...Cleveland Rocks!"
But their airport sucks.
Or, more specifically, NWA.
No, not the 80's rap group Niggas With Attitude. Northwest Airlines.
We just spent the last week here in Cleveland, visiting family and friends, etc.
Our return trip was supposed to be today. One flight to Minneapolis/St. Paul, then a connecting flight to San Francisco.
BUT
approximately three minutes after boarding the plane to Minneapolis, they made us take our stuff and get off the plane for some "last minute maitenance."
That was at 6:30 (eastern time). The plane was supposed to take off at 6:49. It is now 8:49 here.
We now have to spend a night in a hotel once we get to St. Paul, then pay for the extra day our car is parked at SFO, and our dog has to spend one more night at our friends' house, and we all miss him dearly.
Thank god my mom had a laptop.
"But what did you do there?"
We got in on Sunday. Tomato soup and salmon patties at [my grandparents] Gram R and Poppy's house, like always.
Monday was lunch at Jack's Deli. Corn beef to die for. Then we picked up Seth at Kent State. Dinner at Hunan in Solon. Seth and I went to his dad, my Uncle Kenny's house to pick up his car, and he and I went to one of his friend's house. Back to Seth's house.
Tuesday was quiet, until dinner at Seth's mom, my Aunt Karen's house. Most of the family, gathered together over chicken wings and football.
Wednesday was fun. Uncle Kenny took Seth, his sister Lauren and her boyfriend Matt, my brother Noah and I out to dinner at the House of Blues, then to the Cavaliers' game. I can now tell my kids that I saw Lebron James play when he was with the Cavs. I slept at Seth's house, just like every year on the night before Thanksgiving. After watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, he went to bed. I stayed up watching Family Guy and Scrubs and channel surfing in general. (Being one who only subscribes to basic cable at home, I must say, at two in the morning, Cinemax is a hell of a channel.)
Thursday was Thanksgiving. I woke up in time to watch the entire Macy's Day Parade. I went back to Gram R's, where I took a short nap before people started arriving. Gram R and I, with some assistance from Noah, made our yearly eggnog. (FUN FACT: Eggnog is the greatest beverage since water.) Dinner was delicious, as always. After dinner, my oldest, dearest friend Kathryn arrived with her family. Kathryn lives back in New Jersey, but she also has family she visits in Cleveland. She and I talked nonstop for a couple of hours. My mom came into my room and told me to come downstairs. I obliged, and a hell of a surprise was waiting. Mark Jones. My dad's oldest and best friend, who nobody in my family had seen in over three years, had decided to fly in from New York to surprise us. What a nice surprise.
Friday was calmer. We went to the movies with Kathryn and her mom. We saw Four Christmases. Not bad, in my opinion. That night was an early birthday dinner at Maggiano's for Gram R, and Seth and I provided the music, switching off between electric guitar and fretless electric bass.
Then today. Gram R and I went to the mall, conveniently five minutes from her house, went home, packed, said our goodbyes, and left. We got the airport around 5:00 [Eastern time]. It is now 9:13, and I'm STILL IN CLEVELAND.
I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I (for once) don't want to be in Cleveland.
This is not fun.
But the video below is.
-Jason
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
American Tune
Hey there.
It's been too long, hasn't it?
It certainly has.
As Elvis Costello said, "I just don't know where to begin." I'm sure other people have said that, too, but I happen to be an Elvis Costello fan, and he just happened to have opened a brilliant song that began a brilliant album with that line ("Accidents Will Happen" from Armed Forces) . Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I saw him again, at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park. It was great, because it wasn't the typical E.C. show, partially due to the song selection ("Friend of the Devil," "Love Hurts") and to the guest stars (Emmylou Harris, Burlington Welsh Men's Choir). A couple days before that, Emily and I went in to see the astounding performance by Robert Plant & Alison Krauss. And this was all free. Isn't San Francisco great?
We're doing The Laramie Project at school. For those not familiar, it is about the brutal murder of Matthew Shepard, a gay University of Wyoming student, and how his death affected his hometown of Laramie, WY.
There's a scene at the very beginning of the play where I play Matthew as he is being beaten. Garren, who plays his assailant, Aaron McKinney, is "hitting" me repeatedly. Several times over the past couple performances, he has actually hit me on accident, and it was quite painful. That alone made me realize what kind of pain Matthew was in. If Garren accidentally hitting me with his hand was painful, imagine what it would feel like to be repeatedly pistol-whipped while tied up, then left for dead.
I cannot say I know his pain, and I hope I never will know it, but I know some pain, and that's worse than none at all.
(That sounded poetic as I first wrote it, but as I reread it, it just sounds like bullshit. I'm still leaving in up, though.)
The play is oddly appropriate, given that Prop 8 just passed. Prop 2 also passed, but that was a good thing.
FUN FACT: In the state of California, farm animals have more rights than gays.
Isn't America just great?
Wanna hear a great song? It'll be in the video attached to the end of this blog. Don't skip straight to it, though, I want to build anticipation. Trust me, it's worth it. (It's an appropriate song, given what's going on in the country right now.)
I have now been single for two years and one week. Amanda, an old friend from middle school got back in touch with me via myspace, and mentioned the incident in sixth grade choir when she hit me with her shoe. That brought back so much, and so much made sense.
