Drunk and Emotional

I meant to write about this sooner, I wish I had, because the feeling was stronger. Here I am now getting the memory committed to type, only a week or so late. I was behind the register at my place of work, where I find myself from time to time, and a young man walked into the store, stumbled in really, and announced to me that he was incredibly intoxicated, not in so many words. Without his announcement it would have been plain to see he had been drinking. By the look of his eyes it seemed as though he may have been drunk for the last few weeks, but that had a different explanation, which I will get into shortly. I was immediately a little bit nervous, because humans under the influence of very large amounts of alcohol are unpredictable. He stood in front of the counter trying to figure out what he wanted to say or do or think or purchase. He spoke to me a bit again about how drunk he was, but this time he added, "It's been a bad day." to which I replied, "hopefully it's about to get a lot better." he liked that, but then explained the burden that was on him that night by saying, "We buried my homie today." which, for a moment led my mind in the wrong direction, with the image of this guy and a few of his friends burying their other friend in the woods. Of course that image soon went away when he explained that his friend had overdosed on heroin earlier in the week and his funeral had been that day. He picked out some candy and bought Marlboro reds, not because he liked them but because they were the cigarettes his late friend smoked. I rang him up, he paid, I went to give him his change and noticed something falling onto the counter... They were large teardrops rolling down his face and plunging toward the ground. He was a wreck. On his way out a friend of his walked in and they hugged in the doorway while sobbing uncontrollably. This was not the last I would see of this guy. He came back a few moments later to buy a single swisher, to roll a blunt with. I tried to be very comforting to him the whole time, and he seemed to really appreciate that. I felt very emotional for a while after he left. I suppose this is evidence of some kind of connection I have with other humans.
On a lighter note, last night, with only two people working the overnight on the eve of Halloween, I had a guy come in dressed as Tony the Tiger. He came up to me and asked if I knew what he was supposed to be, I said, "Tony the Tiger?" which made him very happy. His friend popped in for a moment and then proceeded back outside. Tony went about the store for a couple of minutes then materialized in front of me again asking where his friend was. I told him his friend had gone back outside and he went to leave, as he did so he was walking a little funny and I could hear bottles clanging about in his pants. I looked in his direction and said, "Smooth." he looked back, smiled and ran. The audacity will never cease to amaze me. I wish him well.

I wrote this in January of this year.

.I.am.a.man...I.am.a.monster.

What is honesty?
I can't seem to find myself.
What do I tell them?
Sometimes I feel they want to know me, and I have nothing to say.
Being alone will turn you inside out, and outside in... and inside in.
I just contradicted myself entirely, but such is life and I did so to prove a point. Although I want out, I am stuck in here without a wire to the world. My secrets hang loose, but they are still secret. My personality is gone, from what I can tell.
I like to hear stories, from books and films, I don't have to think of what to do next. Just turn the page, just focus on the screen, just forget who I am and fall into something more interesting. In the words of Stanley Kubric, "Real is good, interesting is better." When he said this he referred to the stories he would tell, and how to tell them... When I say it, I refer to the life I live, and the ways I escape, somehow they are both the same to me.
I think about suicide sometimes, mostly to pass the time. I will read about it, and fantasize about what it would be like, but I never get as far as to plan it. There have been times where I thought, I will just pick a method so if the time ever comes etc... but I have not yet done so. I get so sick of life. In those moments I don't want it to turn around, I don't want to be happy, because that would mean that I had forgotten how serious it all is, how terrible it all is. My life is not hell. My life is quite blessed, as they say. How can I feel important when importance just happened upon me? Would it be easier for an African slave to understand that they were not blessed, and that they should be where they are, than for me to understand why I am here in the United states? I don't suppose a lot of the lucky ones have tried to come to terms with their fortune. There are many folks who like to single out heirs and millionaires as being the lucky ones... How lucky do we need to be? Look at me, rambling, I am confused and I don't know how to feel. Guilt plagues me like an infestation in my brain. I should feel sad because I'm not in love? There are better things to cry about... or worse, depending how you look at it. Is it fair that my focus drifts to my struggles with my weight or trying not to smoke cigarettes? I am only a man, but I feel like a monster.

Thunder and dreams

Last night southern California experienced what is a rare occurrence around these parts: a Thunderstorm. It is very healthy for a system to have some heavy rain to replenish with. After I sweat for months, I know I can always go for a drink. I experienced most of the shower from within my large, well-lit cell. I could hear rain beating down the metal roof of the overstock room, and thunder would crack so hard it seemed to shake the earth. The lights would flicker and for a moment hope would enter the mind, "maybe the power will fail." of course it did not.

