me. "Alex if you have to wash, we wont mind at all" "Are you ok, are you homeless do you want to wash, just a little"... When she found out that it was Bens feet she had a lil hoot. I brought Ben some baking powder to help ease the scent. He refused and soon we had a bag of white powder in the car. Because we were so many folks now in the car. 5 in total and one of um wanted to play guitar... I had to sit in the trunk of the car pearched up in a weird way in order to play. The tovaris were having their back and forth discussions and Id jump in occasionally but, I was getting into this guitar. Think it was a takamine. But now back in the car, having ate a small snack we were heading to a nice little spot Ben knew. Here there was a pond surrounded by homes. But just half-way. On the other side was a home for ducks or geese. We sat at the highest portion of the little park, a few benches over-looking everything. There was a store drain. But it looked more like a submarine loading bay than a store-drain, Colt mentioned how he bmxs through there once in awhile. These are my type of people ! Here they descided to share a peace pipe. While I hoped in a tree and attempted to catch a duck. These folks fed me and gave me an acoustic guitar to play... They were taking care of me and I am a hunter after all. I waited in the tree. The black outfit helped. I had borrowed some-ones shirt. And as soon as the ducks were on land far enough that the only thing between the water and getting caught was me. Pouncing out of the tree at the right time it just took throwing the shirt at a duck to capture it. Now I held it gently in the shirt and handed the caught soul to Ben. Which he kinda started when he noticed the shirt moving, opening it up he found a duck. We headed out again, this time to some-place Sarahs sister suggested. Than visited another friends place to get a 2 gb mini sd which I snagged and traded for my eight gig one. Basically on boot the phone scans the sd card and an eight gig sd card takes way longer than a 2. I turn my phone on and off alot. Some-times scanning the fucking thing takes 10-20 minutes. This was a trade I had to do. Than every-one starts talking about some girl who did some-thing and how they want to beat some-one up. "Look guys, if you want to beat some-one up lets just do it... but quit talking about it your stressing me out" "No no, we dont want to do anything, just venting" And back to talking about it they go. We ended up at some home watching some kids. I dont know whos kids or what was going on. But we were sitting in the car waiting for some-one to get home. I kept suggesting the we go hang out in the forest. As it just recently burnt down it was a pretty sweet place to check out. But they got some-thing on their mind... I go chat up with the kids a little. Just because I was bored. Than we head out again and make our way to a little street off of slaughter road. Here I try to convince the nice folks to come to Zerka park with me and that we will have a scavenger hunt. The winner gets a laptop, an audio interface and all the recordign equipment theyd ever want. But.. they dont really want to. I ask for direction towards where we came from and they explain things pretty clearly. Take a left than take a right than go straight. How hard could it be? Walking down slaughter was really not cool. The road was stuffed with trucks rushing by. And it reminded me of a slaughter-house. The ware-houses and shops on the road didnt help either. It was a street stripped down to the bare essentials of life with-out one coffee shop on the road or one food place. It was all metal retail. About a mile down the road I couldnt take it any more and started exploring the side streets hoping one of them will be a road I know or some-thing I reconize will show up. I let the star on my hand guide me. Basically where lights shines the brightest is the heading. It works! The first place I wind up at, its 12 o clock now. Is on a bench at a bus stop having a few beers with a fella who has a tooth ache. His wife doesnt like him drinking so he just sits here looking for drinking buddys. Sam was his name. A rather big round fella. But he was cool. His son is a 20 some year old musician and theres alot going on here. To bad my phone is dead and cant help me find out where I am. Sam tells me to just go straight down the road and Ill end up where I want to be. That is...down-town Austin. about 4 beers later, and countless humorous discusions, we part ways. I walk. Its to cold to sit and wait motionless for a bus as the 1 o clock cold is very not friendly. The star also points down the road in the direction the fella mentioned. So walking down the road, I run into a few folks talking in a parking lot and ask for directions. The girl mentions that she is headed that way and I walk with her. I must have carried a bag for her or something... or she must have liked the company, but at her home she gives me a sandwhiche and a beer. I take care of her dogs (one of um threw up and they also wanted attention) and start trying to find her cat. But we cant stay long as she has to get to work in about an hour and she walks because she messed up her car. I offer to her to pedal her bike over and have her hang on the handle bars, but we soon find the bike with flat tires and a pump ment for a completly different bike. She gives me directions as I am eager to head back...I dont know why.... and I follow them. She just says dont cross the rail-road tracks. I walk and along the way she finally catches up on her bike. I dont remember her because after giving her my number she never called. I greet her and ask to verify that I am heading in the right direction which I was. Than started using the star to navigate again. Well... by now the walking bit ends up with me trying to cut through some peoples garden. And across lots and homes. I end up walking on countless bits of cactus and screaming at dogs. Not worried about any-one attacking me because I was surrounded by thorns and cactus on all sides. I should drink less. By now I started to play a game with death. We were both ringing bells. It all started with one house on the road that actually said that death resides there. And I rang the bell. No-one came and I walked away. Than we started ringing metaphoric bells to each other. Mine was the constant fluxing of crossing the slaughter boulevard his were things such as cactus probing my skin. To make a long story short. I wound up on the complete opposite part of town. Instead of going through to down-town. I went around it and to the opposite side of Austin. Gotta explore.. I guess. Today I made my way back to the Zerka Park. After getting my trolly I headed back up the the place. It was 11-12 by now and yes I walked for 12 hours. So it should be open. To my amazement it was ! The path to the office was up a steep hill and I started collecting trash to throw out again. I liked the place. Soon there was to much litter to actually carry the bag as well and I made the choice to leave it there on half-way up the hill towards the entrance. I was going to come back for it any-ways the whole visit at the office shouldnt take that long. Well. I got carried away and stayed at the office for more than just 20 minutes. There was a little too much to take in. The zoo....as it turns out. Was set up as a miniature Jurassic park. With the actual Jurrasic park inches away. There were a few to many little pets here at this work place. There was a Bob-cat. 2 foxes. A possum. Ducks. A coyote. And a Raven. Even a Raccoon... and even pigeons. It was a quite nice little zoo. Than I found the den of hawks and owls. Since I came here to ask to volunteer. Because maybe that would settle me in here, Austin has to work hard if it wants me to call it home. Here that day I end up picking up the litter from the kids who visited. It wasnt that I wanted to. Walking around the exhibit as they let me stay in for the day for free.... After they discovered whom the bag belonged to. Because I walked in and said good morning. Being the first person to walk in did not help much either. As a discussion about working at the center began. I ventured off to see the huge pond and water-fall exhibit than straight to the animals...were I spent an hour. Back at the main office they had a scare in the mean-time as they believed a terrorist left some sort of a bomb at the entrance. If it was not for Calos being brave enough to open the bag and look inside things might have turned out different. Them seeing a laptop cables and a big fucking box that looks like some-thing military... was another reason for them to just bring it up the hill for me. As a scout you have to know when to use your commrades as well. They are out there. Of course.... we helped each other. Now it was a long day and Carlos took me over to his place for some fresh clothes and equipment and of course to shower. Food wise the 24 diner was taking good care of me. At 12 Carlos and I drove across town to his place and hung out. After-which we stopped at a gas station and I gave him 10 bucks for gas now and 10 for later. He was strat for cash as well, and wanted to take his girl-friend out. A 20 went a long way from me to him. Pretty much left me broke. Driving was making Austin look big. On foot time was irrelevant. Waking up so early prolonged the day and its true splender could be enjoyed. It was 12 30 when we got back. I chatted with the girls at the Center about working for them and they mentioned that pretty much everything is taking care of. But I can come when-ever I want. Than I went to enjoy my stay here some more. The sun was straight up in the sky and it was warm. What does some-one like me do you ask ? Well... down a path Carlos mentioned was more of the Exhibit. A part the involves rock climbing down a Canyon. Or taking the easy way through the steep hills. A drop of 300 feet is what awaits a fool that braves the path of most adventure. But in the middle of the Canyon. At the river-bottom...in a way there was the most light. To keep things more clear from an engineering perspective the shape of the valley allowed Sun-shine here between the hours of 11-3.30. Now all I had to do was climb a tree and sleep there. Have you ever slept in a tree ? A tree like mine? One that falls straight down if you move the wrong way ? Where you can stand in the wrong position and your arms go numb. Your toes or you head? This is the place for me. Pearching high in a tree flattly and happily. Sun-rays on my face heat my breath. It was a bit ruff getting up the tree but it was at a 45 degree angle..after a 90 degree climb. Back after the nap. Where I slep like a baby. I headed down the crest of the Canyon looking to see what was here. The sun-light had gone for all but in one spot. A pond. Here I took another nap. Laying on a rock in the middle of the pond with a 3 0 clock sunlight striking in from a slant angel. I slept in a typical folded leg position of yoga... or meditation. But of course I fell in the pond as well. When I headed out back to the Center. I started to try out all the fruits and berries growing around the complex. Basically I wanted to test to make sure none of them are posionous. The local biology savvy had some fun with me because of that. But she was busy teaching classes. Now, what they left me in charge was bringing people over to the place. Nothing else. Considering that the Zerka nature and science center is in Austin Texas. There is no worry about getting people over.. They flock in herds