After she hit me, I told Ms. Steidel, the choir teacher. She moved a girl named Rachel between Amanda and I. Rachel and I started talking, and became fast friends. We remained close over the next two years. The day after we graduated eighth grade, I asked her out, and she said yes. November 1st of that same year, we broke up, but we remain friends to this day. Now, if Amanda had never hit me with her shoe, none of this might've happened. I could have ended up as one of those guys who's with a new girl every week, or I could've just stayed single these last 16 years. I will never know for sure, but I would like to thank Amanda profusely for hitting me with her shoe and in turn giving me the best five consecutive months ever.
FUN FACT: Until I was three, I was unaware of the fact that I have eyebrows. My haircuts were frequent enough that my eyebrows always covered my bangs without me ever having to brush them away. And for those of you might ask if I saw them after baths, no. I wasn't tall enough to see into the mirror, which makes me wonder how I knew what I looked like...
This should've been first, but here goes. Obama won. I cannot remember a time I was this happy (a close second was finding out we were going back to New Jersey after moving there seven years prior). The best part is, I know I made a difference. I got out there and campaigned my ass off. I had stickers and buttons and t-shirts and "Yes We Can"s and "HOPE"s out the wazoo. I don't think that any election has seen this amount of people under voting age campaigning. McCain got the old people vote, Obama got the kids. Kids are born everday, just as frequently as old people die. In fact, since beginning this paragraph, a McCain voter has probably died, and the child of an Obama voter has probably been born. I'm sorry for your loss and congratulations, it's a girl.
I can't wait to see how Obama makes this world better one step at a time.
This year's Jazz Band is wonderful. We're performing at the Heritage Festival in Anaheim this coming Memorial Day weekend, and that involves a trip to Disneyland with most of my friends. This is very awesome.
This is kinda old news, but I beat the system. My last post was Wednesday, September 3rd. The next day I checked my email. I got an email from KFOG (104.5FM ) saying I had won Lindsay Buckingham tickets for September 7th. Great, I thought, I love Fleetwood Mac, but it's a shame I couldn't have won Squeeze tickets. Now, on Friday, the 5th, was the Brian Wilson concert. We went, we got better seats than we had originally bought, and it was fantastic. Sunday the 7th brought forth the Lindsay Buckingham concert, and all was wonderful. Two days later, I checked my email again. I received another email from KFOG saying I had won - you guessed it - Squeeze tickets for that Friday night. Needless to say, I was extremely excited. Now, you're not supposed to be able to win concert tickets from KFOG twice in six months, but for some reason I did. The Squeeze concert was one of the most satisfyingly amazing concerts I've ever been to. I sincerely hope this reunion is more than a one-off and that they continue to tour for the foreseeable future.
OTHER EXCITING STUFF:
-I saw The Cab, Plain White T's, Dashboard Confessional, and Panic At The Disco as part of the Rock Band Live promotional tour.
Oh, I almost forgot! My band! Faux Shaux. We had our first (and hopefully not last) show on October 11th (the same day as the Rock Band Live show). We pretty much rocked successfully. Click on the link to see our page and to listen to songs.
I hope these last few minutes weren't wasted.
-Jason
It's been too long, hasn't it?
It certainly has.
As Elvis Costello said, "I just don't know where to begin." I'm sure other people have said that, too, but I happen to be an Elvis Costello fan, and he just happened to have opened a brilliant song that began a brilliant album with that line ("Accidents Will Happen" from Armed Forces) . Oh, I almost forgot to mention that I saw him again, at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park. It was great, because it wasn't the typical E.C. show, partially due to the song selection ("Friend of the Devil," "Love Hurts") and to the guest stars (Emmylou Harris, Burlington Welsh Men's Choir). A couple days before that, Emily and I went in to see the astounding performance by Robert Plant & Alison Krauss. And this was all free. Isn't San Francisco great?
We're doing The Laramie Project at school. For those not familiar, it is about the brutal murder of Matthew Shepard, a gay University of Wyoming student, and how his death affected his hometown of Laramie, WY.
There's a scene at the very beginning of the play where I play Matthew as he is being beaten. Garren, who plays his assailant, Aaron McKinney, is "hitting" me repeatedly. Several times over the past couple performances, he has actually hit me on accident, and it was quite painful. That alone made me realize what kind of pain Matthew was in. If Garren accidentally hitting me with his hand was painful, imagine what it would feel like to be repeatedly pistol-whipped while tied up, then left for dead.
I cannot say I know his pain, and I hope I never will know it, but I know some pain, and that's worse than none at all.
(That sounded poetic as I first wrote it, but as I reread it, it just sounds like bullshit. I'm still leaving in up, though.)
The play is oddly appropriate, given that Prop 8 just passed. Prop 2 also passed, but that was a good thing.
FUN FACT: In the state of California, farm animals have more rights than gays.
Isn't America just great?
Wanna hear a great song? It'll be in the video attached to the end of this blog. Don't skip straight to it, though, I want to build anticipation. Trust me, it's worth it. (It's an appropriate song, given what's going on in the country right now.)
I have now been single for two years and one week. Amanda, an old friend from middle school got back in touch with me via myspace, and mentioned the incident in sixth grade choir when she hit me with her shoe. That brought back so much, and so much made sense.