Sometimes I will have a dream about someone I do not know very well, and it will give me a false sense of closeness to that person. Last night I had a dream about a co-worker of mine who does not exist. We were intimately close with one another, and now I have a strange sense of closeness, but nobody to focus it toward. I guess the dream could be a perfect representation of the feeling I got from the dream itself. What I mean is this: I want to love, I want to be close with others, but when it comes to specific people or situations it is all completely different. In short, I don't like them enough to share intimate moments with them. So I am left with the feeling of having something to give with no one to give it to. This is not entirely true, and a big part of the problem I have created for myself, but I feel this way nonetheless. In my dream I simply created someone to accept me, and someone I would accept. It was pleasant while it lasted, but meaningless once it was over. That is a dream, you have to wake up. Sometimes it is relieving to get out of a dream, but every now and then, I wish I could just keep sleeping and let that be my new life.

"bet no one ever hurt this bad"

I learned the Randy Newman song by that title and have been enjoying trying to sing it the way he does. Every time I pick up a guitar I struggle to play it because my fingernails are too long. I have trouble with that kind of upkeep... the constant upkeep that is not done daily. I always need a haircut, my work clothes are always dirty, my floor always needs a vacuuming and I never make the time. I usually end up clipping my nails at work.
Today I feel like a creep. I am a bit dissatisfied with my last blog post, and I have no confidence whatsoever. All the good feelings have been sunken by thoughts of shame. Shame is life, life is shame. I am outwardly consistent, but inwardly unstable. It seems strange to me that just last night I was telling people I had just met about my crying over the state of my life, and it seemed like I was speaking of the distant past. Now, today I completely understand that feeling and where it came from. I could easily let it control me again, the big difference is that I will stay in control. I will go to work and forget all about this. I suppose I have taken a big step forward.
The best way for me to get along with others is to see them infrequently. I long for companionship so much that I will love anyone who provides it, providing we are even remotely compatible beings. That is why my parents and I have such a good relationship now, because we are extremely compatible in a lot of ways, and due to circumstance, we hardly see one another. That is also why I can bring a friendship into being so easily now, but that is about as far as I understand to go with it. Beginnings are easy for me, I have no follow through. This is true in my work, my relationships, my plans... I can start, but I don't know how to see things through to the end... or to the plateau, if I could be so fortunate, or possibly unfortunate, depending on weather things level off in a good place or a horrible one. Some people I've met have no trouble diving right into their decisions, be them good or bad decisions, and I must admit that I am jealous. I will weigh my options until I have no options left, then I will undoubtedly be stuck with the least romantic option left for me... to change nothing. The good news is, I do not presently have that option available to myself. You don't have to ask me if I am scared, I will volunteer the answer to that question. Terrified. Terrified, but hopeful.

I saw Kit and Traps, ps tonight.

I drove up to Pehrspace listening to Sleater-Kinney and Wes Montgomery and Elf Power and some other stuff I put onto a disc. I have been crazy about music lately, I can't get enough. Right now there is no music playing and it feels like a waste of my ears.
The truth is, I have been thinking all night about writing a blog about the show I went to, because the last time I reviewed a show on here it was so well received, but now that it's all said and done, I am thinking much more about what a good time I had outside of the venue in the drizzle, reminiscent of Niagara Falls from what I'm told. I ended up only seeing the full sets of two out of five bands. The first band to play was a reconfigured Traps, ps. I was a bit skeptical seeing that there was only one member of the band I had seen, and enjoyed, in the past. But I was eager to hear Miles Winter (lead guitarist of Moses Campbell) play the drums and my good friend Danny Miller (guitarist for Rare Grooves) play the bass. I was not aware until moments before the set that Andrew MacKelvie (Moses Campbell drummer) was playing percussion with them. It was amazing. Frenetic guitar and vocals lead the way over a fast paced rhythmic groove set by the drums and bass, in an almost funky sort of feel, while maintaining the same spastic energy. A real treat, unless you are the guy I overheard outside on the phone saying they sucked.
After their set I had the pleasure of conversation with a lot of nice folks. I don't get much conversation, and even less good conversation, so this was a welcome treat.
I feel a little bit silly giving the names of people I do not personally know on my blog, but I am doing so out of admiration, and I hope everyone will understand that, if they read this blog and see their name. I am a fan.
Soon I heard the news I had been awaiting, Kit was about to play. I shuffled inside to see one of my favorite live bands of the moment. Their sets are always a lot of fun, and this one was no exception. They had the crowd jumping around and shouting, just having fun. Kit always seems to have the best crowds, I've never been hurt during one of their sets but I've always been shoved from here to there. I always enjoy the connection made with all of the other people around me, the unspoken joy we are all sharing... at least most of us. Toward the end of their set I felt something under my foot so I reached down and grabbed it, discovering that it was a set of keys. After the set I shouted to the crowd about my finding and the owner of the keys retrieved them from me. The keys belonged to Charlyne Yi. I was a little star struck, to be perfectly honest. She's in the movies! To be even more candid, I get the same feeling when I see Vice Cooler or Steve Touchstone. When I first heard XBXRX, I didn't have any idea I would ever be able to see these guys live. Amazon.com recommended Sixth in Sixes to me after I bought a Weasel Walter album, so I purchased.
I have a very high regard for the music scene in Los Angeles, and people like Jim Smith and Sean Carnage who make it possible. I am growing more and more excited about my move to the city, and I hope to be a bigger part of this community once I am local. Thanks to Michael Fierstein for putting this show together!

