Calm

Semi calm.

More excited than I should be.

Almost home from the last gig of the year.
I am overwhelmed with a zenness.

Peace and love.
P.

Major Leagues

I've spent the last 18 hours on a knife edge. Filling in.
Called up from the late-career minor leagues.
When a co-worker had a family emergency, I have been filling in in a role I've not been in for a while.  In a room that is huge. For a client that has extremely high standards for their shows.

With no warning.

The phone rings.
My audio guy says "My dad is going to be dead by morning..." and he is obviously hyperventilating.
I grab a bottle of water and begin walking from backstage to where he is sitting.  I realize this is it...  I'm walking the green mile. This is a one way walk. I'm the only other guy in this town that knows the audio for this show. I'm going to be taking his place.
I stand with him for a minute, he gives me 2 minutes of briefing on how he has set up the system.  Then they grab him by the arm, put him in a cab and take him to the airport.  You see, we're a 5 hour flight from where he had to be. 
I used to frequently do gigs like this, but this client has risen our work standards to a level that is above me.  I spend more time managing than running shows. The guy who I have as our audio guy is very good.  Top notch. Today I'm a substandard tech-  luckily he spent 3 weeks designing a good system for this space. luckily he had time to get it running and tweaked out.  Because I have no freaking idea how to do it or where to start something this size.
I've been that A-list guy-  in a world that has now turned into a mural in the museum of production. I've had my moments.
Now I'm the epitome of 'jack of all trades, master of none' I know a stupid amount of stuff about a stupid amount of stuff. but can't put it together.
It's like knowing where all the pieces of the 3000 piece puzzle are located, what they are, what to do with them.  But being unable to put together more than a few pieces before losing focus.

But for one day, I got to play like a big boy again.

Thanks

Time for the obligatory end-of-the-year thanks and gratitude.
I like pie.
and I like my dog. 

I am thankful for Moncton.  And for sunny rainy days.

I'm grateful for things that are buried deep inside, never to be revealed.

This year has taught me more than a few lessons about things, and I'm relieved to say that I have survived more or less, and should be ready for more in just a few weeks.  Hope you're all ready for me to come out of the gate with a newly invigorated focus and intensity.  Enough of this calm, vanilla soft-serve.  I'm an iceberg, I'm a razor sharp pencil, this next couple years will be the simultaneous end of the beginning and beginning of the end. Finally.

Gnight John-boy.

11/11/11

Happy Nigel Tufnel day!

'Tis the loudest day of each century.

November 1

11-1-11
I suppose that the numerologist in me should be excited about this day, but it took me most of the day to realize how truly fantastic this date was.
In a few days, we'll have the Veterinarian's Day date debacle: 11/11/11.  I'll certainly be happier about that.
This year, I've been beat into submission to the point that most of the stuff I'm usually happy about is just forgotten in favor of apathy, grumpiness, sadness and stress.
Numbers I do like this year:
101
21
69
123
1

Numbers I hate this year
29
3
some others.

Happy eleventh month!
~P

sad

I'm sad.

Memories

Dearest readers, subscribers, stalkers and spammers:
Remember back in the olden days (a couple years ago) when I used to have time and energy to post witty, illustrated blogs all the time?
I remember too, and I'm bummed that I haven't had time to work up a decent post in a while.
Looking forward to hunkering down this winter and returning to form.
Thank you for your patience.
-P

Frivolity

I have lately taken to spurting out nonsensical nonsense in an effort to distract from the fact that I'm tired, cranky, overwhelmed, underwhelmed, annoyed, interested, apathetic, saucy, uptight, happy, sad, mellow, mad, buzzed, hung, scared, full, hungry, broke, broken, smelly, nervous, evil, misguided, wasted, stunted, ecstatic, lackadaisical, lonely, cranky, stuck, willful and yearning.
(no Oxford Commas for me)
I tend to make funnies when things are the most dire. And they are.
*tickle tickle*

Lolly

Blah.
Stein.

Very

Very sorry.