and love the place as if it were home. Even if 45 percent of them litter. Damn you corn syrup ! Some-one mentions to me that there is a ghost chilli growing in the garden. She explains the details and I set out to find it. The center had many different types of plants. And alot of them looked like chillies. There were flowers that looked as if to be a bright red chilli pepper. But I was looking for the ghost pepper. It was hard to find. They did not mention that it did not blossum yet. What I found was a stalk of white peppers. Big one little ones... but nearly invisible to the eye that wanders by. They smelt odorless. Like a mist of cool mountain air. There was a lady (Here I pretty much ran into the castle Anthrax and I kept hearing in my head the voices saying "Get on with it".. but there were so many pretty girls here !!!!!) she talked to me with such a joy that I knew what this little pepper was and when she saw me rip a piece of and chew it. Yes.. Getting on with it.... Actually thinking about it November was a very hectic month. How the hell would any-one write up what happened ? Its damn near impossible!! There has been weeks of constant wake-ness and activity, theres been recording sessions, and it all ends with me in California waiting for the sun to come up to go nap in the forest. All in all writting out the log in a 10x9 room that may just be my studio. Why did Ï head out to Cali again...oh ya. Cristina is going to show up in December and Id like to be here with a big entourage and ready to take her in. So by the end of December Ill be ready to take on managing a complicated singer and promoting 1 person instead of actually working up a fit to record as much as possible. Thats the cold truth. As November is rather a month for migration as some of my friends joke about. That because in the North of America..or rather the East coast, there is going to be snow and cold weather. While on the other side of the country it is going to be warm and sunny. But its not a matter of weather. Honestly I prefer the snow. Here in California my feet sweat just from sitting around. The cold wind of the night is the only thing that makes me happy. But I still awake every-morning expecting to walk out the studio door and wake up to Romania. The studio it-self is like a space-ship. But that is another story in its own. Than the other part of the deal sets in. In 4 years time, I plan to move to Alaska, that move is going to require a few things on my half. The most important is going to be the financial stability to build myself a home there on some land (and I dont have any land in Alaska..dam it.. maybe I can just settle in and no-one will notice?). Since it is very cold up there, and since its very isolated, that is going to be a different type of logistical planning. My on-going rebel-yan against petrol is another key point that will make living there even more complicated. As in - No car! No generator! Than to deal with the cold.... what kind of insolation are the walls going to need? How do I design rooms that trap heat? How do you get dry wood and enough to keep warm every single day and every night? Well... The planning for that will start after another 2 years. Right now, its time to record, sign contracts, attain royalities, and what-ever else makes Alaska happen. Other-wise. I might just have to move to Hawaii. Seriously. I prefer the fortress of solitude over the tropical paradise. But Hawaii is closer. Carlos lived on a part of town I cared not much to explore. But I did. Later that night with the trolly that was slowly getting torn to shreds. I walked all around that little area of town. I seen what there is to offer in all terms of live in music here in Austin. Like I mentioned. If there were places on the boulevard that were empty during this huge festival/expo...what-ever the hell it was... Than on other days it would be incredibly slow. Here in the part of town that was more of a slow than not there was a small little sign I remember seeing. Which said motel. It was a good 2 mile walk all the way from the Zerka center to other-side of town. The only cash on me was on a card and that was to pay for a bloody place to sleep. After walking a few miles. Pula. It turns out the motel was closed a-long time ago and the only thing going on was a band playing some gig in some gritty little pub. And charging 7 dollars to get in. I under-stand, people have to make there money one way or another. But seriously. When a place looks that bad. Since there was no place to sleep I kept on walking. Trying to follow the train tracks to the next station and get a ticket to Cali...or just see how much it costs and see where I can go. The tracks had a paved road next to it. There were bars and restaurants all over the place. There were industrial halls and I soon started hoping Id run into the one Corey mentioned. Another 2-4 miles and at the train tracks I find out that this train is local only and its actually more like a sub-way or a metro than it is a train. Assholes !!! Even worse. There is no place to charge my phone or sit down. Every-thing is uncomfortable. I walk back into down-town. There are pedal-cabs taking people all around town now at 2-3 in the morning. It makes no sense to me how any-one would get a job like this. To pedal all day long and slave to get some-one home. Than the people sit in these little cabin like some spoiled brat who is to fucking lazy to walk and stare at the rear-end of these folks. Ya sure. There are petty cabs with neon lights, ones with music. There is even a pedal-cab with a pretty girl dressed as wonder-woman. But when you see 4 grown ass men get off one of these things in the middle of a ghetto and walk towards you. That feeling that you have to fight-off these little slackers makes a pedal cab shame-ful. Down, down-town. The rich folk went to sleep. It was the few hours of time between the people without homes wandering the bins and heading to sleep and the joggers coming out to run. I was going to catch the sun-rise again from the river. Apparently it would also be my last day and night in Austin. Today I wanted to get my guitar. I turned on my phone after the heat of the day began to shine down on us. It finally was not cold. I gave Dan a message that I want my guitar back, he told me he is busy. I explained that I am leaving to-day. Soon a discussion with my father starts. "Hey man how are you?" "Im fine dad, kinda stressed out about my guitar" "What do you mean?" "I left it with some friends a few days ago and I am starting to miss it" He laughed a little, "Well maybe you should call the police" "Ya I will.. The guy said he will show up at with it.. so Ill wait". "You should visit Mark in Housten, he will help you out". "Ya... go to megabus.com and buy a ticket will ya? I got no internet" Mark was brought up earlier in the trip. When the bag first gave way my father mentioned that Mark lives in Housten and worse comes the worse, I can show up at his place screaming for help. "Look I am really stressed out.. I gotta get my guitar back." I hung out at the hide-out cafe. Where the fellas made me a nice hot-chocolate. It must have been the fact that I was a reqular or some-thing but they gave me a freebie. It was delicious. I put the peacan muffin in the tea and had a great little break-fest. Than I met up with Dan, and was very grate-ful to get my guitar back. Even if I mentioned some-thing about getting 5 bucks for him for gas... Eh.. oopps. Since there was not really much left to do but to clear up the recordigns made so far..oh.. I left my head-phones at Sarahs place...Dum dum dum.. I sat around the hide-out taking care of the internet life. In the mean-time reading a bit in a news-paper that the after-party for the formula 1 show was being held some-place nearby. Now what you have to know about the hide-out cafe is that it is a huge place. It has a kitchen that makes all sorts of vegan friendly foods. So it is not a typical kitchen. The machinery used here to make hot-chocolate and grand ol chei is straight extravagent. The serving and kitchen are..with the counter and the fridge, sits on the left side of the place. There is a small sitting area with a stage that holds a seat and chairs for 2. The stage is right there at the window and its nice to sit there and drink a tea while looking at all the people out-side looking in. The rest of the cafe is about 20 feet tall. And some-how there is even space up-stairs or a theater. A proper theater with everything but cooling and ventalition. There are stands for people to sit and crowd in. Which split right down the middle and allow the actors to walk in. Its kinda like a cut out portion of a colleseum. But down-stairs there are almost a hundred pieces of art on display. And when I say art I mean art. The stuff here really made me want to take everything home. There were paintings with paints that ran off the canvas and twisted and curved. There were and still are elegant uses of metal on canvas in ways that it looks as if to be brushed on. Great place for a cup of tea.. none-the-less. It got boring after a few hours of sitting about working on recordings and waiting for the after-party. So I headed back out to the formula 1 party. Winding up at another art gallery where I chatted up with the guy at the teller about all the beautiful hand-made jewlry they have and how I am seeking a girl who does these things and that maybe he knows her. Nop. He does not. But he mentions some-thing about a new-years eve party he wants recorded. I make my way into the expo. It was an expozition on death. The art forms present here do not exist in Romania. There was one expo. It was a wall. Which you could go around. There sat 2 chairs facing each other. In a living room sort of area. There were speakers placed by the wall to create the impression that some-one was talking in there. Than there were photo like pictures of dieing soldiers. Right next to a video projection of a floating coffin that just kept moving all across town. I managed to get creeped out by one expo as well. It was a blanket over a chair that held under-neath it a suicide victum. Now.... if it was my piece of art. I would sit under that blanket and hop out at people. So I kept expecting that. Heading back to the hide-out I figured I could pay the 5 bucks and watch the improv show. It was a bit like whos line is it any-way. It was entertaining but quickly I started falling asleep, and begging them to get on with it ! But it was a long long show. By the time I came out of there it was 12. Hmm... lets go to the after-party. The place I walked to was quite. It had no cars parked any-where and soon I started believing that the party wasnt here. Soo I started taking pictures of this giant castle sitting here in Austin...the town hall I believe ? A police officer came and started asking questions. Soon we were talking about up-state N.Y. Than his supervisor came out and we soon started having a pretty neat conversation. Where I even showed the guys some stuff I recorded. They gave me direction to a hotel... I wound up going the wrong way and again. At 2 in the morning I was wandering the streets of Austin. So I headed down to the old Zerka park to sleep. Kinda. More like find a place to plug my laptop in and chill out in the morning cold. At 3-4 I was trying to do alot of things that people usually dont. The Zerka tower came to my mind again and soon I was following the cables on the telephone poles and trying to route electricity to there. After climbing endlessly