Feeling Groovy.

Today I looked at my stacks and piles of books. I read some Robert Bly. I moved Harry Potter over so I could see what the big one under it was. I couldn't remember.

"Oh yeah." It's Emerson. I wanted to read Emerson after our last hike. The hike where I thought I might have asthma.

I was just anaerobically exercising. I want a buff heart.

I might be suffering from anxiety. Not so sure. I haven't been breathing much I guess, and I've been focusing on minutiae quite a bit lately. But that's because it makes me feel good and I can't remember what I was doing anyway. "It's the little things in life." But my mind! Sharp as a tick! Tack?

Who cares about another 40 CDs?

When I saw Emerson I felt good.

My stacks and piles of books, made me feel good.

Here, There and Everywhere

It has been way too long.

I've had to take work home (including over the birthday San Francisco trip) and any free time has been taken up with creating an orientation slideshow. I'll be sure to share that with you all later.

San Francisco with Chris can be summed up with Coit Tower and 7PM Dim Sum as seen here:


There were also the dozen, long-stemmed red roses delivered to the house we were staying at on the Saturday which was my birthday from my rad boyfriend Bubbie.

There was also the Berkeley Morris Dancers that showed up at Sutro's Bath House around birthday day (Summer Solstice - brings the weirdos out). It was the unseasonably hottest day on record since 1973 in San Francisco. It was indeed this troupe:


We saw Seun Kuti and Egypt 80 in Stern Grove, amongst a forrest of Redwoods and hippie nymphs.

Devendra Barnhart wished me a happy birthday at the Hollywood Bowl. That went like this, "Happy Birthday Laura..."
I think, "That actually sounded pretty." "Ha! OK guys. Thanks!" We all laughed. Chris, Maura, Tracy and I in our box at the Bowl. Tickets I got from work. I did play the birthday card but... Devendra doesn't know that (or me). But we all laughed, "Of course it's me. There's no other Laura." I imagined Laura was some slightly trust-fundy psuedo-Hippie chick sitting backstage, getting ready for some fun.

I get a text, "THAT WAS SO COOL! WHERE ARE YOUR SEATS GIRL?!"
Who the hell is this? I don't know who this text is, "Maura - Do you recognize this phone number?" She must get a kick out of me sometimes.
"Center box, back. Who is this? Where are you?"
Long awesome story short - IT WAS ME! I'M LAURA!
Ariana arranged it for me and the texter was my boss. They were up in the Garden Boxes. I fuhreeeeked out as damage to Chris' squeezed fingers would prove. My dreaming began. I decided that the Hippie Chick Laura was more of a Bohemian now. At the end of Devendra's performance he wished me well again, this time in both English and Spanish and I jumped, "I'M LAURA!" Felt pretty bomb kids.

Maura also talked about some of the work she's begun with her position as Music Director at KSCR, including having The Wedding Present come in. Not surprised by this but so happy she's doing it. Read up, pay attention, follow along and know that you knew her when.

I played softball. I'm as surprised as you. I'm sorry but there are no pictures to prove this. However, I was sore for the running as I am a powerhitter (I'm as surprised as you) and I got a run + second base. And now I've begun running with Chris. We want to improve for softball and I'll need to begin training for the Amazing Race.

4th of July: We rode our bikes at breakneck speed to catch the fireworks last night and followed it up with a midnight viewing of Wall-E.

I think we're caught up.

Southwest Like a Cow...

But we're happy we'll be together. The youth is not wasted on the young.

A little stalling, a little writing. I'm folding warm and cold clothes again to trip up to San Francisco for five days. This time I'll bring Chris with me. Last time I was there, he was promising an eMail and photos of his machine and now I can show him the bed I was sleeping in when his eMail arrived. I am that cheesy and I am that excited. These same hosts are letting us crash at their place while they travel to the Terrastock Festival I was writing about then too.

If I had any idea then what I know now today I wouldn't want to know it because the discovery has been so rad.

I'll also be turning 37 on the first day of Summer this Saturday.



We'll be seeing Seun Kuti (that is "Kuti" as one of Fela's 30,000. I joke, but you know...) and I'll be able to meet a label friend I've made from my new responsibilities at KCRW.

We're going to sleep a lot and work a little. Unfortunately, we just have to do that. But I'm also going to show him my treasured Philz Coffee. Oh God. Philz.