After she hit me, I told Ms. Steidel, the choir teacher. She moved a girl named Rachel between Amanda and I. Rachel and I started talking, and became fast friends. We remained close over the next two years. The day after we graduated eighth grade, I asked her out, and she said yes. November 1st of that same year, we broke up, but we remain friends to this day. Now, if Amanda had never hit me with her shoe, none of this might've happened. I could have ended up as one of those guys who's with a new girl every week, or I could've just stayed single these last 16 years. I will never know for sure, but I would like to thank Amanda profusely for hitting me with her shoe and in turn giving me the best five consecutive months ever.
FUN FACT: Until I was three, I was unaware of the fact that I have eyebrows. My haircuts were frequent enough that my eyebrows always covered my bangs without me ever having to brush them away. And for those of you might ask if I saw them after baths, no. I wasn't tall enough to see into the mirror, which makes me wonder how I knew what I looked like...
This should've been first, but here goes. Obama won. I cannot remember a time I was this happy (a close second was finding out we were going back to New Jersey after moving there seven years prior). The best part is, I know I made a difference. I got out there and campaigned my ass off. I had stickers and buttons and t-shirts and "Yes We Can"s and "HOPE"s out the wazoo. I don't think that any election has seen this amount of people under voting age campaigning. McCain got the old people vote, Obama got the kids. Kids are born everday, just as frequently as old people die. In fact, since beginning this paragraph, a McCain voter has probably died, and the child of an Obama voter has probably been born. I'm sorry for your loss and congratulations, it's a girl.
I can't wait to see how Obama makes this world better one step at a time.
This year's Jazz Band is wonderful. We're performing at the Heritage Festival in Anaheim this coming Memorial Day weekend, and that involves a trip to Disneyland with most of my friends. This is very awesome.
This is kinda old news, but I beat the system. My last post was Wednesday, September 3rd. The next day I checked my email. I got an email from KFOG (104.5FM ) saying I had won Lindsay Buckingham tickets for September 7th. Great, I thought, I love Fleetwood Mac, but it's a shame I couldn't have won Squeeze tickets. Now, on Friday, the 5th, was the Brian Wilson concert. We went, we got better seats than we had originally bought, and it was fantastic. Sunday the 7th brought forth the Lindsay Buckingham concert, and all was wonderful. Two days later, I checked my email again. I received another email from KFOG saying I had won - you guessed it - Squeeze tickets for that Friday night. Needless to say, I was extremely excited. Now, you're not supposed to be able to win concert tickets from KFOG twice in six months, but for some reason I did. The Squeeze concert was one of the most satisfyingly amazing concerts I've ever been to. I sincerely hope this reunion is more than a one-off and that they continue to tour for the foreseeable future.
OTHER EXCITING STUFF:
-I saw The Cab, Plain White T's, Dashboard Confessional, and Panic At The Disco as part of the Rock Band Live promotional tour.
Oh, I almost forgot! My band! Faux Shaux. We had our first (and hopefully not last) show on October 11th (the same day as the Rock Band Live show). We pretty much rocked successfully. Click on the link to see our page and to listen to songs.
I hope these last few minutes weren't wasted.
-Jason
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Birthday, The "Before Picture."
I will be 16 in just under an hour. That's weird. I was so glad to be 13, then 14, then 15, and i never really took the time to savor it. Now I'm going to be 16. i'm only a "kid" for two more years, until i'm legal. I may only be living in this house for two more years. I may only be living in this city for two more years. Adulthood is fast approaching, and frankly, I'm scared. You know what would make me feel better? Presents. But seriously, though, i'm a little scared.
More later, when I'm 16.
Signing off at 15,
-Jason
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Dreaming With A Broken Heart
Well, more like dreaming, and waking up with a broken heart.
But it's not really broken.
Right?
I've been single for almost two years now, and lacking the advantages possessed by those in relationships, my dreams get really weird.
Like for example, a recent weird one involved me being in a relationship with a friend of mine who I'll refer to as "Girl A." Meanwhile, I was over at another friend, "Girl B's," house, hanging out. Girl A arrives to pick me up, and as Girl B walks me to the door, she plants three or four kisses on my cheek, then motions that she wants me to kiss her on the cheek, which I do. I ask, "so does this mean we're going out or something?" She says something that made complete sense in the dream, but means absolutely nothing in the real world. She said "My dad works for Google," which in the dream meant "no, we're just fooling my dad into thinking we are." Confused? I am.
The dream jumps to another point in time, and I see a billboard with a list of phrases that Girl B says, and then what she really means (once again, perfectly normal in the dream). I see the "Google" phrase up there, with the real meaning being "I really like you." I was a little awestruck, but I saw it as a good thing. Then I woke up.
The thing is, I woke up with a crush on Girl B.
Every time I have a dream where at any point I become romantically involved with a girl, I develop a crush on that girl. It's a major problem of mine, and one that probably cannot be cured. It's happened at least six times. I was able to talk myself out of this latest crush, but it's still slightly freaking me out, the thought of this friend of mine acting so uncharacteristic.
I think it's uncharacteristic. I mean, I could totally see her doing something like that, but I could also see her being disgusted at the thought of something like that (the major flirt part, not the me part).