countless poles and having nothing to show for it (no electricity made). I tried chilling out... but the lights were annoying. I short-circuited the fuse and soon another light came on. Than I wandered about the camp area looking for a nice dark place to sit down. I found it on top of a hill in a bunch of shrubs. I sat with my back on the trolly bag and my guitar on top of me and stayed warm. Though it was hard keeping my feet warm with a pair of slippies on. Luckily morning came pretty soon and I came out of the shrubs to find a kids camp. Here I plugged in and started looking for some-thing to do. So emails and google searches consumed the cold part of the morning. Than a nice little lady came by and told me that it is not ok for me to sit here at the picnic area of the camp site. Because its for little kids. So I headed back to the normal part of Zerka park. Where the 11 o clock sun was really warm. Got back on the computer and than headed-out to the hide-out. Along the way... some-things happened and I found myself with no cell-phone battery again. What was I to do ! The hide-out was closed for re-modeling. The actors where not kind enough to let me charge my phone... they said they have no plugs... I got kinda lucky ya know. The back door was open so that the kids could practice. And since the fumes of paint where comming off the walls the whole place was open. I walked in and plugged my phone in. Sat around for a good 30-50 minutes breathing in all those fumes and got really fucking high. It was around 2-3 now. The phone was charged. The formula 1 guys were packing up. I was leaving for Housten at 2 in the morning. It was cool. There was an open mic I was headed to. I did not know I was going to it, because...well.. It was on the way to the bus terminal. It was a nice bar that I walked into. The open mic was going to start hours later. I couldnt drink anything because...well... I dont drink before a show. I made friends with the folks at the bar and mentioned how in Romania at an open mic we take out our guitars and put um on stage. They let me sit back and plug my computer in and I played a little unreal. Ya BABY! Calling Dan up,. "So I am leaving tonight and I thought you should see how I sing or some-thing. At least" "Oh yea thats a great idea" "There is an open mic at the Austin Java" "Wait what? I was going to invite you to an open mic" "Ya you should come record this one it will be amazing" "Ok Ill be right there" I apologized to the folks at the bar. The only reason I was hanging out here was because the bus was taking to long to come... 2 in the morning... sheesh... The walk over to the Austin Java was going to kill some-time. Good. I made it there at a bad time. The show started already. So the first person did not get recorded. I sat in the bar and smoked a cigerette with a fellow from the show. We talked about how I record and soon I was hooking up wires to everything and had a complicated little input line comming into my rig. Even if it was just 2 or 3 mics in the room... it was complicated in the sense that the harmonic structure had to be kept. This was not an open mic like the one in Flipnotics. Where the acoustic of the room and the free range of the microphones as well as the preperation required took place. It was exactly how I like to do things. Show up, plug-in, record. Amy made the whole night worth every-thing. I still love listening to those songs. But they tricked me. They bloody tricked me. Mid way in the show they asked me to come up and play some bloody songs. On my electric guitar with no fx. Grrr. I did... and some-how some-body must have hit record... or maybe I was recording everything and didnt bother to turn the mics off.. but it got recorded what I did as well. We hung out in the Austin Java. Some-body must have gotten me a coffee or some-thing... yay ... free coffee... and than it was closing time. Every-one gave me a cute little paper where they each signed their email and I felt touched. It was 12 now. So it was a good time. I dont remember who gave me a lift to the college campus to wait for the bus but some-body did. By now I had picked up a pair of really cheap and shitty head-phones that I was using. They were probably free as well.. but I was using those to clean up the recordings from tonight. Since it was the college campus and I was of college age there was a nice little lounge for some of the advent guard seniors to hang out in. So I snagged one of the plug leather seats and sat down for a couple hours. Gentle drowsing off. Than a pretty girl woke me up. "Your going to have to leave. We are closing and you can come back in 30 minutes." "Oh ya thanks... Ill keep that in mind." It was funny because out-side it was warmer than inside. They had turned the a.c. on and the place got so cold that when I walked out-side at 1.30 in the morning it felt as if I walked into a sauna. The trolly killed me, but I still lugged it around checking out the whole campus. And fuck. It is beautiful! But even with all of its beautey there were so many sign of stupidity every-where. For example the community bulletin board. That the kids leave things posted up had some-of the most idiotic things ever. "Tuesday meet a like hearted person" "Come to the raffle to support caring for children in Mautaliki"... and all sort of crazy stuff that was more an attempt at these kids to cleanse there spirit through retribution than actual projects. Eh what-ever. I knew some-thing few people know. Those lights they have on statues generate alot of heat. So I sat on my trolly after having made my way to a statue and sat right infront of the light sulking in the heat. I know what your thinking ! Lizard people. Than.. I found out that the bus was not comming here. It was just to quite. 10 minutes before it was supposed to leave. I headed back towards the destination some-one mentioned hours before. That its by some-sporting complex. I saw the complex. But wanted the warm light. What you want me to write about waiting in line for a bus ? Or sleeping on it ? I woke up in Housten. at 12. The bag was starting to show signs that it was going to die. And I figured its best to head out to a park and wait for Mark to either. Pick up the phone. Call me back. or ..... noneof - the above. With google maps I tried hard to make my way to the park but every-time I would start walking I would end up going the other way (the wrong way). So I let my feet do there thing. And walked through down-town Housten. Which is really where all the businesses are. Walk through here and you will see giant castles built off of the few monopolies in the world. The Bank of America building...for example. Is a fortress. My balance was some-where between 0 and 2 dollars. Not enough for anything.. no food no water... no bus. Just my feet and my trolly. Sure I found a few pieces of candy at the bus terminal. That was cool. But I was getting hungry. I kept looking though on my phone for some-thing to do in Housten and found myself walking towards a open mic...12 miles away. But of course. I had to walk the wrong way a good 2 hours before I finally turned around and headed out to the open mic. For some reason. I was let out to the slums right next to down-town Housten. Here there were homeless shelters as they are called. Churches and hospitals. These were lining the backs of deteriorated buildings that had signs that read no sleeping in the hall-way. And looked more abandonded than actually used. There was a graffittii that read. While I sprayed this the police beat up a man, and there was the eye of the dollar sign right above it. At a gas station I attempted to load up on food. Just grabbing various edible iteams that would keep my stomach busy. But the card go declined. Weird place. Across the street where restaurants. Where the cheapest thing on the meneu was 12 dollars. I thought about sitting out back and waiting for them to throw out the food... but dammit. The trolly and guitar. So I walked on. Soon. The atmosphere changed from some-thing that looked like the end of the world to a very plush place to be. There were Maseratiis parked right there on the street. And to think that half a mile away there were folks picking through trash-bins. I was getting thirsty and I asked the only person I ran into. Right in an alley way for a cup of water. He was just comming home and gave me some water. Thanks. Than back towards the road to the rock show. There were a few nuts on the ground. Picking one up and tearing it open it tasted really good. So I got more of um. And by the time I picked all the nuts off the ground there was a load of about 5-7 kilos of nuts. Sweet. Good nuts. Further down the alley-way and on the right. Keeping the original barring good. There were a few oranges dangeling from some-ones tree. "Do you think its ok if I pick one of these?" Asked I of a girl walking by. "Well I wouldnt want any-one picking oranges out of my tree, would you ?" "I wouldnt mind" She snickered and ran off. Oranges and nuts. Now the last thing I want is ice-cream. I made it to another store, and figured it is worth a shot to see if the card works here. At bank of America they said there is enough on the card to get an ice-cream and shit. So in this store just the bear essentials where bought. An ice-cream and a cinnabom pastrie thing. It went through ! Things were starting to pick up. But on the long long walk the trolly finally got to me. There were shopping carts on the street and I through everything in the cart and started rolling down the street full speed with a shopping cart full of fragile and sensitive gear. Barreling down the side-walk full speed. One happy dude that he does not have to carry these bags anymore. Ya. The 30 pound trolly gave way. As soon as the wheels hit the pave-ment. I walked the whole way with it in my arms. And my guitar on my back. What was it ? 14 miles ? Barring hot sun and a land I have never seen. Going to an open mic. The walk was very interesting. I would stop and talk to folks on the road. Asking just random questions about life in general. Figuring out a bit and bit of the mentality here... In Houston. Than when I thought the walk was over there was more. I found a recording studio as well... but guess what it was thanks-giving. They had closed early to go visit family and have dinner. The only person left was the security guard. This is the price paid on the road for taking a stroll through down-town just to see how pretty the big churches are (and by churches I mean financial institutes). Further-more proof that terrorism is a lie is here in Houston. These financial castles have absolutely no security. I can imagine how easy it is to just walk in and walk into an office.... but un-like in Romania.. It would be an office with some-one working hard. It is Texas after all. The people here do no bother to slack off. They work hard. It reflects in their art and dedication. If music was to take care of me I would have to take care of it. So far. It, along side with my parents kept me fed and happy in Austin. All I did was carry the axe around and talk about it. My father calls me to mention that he talked to Mark. Who by now seemed like a jerk, to put it in a nice way. After mentioning to him earlier that month that if my bag breaks Ill be screwed. And after my father and I took the decision to travel to Houston instead of getting a new one. We were at a rather bit of a stand-still. But I was going to the open mic. Here I met the host of the thing hours after I made it over. The folks at the bar were nice enough to give me water and let me chill out for a few hours sitting on my lap-top. I talked to a few people. But truth-fully the skiills I have are not that of a social being. So conversation tend to get awkward...or just confusing. But, it was cool. I had a guitar case and a nifty black lap-top with a piece of metal that read Celestian Equiped. The wires hanging out of the laptop helped raise the question...to "what planet is that guy from?" Mark and I started a discussion through texts. He apologized for not answering and he will call when he is done working. Which was an interesting message. I find out that Mark is an engineer, from my father. Some-thing about petrol pumps or some-thing. Good start. Finally we have the discussion that changes the course of the night. It goes from a distraught vibe of questionable direction, into... oh yay... I get to nap. It has been a long time of constant agitation. 