I'm

Sorry.

Running...

...yet standing still
Life has provided for me plentiful opportunities to be happy. I usually choose to look at the underside of the plate.
I've had lots of chances to be hyper-successful, yet I choose the path that makes me more happy, more gratified-  regardless of the cost or consequences.

My work has taken me places I never imagined it would.  Yet I loathe it.
My personal life is non-existent, most due to the aforementioned work problem.
I feel like I'm one bad afternoon away from tossing the whole thing in the garbage.  In fact I know I am.

I had the chance, a few months ago, to pull out gracefully, to exit stage left, to pursue a new path.  But through my selfish actions and arrogant inaction, I rocked the boat far too much for anyone's comfort-  now I'm stuck where I am until time ends. 
And I'm not happy about it.

Must. Find. Alternatives.

As I continue to slash and burn, crash and turn against all those that are closest to me, please be patient, I'm merely an adolescent. A very dramatic, shallow, broken, terrified kid stuck in the game of the big boys.

Trimmed

I have shorn the extra growth.
Removed the offending protrusions.
Hacked off the obnoxious stuff.
Performed a toxicectomy.
Lost half the nonsense.

Gasping for Air

Time to write a little bit about why i haven't been writing much.
First and foremost, I'm unbelievably busy and it doesn't look to be ending anytime soon.  And even if that happens, I'm talking maybe a few days off in December. But those days are likely to be filled up with preparation for the next wave of chaos.

I've also been trying to spend my little bit of downtime nurturing friendships and making things work better with friends and family.  I've reached a point in life where the people around me are more important than my own needs.  I've been a very selfish and naughty boy in the past and it has burned me.
I can not apologize enough to the people who I have treated badly, who I have hurt, to those who I have neglected and to those who I owe a debt of some kind.

One of these days I'm going to find new balance and pleasure in life.  For now it's just trying to keep my head above water, or at least snagging enough air whenever my head pops up to get me through the rough times.

Contrasts

A couple years ago, I posted about 'Soundtracking'- my word for the act of playing specific music while engaged in activities of various types.
As much as I love this, I love even more the idea of contrasting the soundtrack with what else is going on around me- much like listening to heavy metal while at church, I like to create crazy contrasts.
Recent examples: Mozart while riding motorcycles.
The Jazz Butcher while shopping at WalMart.
Durutti Column while working in the yard.
Love and Rockets while watching "The Hunger"

Hello...

...to all the stalkers, psychopaths, spammers, dirtbags, degenerates, weasels, and random felons who may stop by here.
And a more hearty hello to my friends, my friends' friends, the friends of my friends' friends and all my family.  I wish to tell you all that I'm still alive and doing just fine.
"I hear the roar of a big machine..."

Banana Bread

I am glad people like it.
I am glad it makes you all so happy.
I am glad that it is so delicious.
I am glad to let you all have as much as you want, because I will not have to eat it.
I am glad to announce that if I were ever stuck on a desert island, the last thing I would consume to maintain this mortal coil would be banana bread. I would choose to be castrated by a shark and killed by pirates before eating any of that sticky-skinned loaf of sweet slime.

Enjoy your snack.

-er

shocker
--_-
rocker
-_ _-
spocker
-- --
dutcher
-- -_

I'm still alive

See?

Havent been killed by pirates yet, although one tried to sneak up on me at breakfast this morning.

Losing It

I keep checking in here to see if I have written anything new.

halfway

Year half over. Yes!

hope everyone is good.

Why The Hell Do I Feel Like This?

I still think about James. Every Day. All Day. There's a void. I feel guilt. I wish I hadn't neglected my friend. I wish he hadn't let me neglect him.
I have tried to fill up the hole with a number of different things- it's not going to work. I will keep filling. I will keep trying. It's not going to work.
I don't have the energy to keep trying things to mend the pain.
My efforts seem to be falling short in everything. I need to find success in something.

I wish I didn't feel like this.