I'm usually pretty good with interpreting dreams, but this one has me stumped.
Help?
And now for something completely different.
Top Ten Beatles Songs That Will Make You Rethink The Beatles
1. Revolution #9
2. I Am The Walrus
3. Helter Skelter
4. Because
5. Happiness Is A Warm Gun
6. Strawberry Fields Forever
7. Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite
8. I Want You (She's So Heavy)
9. A Day In The Life
10. Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey
Yes, they're all real Beatles songs.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. This is a concert filled year.
Elvis Costello, The Police, Allen Toussaint, B.B. King, Brett Dennen, Colbie Callait, John Mayer, and Joe Simiele.
But wait, there's more!
The Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in Golden Gate Park features performances by Elvis Costello, Emmylou Harris, Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, Nick Lowe, Loudon Wainwright III, and MC Hammer (for reals). And it's free.
Other concerts I want to see:
Brian Wilson (for the third time)
The Fratellis
Panic At The Disco
Black Crowes
Herbie Hancock
Randy Newman
Squeeze
and whoever else gets announced.
I Love Music.
-Jason
But it's not really broken.
Right?
I've been single for almost two years now, and lacking the advantages possessed by those in relationships, my dreams get really weird.
Like for example, a recent weird one involved me being in a relationship with a friend of mine who I'll refer to as "Girl A." Meanwhile, I was over at another friend, "Girl B's," house, hanging out. Girl A arrives to pick me up, and as Girl B walks me to the door, she plants three or four kisses on my cheek, then motions that she wants me to kiss her on the cheek, which I do. I ask, "so does this mean we're going out or something?" She says something that made complete sense in the dream, but means absolutely nothing in the real world. She said "My dad works for Google," which in the dream meant "no, we're just fooling my dad into thinking we are." Confused? I am.
The dream jumps to another point in time, and I see a billboard with a list of phrases that Girl B says, and then what she really means (once again, perfectly normal in the dream). I see the "Google" phrase up there, with the real meaning being "I really like you." I was a little awestruck, but I saw it as a good thing. Then I woke up.
The thing is, I woke up with a crush on Girl B.
Every time I have a dream where at any point I become romantically involved with a girl, I develop a crush on that girl. It's a major problem of mine, and one that probably cannot be cured. It's happened at least six times. I was able to talk myself out of this latest crush, but it's still slightly freaking me out, the thought of this friend of mine acting so uncharacteristic.
I think it's uncharacteristic. I mean, I could totally see her doing something like that, but I could also see her being disgusted at the thought of something like that (the major flirt part, not the me part).
I'm usually pretty good with interpreting dreams, but this one has me stumped.
Help?
And now for something completely different.
Top Ten Beatles Songs That Will Make You Rethink The Beatles
1. Revolution #9
2. I Am The Walrus
3. Helter Skelter
4. Because
5. Happiness Is A Warm Gun
6. Strawberry Fields Forever
7. Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite
8. I Want You (She's So Heavy)
9. A Day In The Life
10. Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey
Yes, they're all real Beatles songs.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. This is a concert filled year.
Elvis Costello, The Police, Allen Toussaint, B.B. King, Brett Dennen, Colbie Callait, John Mayer, and Joe Simiele.
But wait, there's more!
The Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in Golden Gate Park features performances by Elvis Costello, Emmylou Harris, Robert Plant & Alison Krauss, Nick Lowe, Loudon Wainwright III, and MC Hammer (for reals). And it's free.
Other concerts I want to see:
Brian Wilson (for the third time)
The Fratellis
Panic At The Disco
Black Crowes
Herbie Hancock
Randy Newman
Squeeze
and whoever else gets announced.
I Love Music.
-Jason
Dreaming With A Broken Heart
Friday, August 8, 2008
Try!
I need to get out.
I really really need to get out.
I am not a wallflower. My friends that think they are wallflowers are not wallflowers.
Why do we feel this way anyway? We are so antisocial, nay, lazy, that we tend to feel ignored or unnoticed when really, we're just not making an attempt to get out there.
Where is there? Anywhere. Go see a movie. Go to the park. Play croquet. Get drunk and play spin-the-bottle. I don't care (but if you choose the last one, let me know).
My last few outings have been purely music related. I went back to the Sauasalito Cruising Club for another Monday night blues jam, and I must say that I played wonderfully. I've found I don't solo well under pressure, but recognizing most of the crowd from last time, I felt no pressure to have to wow them.
Tuesday was spent with Chris and Justin at Justin's house. We played through our set list for our upcoming webcast (late September, folks) and I played my ass off. Seriously, I don't think I've ever played better in my life. The shared energy between three people coming together to play the music they love helped create an amazing sound emanating from the garage.
It couldn't have been easier. Chris and my shared obsession over John Mayer made those songs easy to play, and our love of the blues made the slow blues songs fabulous (especially when Chris and I both played with one hand while holding our sodas in the other hand).
That's the great thing about the blues. You can improvise, and you don't have to learn a specific part.
I deeply admire and respect Eric Clapton, often to the point of worship, but when we motored through "Crossroads," I know my solo was more engaging than anything Clapton's played in the last ten years. Go on youtube and check. His playing has decreased as he's aged. He's lost that youthful energy, and not even a guitar battle with John Mayer was able to get him to kick himself in the ass and say "fucking GO!"
