Back to the city, back to my life

February 14, 2013 Leave a comment

Life on the road can be so much simpler than life at home. There are so many things you just don’t worry about. On the road, you live life in the moment. All that concerns you is your immediate surroundings, your only responsibilities are what you brought with you. For a week, I didn’t pay any attention to the news, hardly looked at Facebook and wasn’t even that concerned with what was going on back home. I was only five states away but it might as well have been another planet.

That all ended yesterday. Much of our rush to get back was so I could do my CityPages route on Wednesday. Another 8 hours of driving around felt like nothing after the past few days. While driving I was listening to Minnesota Public Radio, catching up on what had been going on in the world. Apparently there have been a number of shootings in the Twin Cities lately.

One story struck me particularly hard. A St. Paul police canine officer was stabbed to death by a fugitive rape suspect. The suspect was later shot and killed by the police. That’s what happens. Police dogs are considered police officers just like there human companions. When you kill a cop you typically wind up dead. I have a feeling this alleged rapist knew what he was doing. I don’t think he wanted to face the consequences of his prior actions and wanted to die. I imagine one of the greatest challenges a police officer will ever face is having to assist another human being in committing suicide.

The dog’s name was Kody. his handler is officer Dave Longbehn. I didn’t know why that name sounded familiar and then it dawned on me. Longbehn was the officer that shot and killed my nephew nearly three years ago. My heart sank, not because I bare any resentment towards the officer, but because I feel a connection to him and he had just suffered a tremendous loss. I felt the same way when I learned the name of the person who killed my nephew. I felt empathy towards him. The choices my nephew had made in life were going to lead to him being killed. I don’t see any other way it could turn out. He was a cop killer and he decided that he was never going back to prison. He couldn’t escape so he was going to die.

Someone was going to shoot him. It didn’t have to be officer Longbehn but it was. He was the person my nephew chose to pull the trigger. For this reason, I will forever feel a deep affinity for officer Longbehn and I grieve along with him, the loss of Kody.

Officer Dave Longbehn & Kody – StarTribune

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Fear and loathing in Minneapolis

February 13, 2013 3 Comments

“There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. We need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. If we cannot love ourselves, we cannot fully open to our ability to love others or our potential to create. Evolution and all hopes for a better world rest in the fearlessness and open-hearted vision of people who embrace life.” – John Lennon

For most of my life I have subscribed to the philosophy put forth here by John Lennon; and for the most part I still do. There is a lot of wisdom in those words. I just can no longer treat love and fear as two sides of the same coin; two competing forces vying for our response. I can no longer view love simply as something that is good and fear as something that is bad. It’s not that black and white. Nothing is black and white. There are no absolutes, there is no certainty, there is no escape from fear. Am I absolutely certain of that? Well no, and hence I stand convinced of my doubt.

Writing this blog has been a life goal of mine for at past two years. For two years I have failed at taking that first step. For two years I have procrastinated.  For two years I have made excuses: I don’t know what I want it to be about, I don’t know what to call it, I don’t know how to set up a blog, I don’t have the time, I don’t have the money, I need a better computer and countless other arguments in my head that kept me stuck in my thoughts. For two years I have felt paralyzed, unable to take the next step in my life, because of the weight of a dream.

But that’s bullshit. I haven’t just been sitting around doing nothing. I’ve been living my life. I’ve been growing, changing, struggling and preparing myself for this day. The truth is that this blog came into existence on the absolutely first day it possible could. The truth is that getting to this day has not been a two year process. The truth is that it has been a 46 year process. Everything that has occurred in my life has been leading up to this very moment. That’s a pretty overwhelming though,t but it’s true, not just for this moment, but every moment. The present moment always arrives right on time. You can never be late for now.

So what possessed me to write a blog at all? What is the motivating factor behind this endeavour? Am I being driven by either love or fear? I would love to tell you that this is a labor of love. I would love to tell you that being a writer has been my life passion. I would love to tell you that I possess some great wisdom that needs to be shared with the world. I would love to tell you that I am so fabulous of a person everyone needs to know who I am. I would love to tell you that everything I do is motivated by love. I would love to tell you all that… but none of it would be true.

