beautiful, funny, sad & true

I’ve been in a bit of a funk this week, where writing is concerned. It seems that lots of people are criticizing blogging lately, which I find has left me feeling a bit tongue-tied. I want to make each post Beautiful and Funny and Sad and True, but sometimes that’s a tall order to fill.

The other side of that feeling is that it’s a new one for me. It’s only since I switched over to this new page and got my own domain name and all that. For some reason, I’ve felt much more self-conscious about the things that I write, which I never felt before. Part of the self-consciousness has to do with a certain blog stalker, too. If you’ve never experienced someone crapping all over your online life before, let me just tell you that it really sucks, and that you should count yourself lucky. It has affected my writing in ways I can’t even begin to describe, which is completely abhorrent and unacceptable to me. AND it really pisses me off.

Ironically–and, as if to add insult to injury–as soon as I finished writing that last paragraph, one of my friends actually called to ask me if he could use my picture in a fake profile, so that he could write inflammatory things online.

“No, absolutely not. My stalker did that.”

“Oh, dude, you’re right. . .I’m sorry. I totally forgot; that’s verboten.”

“Yeah, man, you’re on your own on that. Use a picture of Darth Vader or something; anything. Online identities are not to be messed with.”

“Well, that’s the whole point of a fake profile, is for it to look like a real person. . .”

Well, that may be the point of a fake profile, but it’s not what I stand for, and it’s not the point of How To Be a Decent Human Being.

The point of being a decent human being is this; if you have something to say, don’t hide behind anonymity, or pretend to be another person, just be honest. You don’t need to blast the other person out of the water. Honest doesn’t mean ‘nasty’, or ‘insulting’, or ‘character-defaming’, it doesn’t mean ‘ad hominem‘, and it doesn’t mean ‘brutal’, it just means. . .well, here’s a definition that I like:

Honesty is the human quality of communicating and acting truthful and with fairness, as best one is able. It is related to truth as a value. This includes listening, reasoning and any action in the human repertoire — as well as speaking.

That’s a good–dare I say ‘honest’?–definition of honesty.

And a word of warning; not only do you have to be honest about what you say, but also about your motivations for saying things, because if you aren’t honest about that, you may get some unforeseen repercussions, or consequences, for your statements. This is why you need to be careful.

We all leave impressions everywhere we go, and I try very hard to make my impressions positive ones. Not all of them are–I admit that–but I think that the vast majority of them are.

And now, may I take this opportunity to urge you to use your powers for Good in this world. Life is hard enough, without having to deal with any more negativity.

Tonight two great things happened, and two funny things also happened.

Great Thing #1: Had the first rehearsal for the play that will be performed in April, in which I prominently play the accordion, and may end up even speaking a line. Yes, it’s true. I almost took a few pictures, but I figured it was too early in the process, and it would’ve been too disruptive. We all met in an empty loft-type space (and by loft I mean 1980’s, gray-carpeted loft-type space) to start blocking, and moving around, and trying music, and getting a feel for what works and what doesn’t. Total blast. This production is going to be hilarious and awe-inspiring.

Great Thing #2: The original post-rehearsal plan was to meet at Yoko’s, but as we were driving in our caravan over there, we found out that they weren’t seating people anymore, so we went to Dot’s instead. At first I was disappointed, but once Lindsey and I got our black bean quesadilla, suddenly the clouds parted and the metaphorical sun shone through, and I forgot all about Yoko’s. Yum.

Funny thing #1: As Tossed In (my new favorite nickname for T. Austin) and I walked out the door, he kinda lost his balance on the ramp outside the door. I did fine. Number of drinks he had: zero. Number of drinks I had: two. We continued on, in the direction of our respective vehicles, and when it was time to go our separate ways, we gave each other a hug like we always do. This time was different, though, in that I got an errant knee to the groin in the process. Again; number of drinks he had: zero. Hilarious, and also painful.