I think that was the first time I've said "fuck" in a blog.
No. This is the fourth, not including a quote by a friend, and the above "fuck."
I've gotten off topic from what I was saying, but wallflowers are just people who think they're wallflowers. The people at parties that stand against a wall and think "Hmph. Look at him, having a good time. God, she's so beautiful."
There is absolutely nothing preventing you from having a good time, with the possible exception of torture. But even then, you can say "Thank you sir, can I have another?"
People who think they're wallflowers just need a kick in their self-esteem's ass.
As a wise man once said,
Easy does it now,
just keep your damn mouth shut.
She thinks you're hot already,
don't go and press your luck.
No news is good news coming,
you've got to know you tried.
Don't go and blow it,
you do every single time.
That wise man was John Mayer, and the song was "Try!" Sometimes, you have to fall flat on your ass to boost your self esteem. Sometimes you've got to spend money to make money. If you realize that rejection, embarrassment, and humiliation aren't that bad, then you're more likely to be more social.
But Jason, you ask, what if I've ruined my reputation?
Simple. Get a new reputation.
If you were the most popular kid in school (like schools even have a "popular" clique these days) and you ruined your reputation by sleeping with a teacher to get the answers to a test.
Become a photographer, and claim your "abuse" is an inspiration and a recurring theme in your photography. It doesn't have to be good, but if you say that it's inspired by abuse, people will have pity on you and love you again.
Your friends might not, but you can always make new ones.
Speaking of creepy sex, Edward Cullen is the worst thing to happen to literature since Adolf Hitler's autobiography "Mein Kampf."
Oh, and Bella chooses Edward instead of Jacob.
Spoiler alert, bitch.
Bring me the heads of Kim Kardashian, Carmen Electra, Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, Tyra Banks, the programmers at MTV and VH1, John McCain, Dick Cheney, and the person on that Yahoo! chatroom that said they would never vote for Barack Obama because he's "too skinny."
Seriously, people?
This is a good sign.
They can't find any fault with Barack Obama.
He's "elitist," because he prefers arugula. He's "a fool" for telling people to fill up their tires, even though every expert agrees. He's "too skinny". If he eats fast food, he's "being fake and bending to the will of the people."
Give me a fucking break (four "fucks" in one blog!). Are people really that shallow?
Unfortunately, yes. Forget killing millions of Jews. Forget genocide in Darfur.
These are the people that should be wiped out, regardless of race, appearance, gender, or religion.
John McCain was trying to discuss problems on the "Iraq-Pakistan border."
There is no Iraq-Pakistan border. There is only Iran.
Iran, and you should run too. This is a very old, very confused, likely dangerous man. This man was middle-aged when William Howard Taft was just a young statesman. This man makes C. Montgomery Burns look like a toddler. I'm exaggerating, of course, but that's still no reason to vote for him.
I've never gotten this political in a blog before. This is a blog full of firsts.
Brian Wilson's coming to the Paramount Theater to perform his new album That Lucky Old Sun in its entirety the day after my birthday. YES. He is one of my all-time heroes. Listen to Pet Sounds or Smile to fully understand his genius.
I like to think of myself as a party animal, but the last time I was at a party and was given alcohol, I was really nervous and freaked out if someone took a picture. God forbid someone should put the evidence on the internet, like, say, a blog.
I like to think of myself as a drinker, but I've only been really drunk twice.
I like to think of myself as a songwriter, but I only like three of my 592063064 songs.
I like to think of myself as a person with a flowering social life, but these days that flower seems to be wilting."
Sigh.
I just reread most of this post. Blogging to an audience of, like, three has been therapeutic. Like talking to a psychiatrist who doesn't say anything, but just lets me talk.
I have issues, and I need to share them with someone.
There's just so many questions I have left unanswered.
But those are a mystery for another day.
-Jason
I really really need to get out.
I am not a wallflower. My friends that think they are wallflowers are not wallflowers.
Why do we feel this way anyway? We are so antisocial, nay, lazy, that we tend to feel ignored or unnoticed when really, we're just not making an attempt to get out there.
Where is there? Anywhere. Go see a movie. Go to the park. Play croquet. Get drunk and play spin-the-bottle. I don't care (but if you choose the last one, let me know).
My last few outings have been purely music related. I went back to the Sauasalito Cruising Club for another Monday night blues jam, and I must say that I played wonderfully. I've found I don't solo well under pressure, but recognizing most of the crowd from last time, I felt no pressure to have to wow them.
Tuesday was spent with Chris and Justin at Justin's house. We played through our set list for our upcoming webcast (late September, folks) and I played my ass off. Seriously, I don't think I've ever played better in my life. The shared energy between three people coming together to play the music they love helped create an amazing sound emanating from the garage.
It couldn't have been easier. Chris and my shared obsession over John Mayer made those songs easy to play, and our love of the blues made the slow blues songs fabulous (especially when Chris and I both played with one hand while holding our sodas in the other hand).
That's the great thing about the blues. You can improvise, and you don't have to learn a specific part.