7 days up... walking. Singing... talking. The location of the bar was clear to me. I had been staring at it for the past hour or 2 watching the little dot on the gps get closer and closer. But right now. I cant remember the name. In our brief 2 minute discussion Mark mentions that I can stay at his place. But- no-one has any-idea what is going on. Nor me nor my father. Just that....somehow... I am in Houston hanging out with Mark. Telling stories of my parents... how they met.. how they split.. Mark told me what he does for a living. Which is petrolym engineering, on a complex level and a very dangerous one as well. He talked about one of his buddies dieing and that he works long fucking hours. He has a kid or two and even used to build engines for hot-rods for a little while. Now he has a home filled with all the things he needs to be happy after a divorce, except for the wife. On the way up to his place which was almost an hour long we stopped at a super-market to pick out anything I wanted. But because I am not very picky I let Mark deside what to get. As long as there was red velvet cake. At his place we reviewed the problem with the bag. And Mark gave me a big gym like bag that held more. And best of all it was a trolly as well. The first bag fit into the second bag and than we put in a pair of shoes a jacket and the pants and clothes I had on...So now it was 2 out-fits that I could wear instead of one. Ok. Time to juggle them. I mentioned to Mark that I have not slept in for-ever and we stayed up drinking beers till a good 3 in the morning. Finally he went up to crash and I sat down-stairs playing guitar and dozing off. Hours later...though they seemed more like minutes. Mark wakes me up and we head out to the air-port. The plan was simple. Get some help from Mark than head out to California. No ticket no reservations and of course... we had break-fest at Dennys on the way. The only thing was that... I do not eat in the morning so... I just drank a tea. At the air-port I sit down and tindel on my computer a little bit more than start walking around the different carriers to see which one is the cheapest. My father is looking up tickets, which turns out to be faster than my method. To get the ticket he just bought it took 2 things. A shuttle that cost 25 bucks. Thank-fully Mark gave me about 100 for good fortune. And a visit to a little atm looking machine that gave tickets to people with the right codes. Than it was sit down and mix music. Being in the air-port a good 4 hours before hand gave me time to call people, keep up with the internet life and than even more importantly... take a nap. Mark got me to relax a bit. So now I could sleep, eh ? Sleep lasted 30 minutes. No more no less. Than I was on craig-list again looking for some-thing to do in Cali. I found it. Some-one just posted up that they are renting a studio. 200 a month. This is just as good as the up-state N.Y. Gig. I jumped on it. Called Vance and we desided that once I get to Cali he will show me the place. which would be around 7.50 at night. A 35 dollar cab ride later. Which was more of a 60 dollar cab ride but the credit card did not work because it was Romanian and I gave the cabbie what-ever was in my left pocket. We do this in Romania, when the controloru comes and catches us on a public transport with no ticket. It works in other situations as well. Especially in America. But before all that happened. I found myself hanging out with a guy who was watching family guy on his ipad. We split head-phones and commented about the show. Than we talked about California versus Romania. Groovy. He took a pill, which was a prescibition he had to keep him chill on the plane, he has anxiety or some-thing. And I asked about them. He mentioned that they calm you down and it seemed right that I take one as well. After being up for so long it was time to relax. We began to board. My carry-on luggage was to big to put on the plane so we had it put some-place special. The guitar got to sit in the jacket closet of first class... as usuall. Fucking thing. I fly economy and it flys first class !!! Right next to the pilot ! Than I take my seat and with-in minutes. Pass the fuck out. Austin leaves me with an album on my hands. I call it "The Hunt". It is a good representation of traditional American song-writting and performance... Try and enjoy it ! https://www.dropbox.com/el/? r=/sh/q3u0eskvg62crwq/kjVplcuu2o&b=clk:None:3163088497586532315:1310:647&z=AAARQpNA2zsyArqFbbNLKoiMNU-QGwvxYMMRgjFRBR_UQ I woke up in California. The plane landed and people were getting off. It was weird because every-one was going some-place. I was just getting out of the air-port. Just had to start walking. To start moving and than every-thing would be ok. Besides Vance was waiting for me to talk business. Google maps came in to play again after the cabbie tells me "next time have money !". And I start walking at a fast pace down a street called Sherman way. Trying to find a street called Varna. Google maps says it is straight up ahead. So that takes care of that... The trolly bag does just fine and the guitar sits on my back just fine. Here I am walking around in Holly-wood...North Holly-wood..mind you. Vance shows up to pick me up as I walked to the wrong Varna street. And I had to be around a strange loop of a maze. He was 2 streets over across the boule-vard (Sherman-way) but on the same street. We met up at a street and a corner and we drove the rest of the way to the studio. The road up to it was crowded with different ware-houses doing different things. Most of which I do not under-stand. Marble works.. the sign says. At the end of this long street is a few letters on a grey building. ABC. We drive up to the back of the lot. Park and walk in. The place is grey... in side. A hall-way with 14 rooms lined up. A clean odor-less hall. There are noises coming out of each room as well. It is kinda like a zoo. An audio Zoo. The the hall way twists and 4 rights later we are in a decent sized room. A good living room size. Lined with foam and damp and silent. With a slight reverb a very slight one. A perfect reverb. I am bought in on the deal. This place can do Marvels. Vance and I talk and on the first of December (the Romania national day) Ill give him my share of the rent and we get me some keys to the place. Until than there are about 4 days of time to enjoy life. After care-fully studying things. I headed out to Santa Moniq. The bus route was pretty simple. But it was kinda hard paying attention with that long long bus ride and that driving screw of sleep that was adding more and more drowsy fog over me. I made the pier pretty late at night. It was barely busy. It was 12. I just took my luggage back right under the pier. Laid down and slept. The flash-light Mark gave me came of great use as I walked around in the dark. I took a place to sleep between the support pillars. The only things on were jeans. Shoes. And a Jacket Mark insisted I take with me. I slept here till the morning came along. I woke up fresh and on the beach. It was cold and foggy. To make things that much better for me. So I walked hoping to find some sort of beacon light where warm rays of sun were driving out of the sky. All I got was the end of the beach an open ocean and a constant fog-horn. Making the best of things I hoped over the fence and sat on the rocks playing through my set-list. The warmth from the 9-10 time-frame started picking up. The fog was still on the water though. But it was light out. Now it was time to walk the other way across the beach. But... I went the wrong way. Than it got hungry. My stomach. Google maps revealed that the nearest wal-mart was ..10 miles away ? So I walked to the bus stop which was a good mile down the road. Picking up some biscuits on the way (the biskets were just in a clear bag on a shrub). The bus-driver suggested that I go to food-for-less. And told me to sit down and simmer down as she will tell me where to get off. That was nice of her. We talked along the way about things such as how surgical she got with the bus after driving the thing for so long. Cool woman. She liked the conversation about how I lug around a giant bag of recording equipment and I am doing some...weird complicated dance with music. Even I did not know what was going on other than. I need food! Down at food for less they sold me 2 cans of food. One was a nice mushroom stew. The other a beef and noodle and vegitable deal...than they had a special for cream cheese 2 for 1 dollar. So get bread now and get some spinach. It cost enough for all this. About 7 dollars. Than, because there was a star-bucks around and I was new to Cali. It was time to sit there and email folks ... again. My mind begins to plot what the next move is going to be....as I sit on the toilet at Star-bucks looking at a giant bag of toys and a guitar. So far I am heading in the right direction...soon it will be Black Friday. In the star-bucks a dude starts talking to me about his worries. Basically he was a car dealer-man. Who got screwed over during that whole economic chaos. He went under. All the investments he made could not be paid for any-more and than the banks made their way around and taught him a lesson or too about being a little to comfortable spending your money. We talked about things such as living life in a different way than how he is used to. About not wasteing and finding just random good laying around on the street. See as it turns out. Brother-hood goes pretty far here in Cali. Some-thing hard to under-stand. But... try if you can to see as the cement being a sandbox. Than the city being a living room. Now all these things laying around in the living room seem to be placed there with a reason. The coffee cup sitting perched high up on a ledge that is actually a wall to a building is there because it is sitting in the sun staying warm, waiting for the next person to finish the coffee. Whom ever got it did not have the time neccessary to finish it. They did not want to waste it... and they would be working to hard to actually drink it... so it was left to be consumbed by someone with a little more time on there hands. The first bit of advice I gave the young man was to get out there more. Sleep less... and stop visiting Star-bucks and Mcdonalds. Who knows if he took any-bit of my advice. He called his wel-fare appointment off my phone and promised to call me.... He could have called. When my phone was off. It does that alot. ..but he should keep calling. I have a friend whom I called for 2 years and she never picked up. But we still talked. By now I made my way down to a part of Cali I wanted to avoid. Last time I was here I was to soft to actually do any-thing with my-self. Cali she showed me all my weak-nesses. My biggest one being love. It is why I spent time in Romania learning of my people. Things are different now. I stroll through the part of town that once kept me laced into a life that was creating itself. I only left because of the burning sensation to go fix my teeth. Last time here, the sublime irratiation my bad teeth caused with people was to much to take on my mind. Even if it was just in my head. It had to be done... that black tooth was either going to fall out or kill me. I brushed never. My bed was with no sheets. I slept in my clothes. I skated through town and showed my ass at guitar center. You know what. Under 21. You cant play here. Beer and Vodka were hard to get. And worse at Eighteen there is nothing to do. What I lived in Romania over what I could have lived in America was far better. 