The fact is, this blog is a product of fear. To be precise, my fear of death. Well, not of literally of dying, I’ve already experienced that and I’m not really afraid of death. What I am afraid of is not living. If I’m not growing, expanding, taking risks and moving forward… well, that feels like death to me. I’ve been reading a number of blogs lately and it seems like a lot of them are born out of a period of tremendous life change: divorce, loss of a job, loss of a child, major medical diagnosis, physical injury, spiritual awakening or coming out process.

For me, it’s because I don’t know what the fuck else to do. I’ve been through my share of hell and along the way I have developed a lot of tools. I have a tremendous skill set and support system to cope with what life has thrown at me.  Still, it has only gotten me this far. I have worked through all of the issues I am aware of, I have made all the changes to my life I can and accepted those things about me which I cannot change, yet still, my life sucks. It’s time to shit or get off the pot. It’s time to forge into unknown territory or just give up. It’s time to face my fear… or die. I know, sounds pretty dramatic, but that’s how it feels to me.

I don’t think that it is an irrational fear, however. I think what I am setting out to do is pretty fucking scary.  I intend to share every aspect of myself with the entire world. I intend to share every thought, every hope, every dream, every fear, every strength, every weakness, every doubt, every secret, every opinion and every activity whether successful or utter failure with anyone who chooses to read it. Granted, I know that is impossible and there is no way I could actually share every aspect of myself so I guess in that respect the fear is irrational. But fear is fear, it doesn’t really give a shit about rationality or logic. It just is.

Regardless, I’m exposing myself, making myself vulnerable to the world; a world which can be cruel,  a world which has judged me… a world that includes my mother. So you may ask, why I would want to do this, and the answer is because it is all I have to give. For reasons I am still trying to figure out I have always wanted to be the best at something. I guess I figured if there was someone better at a particular task than I am then they should do it and I would find something else to do. Well the only thing that I have found that I do better than anyone else is BEING ME. So that is what I am going to do. That is my gift to the world. Don’t worry, I won’t be offended is you exchange it for a different size. I’ve never claimed to be one-size-fits-all.

I’m not fearless and I have not overcome my fear. What I have done is learn to love it. I embrace it. It has purpose and it deserves respect. As I have been writing my daily entries for the past two weeks I have realized that I am still experiencing fear. I am practicing cation as I am writing; not cation for my own safety so much as cation for those with whom I interact. I accept that this is part of the process and I trust that in time I will find a way to find peace with it.

It seems fitting, at this point,  that I should share my number one fear with you. My number one fear is hurting someone I love, and I love everyone. My second biggest fear is not living with honesty and integrity.  I imagine that balancing these two fears will define my life struggle.

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El Dorado – Part 2

February 13, 2013 Leave a comment

So I’m finally back home after a week on the road. I’m feeling sick as hell; don’t know why. I felt pretty good the whole time I was away from here. I hope it wasn’t the egg salad sandwich I grabbed during our last stop for gas. My band mates got me feeling kind of nervous by discussing their bad food experiences in graphic detail – WHILE I WAS EATING. Anyway, I need to get to bed so that I can get up early tomorrow and go do my delivery job so I want to hammer this out and finish my tour entries.

I actually got a good night’s sleep at Jule’s in Albuquerque. We wanted to get on the road early. It’s a long drive and the last stretch through Kansas is a real bitch in the dark. There are no lights what-so-ever and the lane dividers aren’t even reflective so it’s really hard to see. I hate to say this because the people I’ve met in Kansas are wonderful but for a while now, Kansas has been my least favorite state in the union.

We pulled into the horse ranch in El Dorado, KS around 8:30 at night. By the way, Dorado rhymes with potato not with the Eagles song Desperado like I always thought. Not that it matters; it’s just always bugged me. Another reason why Kansas rubs me the wrong way. But like I said, it’s not the people. Peter and Liz are absolutely amazing. Their generosity and hospitality is unbelievable. Not everyone would let a crazy rock band crash at their house, but they do so much more than that. They feed us, probably the best food we have the entire trip. They always have beer, a big plus for me. Seriously, the way they take care of us I would take over any five star hotel in the world. Peter even took the night of work so that he could be there when we arrived.

