Travelogue #35 (Dispatches from the plunderground, love of life sliced by knife at age of five)
Who Needs Grammar When You've Got Schizo-Emails?
OR (I'm sorry, Mom and Dad, but your son is a philanderer)
1) I'm in Denver, missed my train that I was trying to hop towards Chicago, woke up in space-bag vomit of my own beer-money-for-shelter trade two days ago, played with a cat in a skirt named Jesus, hitchhiked with a Kosher butcher from Israel who chainsmoked 20 cigarettes in 2 hours.
2) So, tea tree oil helped to get rid of the scabies, but looking through my clothing, I noticed another pest: LICE! SON OF A BITCH!!! I was so angry and felt so stupid, as I remember sleeping out in this GROADY (see, I speak Valley now) spot that this kid Augie showed me in the night. When I woke up in the morning, it was a bit itchier. Finally, I tried to figure out the itching, specifically, and narrowed it down to my purple sweatshirt I had bought in Palmdale. When I looked at the arm pit area, I was repulsed: white lice with numerous eggs. Fuck it, I said, stripping off all the warm clothing, swapping out all but my pants. When I went to my pants, I remember having a large "outbreak" on my lower back, only to find the culprit--a lone little lice tucked into the seam. "Motherfucker!" I thought, and after a few flicks, he was flying into the wall of the men's shelter bathroom...
Ugh, all this, JUST TO BE A MUSICIAN.
3) I just got to SF last night. I hung out with this BAD (as in, terrible) bass player, who insisted in playing along to a recording on his headphone that only he could hear. With that harmonic information coming out, I played banjo along with him. It sucked, but this guy gave us $19, which I gave him $10 because he smoked me up. His name was Roman, and Roman tried to steal my lighter. Then, he "found" it after saying he wasn't a lighterthief.
Afterwards, I walked around the corner, chatted up this girl, and soon entered seduction mode. However, the problem with being a musician is that it attracts people. I swear to god, its annoying. Within 5 minutes, I had one girl telling me she's Lithuanian (and lesbian!), another filming a YouTube segment of me, this gay guy staring at my crotch, and... THEN! It got even crazier as these Italians came down the street, starting to hit on the girl I was "mackin'". So, I did the better thing--distract 'em, and we all sang the first verse of "Besame Mucho" to this girl Abby. None of them spoke English, so when I tried to tell them to leave because they were upsetting Abby's neighbors, they looked puzzled at me, the party traitor. Luckily, they were on the way to a "Fiesta", so they left of their own accord. The entire time, I turned to Abby and just faux-mimed "look what I've done to you!!!"
Afterwards, I failed to seduce her beyond public groping.
4) I played music for 11 hours yesterday, straight. And yesteryesterday? 10 hours. I've never seen so many faces melted, saying "I've never heard that on a banjo..." Its fun to just rip on the thing. This homeless guy taught me "The Irish Washerwoman" at a breakneck tempo, so its off to smoke a joint, meet up with this black drummer Gregory. Despite pissing his pants in a drunken stupor, he's a great musician. In fact, the best thing about him is that he plays simply and when we hit a really good musical point, he just goes "geh/heh!" (glottal stop, I believe), and that's when you know its on.
This homebum gave us an amazing joint when we played "Harvest Moon".
HEN! It got even crazier as these Italians came down the street, starting to hit on the girl I was "mackin'". So, I did the better thing--distract 'em, and we all sang the first verse of "Besame Mucho" to this girl Abby. None of them spoke English, so when I tried to tell them to leave because they were upsetting Abby's neighbors, they looked puzzled at me, the party traitor. Luckily, they were on the way to a "Fiesta", so they left of their own accord. The entire time, I turned to Abby and just faux-mimed "look what I've done to you!!!"
Afterwards, I failed to seduce her beyond public groping.
4) I played music for 11 hours yesterday, straight. And yesteryesterday? 10 hours. I've never seen so many faces melted, saying "I've never heard that on a banjo..." Its fun to just rip on the thing. This homeless guy taught me "The Irish Washerwoman" at a breakneck tempo, so its off to smoke a joint, meet up with this black drummer Gregory. Despite pissing his pants in a drunken stupor, he's a great musician. In fact, the best thing about him is that he plays simply and when we hit a really good musical point, he just goes "geh/heh!" (glottal stop, I believe), and that's when you know its on.