23 now. Remember your 23. It is Black Friday... hmmm very good tiiming haha. !! Since I was in the neighborhood that I was in before I walked down to Sam-Ash... some-thing I could not do before because fuck.. It would end up with me lost and all over the place. But now I had gps !!! Super-power activate ! Boots !! Carry more !! Since... I had lost my head-phones maybe they could have some-thing good and cheap at the store. The place was packed with hordes of people talking at the same time and just a few calm sales people with an evil little grin on there faces. The head-phones were all there. Put them on and walk out.. except their were lachted on. Fine.... lets go play with the instruments... key-boards okkk .. drumss.. just electric ones.... The head-phones to the electric drums can be taken out and you can move to different kits with um. But lets not talk about how people in the shop start complimenting my druming... ok... I spent 4 hours in the shop. To walk out with a pair of head-phones around my neck and a free acoustic guitar. Pretty sweet deal... now there was just one big problem. That acoustic guitar needs to get treated to sound good. And there are only 3-4 days left before the studio opens ! I head back out on the beach. To try and find a power-out-let. Figured they might have some on the beach. I am walking from the bus stop with my head in the phone looking at the gps map pointing towards the beach as I walk. There is a fog. It is cold and wet. And it bothers me none. In front of me there are 2 dudes. A short but stocky bald guy with square glasses. Than there is a taller black dude with a pretty big bag on his back. They both got bikes. "Do you know where the police head-quaters are?" Asked the white dude. "police head-quaters? What happened?" "I was walking with my friend out on the beach. We are military dudes. He is still on duty. And we get pulled over for having knives on us. His military issue knife is only 4 inches long and its legal. But because he had it on his belt and than put his pancho on it was considered a concealed weapon, the police took him down and the guy is a S.A.S. British armed forces". "You know that I am not from around here ?" There was a pause. Kinda like he wanted to punch me in the face. "But I think I can help." I show him my android. The map has a triangle on our location...which rotates... and than. "Soa wee seurch for pulise headqoutrrras" A moment of silence as it loads. "Which one ?" Another moment of silence. "ok we go up the hill and across the bridge." " I am not good at following directions so lead the way" We started chatting about things. Made our way to the head-quaters and the men in charge there gave us a number to call and a time to call. Than we hang out a little more. We have a contest to see who has the heaviest load. And I get introduced to things such as "camel pack" "portable shower" "hot-tub hoping". They got great stories to tell. I turned my phone off because it was running low on juice. Me and the boys were now going down to the peir I had 5 bucks left over and these guys were actual military guys. They were back-packing to chilli... Since they had vodka... it wasnt going to be a bad night of sitting out on the peir. The black dude stood on his feet the entire night and the white dude was comfortable in a sweater and shorts sitting down on the wet logs of the pier. In the mean-time I had my guitar around my neck and was asking for the vodka tovarasi the vodka ! periodically every 2 minutes like a parrot. We were sitting on the steps of a restuarant on the end of the pier. The cops that patroled seemed not bothered by a damn thing... It was just like hanging out in Romania ! Comrade uses my phone to call his girl-friend.. A weird home-less woman tells us that there is a room up-stairs we can sleep in. Than the morning light comes. The boys talk to the cops for a good 30 minutes than mention that they are going to sleep on the beach. While they sleep I head out. We found a power out-let and the phone got charged while Brandon talked to his ex-wife. With the occasion so did the lap-top and a bottle of water with fire water. Not a bad night for some-one who does not sleep. It is 9 in the morning. It is foggy out-side with no chance to clear up. It is actually warm enough to sleep if, you have a blanket. Google maps points me towards a Canyon that may just be far enough to get out of the fog and into the beautiful sun-shine..if there is any-any-where! And its called fossil canyon. But of course, I am new here so at 9 in the morning I am walking the path that google maps told me to follow. Which is pretty much get off the pier and make my way down towards the bus stop. That quickly turned into some-thing else a free lunch and coffee and than the other things that came along with just taking the time to talk to a stranger on the street. It was easy. Walking down the street, carrying this nice acoustic. I had to ask for directions. The people I asked looked as if they would be the type to take you to a back alley and rob you, after a proper thrashing. But I no scared. Bring the good vibe mon! I saw my first Rasta Bus today. It crossed the ocean boulvard with tourist. As the light for the walk signal waited to beckon me to cross. The fellas were chilling with some parrots. There owner was doing business in sub-way. The parrots had to be watched as few people know about the violent nature of these birds. Sure.... you would think that people know that a parrot is the size of a big fucking hawk or an eagle. So than they would understand that these little buggers can really hurt ya. They have claws and worse a beak strong enough to tear a finger off. Bite right through the bone. Luckily these guys are cool. After explaining to me that they have no idea where I am heading. But the bus I am trying to take is that one. Diego points out to me. While I sat with the kids and Theo got to have his fun with the guitar. A cop drove by us to chat. Thats it. Just to talk. No-one did any-thing wrong and he was not looking to arrest any-one either. Thats pretty cool. In Romania most police officer... ooo screw Romania ! I talked to the cop about camping. He told me a few details. Mainly. If I see a bob-cat or a mountain lion to make as much noise as I can. That will help scare it off. Secondily he told me that its not that bad. But I was worried about sitting face to face with a bear or some-thing. Now I had to buy supplies first, before heading up into the Canyon. Theo, the tallest of the bunch. Who was walking around with bare black feet in a pair of flip-flops. I had on Marks sneakers.. cause I did not change shoes yet. Theo asks if he can play guitar a little and turns out the he is an pretty damn good guitarist. Than again, his parents had him taking intensive music classes (piano, hard, violin...guitar..etc...) since he was 5. Rich folks... I head out to get my supplies since, I was going to camp out in the forest tonight. I had to prepare. That ment a blanket. I had already bought some foods from "food for less" and had a can of spinach left. And apparently I bought a swiss army knife as well. This all cost about 15 dollars. The blanket was a nice black one with pretty colored signs saying love and peace and harmony and shit all over it. Comming back to follow through on the invite from Theo to go out for a coffee to talk about things took a little longer than expected. I bugged the folks renting Zegways, mainly about the fact that they are limited to 15 miles an hour. I also ran into Diego in front of sears (the shop where the blanket and tool were bought). We spent a good 10 minutes chattin about music and doing a little free-style. Theo is still there on the corner of the alley watching the parrots, along with the other fellas. Guess it turns out that these birds got quite the escort. Walking to Star-bucks was quick, Theodor turns out to be an alley cat. And even with his dislocated leg, still walks twice as fast as me. On the way over I keep the conversation about simple things. Mainly the comparassion of Romania to California. It seems as if I want to try and under-stand how people on the same damn country can be a world apart with the way they live their lives. At Star-bucks I had to exzhibit my skills, this one here on Santa Monic, is always crawling with Hordes of people. Literally. Finding a seat for 2 people and a bunch of luggage bags is pretty hard to do. Theo desides to stand in the mean-time, so after establishing myself at a table by putting up all my stuff there. Guitar on the seat, trolly behind the seat, Acoustic guitar still around my neck. It was attached with a tie from some party a little while ago. A black tie. We sit down with coffee. "You said you have something for me to read?" "Its my log, I write everything that happens every-month." I mention that I am opening up a studio while we sit and chat and that I have 2 days and 46 minutes till the studio opens. "Thats bull-shit" "2 days 45 minutes and 32 seconds". Our stay at star-bucks turns into a bitter friend-ship. Theos attempt to prove to me that he can speed read was twafted when I asked him a detail about going out west. He did not know why the cops stopped me in the park at 2 in the morning. Or what I was doing there. Speed read my ass. There is only one way to read some-thing and that is the same way that it was written. He also takes advantage of having a computer around to get in touch with family and what-not. Giving his pops a few messages off my phone. We parted ways we finished cups of coffee. The bus I had to take was across the street. It was going to be a long ride. Luckily the folks around here are really nice. An older gentle-man tells me about a program at the univesity that involves clean and energy effiecient solutions. Earth Engineering I think it was called. The bus goes up a part of Beverly Hills. Than I get off and walk the rest of the way. It gets dark on the way over and by the time I walk up the road to the forest... It turns into night. There is a sign in front of me that says. "Trespassing or loitering forbiden by law". Ok does not say a thing about camping. The other weird aspect of the sign was that the fence holding it up was no more than 10 feet across. Honestly though. Once I made my way into the forest. Which was not very far from the road. It started getting spooky. Mainly, I really was getting worried that some bob-cat would come maul on me. Or some snake would make its way into my pants. So I did the only sensible thing. Slept on a hill. There was a pipe hanging out, which got