I deeply admire and respect Eric Clapton, often to the point of worship, but when we motored through "Crossroads," I know my solo was more engaging than anything Clapton's played in the last ten years. Go on youtube and check. His playing has decreased as he's aged. He's lost that youthful energy, and not even a guitar battle with John Mayer was able to get him to kick himself in the ass and say "fucking GO!"
I think that was the first time I've said "fuck" in a blog.
No. This is the fourth, not including a quote by a friend, and the above "fuck."
I've gotten off topic from what I was saying, but wallflowers are just people who think they're wallflowers. The people at parties that stand against a wall and think "Hmph. Look at him, having a good time. God, she's so beautiful."
There is absolutely nothing preventing you from having a good time, with the possible exception of torture. But even then, you can say "Thank you sir, can I have another?"
People who think they're wallflowers just need a kick in their self-esteem's ass.
As a wise man once said,
Easy does it now,
just keep your damn mouth shut.
She thinks you're hot already,
don't go and press your luck.
No news is good news coming,
you've got to know you tried.
Don't go and blow it,
you do every single time.
That wise man was John Mayer, and the song was "Try!" Sometimes, you have to fall flat on your ass to boost your self esteem. Sometimes you've got to spend money to make money. If you realize that rejection, embarrassment, and humiliation aren't that bad, then you're more likely to be more social.
But Jason, you ask, what if I've ruined my reputation?
Simple. Get a new reputation.
If you were the most popular kid in school (like schools even have a "popular" clique these days) and you ruined your reputation by sleeping with a teacher to get the answers to a test.
Become a photographer, and claim your "abuse" is an inspiration and a recurring theme in your photography. It doesn't have to be good, but if you say that it's inspired by abuse, people will have pity on you and love you again.
Your friends might not, but you can always make new ones.
Speaking of creepy sex, Edward Cullen is the worst thing to happen to literature since Adolf Hitler's autobiography "Mein Kampf."
Oh, and Bella chooses Edward instead of Jacob.
Spoiler alert, bitch.
Bring me the heads of Kim Kardashian, Carmen Electra, Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, Tyra Banks, the programmers at MTV and VH1, John McCain, Dick Cheney, and the person on that Yahoo! chatroom that said they would never vote for Barack Obama because he's "too skinny."
Seriously, people?
This is a good sign.
They can't find any fault with Barack Obama.
He's "elitist," because he prefers arugula. He's "a fool" for telling people to fill up their tires, even though every expert agrees. He's "too skinny". If he eats fast food, he's "being fake and bending to the will of the people."
Give me a fucking break (four "fucks" in one blog!). Are people really that shallow?
Unfortunately, yes. Forget killing millions of Jews. Forget genocide in Darfur.
These are the people that should be wiped out, regardless of race, appearance, gender, or religion.
John McCain was trying to discuss problems on the "Iraq-Pakistan border."
There is no Iraq-Pakistan border. There is only Iran.
Iran, and you should run too. This is a very old, very confused, likely dangerous man. This man was middle-aged when William Howard Taft was just a young statesman. This man makes C. Montgomery Burns look like a toddler. I'm exaggerating, of course, but that's still no reason to vote for him.
I've never gotten this political in a blog before. This is a blog full of firsts.
Brian Wilson's coming to the Paramount Theater to perform his new album That Lucky Old Sun in its entirety the day after my birthday. YES. He is one of my all-time heroes. Listen to Pet Sounds or Smile to fully understand his genius.
I like to think of myself as a party animal, but the last time I was at a party and was given alcohol, I was really nervous and freaked out if someone took a picture. God forbid someone should put the evidence on the internet, like, say, a blog.
I like to think of myself as a drinker, but I've only been really drunk twice.
I like to think of myself as a songwriter, but I only like three of my 592063064 songs.
I like to think of myself as a person with a flowering social life, but these days that flower seems to be wilting."
Is it all in that pretty little head of yours? What goes on in that place in the dark? Well, I used to know a girl, and I could've sworn that her name was Veronica. She used to have a carefree mind of her own, with a delicate look in her eyes. These days I'm afraid she's not even sure if her name is Veronica."That song speaks to me. It's about Elvis Costello's grandmother, who had Alzheimer's and couldn't remember who he was. My great-aunt has dementia. Sometimes she doesn't even remember her own brother. I'd like to see her again, but my dad would prefer that our memories of her remain pleasant. I feel bad about this. I feel like I'm being sheltered from the real world. What if, in their old age, my parents develop Alzheimer's or dementia? Will I know how to deal with it, short of reading an informational pamphlet?
-Elvis Costello, "Veronica"
Sigh.
I just reread most of this post. Blogging to an audience of, like, three has been therapeutic. Like talking to a psychiatrist who doesn't say anything, but just lets me talk.
I have issues, and I need to share them with someone.
There's just so many questions I have left unanswered.
But those are a mystery for another day.
-Jason
Try!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
I'm A Loser
I can't sleep.
That's a lie.
I won't sleep.
I'm insanely bored, and I don't feel like sleeping, as tired as I am. Two nights ago I stayed up until 5, and last night I was up until 3. Granted it's summer, but I should have a decent reason for doing that, like having friends sleep over, or being out late doing something cool.
Well, I'd like to say I've been out doing cool things, but that would make me a dirty liar.