I’ve done the “crashing at punk house” touring. I’ve done the “staying in hotel” touring but the kind of touring I am able to do with Venus de Mars, where we stay with friends who just want to make sure that we get something to eat and get a good nights sleep is something new. I like it. I need it. I just want to make sure that the people who are caring for us are getting something out of it. I hate feeling like a pariah (sorry, I’m sure there are racist implications of that term but I can’t address everything in one post), but my bigger concern is that people aren’t feeling taken advantage of. I believe that our band is doing something good, really good; and I believe that we are all in this together. I’m just wish that I took more time to understand why people help us. It’s really and incredible thing.

Liz came out early this morning and checked on me sleeping on the couch. She was concerned that I might be cold. I was fine. I was in my footie pajamas so all was good but I did half wake up. You know that feeling where you wake up from an intense dream and you’re not sure if it’s a dream or reality. It was kind of like that, but kind of a lot worse. When I woke up I didn’t know where I was, how I got there or what was going on in my life. It was shear terror. I felt completely lost. Things like this can happen when you are sleeping in a different bed every night but this was beyond anything like that. I seriously felt like I was loosing my mind. I chalk it up to my crazy brain rebelling on the last night on the road. Luckily when I woke up for good a little while later I was feeling like myself again.

I had stayed up later than everyone else, writing and researching Venus’ IRS situation. I was still up and about before anyone else. To clarify, I think they all woke up before me but I was the first to be moving about. It was around 8 in the morning and my understanding of the plan was that we were leaving at 10 am so we could get home at 8pm. I was really looking to get some writing done this morning given that we didn’t have to get on the road quite so early.

Apparently I was wrong; or more accurately, I wasn’t the only person loosing their mind today. Venus came out apologizing that we would be waiting on her today. Confused, I let her know that we still had a couple hours before we needed to leave. She insisted that we needed to leave by 8 am to get home by 10 pm. Now I’m frustrated, “No, it’s a ten hour drive we leave at 10 am and get home at 8 pm”. This didn’t go over well. She still wanted to leave as soon as possible. My hope of getting writing done was dashed and I was annoyed. I felt cheated. I could feel my heart rate rise and knew I was beginning to loose it.

I voiced my emotions. I said I was upset and really stressed. Venus said that she didn’t mean to stress me out and that she though she had made herself clear the night before. Yeah, communication is a bitch. I never heard anything like that and in fact the last conversation I had with her about it was quite different. The conversation she was referring to I wasn’t even present for; not that it mattered. I just said, “I’m just putting it out there, not putting it on you.” These were my emotions to deal with. I just wanted the people around me to know what I was dealing with.

And I knew Venus was under a lot of stress too. I knew that she was worried about the weather, heading back into the snowy Midwest  I knew she was worried about driving at night. I knew that her biggest worry was about this tax audit that could end the band. We spent much of the trip home in silence separated by periodic discussions of what it means to be an artist and how this is not a hobby. It has really got me thinking and I hope that I can write an essay about this distinction. I’m trying to figure out if I have any hobbies  The only thing that I can think of that might fit that description is masturbation.

We got back to Minneapolis and dropped Jazz off just as the tenth and final disc of Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett was concluding. This is seriously and amazing book and the reading performance by Martin Jarvis is absolutely phenomenal. Accept for a little David Bowie, Le Tigre and Rasputina plus This American Life and Radiolab podcasts, this was our main form of entertainment during the nearly 70 hours we spent together in that Toyota Corolla.

 

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Fetish Revolution – Part 2

February 12, 2013 Leave a comment

Saturday, February 9th, 2013 was the day I had spent the previous three days in anticipating, the day of our full band performance at Fetish Revolution. I woke up feeling relaxed and confident that everything would go well. I also woke up a little drunk from the night before. That didn’t concern me. That I knew I could handle that. I also knew that it would be temporary. I made myself some coffee and got to work on my blog. This was actually the first opportunity on the tour where I had an extended period of time to sit down and really write. Venus and Jazz took off to get food and hit the music store. I stayed back to write.