Funny thing #2: The second I parked my car in front of my apartment building, Astor Piazzolla (FlutistSusan’s white cat) ran over and jumped up onto the hood of my car, and looked in at me through the windshield. I hadn’t even been there long enough to turn the engine off yet, and he was right there to say hello.

And now it’s time to go to bed.

I’ve been feeling really good lately.

Lots of good musical things happening, including two amazing recording projects and one play production in which I’ll be playing the accordion at least, but probably some other things as well. It promises to be a great time.

Been laying low these last few days, to recuperate from the busy and exhausting weekend. I’ve also been planning the next installment of the 80’s hard rock blog thingy I’m working on, for fun.

I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time on the phone this week, too. Lots of planning, and talking, and re-connecting, for some reason. It always seems to happen at the same time.

I had a funny thing happen a couple of days ago, which reminded me of something funny that happened twenty years ago. Someone on my street owns a really nice old Mustang. I’m not much of a muscle car guy–I’m more of a ’60’s and ’70’s European guy (the BMW 2002 is my favorite car)–but I always appreciate a nice car that someone has loved and restored.

So. I parked behind this particular Mustang the other night when I got home late, and the street was unusually full of cars. Blame it on my sleepiness from the Daylight Savings Time adjustment, blame it on whatever you want, but when I went to go to work in the morning, I found out the hard way that I had left my car in first instead of in reverse, like I usually do. So I went forward when I expected to go backward, and I sorta almost hit the Mustang. I DIDN’T, but I’m just saying it was close.

That reminded me of a time back in 1989 when my friend Blaine and I were going to a school to do some location scouting for one of our band’s videos. He parked his little white Honda behind a really nice, flashy, purple muscle car. We walked across the street from a grade school, and Blaine noticed that he was parked too far away from the curb or something–I don’t remember the details–but for some reason I ended up going back to move his car. Since the road was at a slight incline, I opened the door, leaned in, released the parking brake, and reached my leg in to engage the clutch, so that the car would roll forward slightly. I did it more by feel than by sight, because most stick-shift cars are the same, but after the car had rolled a few feet, I really should have looked instead of relying on my angle-guessing, because I kept pushing on the clutch pedal instead of the brake pedal. This meant that Blaine’s Honda rolled about ten feet and then banged into the back of the pristine muscle car.

It took about one second for the car’s owner to come storming out of his house. He ran out the front door, across the lawn, and right over to the open driver’s side window and pointed at his car, yelling, “Hey! That’s the ’85 Hot Rod champion!!” There wasn’t any damage to Blaine’s Honda, and the only damage to the ’85 Hot Rod Champion was a tiny little crack in one of its two-inch round tail light covers, luckily. No real harm done, so I just apologized profusely, and told him how beautiful we both thought his car was, and the guy let us go on our merry way.

Oh, and a few years ago, when I had my little green Toyota truck, I rear-ended a Camaro when the driver stopped too suddenly–in in the middle of the block!–near the Lloyd Center mall to let some girls cross the street in front of him. Nice. The crash put a little scratch on his bumper, but really smashed up the front of my truck.

Apparently I have more of a problem with muscle cars than I realized; it seems that my subconscious is out to single-handedly destroy them all.

Okay, so that good story I was promising.

I’m not quite sure how to tell it, but it involves two accordions and a member of the Decemberists.

So at the show on Friday, there were three groups. The first was a group from Alaska, the second was Susie and the band, and the headlining band was the person whose CD release party it was. I was quite happily surprised to find out that DecemberistsAccordionist was playing in the headlining band, because I think she’s really great, and finally I’d get the chance to meet her and tell her so. It’s also gratifying, in a different way, because I get the chance to be on par with lots of the people who I’ve looked up to for a long time, as a participant instead of merely an observer. Making good connections and new friendships like that is always a great feeling.

