Wow, I told my boss that I didn't want to get paid until Fall because the crowd wasn't so big and the numbers were way down.
He just laughed and wouldn't let me, the art was there, the skill and the shill, all the people who performed were really good and he would pay me if he had to put money in my dead body!
One woman (a queer, U.S. Army officer) blew the minds of everyone in the room, she just got home from Afghanistan, she is a propahanda specialist, she was two weeks away from heading to Iraq, she was silent and introverted, I loved her relentless personal power.
I imagine if I claimed my personal power as she has, I would really be suitable for a government job.
She shut everyone down with three poems from the front.
Her first was questioning catholisism, one about war and one about more war.
I liked her because she was alone as I am in a wild adventure that can't really be explaned.
We have both seen many things both grusome and splendid, her eyes are older than her face (all my parts are old).
I hope she finds a nice girl in uniform when she gets there.
I hope the war in Iran will not happen.
A fellah named "Page the village idiot" came by (from Arizona) he is spending a month here in the Rose city, playing comedy rock and visiting the ukalele festival.
He was so badass I asked him, Do ya wanna work tommorow with me?
Boom! The Village Idiots were invented, we quickly made up a set and promised to forget it all by the next day.
I closed my open mic show with an uncommon number of fans and great moments for a night that wasn't packed.
First and last Thursdays pull a lot of people away from the old Coffee House, sometimes it makes it way better.
I parked my house on Hawthorne after flirting with more lesbians around 4 am.
I was enjoying parking on desolate streets that get packed when the sun comes up.
I did it the night before on Belmont street at that one busy inertsection near Zupan's.
I park when it's dark and quiet and when I wake up six hours later, I'm buried in humanity!
It's so fun waking up to tourists knocking on my roof, trucks passing by and people using my house to hold one ear and scream into cell phones.
I'ts great fun, I started seeking the chaotic nature of man when I was in too many placid, pastoral or peacful locations, the quiet bugs me batty, I don't think the peacenicks know how boring peace is.
Friday I woke to the sounds of some tourists outside my house, one was telling the other "Better not knock on that thing (about my pad) there may be someone in it." I could feel my house being scanned by a strange eye.
I looked up and when the light adjusted I could see an eye ball looking through a hole in my window blind.
It was kind of cool to see just the white parts of an eye trying to make sense of my housebike.
This is a sucker moment, I decided to scare the shit out of whomever the peeper was.
I lunged up to tear off the blinds but because it was morning, I missed_ damn!
By the time I got up and tore the blind down all I could see or hear of them were some legs running around the corner and some giggled apology.
It's always nice to wake up laughing.
I got a call and went out to breakfast at a place called Jam on Hawthorne with two new girlfriends, one is that crazy stripper I told you about and the other was her Alaskan friend who is a cruse ship hostess on two week leave, we hit it off nicely.
I did some press, I took a shower and then hung out in the bedroom with them for a while waiting for show time and enjoying thier...uh... selves.
I went to the venue really early, I left my guiter behind the counter and walked out to the street.
Getting to the venue I was told that they didn't want me to do the act we agreed on before, they didn't like the idea of me playing banjo in a pile of busted glass, they really hurt my act by ditching the best parts.
In the end we had no problem doing an improvised set but I must admit, I lost some respect, I have been doing this act for 7 years and nobody but me have ever been hurt, it made me wonder if I sound insane when I pitched the act or were they just ninny's.
I never tell the venue what I'm doing before I do it and it's always fine, I only told the people from the Hawthorne Hostel because I consider them friends.
They were the only pedal palooza event I could stand to do after ...the unpleasantness.
I got over some hurdles, dealt with some issues, weaved a maddening, wondeful "Plan B" set and rocked the house.
I suspected they didn't want too spectacular a show, I don't know, I still love Shawn Granton, the Hostel, Hawthorne street, and I'm glad to have worked off the cuff with a guy I barely knew, he was funny and maybe "The Village Idiots will play another set before he leaves.
I won't tell you what the show entailed, ya gotta show up, I did paste a huge firework to the back of my tall bike and tore ass up and down Hawthorne street for the people, that was fun and full of thrills.