After the coffee was gone I dipped back into the beer. I think Jazz was a little concerned when he got back to the hotel room and saw me with a beer in my hand. I’m sure I would be concerned if the tables were turned. But I was fine, just a little self-medication to stave off the nerves and keep me focused. I finished my blog, took a shower, shaved, painted my nails, did my make-up, got in costume and packed up my gear. This is all the stuff I do for every show; no big deal.

We arrived to the venue, 910 Live in Tempe, at 5 pm to pickup to the drum set which was being delivered. Big thanks to Patti for helping us out here. We wouldn’t be performing until 10 that night and even sound check wouldn’t happen for a couple more hours. None of this is a complaint. This is just the way it goes. If you really want to know what the rock-n-roll lifestyle is all about; it’s a whole lot of hurry up and wait! So, with the alcohol finally dissipated from by bloodstream and nothing to do the nerves kicked it.

There is always something to be nervous about before a show. Will we have a crowd? Will all the equipment work? Will the sound be good? Will I be able to hear myself and my band-mates? And the biggest one of all, will I choke and forget what I’m playing? All of these thoughts went through my head but the one thing I never thought I would have to worry about in Phoenix was the weather. The main stage was outside and it was getting mighty cold out. Obviously, not as cold as Minneapolis but it was colder than what I had planned for. I probably would have brought a different outfit had I known I was going to be playing outdoors in February.

We spent most of our time standing by the fire.

We spent most of our time standing by the fire

Sound check went great and the promoter wanted to buy me a drink. As we were standing at the bar chatting and enjoying our cocktails a gorgeous woman stopped by to say “hi” to James.  After she left he turns to me and says, “Yeah, she’s beautiful but she’s a bit much for me.” I was perplexed  What in damnation could someone who produces fetish events consider “too much”. Apparently she is into yoga, has placenta in her freezer and is into holistic love. I guess we all have our limits! I found this pretty funny though. I went on to tell him about how into yoga I am and how at one time I too had placenta in my freezer. Upon reflection I do think the later is kind of weird but whatever. I don’t know what holistic love is but it sounded like something I might be into.

After performing, these two kids came up to me to tell me how much they enjoyed the show. They were both really drunk but they were having fun. I thanked them and gave each a big hug. Then they started asking me why I was dressed they way I was. Clearly they were out of their element and probably had no idea what they had got themselves into. One guy said to me “You’re not gay are you?  I know you’re not gay”. I’m always a little unsure how to answer those questions. There is not really a simple answer. I could tell that he was hoping I would say “no”. I’m sure that would have made him more comfortable but it wasn’t going to happen. It’s pretty obvious that I am gay. Still, unless you want to fuck me it’s really none of your business what my sexual orientation is. Even then, the only question should be, do I want to fuck you? In the end I just said, “I could be, some people are gay you know.” Perhaps not the answer they wanted but it took the focus off something that was of no consequence to them and put it back where it belonged, on what a fucking amazing rock band we are. But don’t take my word for it, here’s a video from the show

Speaking of great bands, the headliner of the night was Assemblage 23. These guys are legends in the Industrial scene; super nice guys too. We had to stick around to see them play.

Assemblage 23 at Fetish Revolution 2013

Assemblage 23 at Fetish Revolution 2013

Oh, and I totally have a new crush. DJ Con is such an absolute sweetie. I feel like he is my long lost twin separated at birth, well… um… 16 years apart. His birthday is actually the day after mine. Aquarians unite!

Battle of the bulges. Photo by: Angel Collins

Battle of the bulges. Photo by Angel Collins

Back at the hotel I was finally able to remove the boots I had been wearing for the past 9 hours. Fuck, what a relief that was! My feet had been killing me.   What I hadn’t been aware of because my feet were hurting so much was how much pain the rest of my body was in. Upon releasing my feet from their silver patent leather bondage, sensation returned to every other part of my body and it was not a pleasant sensation. Luckily, there was still beer in the fridge and half a bottle of whiskey. Jazz and I stayed up for a few more hours talking but he offered no help in drinking the booze. I was on my own for that.