used as a teather and soon I was laying across the trolly wrapped up. Sleeping was hard to do. There were noises comming from all around. Falling rocks from under my feet helped none. Mark gave me a little flash-light. That helped ward off some of the fear. Finally though, after a good 4 hours. After I ate a can of spinache which I had to open with my bare hands and did not have the pleasure of heating. Finally than, did I manage to sleep. Waking up pretty much frozen at a good 6 in the morning, it was a requirement to start moving again or risk becoming an ice-berg. So I started hiking around the area, trying to find a path that led further through the forest. But it was all steep hills., hills steep enough to climb on all 4 or else youd slide right back down. It was nice. The best part was that while hiking the equipment could just be left to sit up where it was. No need to bring it along ! It was day, and I desided to walk back to the beach. How hard could it be? It was pretty much just down-hill. Walking around, though will give me the chance to explore what is here. The first thing on the route is just a typical residential neighbor-hood, with no stores. My father calls and we talk about how I am working hard at staying up as much as possible about how the folks here some grow oranges, some grow lemons. Point in case, there is fresh squeezed orange juice this morning. It wasnt a long converstaion but it was very welcomed. Futher along normal-civilization comes into view. There are gas-stations and elderly homes right across the street from a pizzaria. The path I walk leads me to another park where I get to sit in the sun in a nice little spot and go through all of my songs. There was just one road I had to take to get down back to the beach any-ways. I had to walk far, luckily by the time I would get down there it would be a good 12 o clock. Gee... than what. ? The part of the beach the path traveled took me to this time was a more quite one. There werent any home-less folks here, and some-one like me could really enjoy the water here. So I put my stuff away and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth, comming back and playing guitar leads me to have a discussion with a guy named Stone about culture in general here, about the pacific coast high-way and about his friend who has a studio in Ohaj, which is in Ventura county. He shows me the business card and I think I figured out what I am going to do ! But first take a bath in the water. I strip down right there on the beach to just my skibbies, and try to hop in the water, walking along the rocks first to just jump into the deep end of the ocean. The only problem. There is a shit load of wild-life here. Star-fish, weird little tubular plants that seem more meat than plants, and so many clams. I dont like clams. I cant eat clams. And I dont under-stand them either. They are one of the things that spook me. So as my feet touch the water I suddenely get the urge to step out, just because...maybe Ill kill a clam or too if I am in the water. Than I spot a few folks on the beach, Mama, Papa, Daughter. One of the three, the father was trying to get at some-thing from between the rocks. He tells me what it is, and I quickly go over to get it for them. What it was..... a fine speciemen of the weird tubular things I mentioned before. Now. The tubular thing reacts...to touch. And it moves....and it has a lot of little spikes on it and I have 5 seconds to remove it from the rock. An attempt to grab it fails. Its to slippery. My claws cant just rip it off because it is to snug on the rock. Yap. I just cut through its flesh with my nails and bring it to these folks. I felt icky. They didnt want it of-course. They were more icked out by the thing. So I left it in a drinking fountain. Sitting out in the sun to dry out, a guy comes by with his dog. A rotweiller...or was it one of the pitbulls ? Eh any-ways at first he does not let me play with his pup. But after I dress up and he gets a little bored he does. Some-how. I scared the dog away. The dog ran across the pacific coast high-way. That is a road with 4 lanes of traffic on both sides. What did I do when I saw the dog run across the high-way ? 1. Throw the tennis ball into traffic, mainly right at the car comming towards the dog. 2. Hop in the middle of the road and scream at people to stop while waving a big red guitar. Shirtless with only a pair of pants on, mind you. Gotta be stylish. Every-one stopped. There was one guy with a Camero who didnt want to stop. He slammed the breaks inches from me. I was ready to hop on his car. Point in case how-ever is that the dog wont end up run over by a car because of me. Secondly the owner needs to know the he cant just fucking get mad at me for his dogs behavior. This whole stopping the cars thing is just a masculine way of imposing dominance. Now...that my "friend" stone told me about the studio, I figured it would be good to make my way down there and say hi. Just some-thing to do. The studio I want to open is going to open up in 2-3 days. So I have time to hang out and have fun. After having chased the dog, I left my equipment out by the beach-head. Since it was a part of the beach less crowded I figured it would be just fine. Its Beverly hills after all ! Not much later, there is a guy putting all my stuff together in a pile. And I ask him if he plays guitar any. "No I dont" "Well feel free to start learning" "Is this your stuff?" "Ah yea" "I dont believe you" So I pull out my passport out of the bag. "See I knew where the passport is, its my stuff" The guy Rodrick. Was an Irish man. He was pretty solid. If he wanted to take it, it would have been a pretty hard fight to keep things. Lets not forget that Rodrick served in the Army, worked as a fire-man and to top things off... played hockey enough to have lost a few teeth. We some-how get along just fine, and I offer to buy him a guiness for being so kind as to watch over my stuff. And because it was grand-ma-mas birthday. Some-thing my mom mentioned earlier. He leads the way and we soon find our-selves at Ralphs. This time in Malibu...or the most furtherest out-reach of Malibu. I walk in with my trolly behind me. Rodrick hangs on to the guitars. The first thing I spot is a red velvet cake and put it on my trolly. Than I head to the beer. My shirt is on me, hanging off my shoulder. I pick up a 6 pack of guiness and than proceed to check out. I get a application for a Ralphs card and a free Red velvet cake. Out-side Rodrick is no-where to be found. But he finally started speaking with his Irish accent, instead of the fucking American one he has to use to fit in. To hell with your double standards. We head out on some more rocks to sit down and drink and eat cake. Because it was my grand-mas birth-day I took the time off from everything to sit and enjoy, luckily I made a friend as well. Where we drank was on a part of the beach that had a long rock structure going straight into the ocean. Behind us was a fancy restaurant and to make everything really peachy the only way to the edge of the water was to carry every-thing. Now that fucking troollly bag is heavy, walking across weird shape rocks with it is kinda tricky. But it was a nice day. We watche the sun set and finished our-last beers. Rodrick mentions his relation-ship to his wife. His 39 year old realtionship. He mentions how a bout 10 years ago he nicely strolled over to the house she was in. Knocked on the door and barged in after the asshole opened up. "Can I see my wife? He confronted both of the bad people right there. "Look, I am not going to hit him, and I am not going to hit you, I am leaving right now, and the kids are going to be all alone for the next 45 minutes your going to spend blowing this guy" After having to live with her constant infidelity for a good year he had it. And I am complaining that some silly little girl hurt my feelings and crushed my dreams. Talk about a kick in the ass. When we part ways I am left feeling as if there still is hope. I take a bus which leads me towards Ventura a little more. But by not alot. I also go into the liquer store here at the bus stop to hope-fully buy some food, for the night ahead. But the card gets declined when I go to check out. Fine... no food... I than start walking down the pacific coast high-way. 30 minutes later. I find my self in an empty lot of land staring at the ocean. Camp has just been set-up and I am ready for another night of freeze. The acoustic guitar is going through the treat-ment it needs to get better, there are lemon peals on it and I must have squeezed out half of that lemon to get the wood soaked just right. Its a weird place to be out on the beach like this. On the left is a giant park, than further left a bunch of residental Malibu beach homes. On the right (facing the ocean) is a house up on a taller cliff. It has a gazebo and a little wooden walk-way to the beach. Cute. I move in next door. But I dont have a house or some-thing... just 2 guitars and 1 bag. I dont have a bed. Just half a blanket. To get through the lot was a pain in the ass... I had to carry everything over next to the cliff to find that perfect spot to sit down. I slept pretty good. And made my way down to the ocean to wash some clothes. The jeans, a shirt, my shoes... socks. I than left them out in the sun till things dried. People walked by, they must have thought some-thing weird of me. But I was busy rock-climbing these huge rock faces just sticking out of the water. In bare feet and with tights on, mind you ! It was fun, I found myself in situations where I wondered "how did I get up here again?" and I learned the important thing about having a way down as well as a way up. My body has been building up more and more strength the past couple of weeks. The small fretted worry that maybe, I was getting tired diminished to a thought of "never get tired". Even though, I tried to wait.... until the sun came out and it was hot out to hop in the water. I couldnt resist more than 12 minutes. 