Last night’s show at Tales From The Tavern -at The Maverick Saloon- in Santa Ynez, California was nutso magutso. Glad we filmed it. Steve Forbert is a great songwriter and so nice and now we’re texty pals. I remember my sister bringing his record home when she was a DJ at KCR Radio at San Diego State. I loved that album. I never thought back then that I’d be doing a show with him. Life? It’ll throw curve balls at ya.
Got 2 &1/2 hours sleep and drove to LAX at 5am. 3 hours of early morning no traffic and then all of a sudden lots of traffic drive. Got some petrol and turned in my rental car. Now I’m flying to Houston Texas for a 7pm show tonight at McGonigel’s Mucky Duck. You’d think I’d be tired but I’m excited to see my Houston pals Rusty and Theresa and Shane and the rest of The Mucky Duck staff.
Sleep? No thanks. Sure, sounds great but I’m a freaky deeky plane sleeper. I’ll usually doze off for about two minutes then startle myself awake, rinse my leg or arm with drool and repeat.
So this means my Mucky Duck show will be even loopier than normal.
Normal? What is normal? I am now leaving normal for a new destination: the corner of Abnormal and Hallucinogenic Psychosis. It’s a great intersection and there aren’t any stop signs or rules. Laws are bendy like salt water taffy and everything is viewed through a lens of distorted reality. The overwhelming color is mauve and Benjamin Netanyahu is the Master of Ceremonies as they shut down The 405 corridor and armed guards are dancing like Pee Wee Herman to the song Tequila. Their eyes are twitchy and nobody seems all that trustworthy.
No time to exchange pleasantries because we already speak the unspoken language and our minds are connected through a network of tunnels. The CRAZY THING is that we are now able to walk through the brains of anyone we so desire. It’s a labyrinthian maze sort of like English hedges at a countryside mansion but it’s no different than figuring out the next level of a video game. Close your eyes and picture yourself riding a bike. You crash into the back of a construction truck and slide a bloody slide down the side of the white truck and the antenna lodges in your temple and you tune in and start writing songs. The songs already exist except no one’s heard them so you catch them like butterflies in a net. Let the stitches heal but keep the songs in your heart and the butterfly song catcher net in your soul. Then share the songs with the world. It’ll be fine. Everyone’s doing it.
So what have we learned?
1- pizza is good.
2- clean underwear is not overrated.
3- Gandhi wasn’t into blogging.
4- deforestation has five syllables but THINKS it’s
cooler than the word dick.
5- the word dick makes me laugh.
That’s all for now. Please read the syllabus and be prepared for a pop quiz tomorrow.
Until then I remain ever faithfully yours.