Battle of the Sexes

So I've noticed something lately, and it makes me wonder:
Why when I hike do I end up all funky and musky smelling, but ladies seem to maintain their sweet delicate smell?
It's pretty much universal- when I pass a lady on the trail, she smells as sweet as the air inside a candy shop. But as soon as that smell dilutes, it's back to me marinating in my own sweaty nastiness.

It isn't fair! *begin tantrum*

Stale

I've been in a funk a bit lately.
Perhaps I have bruised my mojo somewhere along the line.
Maybe I'm suffering from clinical depression.
Maybe I have realized that the hill is indeed a downward trip from here.
Most likely I have overspent my take and need to contribute a bit more to the give.
I think that I need to rebalance and regain the things that seem to be missing, the spark, the catalyst, the muse.

Holy Geewillikers!

Recreational handling of the byproduct produced by the combination of fuel, excessive temperatures and an oxidizer can occasionally cause uncomfortable irritation.

Reckless

Yeah, that's me. Over-the-top random action with little thought to the conclusion.

Out of control.

Sitting in the uncomfortable place between big actions and the fallout/complications/consequences.

xoxo

Scary Guy is soooooo pissed off right now

Yeah.
So we have a ghostie at the house.
There are numerous things that have happened over the past 9 (!) years that have proven to me, over and over, that there's someone else living here.
We (several of the residents of the casa) have determined that it is centralized to the laundry room, although occasionally we've seen him in front of the house and around the other rooms. He seems to be a window peeker.
Our poor mutt sleeps in the laundry room, and she will often bark psychotically at the windows at night.

Well, inexplicably about 2 years ago, the paint on the walls and ceiling in the living room began to peel. In giant sheets. It looks like a bomb went off. Or so I thought before this morning.



Today, the bomb really went off. Really. There's suddenly a 3' diameter hole in the sheetrock, a giant pile of insulation and crappy plaster/sheetrock on the floor, and the dog looks like she's seen a ghost.

And I'm cleaning stuff up.

There's nothing like a little distraction when I'm trying to do something else.

The Modern World.

I'm absolutely amazed at the information that flows about in the modern world.

You see, I'm a bit of a music fan and it gives me joy to gain insight into the private and personal goings on of the artists that I admire.

Twitter, Facebook, the WorldWideWeb, Email and texting have replaced printed newsletters and postcards.
The best thing is that we can get these updates in real-time.

I've had pretty personal contact with some of my favorite artistes.
Via Twitter: Silent Bob, His Holiness The Dalai Lama, Karl Bartos of Kraftwerk, Tony James of Generation X/Sigue Sigue Sputnik/Sisters of Mercy/CarbonSilicon.
In the old days (Email) I had correspondence with Elizabeth Fraser, Simon Raymonde and Robin Guthrie of ye olde Cocteau Twins, Midge Ure and Bono.
Postcards/letters/etc? I have signed stuff from Midge Ure, Natalie Merchant, All the Sex Pistols but Sid, Big Audio Dynamite and a few more.

I find it strangely comforting to know that Nick Laird-Clowes is still around, and getting his updated vacation updates is kind of relaxing.

Wow

I just deleted a post that was looking to be the nastiest, least pleasant thing I've ever written.

Consider yourselves lucky.

I need to get out and get a breath of fresh air- purge all this festering evil.

Peace and kittens to everyone.

Hey

Wassup.

I've finally hit the point that I think this chapter of my life is drawing to a close.
All the miles, smiles, laughter, stress and chaos.

All wrapped up in a nice little bundle of: I've wanted out since day one. I had no idea that the story would keep dragging on for as long as it has.

So the last bit of the chapter is:
"He waved oncoming traffic around the truck as the crazed driver shouted at him through the window. At the first sign of a break, the driver gunned the engine. The truck, all 68,000 pounds of it, jerked and groaned into the road. As he slammed the doors on the truck, 25 years of momentum and memories creaked, groaned and passed before the eyes of the broken man.
Not sure what was coming next, he walked inside to wash his hands."

