Obsidian Noise

I nursed a terrible hangover most of the day yesterday, Saturday. Brutal. I did pound some water before crashing at close to 6am, but I was so wrecked I don’t think I was able to get more than a glass or two down. Too many shots. But when hanging out with legendary metal guitarists who are loosening up, and you’re you’re on their turf, you don’t refuse.

I spent the hours between around noon and 6p trying to cure my headache so I could make it comfortably to the Alcest and Anathema show, which I did.

The opening band, Mammifer, was pretty interesting. Just a female vocalist/keyboardist, and a male guitarist playing through some pretty intense effects units. For the first time ever I saw someone playing my exact guitar, the Les Paul Studio Baritone, on stage. It even sounded like mine, and all that was pretty cool. The highlight of that band, though, is the female vocals. Holy shit were they amazing. Something out of the Amazon, or perhaps Africa, or maybe Mongolian. It really kicked ass.

Alcest came out and destroyed the place. HUGE sound, many layers, excellent guitar work and vocals, the drumming was intense and perfect. They simply filled Lower East Manhattan with their sound and it was fantastic. People didn’t even make fun of them for their Frenchness.

I was pretty psyched at how good it was going, and knowing Anathema was on the way made it even better.

Anathema took forever to set up and I went to find a seat (at Gramercy, they have a huge seated section in the back, in addition to the sloping floor leading to the stage). Eventually they took the stage.

As soon as they came out, I knew something was wrong. The lead guitarist was wearing a goofy looking leather jacket and sunglasses. The second guitarist came out wearing jeans and light buttoned shirt. Who the fuck were these guys? Then a chick came out, wearing a sort of one-piece skirt thing.

They started singing and playing a song about missing someone.

In disbelief I went to my phone and looked them up. “The band released their sixth album A Fine Day to Exit in 2001, turning into an alternative/progressive rock band.” 

What. The. FUCK.

I lasted about 15 minutes and walked out.

They used to have a nice, doom/gothic metal sound, and now? Now they just sound like fucking bullshit. I can’t believe what they’ve become over the last ten years. But lesson learned: read up on a band that’s been off your radar for a decade before going to check them out live. They might have turned into a bunch of wussy-ass panzy alt-rocker bores.

Ugh.

Heading out for a walk. Hope your Sunday was great, catch you tomorrow.

Last night was fairly incredible. I met my friend at Gotham Comedy Club to watch a standup comic named Godfrey do a set. He was excellent, I was rolling for pretty much the entire show. Two beers.

We left the venue to head to his friend’s rooftop BBQ party down on 14th st. He prepped me along the way. His friend works in fashion and the party was completely full of models. Awesome.

We headed inside and out to a back patio and BLAMMO. The amount of stunning women all in one place was extraordinary. Many Indian women, Russians, Estonians, and others. And, of course, the place was completely crawling with some of the doucheiest fucktards imaginable. Jackets and open collar shirts and man-jewelry and cigars. Barf.

So I went around on my own making fun of them all to lots of random women. For some reason it worked pretty well as a conversation starter, and I had a good time chatting around with people. My friend proceeded to get wasted and around 1:30 my friend from the legendary metal band Malevolent Creation texted that he was going to a metal bar down on 2nd and did I want to go. Fuck yes. I split the BBQ and met up with him and his girl there. Everyone there knew him because of Malevolent Creation, and I had a total blast meeting people from a variety of bands I know and love, and other industry affiliates. We stayed there until closing, 4a. I was home at 5a and woke up with one of the worst hangovers of my life. It’s 5p now and I’m about to head out because I have tickets to see Anathema play downtown tonight. I’ll grab some slices on the way since I haven’t eaten yet.

Have a great Saturday evening monkey heads.

Hello.

You know me as duck.

I’m busy.  I ate my sandwich while walking to a taxi today, and had my chips while in the taxi, and now I’m sitting outside of where my next meeting is, and my hands are greasy and gross, and now my keyboard is, too.

But who cares.