Since coming home from the blues jam Monday night, I haven't left the house, with the exception of walking my dog around the block.
Naturally, this time alone has given me time to reflect on aspects of my life, namely my childhood.
I've come to the conclusion that it sucked.
I had no grand adventures. I didn't have a wondrous, astounding, family vacation. Play-dates at my house were never more than one friend at a time (we tried two friends, but that didn't work because the friends weren't friends with each other). I also came to terms with the fact that I was a bossy little bastard.
I remember locking my friend Kathryn in my room and guarding the door because she wasn't agreeing with whatever nonsense I was spouting. Another incident recalled my friend David and I repeatedly switching between a toy guitar and drums because he wasn't starting on the right beat when we were attempting to play The Beatles' "Help" when we were six years old.
I was also a bit of a loner.
I remember being content sitting on the floor of our house in the Oakland hills pretending that the fingers on my left hand were The Beatles and my thumb was Brian Epstein, their manager. I remember meandering around the playground, singing Beatles songs to myself. I remember sitting alone, reading a book, instead of playing with my friends. Even worse, I remember choosing not to sit with my friends during lunch in first grade, choosing instead to sit with a kid named Tyler and his mom, Susie. I don't know why she was always eating lunch with him, but I remember it being nice that I had a sort of mother figure at school.
But would I do it all again?
Yes.
I would gladly go back to the days where Brian, Kevin, and I would play "Starship Troopers" on the playground at Sunday School. I would absolutely revisit the day when I went to David Hernandez's birthday party where no one could break the pinata, so David's dad climbed up on the roof and threw the candy off the roof. A large piece hit me in the head, causing me to burst into tears.
I'd definitely go back to third grade, when I met and became inseparable from Charlie. I'd go back to fourth grade, when Charlie and I became separable, and I met Tony, Blake, and Tameem.
I'd love to go back to fifth grade, when Tameem convinced me that Airwalk shoes allowed you to walk on air, and we won the free class trip to the San Francisco Zoo.
I'd revisit sixth grade, when childhood quickly faded, and my lunchtimes were spent with Tony reciting countless Family Guy episodes to me (I wouldn't actually see the show for another two years).
After that, things changed. I started liking girls. I started becoming less bossy. I became more popular, to the point where by eighth grade, the whole school knew my name. I started playing Truth or Dare and Spin the Bottle (a story for another day).
Then I moved, and my ego was shattered when I realized that popularity doesn't move with you, and that my attitude, while echoing proud in Castro Valley, just made me sound like a jackass in Alameda. My sucky-great childhood was lost forever, causing me to fix the holes in my ego with duct tape.
Here you see (or, rather, read) the portrait of a broken man. A man who had everything. Looks, fame, friends, and love.
But then the fame left, followed by the love and the looks, and soon his friends were replaced with people who use him as comic relief, rather than a point at which they would converge to watch movies or hang out.
And that's why people say I sound like an asshole.
-Jason
That's a lie.
I won't sleep.
I'm insanely bored, and I don't feel like sleeping, as tired as I am. Two nights ago I stayed up until 5, and last night I was up until 3. Granted it's summer, but I should have a decent reason for doing that, like having friends sleep over, or being out late doing something cool.
Well, I'd like to say I've been out doing cool things, but that would make me a dirty liar.
Since coming home from the blues jam Monday night, I haven't left the house, with the exception of walking my dog around the block.
Naturally, this time alone has given me time to reflect on aspects of my life, namely my childhood.
I've come to the conclusion that it sucked.
I had no grand adventures. I didn't have a wondrous, astounding, family vacation. Play-dates at my house were never more than one friend at a time (we tried two friends, but that didn't work because the friends weren't friends with each other). I also came to terms with the fact that I was a bossy little bastard.
I remember locking my friend Kathryn in my room and guarding the door because she wasn't agreeing with whatever nonsense I was spouting. Another incident recalled my friend David and I repeatedly switching between a toy guitar and drums because he wasn't starting on the right beat when we were attempting to play The Beatles' "Help" when we were six years old.
I was also a bit of a loner.
I remember being content sitting on the floor of our house in the Oakland hills pretending that the fingers on my left hand were The Beatles and my thumb was Brian Epstein, their manager. I remember meandering around the playground, singing Beatles songs to myself. I remember sitting alone, reading a book, instead of playing with my friends. Even worse, I remember choosing not to sit with my friends during lunch in first grade, choosing instead to sit with a kid named Tyler and his mom, Susie. I don't know why she was always eating lunch with him, but I remember it being nice that I had a sort of mother figure at school.
But would I do it all again?
Yes.
I would gladly go back to the days where Brian, Kevin, and I would play "Starship Troopers" on the playground at Sunday School. I would absolutely revisit the day when I went to David Hernandez's birthday party where no one could break the pinata, so David's dad climbed up on the roof and threw the candy off the roof. A large piece hit me in the head, causing me to burst into tears.
I'd definitely go back to third grade, when I met and became inseparable from Charlie. I'd go back to fourth grade, when Charlie and I became separable, and I met Tony, Blake, and Tameem.
I'd love to go back to fifth grade, when Tameem convinced me that Airwalk shoes allowed you to walk on air, and we won the free class trip to the San Francisco Zoo.
