Monday, November 13, 2006

Let's talk about ponies and New Year's and not about work. I think I'm employed again, but it might all be an artichoke induced hallucination

There are a few thoughts that go through my head each time we return from tour. Things like "Wait. There are fruits and vegitables?" and "Oh yes. That bill." Also, you take solace in the knowledge that you'll have your own bed instead of a tiny, dorm-sized cot, covered in a blanket which may or may not be harboring germs of the next great pandemic. Then there's the remembrance that you know people beyond the three guys in your band and that each day doesn't have to begin in a van or in a diner or in a state of hungover confusion. Plus, all the routine things you do and places you visit when you're home are suddenly interesting---at least until you visit that bagel place for the third time in four days and it's old hat all over again.

So, yes. We're home. And what's a better homecoming than taking $50 you don't have and betting at the track? Nothing, that's what. I had a red letter evening on Friday, winning an astounding zero times and coming dreadfully close only once. And I was so sure I knew what I was doing too. I mean, I know how to box a trifecta, how to avoid unsightly puddles in the men's room, how to scream wildly at animals that can't understand me and jockeys who can't hear me. I was even fairly certain that after a few one dollar beers (the teaser that got us to the track in the first place), I had suddenly become the horse whisperer. I kept going down to the paddock and saying things like "Oh, you can see it in his eyes: he wants it," and then discovering, fifteen minutes later, that what he wants is to finish twenty lengths off the leader and be turned into a vat of Elmer's.

Besides that borderline financially catastrophic trip to the ponies, though, I've just been catching up. I watched all the LOSTs from this season (and let me say: much better than last season already and I enjoyed last season immensely. Except this: the new people at the camp. You can't expect me to take that lying down. Memo to the producers: kill them before I get angry. And make it violent. Especially for the guy. He has no personality. He's halfway to corpse-dom already). I cooked something that didn't involve fried meat. I lounged around like a drugged house cat. We even had time to play a show on Saturday. If you would've told me a while ago that somehow, we'd have played the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium twice in less than a year, I would've laughed in your face and maybe called you something unpleasant. Yet, well, we have. Sometimes, I feel like Queensryche. Soon: well-conditioned hair down to my knee-caps.

Now? Back at work. Which means I can again comment back and will be spending most mornings writing about Godknowswhat for far too many paragraphs. Do come back. Oh, and I must, must, must mention this: We're playing our favorite club in the world on New Year's Eve this year. In other words: Bottom of the Hill, 12/31. If you're in San Francisco, please come by. We'll have some new songs, a cover or two, and would love to slur Auld Lang Syne with you. No one knows those lyrics anyhow.


Rachael said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
rachael said...

the introduction of those two new characters was by far the worst writing i've ever seen. all of sudden, hey! we want to join in on the escapades and say not-very-witty remarks. bollocks.

i think you've benefited from watching this season all in a row. watching it once a week has been torturous, and i gotta say, i'm not too satisfied with how things are going.

oh well, i have three months to complain some more and then act like a crackborn child when it comes back. i can't wait.

birdmonster said...

Beyond the two hot new people, I'd say it's been impeccable thus far. The Sawyer episode was fantastic, Locke has redeemed himself, and even Jack isn't making me want to shove my head in a toilet & flush until I lose consciousness. Bravo, LOST. We'll circle our wagons come February. I think they've got some goodness up their sleeves.

SOL's view said...

Welcome back (Kotter) to the real world after that fun filled tour of the US. Glad you made it home safe.

birdmonster said...

Thanks Sol's View. And thanks for the comments on the road. They were read, enjoyed, and tragically, not responded too. The ol' Turing test is good to keep the penis enlargement goons off the comment roll, but that's about it.

Katie L. Thompson said...

Hello, hello! I'm onboard now, as well. (Picture me jumping up and down waving as I say that.)

I'm busy fighting the employment demons myself. I wish I had some sort of, you know...skills. And my goodness, I wish I was as well-written as you. It's sort of deja vu; not so long ago I met a handsome fellow in a band and nervously stared at the ground and told him that I wished I could write more like him. Oh, but you don't want to hear about that.

Glad you're home safe and sound. I sometimes forget that there is a West Coast and that bands actually live there because I don't really know any.

birdmonster said...

KLT: It's true. The West Coast does exist. We've got Axl Rose over here to prove it. Wait. Actually, not a good example. But I'm sitting here in a strange spell of sunshine after yesterday's sock-drenching downpour and I insist we exist. The only place I'm unsure of is North Dakota. Might just be a rumor. Time will tell.

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