9 in the morning... is not to hot for swimming. Especially in a speedo. By 12 I was on the road again. Literally. Walking down the pacific coast high-way. Things got figured out. The electric guitar got tied down to the trolly and that helped. The acoustic hung over my shoulder and the trolly switched hands occasionally. Of course. I had plenty of flowers on my person as well. The tie for Oz was actually made of a twig and a bunch of flowers. I spotted some Prickly pears across the street and soon found myself standing out by the high-way scrapping the pricks off a catus with my bare hands. Just to see if it is any-good. A car pulls up. Than it pulls up a little further. I turn around. There is a silver convertible mustang behind me. "Do you need a ride ?" "Kinda... Ï am trying to get to Ventura" "Oh thats on my way hop in". The guy driving the car was a big black dude. And he looked to much like Morpheous to actually describe him in any-other way. Long story short. He picked me up because he was hoping I was gay. Seeing me out there in tight black pants and with no shirt on, I had to be gay. Thanks Sarah. Thats the second gay dude I start a relation-ship with. He tried to convince me to let him, ahm... well... I thought it couldnt be that bad. You know a year without any sex and here is this dude offering me a blow-job. But I had to pass his offer. Just dont do that sort of thing. Along the way we talked about other things. It all settled down when he said "Ill let you fuck me if you let me fuck you". Which kinda made me feel really sexy. But we had to take the discussion into a more normal place and we soon started talking about our mothers. He dropped me off at a diner in Ventura. The drive was a good hour long. So that is a pretty long walk. Here in Ventura I had to find an atm to make sure I had enough cash to pay for lunch. I was hungry. And it turns out I can eat a stack of pan-cakes and a hamburger with onion rings faster than most people can tie there shoe. Of course... I left some of this food for later. Just because it might come in handy. Than I procceeded in finding out how to get to Ohaj. It was pretty simple. Walk through town, make it over to bus stop. Walk. Here though, in Ventura. I ran into a new friend. His name is Mitch. He was sitting at a tea-house I went to for a good cup of tea. What he does is he gives people massages. On the street. Just like that. He tells jokes and he is witty and responsive. Mitch is as a humming-bird in a world of cattle and sheep. His curiosity is brought out by my equipment. And we talk. I sit out-side with him and play guitar and we soon hang out for a few hours. We play a game of magice, he makeds me a painting... we play some music. He tells me how his wife is now trying to divorce him and that she has relationships with other men and he just hates it. He also mentions that his wife is evil..... hmm. She shows up and I am a little scared of her. She is also a scorpio. But as it turns out she is very laid back, and was nice enough to take Oz off my hands as I ventured on along my travels. At around 7 I head out to Ohaj. Mitch told me a of a bike path that leads there. The bus takes me to the begining of the bike path. What ? I like walking ! I set my equipment in a field between the high-way, the country road and the forest. Hidden and tucked. Should be safe. Than I head out to walk. Now the cycleing trail is amazing. It winds through forests and wilderness and even goes along-side a river. It is by far much better than any-other way to get down to Ohaj. I listen to music and enjoy the fact that I dont have to carry any-thing but my cellphone charger and a swiss army knife. After the music stopped. I took a right. It was not apparent to me where I was but...some-how I made it. The first thing I notice. Its 12. The second thing is that most people are in there homes sleeping. Even if I got direction from the first home as I came into town. Which was lucky for me. Now I had to sit around the dead end portion of the street waiting for my phone to get a location barring on me and give me the small detail of. Where I am. In the mean-time some ladies dog desided to pass under the fence. It was a big labroudor. Charging right at me. I turned to him and yelled. Some-how the dog got spooked and ran back. The owner came out to see what all the hollerin and hooting was. Than went back in. Not bothered at all by the fact that her dog can get out. The gps said that the studio was take a right than take the second right. Than last street on the right. If its a music studio like the ones I like it should be open. But... pula... I make it over and the number I had did not even exist. The city had a place called the resource center which was on the way. So I went over there to see what resources. Mitch had already invited me to a swap-meeting, in the morning. My phone was almost dead. Here at the resource center I took out some screws and I spliced my charger to charge the phone. Than Ï noticed that there were a bunch of clothes left laying around at the donation center. Just laying around out-side. I figured I would take um to the swap-meet and make a buck or 2. While I let the phone charge I went to take another look. By now some-thing was started to be wrong with me. Making it up all the way to where the studio was supposed to be a guy came out and told me... nada. Than because I was getting sick. I threw up right there in the middle of the street. My pan-cakes. My hamburger... Fuck. 25 dollars ! wasted !!! At the resource center I grabbed my phone and some water. I put the clothes one on top of the other over my head. Most of them had hoods. The ones that didnt hung over my shoulder. Than I walked with a good 10 pounds of weight dead on my head. To make things even worse I picked up some vases as well. Figured I could make a good 50 bucks with these clothes. Than along the way I figured it would be better to donate them to church. There was a church in town any-way. Than kept walking, getting stuck with-in a fenced in area along the way and argueing with myself that with all these clothes on. It is impossible to be cold. I made it back to the field were my bags were. Layed down for not even a second and than herd a creepy noise from a bush across the field. It sounded like some-thing...shaking or moving towards me. Than I herd it in front of me as well. It was a sound that made me think some-thing was coming towards me. But I do not know what. Right now. In the middle of the night. When I was ready to sleep. I didnt even get a chance to eat ! I got out of the field and stood across the road from it. Under a light. I packed the clothes on my bag and got my left-overs to eat. By the time I finished a police officer had shown up and was talking to me. I mentioned the sounds, he said its rare to get caught in a field with a rattle snake this time of year, especially 2. I mention some-thing about how I feel this might be satans garden or some-thing. It just felt really spooky. Than we talked about how the churh helped him out... this of course was done along the way we rode into town. It was 5 in the morning when the police officer dropped me off. Church worship begins at 7. 2 hours of playing guitar from now. It is a nice feeling being out-side in about 20 degree weather. Sitting playing guitar and in a state of mind that is more... in a trance than awake. The swap meeting is at 9. I have alot of oranges (picked up along the way from Ohaj) and alot of clothes to donate. The first thing to do before playing guitar is find out when all of these little shops open. The swap meet seemed like a bad idea. So the thrift shops open at Eight and some at 9. At 6.30 the church gates open and I find that they do not accept donations of clothes, I also had to take a dump of major proportions and the priest had to open the bathroom for me as well. I explained that I just want to wash my hands....ya ... So I just left the clothes at the front desk, where their was no-one around to say any-thing. At church I discovered how cool it is to sit there and fall asleep. Because of the way I am...when the folks at church stand, I am still sleeping and I rise with them. Than when they start to sing. In this state of mind. Between bored and resting and tired. It is more or less a state of meditation. Being Romanian...has another added perk. It is said that we are spiritual vampires. It could just be that being in this church gives me the energy I need to go on. The priest giving the cermony is a Indian. And he is pretty groovy. The way he recites the scriptures is the exact typical hollywood remdition of an Indain priest. And it is much nicer than church in Romania. When the cermony is over, I walk out to be greeted by rays of sun-shine. The water fountain in the churches garden now seems that much more beautiful. The orange I had left nestles by the entrance on a events posters was now gone, the priest took it. The swap meet was not down the road. And the office, still did not open, and the clothes were still there. So I took um again and walked into the first thrift shop, donation center along the way. And put um on the counter. "Take um, I am sick of carrying them." Its not like the place needed um any-ways. Some nice folks told me where the swap meet was and I headed out there to hang out with Mitch again. The weather became over-cast. As what was going to happen was bad. It was going to rain. But, I had a plan. Some-one mentioned to me that there is a magic game night at some card shop down the road. And I went there. I walked the full 5 miles. By the time I got there it started raining. The comic book store is quite the American attraction. You have a huge store crammed with all sorts of cultural icons. I made my way down to the tables set up for people to play card games, poke-mon, yu-gi-oh, Dbz, every-thing. I sat in with a group of guys playing Magic. And 1 girl ! They all had solid decks and a solid understanding of the game. I found myself calling Corey to ask him if he is willing to trade a card for any-thing... that had me searching the 2 fellow players decks for it. Than after we played 2 games of Magic...of which I lost at both. We played a game called Dungeons and Dragons. It involves trust and imagination. When I left it was raining. But for some-reason I headed towards the beach. At one point the rain got bad enough that I sat in a garage and played guitar while eating freshly cleaned oranges. At another point I tried finding away to climb a church, but there was no way up there... unless... I could pick a lock. I talked to my father for a few hours on the phone, he was at work. Than I got to talk to my mother as well. It felt good to hear their voices. "I am not getting a hotel room, its 3 in the morning and its pointless, maybe tomorrow" That is the arguement that constantly pops up when I want to jump into a hotel room. Its to damn late. If I just wait 3 hours I could have the hotel room for a full 24 hours ! Instead of 5. The beach, did not get any-rain. Strangely enough. So I rolled in my blanket and slept for a few hours or rather 2. When I woke up, it was still over-cast and shadey. The blanket was around my neck like a cape and the slippers I had on almost let my feet reach a temperature that sucked. But the ocean soothed me. It always does. Out-side were people walking about, cold and shivering. I was going to catch a train over to Hollywood to take care of opening the studio. Take about exciting. I gave Vance a message. "Hey, Im in Ventura, you wanna race to the studio?" He replies almost immiedetly. "Sure". "Im taking the train, not sure how long it takes to get down there." The train ride was simple enough. I stayed on board most of the time to change clothes, brush teeth and wash up a bit. Not to mention those banna chips I ate the night before made me really sick. It took about 30 minutes to get to where I had to be. On the route over the train passed between a few tunnels and a few mountains and it was much better than driving. Once I arrived at my stop, Van Nuy, it was up to my phone to point me in the right direction to walk in. I meet up with Vance at the studio, and we exchange my keys for his cash. Pretty simple. November ends with a studio on my hands. https://www.dropbox.com/el/? r=/s/vcn62b5n0lsuvxa/VID_20121223_002213.3gp&b=clk:None:9581733936996200783:1310:647&z =AABYdWzmV0piHD63oGYQcfsdtr04E6Z46imHNseKZpFomw A stanza to forget. Or too remember. (Back to where I was. A ghost in a city that sleeps more than it eats. By now the art of either being awake at the time of every-one elses awakening, leaving after every-one has fallen asleep or leaving before they sleep has been mastered. Proof of this was at the halloween party where that bloody cable was lost. It was about 5 in the morning. Corey was talking, or rather attempting to make a speech to a group of sleeping people in an attic laying down on couches. I finally sat down as well in a seat especially left free for me. It was more of a hammick than a chair. Picking up some chord progressions that suited the mood, theyll never be remembered that was a one time kinda deal. Corey continued on. "I want to get out of this town, this capitalism is really getting to me" Id rebutal his statement with a melodic lyric. "I gotta find a-way outta this place, cant stand selling my soul" "Every-day, to wake up and work for frikking eight hours and for what? To have a place to leave work from?" "I work just to sleep and I sleep so I can work" "Im going to just develop some property and move out to the country and take it easy" "Rent a house in the city and live in the country" The song idea stuck ever since that night. The ghost part is when Molly came up just as the last note of the dong subsided into silence. Each step she took phased out that chord more and more until her presence was the only thing making noise. At 5 in the morning I was eating doughnuts and packing gear. Than at Corey and Peppers, a night disappeared. It was not a night where they woke me up to say good morning. I will always be seen "at the ready". 