And so the story ends, on a dirty loading dock in Atlanta, Georgia.

25%

In this post, kind of a New Year's Resolution type post, I stated the ridiculous idea that I was going to hike to the Y east of Provo 52 times this year. That's once a week for those of you who are chronologically challenged.
This 1000 foot climb is a nicely groomed trail, often populated by families, scout groups, coeds wearing flip-flops, old ladies wearing pink sweats and topless grandpas.
At an average slope of 17%, this is steeper than pretty much any road around. Down is just as strenuous as up- the strain on your knees and feet is pretty harsh. It can be a pretty intense workout. My lungs and heart are slowly adjusting to the stresses. My knees and legs are in pretty good shape, considering 2 years ago I couldn't make it to the top every time I attempted it. I can make it now. And I finally feel like I've mastered it.
Well, we are now a little over 1/3 through the year, and I've just hit 25% of my goal. The snowy, cold months at the top of the calendar year don't make it easy to keep up this kind of schedule. I do have until about Christmas to get it all completed. (2 years ago I spent both Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve on the Y)
I started a long time before the weather really allowed for it, hiking my first couple times up in snow, mud and ice.
I usually listen to music, entrancing myself and soundtracking the experience. I've had some very serendipitous experiences, some of which give me chills and some that reduce me to tears. And I'm not going to relate them here. That's personal stuff. Wouldn't want you all to think I'm a ninny.

Here's a log of the first 13 trips:
1- 2/13 3pm 56 deg. trail half mud, 1/3 snow. Guy sitting near the Y, singing at the top of his lungs, pure joy. 1 hr up. 32 mins down.
2- 3/6 8:30am 44 deg. Racing the rain. 45 up. Snow starts at the top. 33 minutes down.
3- 3/31 1:20pm 61 deg trail dry. 50 mins up. Downright pleasant. Light breeze from the north. 33 mins down
4- 4/2 3:15pm 73 deg saturday. Lots of cars at trailhead. Kids and families. 12 mins to turn 2. Water me.rain turn 3. Run 5-6. 34 mins to turn 10. Turn 12 question: here or up one more. Answer from ipod: new order "Turn" 42 mins to top. Wind blows. Time to leave. 4:05pm 33 mins down. Knees best yet. Heels feel blistery. They are blistery.
5- 4/11 1:50pm 55 deg. Looks snowy from the parking lot. Turn 7 rocks 23 mins. Phone calls at 5 and 8.5. Mud above turn 7. Slush and mud after 9. 44 minutes to top.
2:50 start down. 30 min down.
6- 4/12 11:26Am. Snow level better. 50 deg rain coming. 10% season at turn 2. 11:34am. 11:51 turn 7 rocks. 12:11 top. 45 mins. 12:20 depart. Strange junkie withdrawal couple. 32 mins down.
I think I sprained my toe. Sore muscles. Was intending on every day. Took 3 day break.
7- 4/16 9:40am Spring Break saturday. What am I thinking?
Oh crap. Well, I can tell how I injured my toe. Abort, abort.
7- 4/24 8:52 am toe sprain better.41 deg. Shroud of cloud. Taking it slow for safety. 9:38 top. 48 mins.10:08 leave top. 38 mins down. 55 deg.
8- 4/26. 6:25pm rain day. Start 6:45. Clear now. Nice cold wind. Team hiking. Uptime unknown Round trip time 1:25.
9- 4/28 4:15pm super family group walk 67 deg. 5:20 top. 1:05? I'm a slacker. 31 mins down with a good long stop.
10- 5/1 11:20am. Snow yesterday. 45 deg. and dry today First day in shorts. 20 mins to 10.4, 20% pause to rest. 12:12 top. 52 mins with good long breaks. 12:23 start down. 12:56 33 mins.
11- 5/6 6:15am. 49 degs. Empty parking lot. 6:55 top. 40 mins. Kid running to top with dog. 7:05 down. 7:38 end 33 mins.
12- 5/8 8:55am 63 degs. Sunday. Clouds are coming. 9:33 top. 38 mins. Blog at 7- rocks. I need a nap. 9:50 head down 10:24 end. 34 mins.
13- 5/9 6:45 pm 46 degrees. Rainy. Muddy. Run turns 4-6. 7:23 top. 38 minutes. Head Clear. Mind Racing. 8:15 bottom 37 minutes

Should I be scared?