I'd revisit sixth grade, when childhood quickly faded, and my lunchtimes were spent with Tony reciting countless Family Guy episodes to me (I wouldn't actually see the show for another two years).
After that, things changed. I started liking girls. I started becoming less bossy. I became more popular, to the point where by eighth grade, the whole school knew my name. I started playing Truth or Dare and Spin the Bottle (a story for another day).
Then I moved, and my ego was shattered when I realized that popularity doesn't move with you, and that my attitude, while echoing proud in Castro Valley, just made me sound like a jackass in Alameda. My sucky-great childhood was lost forever, causing me to fix the holes in my ego with duct tape.
Here you see (or, rather, read) the portrait of a broken man. A man who had everything. Looks, fame, friends, and love.
But then the fame left, followed by the love and the looks, and soon his friends were replaced with people who use him as comic relief, rather than a point at which they would converge to watch movies or hang out.
And that's why people say I sound like an asshole.
-Jason
I'm A Loser
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Everyday I Have The Blues
I'm pretty pumped.
It's ironic that the title evokes sad images.
It should be "Every Monday I Have The Blues."
I just got back from the Monday night blues jam down at the Sausalito Cruising Club.
It's great. For $10, you get a pasta buffet, and (time permitting) a chance to play whatever instrument you play (in my case, guitar).
I had my Les Paul and a couple songs up my sleeve, and when my dad and I were called up, I "freed the beast," so to speak.
My dad lead us through Robert Johnson's "Walkin' Blues," which I soloed on. I felt it was a mediocre solo, but I played it, and people seemed to enjoy it. It seemed at first that the crowd mostly enjoyed seeing a fifteen year old (the youngest person there) on stage playing the blues.
Next song was "Out Of My Mind," the slow blues by the John Mayer Trio. I'm pretty proud that I was able to slip in a JM tune without anyone noticing. As soon as I started singing, the room got a little quieter. I guess they weren't expecting me to have a good voice. I soloed like a pro and sang my heart out.
Next song was "Crossroads." We did it more like Cream did it, as opposed to the original Robert Johnson recording, "Cross Road Blues."
Holy crap. I didn't know I could sing like that. It was a thrill to be able to sing that song with a full band (two guitars, bass, drums, keys).
Next we did a few blues with other singers. We closed our set with me singing the Chuck Berry classic, "Johnny B. Goode."
A couple years ago, I would play this in record key, which is C. Since then, my voice has dropped, but I didn't think to change the key, as I hadn't had a problem last time I sang it.
Bad idea.
Fortunately for me, the volume on the mic was turned way down, so they couldn't hear me.
*Phew.*
It was a great night, and I played my ass off.
I really don't mean to sound cocky and full of myself, but I'm just so pumped that I can't help but feel special.
I also feel kinda bad posting this here, because it's different from my other blogs. It's not philosophical, it's not a rant, it's not emotionally charged. It's a play-by-play of my evening.
But I had such a great time, I wanted to share it with you all.
All three or four readers (so far.)
Anyway, I intend to be back there some upcoming Monday. If you'd like to join me, lemme know.
Lemme? Really?
Let me know.
-Jason
It's ironic that the title evokes sad images.
It should be "Every Monday I Have The Blues."
I just got back from the Monday night blues jam down at the Sausalito Cruising Club.
It's great. For $10, you get a pasta buffet, and (time permitting) a chance to play whatever instrument you play (in my case, guitar).
I had my Les Paul and a couple songs up my sleeve, and when my dad and I were called up, I "freed the beast," so to speak.
My dad lead us through Robert Johnson's "Walkin' Blues," which I soloed on. I felt it was a mediocre solo, but I played it, and people seemed to enjoy it. It seemed at first that the crowd mostly enjoyed seeing a fifteen year old (the youngest person there) on stage playing the blues.
Next song was "Out Of My Mind," the slow blues by the John Mayer Trio. I'm pretty proud that I was able to slip in a JM tune without anyone noticing. As soon as I started singing, the room got a little quieter. I guess they weren't expecting me to have a good voice. I soloed like a pro and sang my heart out.
Next song was "Crossroads." We did it more like Cream did it, as opposed to the original Robert Johnson recording, "Cross Road Blues."
Holy crap. I didn't know I could sing like that. It was a thrill to be able to sing that song with a full band (two guitars, bass, drums, keys).
Next we did a few blues with other singers. We closed our set with me singing the Chuck Berry classic, "Johnny B. Goode."
A couple years ago, I would play this in record key, which is C. Since then, my voice has dropped, but I didn't think to change the key, as I hadn't had a problem last time I sang it.
Bad idea.
Fortunately for me, the volume on the mic was turned way down, so they couldn't hear me.
*Phew.*
It was a great night, and I played my ass off.
I really don't mean to sound cocky and full of myself, but I'm just so pumped that I can't help but feel special.
I also feel kinda bad posting this here, because it's different from my other blogs. It's not philosophical, it's not a rant, it's not emotionally charged. It's a play-by-play of my evening.
But I had such a great time, I wanted to share it with you all.
All three or four readers (so far.)
Anyway, I intend to be back there some upcoming Monday. If you'd like to join me, lemme know.
Lemme? Really?
Let me know.
-Jason
Everyday I Have The Blues
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