This homebum gave us an amazing joint when we played "Harvest Moon".
Who Needs Grammar When You've Got Schizo-Emails?
OR (I'm sorry, Mom and Dad, but your son is a philanderer)
1) I'm in Denver, missed my train that I was trying to hop towards Chicago, woke up in space-bag vomit of my own beer-money-for-shelter trade two days ago, played with a cat in a skirt named Jesus, hitchhiked with a Kosher butcher from Israel who chainsmoked 20 cigarettes in 2 hours.
2) So, tea tree oil helped to get rid of the scabies, but looking through my clothing, I noticed another pest: LICE! SON OF A BITCH!!! I was so angry and felt so stupid, as I remember sleeping out in this GROADY (see, I speak Valley now) spot that this kid Augie showed me in the night. When I woke up in the morning, it was a bit itchier. Finally, I tried to figure out the itching, specifically, and narrowed it down to my purple sweatshirt I had bought in Palmdale. When I looked at the arm pit area, I was repulsed: white lice with numerous eggs. Fuck it, I said, stripping off all the warm clothing, swapping out all but my pants. When I went to my pants, I remember having a large "outbreak" on my lower back, only to find the culprit--a lone little lice tucked into the seam. "Motherfucker!" I thought, and after a few flicks, he was flying into the wall of the men's shelter bathroom...
Ugh, all this, JUST TO BE A MUSICIAN.
3) I just got to SF last night. I hung out with this BAD (as in, terrible) bass player, who insisted in playing along to a recording on his headphone that only he could hear. With that harmonic information coming out, I played banjo along with him. It sucked, but this guy gave us $19, which I gave him $10 because he smoked me up. His name was Roman, and Roman tried to steal my lighter. Then, he "found" it after saying he wasn't a lighterthief.
Afterwards, I walked around the corner, chatted up this girl, and soon entered seduction mode. However, the problem with being a musician is that it attracts people. I swear to god, its annoying. Within 5 minutes, I had one girl telling me she's Lithuanian (and lesbian!), another filming a YouTube segment of me, this gay guy staring at my crotch, and... THEN! It got even crazier as these Italians came down the street, starting to hit on the girl I was "mackin'". So, I did the better thing--distract 'em, and we all sang the first verse of "Besame Mucho" to this girl Abby. None of them spoke English, so when I tried to tell them to leave because they were upsetting Abby's neighbors, they looked puzzled at me, the party traitor. Luckily, they were on the way to a "Fiesta", so they left of their own accord. The entire time, I turned to Abby and just faux-mimed "look what I've done to you!!!"
Afterwards, I failed to seduce her beyond public groping.
4) I played music for 11 hours yesterday, straight. And yesteryesterday? 10 hours. I've never seen so many faces melted, saying "I've never heard that on a banjo..." Its fun to just rip on the thing. This homeless guy taught me "The Irish Washerwoman" at a breakneck tempo, so its off to smoke a joint, meet up with this black drummer Gregory. Despite pissing his pants in a drunken stupor, he's a great musician. In fact, the best thing about him is that he plays simply and when we hit a really good musical point, he just goes "geh/heh!" (glottal stop, I believe), and that's when you know its on.
This homebum gave us an amazing joint when we played "Harvest Moon".
HEN! It got even crazier as these Italians came down the street, starting to hit on the girl I was "mackin'". So, I did the better thing--distract 'em, and we all sang the first verse of "Besame Mucho" to this girl Abby. None of them spoke English, so when I tried to tell them to leave because they were upsetting Abby's neighbors, they looked puzzled at me, the party traitor. Luckily, they were on the way to a "Fiesta", so they left of their own accord. The entire time, I turned to Abby and just faux-mimed "look what I've done to you!!!"
Afterwards, I failed to seduce her beyond public groping.
4) I played music for 11 hours yesterday, straight. And yesteryesterday? 10 hours. I've never seen so many faces melted, saying "I've never heard that on a banjo..." Its fun to just rip on the thing. This homeless guy taught me "The Irish Washerwoman" at a breakneck tempo, so its off to smoke a joint, meet up with this black drummer Gregory. Despite pissing his pants in a drunken stupor, he's a great musician. In fact, the best thing about him is that he plays simply and when we hit a really good musical point, he just goes "geh/heh!" (glottal stop, I believe), and that's when you know its on.
This homebum gave us an amazing joint when we played "Harvest Moon".