12 hours later, I would be wandering the streets looking for that same house trying to find a cable, the wandering the streets part lasted for 3 hours. In the mean-time... in the 12 hours break. It is possible that I slept, but than that would not explain me waiting in the rain at Nirchies pizza because the cyber-cafe doesnt open until 11. Actually, not alot is open. Ya sure, price chopper, sub-way, Burger Queen. But I wanted ma carrot cake dammit! At 11 in the morning that day long before the search for the pretty blue guitar cable would start, and before its absence was even apparent. The rain was annoying, but it was part of being a ghost. Whole else would walk 2 miles to go get a piece of carrot and be the first customer in the bar. Well.. That whole plan died. Didnt bother to visit the cyber-cafe after it was closed to early in the bloody morning. Rachells words echoed strongly through my head, mostly every-day. Even if she just made a cute observation. "You hang out more at your friends place any-ways, maybe you should move in with them". She said this after only 2 nights were spent away from home. 1 which was spent any-where else....Dont know where it was a distant time ago. Its the begining of the month, I stand at the point where my mother just gave me my allowance and the rent was already paid for this month. 500 bucks to spend on what ? There was no way another month was going to be spent in Bingy. There just wasnt enough going on. It was to quite. Its a weird place to be. Good to raise kids in because of the quite-ness but also its so quite that its dangerous to their mental and physical health ! I remember walkign to visit my cousins... Nicky Micky and Danny. The memory of a pretty girl, who looked so much like Madonna still aromats from my mind. It was the walk on the bridge over-looking the beautiful river, passing her left side, as the scent of her pretty perfume hypnotized me, just a little. The sun lit her body, she was dressed in a set of shorts with tiger stripe stockings. Looked just like Madona, even had the pretty painted eye-lashes. I walked behind her for a little. Past 2 streets, off of the bridge and across the broad-way. She crossed the street, jay-walking. She was clenching a little mapa (a trapper-keeper of sorts) with a bunch of paper-work in it. The scent was to strong and I ran after her. "Excuse me, but whats in the mapa" "The what?" "The binder?" "Oh just a few songs" "You sing ? I am a producer!" "Oh, you wanna take a look" I glaze over lyrics. "Girl you booty so sweet, I wanna hit it like a freek, sink my teeth and get a piece sink my teeth and get a piece" "Its interesting that your writting from the perspective of a male" I mention to her after thinking of something good to say after about 7 minutes. She talked to a few friends she met in the station begging them more or less to call her! Well that conversation ended with her giving me her email. And than that relation-ship ended with the fact that a month later she still didnt respond. Oh well.... The world already has a Madona, does there really have to be another? At my cousins place I had to go and get the playstation 3 to hold on to it. The kids were staying up to much playing video games. Go figure. It was a comforting thought thinking that I would sit at home playing video games....but deep down inside, a thought beckoned "Thats what you think!". The kids were great to hang out with, as usual....they didnt want me to leave and they wanted me to stay. But ...eh couldnt stick around. There is alot to accomplish in the next few years. If I dont do it I might as well get a spade and start digging. At there place, there was a beer stashed away waiting for me. A red dog raspberry cider. An amazing drink and fitting. The walk over took only 30 minutes, and I couldnt stay long because some-how I was meeting some-one some-place. I told the kids about the pretty girly, Nicky laughed at me and said I dont stand a chance. I mentioned the writting gig and how hard it was and that I am happy it was over with, and that now the plan is to move away from Bingy. By now all the constant wandering around the city got me settled in well. Taking the bus was pretty use-less as well... its a small place. I was also dieing to see a movie, Resident Evil (extinction ?? was it ??). I missed the premier of it and was dead set on seeing it today. Nicky wanted to see it as well and we quickly made our way down to the bus terminal after looking up show times and made it down to the cinema to watch the movie. Nicky had another hissy-fit as he didnt like waiting a full hour for the movie to start. The pizza and arcade games didnt help any...as it turns out I cheat at the game that involves shooting dear. Kids.... The movie was great, the cinema was empty and the kid was quite the whole time. Than it ended. We talked at the end credits, as I listened to the music and than walked out...where again... he exploded. This time around it was ok, help was on the way! I tried to take advantage of the situation and went up to a pretty girl to ask for a cigarette, with the coverstory that babysitting kids is stress-ful, but she had a bloody boy-friend. Nicky saw that and cheered up. Than his Mom came to pick us up. Took me home and that was another night. Corey is an embodiment of music in human form. Some-how he does everything possible to create a world where he has everything he enjoys to play. His home is littered with instruments, even a saxophone, and a drum-kit with a double bass. Yippeee !!! The instruments each have a personality out of this world. The basses are a 6 string electric and a 7 string acoustic....which Corey plays with a capo. On the electric bass is a few pieces of paper, colored, writting out where each note on the bass is...some-thing I did as well when I gave lesson (and I still do !). The drums, have toms with a weird cloth face, the snare is half covered by a cloth and the other dented with sticks. The kick drum is chain driven, of course and the springs had to brought in as tight as possible...it just was not right for them to be soo loose. A kick drum needs to feel like a tense muscle ready to pounce and explode! The 2 guitars there (the ones permanetly there) were a really nice home cut piece of wood that looks like some-thing dragon-force would play if they were a punk band. Think a mocking-bird with the wings cut off and the other was a B.C. rich bronze series warlock. Hmm... There was a flute, a sax, a trumpet, oh and a bloody keyboard. A really nice one at that with nice and weighted keys. Corey explained that the school gave him a loan, which he is slowly paying back and he bought all these great toys thinking it was a grant. The ampeg 1000 watt bass amp being the trophy of all this. The house my friends lived in was a very pushy place. The living room forced people close together, and unless they were comfortable and knew each other could make some-one feel a little... ahm intrussive. The green gradient on the walls blushed with forests straight down the middle of it helping aid in that bewildered feeling. This was the living room. At one end was the kitchen and the way most folk come in (from the back) at the other end of this rectangular 6-9, was a small hall leading towards a flight of stairs towards the front door and another bed-room where all the toys resided. Here the room was blue, with a light that painted everything purple. In the living room was a couch and a few chairs. 4 people sitting around there would end up touching feet. But usually we had plenty of guests to entertain. The music room was much bigger than the living room. Twice the size, and everything and every-one sat in there comfortably. I miss the place. So what if at night it gets so cold the freezing bite turns into a numbing pain and every limb goes dull. So what if its like breathing ice if you dont wrap up nice. There are really nice blankets laying around. More importanly great vibes.) This some-how showed up as well... http://varietyofsound.wordpress.com/blog/ That's all I wrote, after words, the log turned into a video log, and if services such as the internet time machine (or better said the government) did their job right. The data will never be lost. Some of the pictures and videos and recordings are at ABC studios in L.A. Other stuff is with a pretty little foxy lady named Sarah :) It's a comforting fact to know that the hopes of a prosperous relation-ship went down like a bottle rocket the second I returned with a present for every birthday I missed....But that's another story. Apart from that there was the whole bit of closing up all those loose ends and being sincere with all the pretty women that still believed some-thing may one day happen. To be fair I also believed that with any of those 14 girlies, some-thing serious was going to happen..... But the return to Romania was only to offer to all of them closure and understanding. Son-of-A-bitch! Either way, 2 years and 6 months later... I have surrendered sexuality and am awaiting the fulfillment of the next stage of life. The part that goes from being free of responsibility to a contributing member of society, to sum things up in a short retro-spective; TO RAISE KIDS !!!!!! If kids would just come out of eggs and be prepared to hunt and run from day 1 things would be different, but …. taking care of a baby is a nice part of some-ones life where things get really slow.... And everything has to be stable....for the next 20 years.... I can do it ! I got over the fear of the thought of a child. I am happy to commit, and no longer face the stress of “NNNNOOOOOOOOOO MY FREEDOM, LONG LIVE LIBERTY !!!! NEVER NEVER NEVER”. Commitment is very nice now, it feels great, every day more is accomplished just by being committed, I never knew satisfaction from accomplishing a goal could be that easy ! Now, i'm working on getting a College degree, instead of running of to Italy to do the artsy thing :) But yea.... There's gonna be – Caste – The Telepathic Man – along side this book as well. Just next year. If you read this whole log, thank you. If you skimmed through, your cheating yourself. If your wondering why are their so many errors in the writing, it's to manifest personality onto the text. Cheers, And “Don't Worry ! Be Happy !” Break ups We all go through um, but this one doesn't hurt at all It feels just like this little seal in this video. First discovering that he is alive. http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/81498246/