Tonight I’m going to a rooftop BBQ with a friend, and then I have tickets to see standup at Gotham Comedy club, from 10-12, and then I’ll be heading back to the BBQ. I really just want to watch the standup show and head home, we’ll see if that happens.

I’ve a little overwhelmed with obligations right now. For the last couple weeks I’ve had very little time during the day. Many meetings, back-to-back. Training has taken a hit. I’ll get in there after work and before the BBQ.

Have a great rest of Friday and I’ll see you guys tomorrow with an update on how tonight goes.

Monkeys,

I had an interesting evening last night, and I have very little time to explain what happened. I will do so, and I would like to, but for now it must wait. Time is of the essence, today. I will be back with you shortly.

Duck

I got up late because we switched jam night to Mondays and by the time everyone left it was close to 10p, I was buzzing, and I ended up chatting with an old friend on WhatsApp until close to 1. What can I say, I get chatty. So I woke up late, which was nice.

When I woke up it was close to 9, but there was no rush this morning and I’ll be working a little late tonight anyway. Sometimes when I wake up late, like today, my dick is huge. Not morning wood, more than that. I have levels. Some things create different levels of hugeness, and you could guess what some of them are, but maybe surprisingly, a late sleep is definitely one of them. It took me a while of waiting around, feeling a combination of invincible righteousness, and complete ridiculousness, before I could get dressed.

I wonder if after a certain age that stops. Like, one day, without even realizing it, it just doesn’t happen like that, and suddenly your hugest, fullest, widest, longest, most virtuous and possibly dangerous hardon is… something of the past.

Holy.

I just completely bummed myself out. Please let me die before that happens.

Jam was great. We were a trio in the new setup, back out in the living room, a little more breathing room (in addition to the fact that I don’t use it for anything else, really). Here’s how that turned out:

Not bad, overall. Maybe a little goofy looking. But it’s functional, and a little cozy.

We used a slow drum track that held us together. We hit some great stuff here and there. As usual, no recording, which is a bit of a shame as we really did break some new ground. But there’s something also satisfying and important about letting your spontaneous melodies float away, never to return.

I guess “ephemeral” is the word for that, though I never liked it much.

Busy day today. Big workshop in the afternoon, which will be fine, my part is only 30 minutes and I don’t really care about this group very much. It’s obvious they’re only there because their various organizations told them to be there. It’s put my group in a tough spot, but we took the money.

My jeans smell mildly like hay and it looks like today is going to be hot and humid again, damn it. Wearing a blazer is bad enough. But on these days, when it’s high 80s, my hatred for having to wear layers of clothes comes close to exceeding my bearable limits! You have to move slowly so you don’t start to sweat, and sweating under your blazer SUCKS.

Fuck, I want an ocean swim.

I want to fuck the ocean until it tsunami-orgasms across NYC.

Have a nice fuckin day.

My good friend came to stay over the weekend because he had a class to teach here. Somewhat unbelievably, he was only here for Friday night, Sat, Sun and leaving today, Monday. I say unbelievably because it’s an 8 hour flight from Senegal, and you’d think he’d try to extend the stay as long as possible. But nope. He has two kids and wife over there. It seems very hard for him to be away, actually.

His mom came last night, flew in from Kentucky, so that they can fly together to Senegal. It’ll be her first time there, so I think it’s a good idea that they go together. That kind of relationship with one’s mom is something very foreign to me. Maybe it’d be different if I had a wife and kids or something. But that whole thing is so foreign and undesirable to me. I wonder if that will ever change. I’ve been wrong about certain aspects of myself in the past, as we all hopefully have been, as we learn and grow.

His mom is adorable. She’s a southern belle, all the way. By the time we retired for the night I was speaking like a southerner, I couldn’t help it. “Y’all have a nice sleep.”

It was like that time I said “yes, bro,” to the cashier at the convenience store in Pacific Beach who said: “is that all bro?”. From then on think I called every non-Marine male I encountered bro, and it was satisfying.