And I'm only bringing the one Harry Potter.

Swervedriver Sans Tonic

Right now I am demanding this moment to sit. Who's my oppressor? Who won't let me go?

Hi! Me. Man am I tired. I might just be really hungry... I don't really know. But dinner's gonna be good and cheesy tonight.

And you?

I went to Swervedriver this weekend. I argued with Chris, "NoNoNooNooNoNo. The recordings you're hearing just aren't demonstrating how saturating their guitars can be. How overwhelming and thick they lay their six strings down. Blankets of distortion warm you with chimey fragrance. Oh yes. You just don't know. Let's go to this semi-pricey event and I'll show you when you see them play for yourself. RaaavVEEeee Down. Hit the ground. Rock on!"

How do you handle the realization when a band you really loved doesn't sound like that band anymore?

"They don't have The 'Ness." Huh? OhMyGod. I panicked. I "dated" a guy who was in The Ness. What are you talking about? Chris continues, "Laura, so much of what you play me is so awesome and I really like the stuff. Swervedriver just sounds like an L.A. rock band. Oh yeah, you're really hot and I think you're very smart." OK. So maybe I embellished his comments and added that last bit, but what was said about Swervedriver was said and I argued with Chris regarding his assumptive stated Swervedriver facts. "Whatever Chris. WhaTTTEVVVer. You like '80s Rush." I probably did say that but I think his taste in '80s Rush is cute. Oh yeah. I like Moving Pictures too myself.

Swervedriver has become an L.A. Rock Band.

OHMYGOD! FUCK! NO. No. Impossible. Impossible that my taste in the early '90s was so unsophisticated. Isn't it? Come on. This is bad. They are... they are... they are boring me.

But it wasn't a good scene. I knew something was wrong as soon as we arrived.

We entered the hall. Henry Fonda Theatre. Looked like they blocked off the balcony - didn't want the crowd to appear too thin when people chose to wander upstairs so they could SIT through the rock show. And the crowd? Oh wow. I knew we wouldn't be enjoying cocktails at MENSA but this was like a Filter Magazine showcase at Spaceland. Sorry. That's somewhat of an L.A. joke.

I'll try this. "Oh shit! It's an early '90s underground L.A. rock band reunion show! What have I done?!"

Chris and I wandered upstairs outside. The mix was better and we could discuss what was happening. I needed help then. I felt so cold.

"But they were on Creation."
"I know Laura."
We stared out to Sunset Boulevard, holding each other, dreaming of a city with proper public transportation and sustainable vegetation support. Later we drove into the hills.

Hey Bo Diddley

It's when those bigger-than-life spirits stop and go away that life becomes confusing and at the same time so amazing.
With the little ball and bag of bones that he was given, he made himself to be Bo Diddley.

ClusterFUCK

It was in 1996 - '97 I met Ben Knight and his girlfriend now wife, Kristina. Ben became a very significant and important vinyl partner. Attracted and drawn to him first by his strange KXLU radio show, Mirrored Audio Parkways, I liked him and his radio partner (a short-lived boyfriend who quickly became an ex a few months later). We bonded over our love of Pavement, Velvet Underground, pop music and vinyl. Their show reminded me of my friends from San Francisco. We enjoyed discovering the intuitive lineage of any good music. For us '97 was the introduction of groovy '60s Brazilian music and the bizarre, psychedelic, outer space soundscapes of formidable Krautrock.

We used Julian Cope's brilliant music survey, "Krautrock Sampler," for proper genre schooling and guidance of Julian's keen insights. We talked about Moebius and Roedelius.

I saw Cluster last Thursday. I almost missed them. I had trouble making out the advertisement from dublab's eMail update. Fortunately, Chris came through, telling me about a cool gig at the outdoor art gallery Farmlab, also located beneath a freeway bridge near Chinatown and Downtown L.A. He bought the tickets and we got to hang out a day earlier in our schedule too. Totally rad.



Keeping each other warm, we wandered the outdoor space, kissing under stars and watching trains roll by. Mi Ami played No-Wave Post Punk guitars and I noted to Chris to talk to him about the Contortions. Cluster then set up in front of a concrete stage - the base of a bridge. There they stood. Chris and I were the first seated in the front. Aside from keeping each other warm, the only real benefit to sitting on the cold concrete floor was how well we could enjoy the blue-green LED lights that turned the black sky yellow. I wish I had a photo of that.