For the first time, it isn't if, but when. Of this I have no doubt.
How still needs to be resolved, but I'm sure it will fall into place.

I'm terrified.

Bloodlust

I don't know how I feel about the celebratory celebrations regarding the death/assassination/martyrdom of Osama Bin Laden.
The one thing I know: I am not at all comfortable with people being 'happy' that another person has died.
Bad dude? Yes.
Did he have some kind of negative karma built up that might include negative consequences? Yes.
Did the USA have a reasonable reason to rain down terror and pain upon his head? Again yes.
But I don't think, for one moment, that the world is better with people celebrating the death of another human.
It's barbaric.
It's horrifyingly revolting.
And I'm not going to do it.

No amount of national pride, 'justice' or skewed sense of morals can justify to me that this is the best way.

“Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that”
— Martin Luther King Jr.

I will not become a monster in order to defeat a monster.

I Remember When

5 years ago, things changed forever. 4/29/2006
A Saturday night in Nevada created an unbelievable amount of chaos.
Standby for years of shockin', motorboatin', and hangin' out.
Flash it and stash it.

It's all passing before my eyes and my mind faster than I can comprehend. Flashes and stashes of memories. All kinds of good and bad. up, down, wrong, right, back, forth, to, fro.

It has taken me every bit of the last 1826 days to get to this point. And even then I can barely function most of the time.
I'm afraid I can only move on if I replace another unhealthy obsession with another.

You Know What I Hate?

People that unfriend me without warning on FaceBook.

Bastards.

At least give me a chance to offend you one more time.

Random Restless

I'm itching to do something.

Hoping this post happens without any typos. Might be the first time all year.

My mind is racing. My head is pounding. My recent default activities are starting to bore me.

So I blog on Easter Eve from home.

Maybe I should make some holiday goodies. No. Fat people eat goodies.
Maybe I should watch a movie. No. I can't imagine a more boring way to spend an evening.
Maybe I should chuck pissed off birds at grinning green pigs. That's a better idea.

Out.

Drive

I used to get things finished.
All my life I've had little lists of things to do- I think some people call them 'ToDo Lists' or something.
For many years I was able to organize these into a constant flow of things to... ermmmm.... do, and then actually get them done. Finished. Complete.
One day I took on a whole bunch of extra stuff. I've been playing catchup ever since.
What changed? I felt like I was responsible for adding value to the universe on behalf of my dead friends.
When my close friends decided to start keeling over, drowning, disappearing, shooting themselves, falling off cliffs and otherwise shuffling off this mortal coil, I felt like the best thing I could do in their memory was to give as much as possible to others.
I spend my time constantly giving my excess means and time to people and causes that might need it more than me. I do this in the memory of my lost friends.
It consumes me. And it means I'm constantly playing catch-up in all my commitments elsewhere.

So ultimately this proves to me one thing. I'm running. Running so hard and fast that I'll eventually collapse.
The question remains: Am I running from or running toward something?

Dear Nelf Extraordinaire:

You're a dick.

Love, me.

PS: Video games are for sucks.

