Monday, November 9, 2009

Attn: Repatriates

Fig. 1: your St. Louis Cardinals.
Moving back is a practice in keeping your eyes in your head. I was twitchy with anticipation before my own return to St. Louis, and I want to reassure the reader those sort of emotions were well founded.

Before the move you might find your thoughts fogged with regret and hope. I promise your current true friendships will remain sound, and a marshmallowy cushion will fill the space that lost time and distance create. You're all going to be alright.

When you come back you will be reacquainted with people you are certain you've never seen before, others you're not sure what impression you left with. Don't take these idiots for granted, some of them grew up and some of them grew teeth. Usually you've guessed wrong.

Still, your instincts will be razor sharp at this turn in your life. Trust them unflinchingly, it's more fun that way. In no time your social dis-ease will melt away. Stay curious.

Go hang out with mom, once every 2 weeks. You really do miss her.

When you return, find an unfamiliar part of town that reminds you dearly of
the place you just left. Visit on the seasonal days and make phonecalls to the ol' gang. Bring a newspaper and 2 cigarettes.

Get the fuck back out of town. Frequent weekend trips anywhere are a staying remidy against snap-judgement cynicism.

You'll need to find a job. Don't be picky, and don't wait too long. Disorientation can accompany major shifts in life, mind that your lifestyle does not protract during this time of transition. You were never that motivated: many hours of the day you need to be told what to do for the sake of your own sanity.

This is a drinking town. Give yourself a couple of weeks of facedown imbibing and then stop. A couple more weeks and then have 2 if you're going out. Your aged softening brain don't bounce like it used to.

Make friends but for godsakes don't touch one. A romantic kerfluffle is not in your cards now. Oh and start a fucking band, like prompt.

It's still the midwest, you'll still make your own fun.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

I have begun my summer.

This past week was spent in Austin with a few very close friends. 6 days in a van: chemical'd, exhausted from swimming and sun, danced out from Chaos in Tejas. A great vacation really can fit within a 2 mile radius.

At the end of this summer I'm moving back to my hometown of St. Louis, Missouri. It's something I do for a number of reasons. The nicest reason is that I can't remember why I wanted to leave. I like the things I've committed to. For the first time in my life I want to know my family. There is much about leaving Kansas City that I'll be sad about, luckily I'm not a regretful person. But I am wistful, so I'll just have to visit often.

Most of the adventure of going home is involved in fixing up my house, writing new music, making new friends in a place that I have old romantic feelings for. It won't be Springbreak 98, but it will be wonderful.

It takes a fast car, lady.        The Cars - Double Life (MP3 6.3MB)

Monday, May 4, 2009


Ecstasy is called Wajd by Sufis: it is especially cultivated among the Chishtis. Sufis generally enjoy Wajd while listening to music called Qawwali, special music producing emotions of love, fear, desire, repentance, etc.

Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan:

Push the Button

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Excuse me

I love excuses. I can conjour them for any occasion. This morning I had to make one up to tell a mortgage holding company to keep me from working for them, because I'd much rather work for the greeting card company, so I came up with an elaborate and not entirely untrue excuse.

The secret of the excuse, as with all deceptions, is the deep but simple shading of truth. You don't want to pepper an excuse with too much truth, because it's hard enough to remember how real reality should be working, nevermind this marbled fish-story you've layed on this unwitting rube. Lies are blunt and final. but the excuse implies an ongoing relationship, so you have to remember all the line-items in the contract. My grandpa Staufenbiel might have told me once "Keep your tall tales tiny", and I might tell you the same. My grandpa Smith definitely told me that all jews are rats, but I would never tell you that.

I make excuses to visit St. Louis, when really I just want to see my friends, my home, and my mum and dad. I make excuses to put off chores, when really I just wanna listen to these 2 records. I make excuses to put off calling girls, because I'm just really bashful. But still, all of it gets done. I'm just tired of telling myself I need to make excuses.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Axing! OR My Time as a Confidence Man

I was included in the decapitation of 8 people at my job, including executives! Good thing I started looking for a new job a week ago. But where to go and what to do? Apparently the dweeb sector isn't hurting as bad as the rest of the planet (we never do, our technocratic grip is tight). This might make for an exciting spring. I could use some vacation and unemployment cash. There are lots of expenses and other things that will need bolting down in the next week though.

Lots to do, and time to do it.

And now, Tommy Cooper jokes:
"Police arrested two kids yesterday, one was drinking battery acid, the other was eating fireworks. They charged one and let the other one off."

"You know, somebody actually complimented me on my driving today. They left a little note on the windscreen, it said 'Parking Fine'. So that was nice."

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Masculine Manlog pt. 2

After weeks of holidays and shows and very fast times, I've taken a few off in the cave. A series of seven hour sleeps in a CO free home pays off. Today I was up at 7 AM ready to punch the face off the world!

My friend Megan and I are in a new band together, so last night was slouched down trying to muscle through the cadences of some of these songs. I never realized what a challenge it is writing lyrics for someone else, because someone else is always so picky.

It's the first project I've really run in Kansas City, writing a style that I've never attempted. I'm surprising myself. What's sticking hard is conjouring a name that doesn't make everyone at practice frown. I believe in the power of band names, although most of my favorite bands have the dumbest. I now accept it's one of those things that can be good enough.

And now, pictures of pretty ladies:

Sorts in the streets

Thrill seekers