last night we almost played a show: glasshouse gallery in williamsburg, nov something 2005. i was a block away from the gig, carting my drums to the show after packing them up only minutes earlier, when bj phoned me to tell me not to bother coming because the vibe was mellow at glasshouse -- everyone wanted to go home who was still there, and it was just the bands attending at that point anyway. so i carted my stuff back to sound city where my rehearsal space is (by the way, people -- this isn't exactly a walk in the park or a picnic with your fucking girlfriend -- this shit is heavy and my cart wobbles all over the place, keeps falling over. by the time i have carted the drums around for more than a block the tendons in my hand are stretched to high heaven and thus playing cold creates injuries -- on these occasions when i get home i ice my arms down to keep them from swelling. not to mention these late night cartings are made all the more difficult on poorly lit streets what with poop land mines everywhere. usually i can avoid getting your sad-city-slave dog's poop all over my shoe, but controlling the wheels of my cart is a whole different story. by the way, "a whole different story" is a cliche -- you may notice other cliches in this missive -- i don't care. back to what i was saying: bj doesnt understand what i have to do to get to these gigs -- he simply shows up carrying nothing, and leaves promptly after the gig. after the gig, my night has only just begun).
anyway folks, after not playeg i went to capone's and met jon skateboard who gave me some much needed $ for a 's gig (i don't know what that means -- but perhaps you do you fucking smart fuck) i played there the other day (after which the dude from magnetic fields DJ'd some bad lounge music), this was either in oct or nov, on one of the day's of either of those 2 months. please don't make me look in my schedule book for the details.
on a previous the other night we played a show on the sidewalk. it might have been halloween -- that's the time of year when sportsfan drunks keep me up all night at the bar across the street from my apartment. i was there only minutes before we were supposed to play, showing up in a cab from no malice in manhattan where i had a "played" a previous gig that was running late. at the no malice (east village) gig i played one song or so with a rock/disco band. the set was cut extremely short because they fucked up their timing. playing 2 gigs in one night is not a piece of cake or a picinic with your fukcing boyfriend (do i need to spell things correctly -- you're a fucking smart person -- spell it yourself in your head -- do i have to give everything to you on a silver platter). many e-mails of prep go into these nights, including working out all transport $ in advance. and when i give a range of time i can play to people and they try and push it to the last minute, i cut out exactly when i say i had to leave regardless or whether or not the set is over. do you like my shifting of past and present? yeah? fuck you. so anyway, before i get to the no malice gig i have already packed up my drums and taken a car to the late night puttin on the ritz gig, unloaded my drums there and set them up, and then took the subway to no malice. after the one song no malice set, i rushed to take a subway to the puttin on the ritz gig -- but late nights subways unite against the oity -- i waited and waited and eventually took a fucking cab to the puttin on the ritz gig.
i arrived to the gig about 10minutes before me and bj were going to play -- bj had already pulled my drums out to the sidewalk and was sitting behind them on the drum stool. i payed the lame-ass cab fare (my transport should be free in all parts of the universe) and donned my tie. after halla stopped playing (love it when they stop, folks...) we kicked it off with girl from ipanema. bj was handed a mic with no cord before our set from todd p. we played as real men -- a set of nite time maurauders (do you know how to spell that word -- am i going to look it up...i don't think so). more later folks, this is just a taste. basically puttin on the ritz kicks ass -- we sold a cd, and we didn't have to wear boring costumes in the meantime. i helped todd load out his gear at his space and he helped me with my drums at my practice space, in the interim his van in between a rock and a hard place, or slipperyer than greased owl shit, or cold as a withces tit. a witches tit.
a few nights before that we played a show somewhere i think but i can't remember where or what happened.