Super full day. I run a reading group in the late afternoon now, connected to the History of Communication, and jam night has also moved to Mondays, so I’ll be racing home for that.

Hope y’all have a great start of the week. And have some Sweeeet Taaaay!!

Later.

My good friend and collaborator who’s living in Dakar, Senegal, flew in last night to teach a weekend course here. He arrived around 8p and I was prepared with a six pack of Goose Island IPA, and a bag full of soft shell tacos and burritos from a new favorite place that opened up near 126th and Broadway across from the new Columbia spaceship buildings.

When my buddy arrived, it was instantly like old times. In the first hour we talked about nationalism, poverty, conflict, power structures, barely taking time to exhale. It’s hard for us to speak about casual things when there are so few people who can really engage with us about the things we’re most interested in. So reuniting becomes a raucous free-for-all. The books, movies, articles and podcasts from the last year are thrown about like paint at a Holi celebration, hard to keep track of yet harder still to retrain from spreading around even more, and only after a couple hours are we able to move onto more important things, like telling jokes.

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I’m in the office trying to work but I find myself distracted by the perfect day outside. It’s crisp and blue and green and hoody and happy. The fall is exciting. It’s new people, it’s freshly cut grass and cold morning soccer tryouts, it’s holding hands nervously through fallen leaves. In the fall, I want to stay out. In the fall, I come alive, as everything else seems to be headed in the other direction. The bugs are gone, now, and the wild places in the Northeast are waiting for a reunion.

A good friend and collaborator who moved to West Africa recently is coming into town this weekend to teach a course. The university set him up pretty good. He lives over there with his wife and two sons, but still teaches here. They fly him in once every two months to teach a full weekend, 9-5 Sat/Sun, and then he heads back. This is his first weekend here since moving and he’ll be staying at my place. Can’t wait to catch up with him.

I can’t imagine raising kids over there in Dakar. Not for reasons of racial differences (his kids are mixed anyway) but because of the political, social and infrastructure environment that exists there. He’s there because his wife took a two year position that will require frequent traveling around West Africa, and Dakar is definitely where you’d want to set up your base.

It’s Friday and fall is in the air, finally. It was in the high 50s last night, and is now 63 at 10:30a. Outstanding. I am motivated.

A  little over-booked at work with projects and tasks. My evenings I’m working on a new version of my dissertation and trying to work closely with my new advisor on it. I have high hopes to be done soon.

Training last night was great. It had been a week since I swam and it felt great being part fish again. I feel healthy and strong.

One of my best friends from my hometown is coming down in Oct. to play the CBGB festival. That should be excellent. He’ll be staying over with his wife again. This is becoming a regular thing, just like I had wanted.

I very nearly just said “enjoy your Monday”, but it’s Friday. That’s how things are right now:  going OK, just slightly jumbled.

Catch you tomorrow.

I walked down Amsterdam and into our staff meeting feeling solemn and disengaged from work. I wanted to start a fight or something. Some people are born needing more stimulation, more intensity, more action. It’s probably connected to ADD or something like that.

I artificially inflate the intensity sometimes because I need more stimulation. But it’s been a long time of this, and it’s getting tiresome. I need more of the action to come from the outside, to fuel me up. There are days when I just really don’t want to be here, so I make it more appealing by inventing complexity, or looking deeper than needed for meaning, and sometimes finding it, though in reality it might not even be there. I pretend it is, to make it more important to me.

My Korean ex wrote a long letter to me from her new city, Luxembourg, telling me about her time there so far, and how certain things remind her of me. That was unexpected and I feel neutral about it.

Neutrality is uncomfortable for me. That might sound like an oxymoron, but it’s not. Neutrality is a form of non-existence, from my view.

I used to love running to cadence. It made me feel like a man to be running in a pack of intense, violent beings who look out for each other. If I had grown up in East Harlem, I wonder if I would have joined a gang.

I just did a quick search. This brings back some of the most intense memories:

It makes me want to do some PT.

Having one of those days. How many lives have I really had, and which one am I in right now.