I've Seen It All

So I'm a bit of a music freak. I love music, old new, most types. My preference leans hard toward the nostalgic stuff- New Wave from the 1980s. That's what I grew up on, it was the soundtrack of my coming-of-age.
A short timeline:
I was into Michael Jackson and the top 40 of the day back in 1983 or so. The top 40 then was a strange mishmash of country, rock, new wave, prog-rock, rap and soul.
Somehow got a clue that I needed to hear this tune 'Tour de France'. I went to Musicland in the mall, the clerks didn't know anything about it, nor could they find it in their huge printed catalog (remember the big yellowbooks?)
A helpful customer pointed out that the song was by a band called 'Craftverk' he also let me know that the store actually had a 12" single in stock. So I bought it. Still have it.
That song was the bridge that showed me there was something more.
The actual song that changed my life was 'Bring on the Dancing Horses', but that's a story that has been told before. I'm thinking now about other things I heard around that time, mostly on KOHS: 'Love Vigilantes' 'Rise' 'South Central Rain' and a couple of strange tunes: 'E=MC2' and 'Medicine Show' by a strange band called Big Audio Dynamite. I knew there was some kind of famous guy in this band, but I didn't know who/how/why it mattered. B.A.D. quickly became one of my favorites.
Fast Forward about 9 years, I still loved B.A.D... Time to name my kids. The first boy was easy: Ian. That's the name of so many people I admire and respect.
The second came pretty easy as well. Mick Jones. (Actually he's Jon Mickay, but from birth intended to call him Mick- then he became Jon- although he still answers to Mick)
Mick Jones (that lives at my house) is 16 now.
Mick Jones (from The Clash, B.A.D. and Carbon/Silicon) is 55 now, a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for his work with The Clash, and still lives in London.
Mick was convinced to bring B.A.D. back to life to play some festivals this year. The first date announced was Coachella in California- The remainder of the US tour was merely 2 dates: LA and New York.
I got an email from someone close to the band (I'm on some mailing lists and have communicated with people involved with this group a few times over the years) that there were still a few tickets available for the NYC show on April 19, 2011.
I quickly counted up my pennies, checked my frequent flier mile balance and my hotel travel perks. It was going to be possible...
Monday, fly to NYC- arrive at 11:45pm
Tuesday, travel into the city to explore, adventurize and enjoy a little entertainment. I saw Times Square, again.


I saw a funky cathedral for the first time (Even went inside and it didn't explode from the added weight of all my evilness.)

After a hefty dinner, joined the queue.

Here's the poster in the window of the venue.

Roseland Ballroom, capacity 3200ish
We get there early, buy some schwag and take a place in the crowd. On the rail Stage Right, immediately in front of Don Letts. Normally I spend my time on the Stage Left side of the stage, a habit I picked up watching New Order and Love and Rockets in the 1980s. I can make an exception.
Gig was played.


Band was good.



I sang every word and according to the people around me, giggled like a schoolgirl throughout the show.

Last year, after being yelled at for not singing by Johnny Rotten, I resolved to sing more at gigs.


Even danced a little.



This is the biggest thing I could have ever seen, the last possible thing on my list that I've never seen (I'd love to see Joy Division or The Clash, but the dead guys prevent that.)
Picked up a piece of personalized schwag, wandered out into the street and stumbled home.



I am reminded of my audition for 'The Sound of Music' in 1988, when Chester and I auditioned with a rocking version of 'C'mon Every Beatbox.' garnering both a standing ovation from the audition audience and offers of leading roles in the play. (For the record, CW played Mick Jones and I was Don Letts)

I never got to do things like this until I separated myself from the influence of my parental units. I feel compelled to do things like this now.
It soothes a wound that I can't describe.
And the wound is closing. Drying up. Shrinking. If I keep it up I'll be all fixed up just in time to die of old age or unfortunate circumstances.

Out.

Chasing The Dragon

Every now and then, something comes up that I feel like I must jump at.
At work, I collect frequent flier miles, free flights, hotel credits and stuff like that.
I am chasing a plug for the empty hole, the overwhelming sense that I missed out on something in the past.
Certain things happen and I feel gutted that I can't be a part of them.
So now I'm blessed (cursed?) to be able to chase these moments.
I have run off to LA for frivolous reasons. I have spent considerable time in Portland for fun. 10 years ago I picked up and wandered out to the middle of nowheres in George, WA to see something that wasn't ever supposed to happen.
And I'm on one of these trips right now. Headed to the Apple. The big one that is. To do something that is so very important to my peace of mind.