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Albuquerque – Part 2

February 11, 2013 Leave a comment

I know, these are going to be out order but I simply did not have any time to write yesterday; Fetish Revolution – Part 2 will have to wait. As it is, I only have about half an hour to write this morning before we head out again. It’s a mad dash to get back to Minneapolis – crazy, I know. Why would we want to leave the sunny southwest for snowy Minnesota? What’s even crazier is that it is currently warmer in Minneapolis than it is in Albuquerque. Oh, you Mother Nature! In her infinite wisdom, is she just preparing us for what’s to come? I suppose not, but it’s harmless to believe there is divine intervention at play.

So yesterday began with a phone call from Venus at 10 am letting us know that we needed to get up, check out of the hotel and get on the road. When I heard the phone I was hoping it was a call to go out for breakfast and that I could decline and get another couple hours of sleep but there was no such luck. It was time to get back to work. I was pretty hungover for reasons I will have to explain later but in the meantime I sure you can fill in the blanks.

To be honest, I sometimes think that being hungover is easier than what I deal with getting moving on a normal day. The pain in my head clouds out the pain in my body and makes me focus on the task at hand. Besides, hangovers go away in time; chronic illness does not. Without a doubt, yesterday was easier than today. Today is just miserable. On the plus side, being on the road does greatly simplifies my life. I only have to deal with whatever I brought with me. When it’s time to leave I just need to pack up everything I own and go – no decisions.

On our return to Albuquerque we drove the southern route which took us through Los Cruses, NM. I guess there was snow in Flagstaff so this turned out to be the most logical course but it also meant we could stop by and see our friends David and Donnie for a brief visit. They are such a wonderful couple and I miss them terribly. I wish we could have stayed longer but we still had another three hours before we would reach our final destination.

It was almost 11pm before we pulled in at Jule’s in Albuquerque. We had just enough time to exchange pleasantries and catch up a bit. I helped myself to a beer in the fridge and Venus and I slipped into the hot tub. Knowing that we had a hot tub waiting for us may have been the only thing that got up through those last few hours.

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Fetish Revolution – Part 1

February 9, 2013 Leave a comment

The drive to Phoenix felt like a breeze compared to the past couple of days. And breeze may not be the appropriate term. At times we were dealing with gale force winds, perhaps stronger than any winds I have experienced before. Upon reflection, Mother Nature may have provided the most intense experiences of the past 24 hours. She certainly provided the most beautiful. Our decent from northern Arizona to Scottsdale took us through the Tonto National Forest. It was an amazing drive and I wish I had better pictures but here is one.

Tonto National Forest

Tonto National Forest

Along the way we stopped in this small mountain town to get gas. I guess it does cross my mind what people think of us when they see this band of motley looking characters get of a black-on-black tiger-striped vehicle. I’m sure it’s quite a sight to be seen but to me it can’t compare with what they see all around them every day. Jazz mentioned that they will be talking about us for months. I don’t know if that is actually true but it does make me feel a bit jealous.  It takes so much to shock me these days.

The event this weekend is the type of thing that would shock most people. I did arrive with expectations of the most lasciviousness nature, and with good reason. The last time we performed at one of these shows things got so out of hand at the after party that we can never return to that hotel again. It’s not complete bravado that persuaded me to take the pill of Cialis which I had been hanging onto for the past four months.

I clearly had sex on my mind last night but I don’t know how to make those things happen. I’m not a player. I’m no Casanova. I would like to believe that I know how to seize an opportunity when it arises but I’m not even sure that is the case. I did learn that the hotel has a complimentary happy hour so I wasn’t going to pass that up. We let Venus go on to the venue without us and Jazz and I headed down to the pool for a couple Tequila Sunrises.