They played in front of this illumination:


And they totally sounded like this:


What we heard were mostly ambient sounds and keyboard pulsations. Something like a Medieval gait in outer space. Their music was gentle. Their presence was the same. Dieter Moebius mostly tended to the LED curves of what we later learned to be their mixer, probably balancing between the MicroKorg and ...I'll have to ask Chris again what the other keys were. Not much structure ever seemed to evolve but that was the balance they orchestrated. That's what we came for.

Towards the end, it hit me, "Fuck. That's Cluster."

People Say I'm You.

Less coffee. Less Diet Coke. Never thought I'd see the day but I must or I'll never sleep again. I know I'm giving up my chance for postmortem self-preservation but let's not be greedy. More music. More sports. Lots of happiness. Enjoying contentment.

Writing. Music. Inspiration. That's nice. Remembering the optimism of 18. Yes... 18. 13 wasn't much fun. Late bloomer, I found something once I got over it. I believe even the lawyers refer to the flora as Emancipation. Sounds like something from Calvin Klein. But only if you say it as a whisper. A joke then, a joke now. Don't say it as a whisper. Shout it from the roof tops! You're emancipated People! Move!

So maybe here's this:

Walk to work while walking to school. Listening to Estelle and Kanye and they've already lost their fresh. My Top 40 Faves usually do. Good thing there's always another one in an hour to take the sad one's newly worn place. Can't wait to hear them! I'm also excited for the J. Spaceman and Sun City Girls I just got from work. That's longevity. The optimism of 18.

I also met Janeane Garafalo at work last week. After so many years, Janeane is not a mirror. But we are kin. We are. "Personality." That's all I could say to her. "Personality." "People say I'm you."

Personality.

"Honey, You Got Any Tums?"

I met a nice young man a couple months ago. He said to me, "I play bass, but I'm really an engineer."

Oh cool. I like sound. I like to play around with engineer things too.

But then he corrected himself...

"I mean I'm a Mechanical Engineer. I work at CALTECH."

Wha'?

"You make things?"

"Yep." He smiled. But he was innocent. He didn't understand the implication of his career upon my fantastical nature.

Then The Wooden Shjips started. For 30 minutes I enjoyed the psychedelics as well as the fantasy about what kind of fingers this CALTECH Alumnus / Mechanical Engineer cum bass player might have. And most importantly - would he be asking me for my number?!!!

Smarter than the average bear, he asked me for my number and my eMail, "Oh good! I can write to him!" Many of you know, I like to write. I especially like to write at you.

"Thanks! I'll eMail you some pictures of the machine I'm working on once I get to Louisiana." He was going to Louisiana very early the next morning. It was time to assemble the LIGO's optical something-or-other. I think it was a part of the Interferometer that's measuring gravitational waves from outer space on a theory. Um... All I know is he did send me the pictures and I love to listen to him teach me about it today. I also enjoy thanking him for the contribution he's making towards Mankind. Grandiose of me but it is a kind gesture on his part.

We talk about Mr. Feynman and he showed me where his image was added to a mural in the dorm he lived in years ago.

He got me flowers on his birthday. He wears a knit cap when it's cold but for baseball he's got a Dodgers cap - even though he's from Kansas City.



We like to go to the Ball Park and sit in Row W. And stuff.

Current Events.

So happy :)

My Boyfriend Stephen Malkmus. I Love Him...

This new album, Real Emotional Trash, is the best he's done and I'm excited about our upcoming nuptials.

"... and radio music. That still exists. There's Mudvayne, Nickelback—radio music for people who don't love music, but like music. It's still there."

I love him. Such a genius player. And he's got fingers for days...

Bits from messages as I moved press across the virtual freeways:
Old men shouldn't be screaming but if I ever hear Fillmore Jive live again, I'm stripping naked then and there. Fillmore Jive was one of the only Pavement songs I ever made an effort to learn the name of. I felt it was important for live performances or when communicating with others regarding what I love.

Best interview... just wit wit wit for days. Not even wit. Thought. Lingual pattern to elicit the ineffable and kisses from fans.

The full interview is here.

The closing dialogue just rips me to shreds.

But of current events... What to do? Tortured by kindness and frustrated by systemic differences. Not postures, even though assumed as such. Ay. There's the rub.