Accordions are like cellos, in that they’re fairly uncommon, and people tend to use only their own for years on end. Whenever you get the opportunity to play someone else’s, you tend to take it. She wanted to try my accordion, and I wanted to try hers too, so we did, and it was really fun. She’s got a really nice one too; very small and light and easy to play, and sounds very much like a musette. Mine’s huge and heavy, but it has a wider variety of sound possibilities.

There was an impromptu bluegrass jam session happening backstage in the green room, involving DecemberistsGuitarist, DecemberistsAccordionist, MississippiStudiosJim and a really amazing girl fiddle player. I could have listened to that all night. CellistSkip joined them too, and then they asked for different songs. I was sitting and listening–not playing, because there was already an accordionist involved–and then Skip started playing “Comfortably Numb” by HugelyFamousPinkEnglishBand. I grabbed my accordion then, and started to play the really high violin part, in harmony with what Skip was doing. Super fun and hilarious. The real show always takes place backstage.

By then the first band had finished, and it was Susie’s turn to play, so we went out onstage. Sounded great and felt great, but on about the third song, one of my accordion straps broke. I ran off stage and grabbed a chair to sit on, but it was still pretty much impossible to play. The song came to an end, and I told Susie what was up, and ran offstage again. She started to tell a story, I think. I don’t really remember, to tell you the truth. I was too busy freaking out.

Jim took a look and said, “Maybe we can fix it,” but we couldn’t. It had snapped in the fatal spot. I asked for DecemberistsAccordionist, but she was nowhere to be seen. Someone went and found her, and she very generously allowed me to use her instrument for the remainder of the show. Extra special mega-thanks to her for saving the day.

Tonight I’m taking it to the repair shop for some new straps. Can’t live without the accordion at all; it’s my bread and butter instrument, and yes, I do know which side the butter goes on.

Saturday I drove up to EmeraldCity to play guitar with Brandon and the band. It was really fun, as usual. His mom happened to be in town. I didn’t recognize her at first–it HAS been fifteen years, after all–but she refreshed my memory, and she’s a really sweet lady. So our first two sets were flawless, but by the third set, my pedalboard started acting up and losing power. Sheesh! Two weeks ago, the metal screw that tightens the hair on the cello bow broke. Friday it was the accordion strap. Saturday, the pedalboard was freaking out. What’s next?? Never mind, GearGoblins, I don’t want to know.

After the show, the three of us went to FamousRestaurantThatRhymesWithPennies. I got back to LittleBrothersHouse at 3:30 a.m. It was a really great time all around.

My mom was also at LittleBrothersHouse this weekend, and I haven’t seen her for a few months. It was a really good–if short–visit, and you’ll be glad to know that on Sunday we made Mister T sandwiches. I swear those things are going to catch on.

CatZooey is back with her owner now. It was great to have her staying here, but it’s also nice to have my place back. I spent last night cleaning like a maniac. I still have more to do, but it’s quite an improvement over the way this place has been lately.

So yeah; quite a weekend, indeed. Here’s to plenty more just like it.

In my quest for material to use in my 80’s Röck Blög series, I came across a funny web site about the ten ‘eightiest’ movies, called The Decade of Rad.

Here’s a sample, from the description of “Over The Top”. You know, the movie in which Sylvester Stallone is the arm wrestler:

This is THE arm wrestling movie. In the ‘80s, movie executives didn’t make a film about every single possible subject matter, but it wasn’t due to a lack of trying. “Gentlemen, have we done a picture about lawn darts yet? How about. . .C. Thomas Howell leads a group of teen lawn darters to save a. . .wildlife refuge. No, a salad bar. Speaking of bars, what if a robot entered the Olympics as a pole vaulter? Why am I phrasing that as a question? Make it happen.”

For the purpose of continuity with my 80’s Röck theme–and though the article conveniently fails to mention it–the theme song from this movie is the first time Eddie Van Halen and Sammy Hagar collaborated on a recording. How 80’s is THAT?