Venus at Martini Ranch for Fetish Revolution

Venus at Martini Ranch for Fetish Revolution

Venus performed a solo-acoustic set last night. I’ve played in her band for the past 6 years but I have been a fan for the last 15 years. Since I’m usually on stage with her it is a real treat to get to be in the audience and a great reminder of why I do this in the first place. Venus is a truly remarkable performer and way ahead of her time. I don’t even think the numerous trans-gender people in the audience were not aware of what they were experiencing. I fear that Venus will not be fully appreciated until long after she has given up performing. But I will know that I was there, that I was part of it.While I have the opportunity, I want to do everything in my power to share the magic she creates with anyone who is open to receive it. I’m so grateful that James Bound, co-founder of Horns and Halos, producer of this event, is one of those people who gets it.

I don’t even know how to describe one of these fetish events. It’s such a bizarre clustering of people. I like diverse crowds and if you are into people watching this is certainly a candy store for the eyes. But I don’t really care what people look like. I want to know who they are. I want to get into their head… and sometimes into their pants. Most of the people at this event weren’t even wearing pants. And the fact that this is basically a costume party adds another level of difficulty to figuring out who is who.

People attend these events for so many reasons. Some come for the fantasy, a chance to be someone different. Some come for the music, mostly industrial and goth. Some come for the fashion; some just to look and some to be looked at. Some come because this is one place where they can feel totally normal and some come to have an experience completely out of the ordinary. There is every kind of kink and proclivity, sexual orientation and gender identity represented. I’m fine with all of that. All I want to know is which one of these beautiful human beings wants to have sex with me.

I did meet many amazing people. I met a man dressed as a pirate who was able to pull off the hook hand and peg leg for real. I met a woman covered in scares from consensual but not self-inflicted knife wounds. She was not impressed with the bite mark on my chest. I met a wonderful lesbian couple and we had a great conversation but I had to cut it short because this obviously wasn’t going to lead where I wanted my night to take me. I met half-naked poll dancers who were lovely to look at but not available for conversation. I met a woman laying on her back, next to a bowl of strawberries and covered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream. I asked if I could dip my strawberry in the chocolate sauce on her chest. She said I could but I needed to put the strawberry in my mouth. I obliged, getting the gooey mess all over my beard. I think it was at that point that I realized that I needed to abandon all hope of getting laid and find another way to have fun.

As much as I enjoy having sex I think I equally enjoy dancing. I sometimes forget this. Being an entertainer and spending most of my time in clubs on stage, I forget how much fun it is to just dance. So I headed for the dance floor, not needing a partner, not caring who was watching, just going to move my body and feel the music. It seemed like the DJs were playing music just for me. Either that or they were trying to wind down the night because the music shifted from hard industrial and electro to a songs that I actually knew. It began with Rob Zombie but then shifted to David Bowie and The Cure. Micheal Fanti practically cleared the dance floor but a lone, completely out of place, hippy chic remained to dance with me. After that, Jazz and Venus joined me and the three of us danced together until it was time to leave.

We grabbed up the equipment and headed for the car.  Back at the hotel we all cracked open a few beers and the Black Velvet I had bought earlier. Venus is a Scotch drinker so I tried to tell her it was imported Scotch; imported from Canada. It’s actually pretty tasty stuff for cheap whiskey. We all got pretty sloppy drunk and it turned into one big narcissistic love fest. We started watching old videos of past performances, each of us only watching are own performance and sharing with each other how great we think we are. But we did come to the realization that we are a really amazing band and that we do work incredibly well together. Also, we are more than just a band, we are a family and as fucked up as we are, we need each other. Whatever happens with the IRS, even if they are able to dissolve the business and in effect, the band, the three of us are going to stick together and keep making music no matter what.

So I may not have been able to meet my objective of having sex last night but I had one other goal that I was not going to let go unmet. I was determined to go skinny-dipping in the hotel pool! The pool was right outside our hotel room door. I was shitfaced drunk. It was four o’clock in there morning and nothing was going to stop me. I stripped naked, wrapped a towel around my waist and headed for the pool. One quick dip and I was ready to call it a night. That’s were my memories end. Thankfully, that was also the end of the night’s activities.