The Five Minute War

Things move so much faster now that we have the internet.

Civil unrest breaks out after Republican presidential nominee, John McCain is determined to be the winner. Lied to again, America is exhausted and a war is sought upon the White House. The experience with Gore will never be forgotten. Obvious before, America can't risk apathy one more time. We're losing our houses over it and can't drive to work anymore. With the furor that bees take to defending their hives, the people of America destroy the White House. It would take no more than five minutes.


I saw the following show last night at The Smell, "Perhaps you've heard of our pal Lucas Abela from Sydney? Among many things, he performs as Justice Yeldham, playing an amplified broken glass pane with his face.... mm hmm, wacky stuff." Words and sentiment only Professor Cantaloupe could communicate. Wacky stuff indeed. Mr. Yeldham yelled into the pane allowing the audience to see that funny G-Force face like in the Air Force training movies from the '50s. A horrible, shrill grumble of feedback is produced. I begin purring like a kitten.

The pane at first is roughly 3-1/2' long. As the performance continues, spit collects and is easily visible to the audience. We watch him lick, scream and blow all over the glass. He breaks it over his head. His lip curls over the top and finally blood starts from his left cheek. I feel horror and look around, "I hope you jaded sons-of-bitches are really freaked out right now." I'd be so sad if we wouldn't allow ourselves the real experience of Justice Yeldham - if our lives, our childhoods were so fucked up that we couldn't let escape our fear, compassion and disgust for something so disgusting. When he's done, applaud the fuck out of his performance.

Kristof said he wasn't into it. I think he said he didn't appreciate shock value for art. I thought and responded that I felt it might be much more than a spectacle. Like he was screaming, "This is my mother! My father! It has become my World!" Being on stage is part of the extremity of the angst. To be seen. I didn't feel like it was a spectacle for a spectacle. 100%, Justice Yeldham played the glass with his face and mouth and bled and screamed till it was all complete. We weren't paying $5 for, "The Shutter," or "Doomsday" this week. I just hope we all can react sincerely and appropriately. I'm much more positively stimulated by this than the Los Angeles breed of hipster bar bands. Those parent issues are just not for me.

Maura was brilliant as usual, "What if he triggered really neat samples or something." Totally. I'm so proud to be an Aura. That'd be hilarious to hear Spring Swallows or the coos of fair maiden and water nymphs instead. Can you imagine? On stage the geeky, weird kid that licked school bus windows and pressed his gums against the pane was performing with a vengeance while our ears were tickled pink.

Just freaking good anyway. I don't get enough noise in my diet so much anymore.

Sick Day Three... It's Been Awhile

The subscription drive came and went. Before it comes, I disappear. When it comes, I disappear. After it comes, I'm set in my ways and I disappear. And then I went to San Francisco to disappear. Now I want to go back to reappear. I've got a cold and I've disappeared. I go out to disappear.

It's been awhile. I haven't seen my friends in so long. I want to see Yacht tonight. I won't make it. I can't breath out of my nose and I don't really want to be a mouth breather out there. It's hard enough as it is. This cold will keep me local to Venice. Another time.

I only saw Maura when she picked me up from the airport. It was a treat though. I recommend you always have a good friend pick you up from the airport.

I saw Tracy when I gave her the keys to my apartment. She kept my cats entertained during my absence. It was a treat too.

Stefanie put San Francisco into words for me. Fanny writes, "SF is so very different from LA. I could never live down there, because of the cars and the pretty." It was just that. The pretty? In San Francisco I felt normal again. Real as well. The cars? I could use the city. In two days I walked for a total of 10 hours around San Francisco.

I walked from the Mission District to downtown, got on a bus to Golden Gate Park and spent a couple hours walking through that perfect example of public works. I made it to the Inner Sunset where I used to live. I've lived in every San Francisco borough that a college student and newbie work professional could. The next day, I took a two minute BART ride downtown, started through the Tenderloin... turned around... walked up Nob Hill, walked down Nob Hill, walked through North Beach to Coit Tower and back to Kathy at work in downtown.


I'm looking through my pictures.



And with regards to the Autechre show in April, I have just been informed of the following:
It's all hardware.
Specifically "two elektron machindrums and an mpc1000"
The room is pitch black and you only see a red light. Which is Autechre passing a joint back and forth.
I think I have stopped breathing.
I have asked to be buried in that room.