C You Next Tuesday

"Take me to the place where the healing flows."
indeed.
The Bucket List gets shorter, as does the "Never Gonna Happen" list.
"Good morning Sodom and Gomorrah, Good morning sinners."
Ever since the strange samples of E=MC² and Medicine Show entered my brain have I wanted to see B.A.D. Now, a lifetime later, I get a chance.

"A dance to the tune of economic decline."
indeed.
I will return and report.

Candy

I need to stop eating Reese's Pieces.
I've always been a mild consumer of Reese's Pieces, dating back to my adolescence. We used to ingest Reeses Piece's during church meetings, on Friday evenings, on special occasions.
I remember a few occasions that we snarfed huge quantities of Reeses Piece's during lunch, which left us completely unable to attend our Seminary classes following lunch.
I remember an occasion where a couple of my friends expressed concern about my intake of Reese's Pieces and threatened to stage an intervention.
Lately, I've increased my intake rate of Reeses Piece's. For some reason, everywhere I go I have been seeing Reese's Pieces and people are offering me Reese's Pieces and I seem to go places where people love to eat Reese's Pieces.
I spent a fair amount of 2010 under the influence of Reese's Pieces, sometimes gobbling them at lunchtime, after work, with dinner and during after-dinner recreation.
Reese's Pieces contributed in a large way to me gaining 15 pounds last year. And with this weight gain, I find myself being much more sedentary. I'm turning into a sloth and I blame Reese's Pieces.
On some occasions Reese's Pieces have brought me to the bring of death.
I figure I have spent nearly $15,000 on Reese's Pieces in the last 12 months.
In the last few days, I've found myself thinking about Reese's Pieces from the moment I wake up until the late night just as I drift off to sleep. Somehow I think this obsession is somewhat unhealthy.
So I'm going to have to stop eating them. In fact, I'm already a week into my quitting.
It is going to require a reassessment of my social circles. It's going to cost me some friends. I hope it doesn't make me an unpleasant person.

Reese's Pieces have messed me up in a way that I didn't think possible.

Ouch.

Thursday, December 16, 2010 1:00pm
Tour a production at the Provo Tabernacle. A good friend is the audio guy and he wants to show off his toys. Walk through the building. See some things I've never seen done there before. Express concern to my tour-mates. Neglect to express concern to anyone else.
Head back to work. Don't think anything more of it.

Friday, December 17, 2010 4:25am
Wake up to the sound of the Mrs. heading off to work (This happens most mornings- she slams the door, I wake up.) Grab my phone, for some reason I dial up the internet and head over to KSL.com. Headline: Provo Tabernacle on fire. Instantly I think: "Those guys ran some bad cabling or left something plugged in and it sparked some dry fuel into a blaze.
I grab my camera and head over to take a picture or two- thinking I can head to work for a few minutes before the kiddies get up at 7:00.

5:54 am- Picture taken as I stand across the street. it looks pretty bad, but it seems they have it under control.

5:56am- Picture taken as I still stand across the street. Only this time the entire roof has collapsed, taking down the gables and most of the stained glass. I described the sound and my feelings on the matter in a blog post, linked below. Still reverberating in my ears, over 3 months later.

I determine that I'm going to hang out until I have to go be a parent. I begin to walk the perimeter of the building the best I can.






6:40am- I talk to my friend Roger- the generator technician for the production- who has been here most of the night watching this happen. He lets me know that the generators were off at 11pm and the cabling for them had been put into the building and secured. He's visibly shaken, possibly in shock. We talk about the sentimental losses. A bunch of firefighters walk by just as Roger and I are discussing the sketchy rigging and lighting services for the production- one of the firefighters stops in his tracks. He doesn't talk to me, but continues walking.
7:00am- I run home to be a parent. Wake the kids, make lunches.
7:29am- Kids leave. I download all my pictures to my computer. Start writing a blog post.
8:09am- Post blog post. Post about blog post on Facebook.
8:32am- Post a couple Facebook posts about the incident.