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Nights like these

February 8, 2013 1 Comment

After a very relaxing soak in the hot tub, my muscles finally released from two long days spent crammed into a sedan, I smoked a cigarette, finished my beer and was ready for bed. I slipped into my skull and cross-bone footie pajamas and took my place on the couch. Jules checked in with me to make sure I had everything I needed. I told her that one advantage to having CFS, perhaps the only advantage, is that I have no problem sleeping. It is true, at least for me, at least now. I know many people with CFS also suffer from insomnia and I did in the beginning but now I live everyday to the fullest, push myself to the limit and sleep like a baby.

Last night began no different. Jazz was on the blowup mattress beside me. I asked him what time it was to which he replied, “11:50”. It has now occurred to me that he didn’t take into account the time zone change and that it was actually 10:50 pm but in any case I closed my eyes and was sawing logs by eleven.

Now it was my turn for disrupted sleep. The night before Jazz spent much of the night in agony after eating some bad jalapeno peppers; Venus was tossing and turning all night worrying about her audit. Last night I got a taste of both.

Usually I can get a good six hours of sleep before my bladder sounds the alarm. Last night I only made it til 1 am. I woke up, checked my phone and stumbled to the bathroom. At least Jazz was sound asleep. I returned to the couch and laid down. It took me a little longer to fall asleep this time, but maybe only half an hour, although my head was starting to fill with the thoughts of the day before.

At 2:30 am I awoke again. My stomach gurgling, my intestines in knots and a pressure building upon my sphincter with the force of Niagara Falls. Perhaps it was just a fart but not wanting to take the chance nor risk poisoning my drummer I ran once again to the bathroom. I will spare you the details but let’s just say I made camp on that toilet for the next 20 minutes eliminating the toxins that had built up in my bowels.

I laid back down but quickly realized that I would not be falling asleep anytime soon. I figured I might as well go have a smoke and work through the thoughts in my head. I’ve been really troubled by what Venus is going through with the IRS. It seems like they are asserting that the life of an artist is not a worthy profession, that it’s not a legitimate way of life. This scares the hell out of me as I imagine it does many independent artists. After 14 solid years of battling CFS I know that the only thing I can do is be an artist and philosopher, and the world needs artists and philosophers. Even if I’m not the best artist or philosopher it is still the only thing I have to offer. Sure, I’m a good father, I’m a good friend; but as a career, as a vocation, as a way of live… this is all I have left. So why do I feel guilty? Whose voice is in my head because it sure isn’t mine.

Jazz made a comment last night suggesting that the IRS is coming after Venus because they believe she is trying to write off her vacations as a business expense. “Really?!?” I thought. People consider this a vacation? As insane as this supposition sounds to me, I understand where it is coming from. We do enjoy what we do. But isn’t that suppose to be the goal. Aren’t you suppose to do what you love? Aren’t you suppose to love what you do? When did enjoying your job become a bad thing? And honestly, this is not a vacation. I can’t even remember the last time I took a fucking vacation. At this point I’m not even sure what a vacation is. Sure, what we do may look like fun from the outside, and we do have fun, but I think a more accurate description of what we have is life fulfillment, at least on a good day. The rest of the time all I can say is that we have sustenance, but that’s enough to keep me going.

At 4 am the yawns find their way to my chest and I fall back to sleep. It’s now 7 am and life is beginning to return to the world. I decide to retire the fight, get up, make coffee and start my day. We have another 6 hours in the car before we reach Scottsdale, AZ. That’s where we get to do what we came to do. Tonight however, Venus has a solo show which means that Jazz and I get to kick back and enjoy ourselves. Hopefully I can squeeze in a few more winks during the drive because I do plan on having fun tonight; as much fun as I can muster.

Leaving Albuquerque

Leaving Albuquerque

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Albuquerque

February 7, 2013 Leave a comment

Seriously, I don’t know how bands do this, drive all day and then perform. I mean I know I have done it before but it is hell. Sure it would be easier in a tour bus but it’s not like I was driving. There is no way I would want to perform after 11 hours on the road.