Fast Forward to March 31, 2011 10:10am

Provo Fire Marshall releases the final report on his findings and research into the cause and circumstance of the fire.

10:41am- I read the Executive Summary report. On page 3 I see a picture that takes my breath away. It is the Tabernacle exactly as I remember it from the afternoon of 12/16. How exactly? I'm in the picture. In the group of people in the lower right. And the thing that makes me sick is that we are talking about the sketchy techniques being employed in the production. Including someone pointing at the ceiling.


Basic production ethics and respect has always dictated that you don't question other production teams on their techniques unless you see evidence of safety hazards or gross misuse of equipment. If I had gone into the attic that day, as I felt I should, I would have raised a huge stink about what I saw. And the Provo Tabernacle would still be intact.
Now, I'm forced to raise a stink about any kind of crappy production techniques I see. Be prepared, because I'm gonna get a reputation for being the cranky know-it-all guy that gets in people's face about safety and procedures.
I can't have this on my conscience again. Once is bad enough.


I've been spanked.

OC Post

I'm an OG from the OC.
I drink OJ all day.
When I hit the town,
you'll be getting down.
As the parties and events flow like Tanqueray.





We set up a some lights
For the party that won't last all night.
All the people dance
and the rappers prance
and the bands play their hits alright.



I can't say where I am,
You can't know what we do.
The contract says that we must be silent.
Security is tight,
The County cops are jerks,
and if they mess with me I might get violent.


Nice rhyme.
All the time.
Tents smell like beer
Bathrooms instill fear.
And the pretty maids all in a row.


Yo.

MarchyPost

I'm slacking bigtime this year, and I refuse to promise to do better, as most final posts in the online world are apologies and promises to do better.
I intend to write more.
How's that?

Lots of crap going on.
I'm working too much, playing too little.
Time for a reversal of priorities.

I saw something in NYC this week that I've never seen before.
But I can't tell you about it here. Maybe if you ask nicely I'll divulge offline somewhere.

The world is thawing out.
And it's hollow.

And we don't need to worry about the 'end of days'- it's already here. Enjoy the rest of your yesterday.

OK. That's all.
This is a shout-out to all the ladies, single, semi-single and otherwise. Woot Woot.

Emptiness

Devoid of all inspiration, I will type this post from a place that is yet unknown.

Normally I get some kind of bug up my crack that inspires me to rant on and on, swearing at and disrespecting the person(s) that annoyed me or did/said/thought something I find abrasive.

Today I have none of that. But I felt inspired to stand before you and expectorate my rambling opinions on some crazy stuff.
Did you ever notice that dogs think they like every type of food, until they get it, then they become finicky. You can let the dog smell a pickle and they act like they want it. So you give it to them and bleeech- out it comes.
Kids are sometimes the same.
Last week I was traveling and our local labor needed some cash to pay for their parking. So I gave them my cash. Didn't realize that it was my last cash- my food money. I survived the week on the goodwill of others and some dumpster diving... and the available balances on 3 different empty/maxed out debit/credit cards. Thank goodness for client food and cheap breakfast at Carl's Jr. Vintage picture to follow.

Yes, that Carl's Jr. The one right next to the parking lot formerly known as The Century Lounge aka 'Nude Nudes' RIP Century Lounge.
Scandalous enough yet? Shall I keep going?
I'm shooting blanks here. Without something to kick against, I'm feeling like a cap gun. Which I do most of the time anyway. I should be president of the Shootin' Blanks Society, for those who try their hardest but can't put out something more than a final product which is a sad imitation of the real thing.


What else???
Facebook is sucking lately. Sucking up all my free time. I seem to have an unhealthy compulsion to constantly post pointless things to this quasi-public forum.
Most of what I say is nonsensical. Please don't be offended if you read something I write there that seems offensive. Please consider the state of my deteriorating mind.


Time to get ready for work, which causes me apprehension. Dreaming of a desert island surrounded by pygmy tigers and effing green pigs.