Anyway, we made it. We are staying spending the night in Albuquerque with our friend Jules who just bought a new house in Old Town. Not much more to write about so I think it’s time to hop in the hot tub.

Naked in the hot tub

Naked in the hot tub

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El Dorado

February 7, 2013 Leave a comment

After 11 hours cramped in a sedan I was feeling like the car should be called Apollo 13 and not  the T.A.R.D.I.S. although with any luck we will make it to our final destination. So far, so good. We pulled into our first stop in El Dorado, KS last night around 10:30 pm. Achy and soar I tumbled out of the capsule where I had been riding shot-gun.

My ass, having sustained injury a couple nights before, expressed great relief to be out of the car, not just from the pain from 11 hours of sitting on a bruised tailbone but also relief from the gas that had been building up inside my colon; held back to avoid poisoning my traveling companions. There is something about road trips, cramped up in a car, eating shitty gas station food that brews up the most toxic concoction. Through much of Iowa you can sneak one out here and there without anyone really noticing against the backdrop of pig farms but I must have been held back gallons because I have been farting all morning.

My legs felt like I had walked the 621 miles to reach our current destination; that kind of pain you feel the next day after a strenuous workout. Still, I was grateful to have arrived, grateful to be out of the car and eagerly awaiting the incredible hospitality always bestowed upon us at the horse ranch of Pete and Liz. Once inside and the car unloaded, Liz prepared the dining room table with soup, cheese, veggies, bread an a variety of beers to choose from. It would have been nice to have socialized more. It would been nice to have written down my thoughts before going to bed but my ability to form sentences had left me. I couldn’t manage to get words from brain to my mouth, let alone my fingers.

It had been a long day. Unable to get any packing done the day before, I arose yesterday at 5:30 am to prepare for the trip. This is usually the way it goes and after many tours over the years it almost seems like second nature.   The only difference this time was that we weren’t taking the van so I needed to be much more concerned to pack as lightly as possible. No matter what, I always feel like I must have forgotten something. So far I haven’t discovered anything nor can I imagine fitting one more thing in my bag. Having left the blustery cold of Minnesota and needing to shed layers of clothes I’m already feeling over-packed.

You would think that traveling across country with a rock band would be one non-stop party; sitting in the back of a tour bus, doing shots of tequila and lines of coke of the bellies of strippers. This has never been my experience. We spend most of our time discussing our failures and strategizing how to keep going in hopes of making it to the next level. This time we couldn’t even do that. This time the discussions took on an even more somber tone. This time there was no talk of the future. This time we were wondering whether the band will even be able to continue.

For the past several months, Venus has been embroiled in an audit from the IRS. This is not your typical audit where they go through all of your books with a fine tooth come looking for deductions that aren’t allowed and income that wasn’t reported. In this case, there would be nothing of that sort to be found.  Venus has been meticulous in running her business and has followed all the rules. In this case the IRS is trying to claim that it’s not a legitimate business because it is not profitable. But Venus’ business is her life, the life of an artist. In essence they are saying that the life of an artist is not legitimate. Unless, I guess, it is profitable but then my question is, if it is profitable, is it still art? I see art as a challenge to conventional wisdom and social expectation. Once art becomes accepted and mainstream it loses it’s ability to expand cultural horizons, it loses it’s ability to transform. The irony is that to be a successful artist is to see your art turned into a commodity.  It reminds me of this quote:

“Life is pretty simple: You do some stuff. Most fails. Some works. You do more of what works. If it works big, others quickly copy it. Then you do something else. The trick is the doing something else.”  – Leonardo da Vinci

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On the road again

February 6, 2013 Leave a comment

The band is packed in like sardines; three musicians, three guitars, two amps, snare, cymbals and all our personal effects in a ’97 Toyota Corolla. We call it the T.A.R.D.I.S. because it’s bigger on the inside.

Packed in - Jazz

In typical All The Pretty Horses form we left town under snow filled skies  I think we would freak out if it was any other way. Now the sun has come out as we approach the Iowa border.

First gas stop - Jazz & Venus

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