Walking the dog

Last night I decided that my dog, Harry has been giving me that longing look for long enough, so I took him out for a couple of hours. I am not sure who enjoyed it more, him or me. At first he was being a little difficult, but after exhausting him with a tennis ball in a soccer field, he was quite well behaved. At one point we stopped for a rest, it was about two in the morning by that point and we were out of the neighborhood in front of a liquor store that was long closed. I was laying down on the sidewalk and Harry was getting in my face breathing heavy, both of us smiling, then he laid down next to me... I can't explain exactly the reason why, but this was a perfect moment. Until last night I didn't really realize how much I am going to miss him. Today my mother was at the house, when I woke up, with realtors looking at the place. One of these realtors apparently wants to take Harry once I move. When my mom told me this I felt upset and gave some quick response to the tune of, "This lady you've just met?" as though trying to say, "Fuck her, he's my dog!"
Tonight I am off of work again, unless I get a call to come in, in which case I will work, because it would all be time and a half. Otherwise I think I will take Harry out again and work on music. Already today I was listening to old recordings and put together some acoustic guitar and drones which were recorded about a year ago separately with no intention of ever being mixed together, or mixed at all. It feels good to DO. And to do things I enjoy, instead of just working and sleeping all the time away.

Working hard.

I am the best employee CVS could ever have gotten... What a waste of me, but a blessing for that store. Why do I work so hard? I do not care about the company, the store, my manager is mean and I am shown little to no respect most of the time. I work hard for myself, not for CVS. It feels good to be good at something, even something meaningless.

Nocturnal life coming to an end?

In answer to my own question, it looks like it. As long as nothing goes wrong I will be taken off of the graveyard shift and given daytime hours. This will help exponentially my moving to Los Angeles, however, it will also be more stressful to be at work. I will be working with my manager much more frequently, which can be very demoralizing. I like to look ahead a little bit to a day when I no longer work at that place, a day that is approaching rapidly, thankfully.
I also wish to mention that this blog got some much appreciated attention today from some great people. I was excited to see that musicians I liked enough to go see live several times, and write about, had taken an interest in what I had written. Thanks to anyone who reads anything I've written, it is encouraging.

David Estrin, the writer. David Estrin, the painter.

I can open and close doors inside myself as much as I like. David Estrin, the insecure artist.
I just finished re-reading Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions. I re-read this novel for the same two reasons that I re-read Slaughterhouse-five and Bluebeard: First, because picking up a book from my shelf is 100% more cost effective than buying a new book, and second, because books, unlike a tissue or a bag of chips, are not over when you are simply done reading them. The intimate experience you can share with a book will still be safely stored within the words and spaces and punctuation marks on the pages.
David Estrin, the sentimental slug.
I think I need to curb my fig habit. It has become a disgusting monster in me. There were a few days a couple of weeks ago where I ate nothing but fruits and salads... perhaps those foods, supplemented by a small amount of seeds, would do me well. I am not sure. I am a sucker for food. I would like to shed some pounds, I know I would feel better... A weight would be lifted from me.
David Estrin, the future perfection.
David Estrin, the present disaster.
I am getting a lot of hours at work again, good news/bad news, I suppose. 40 hours a week, and the worst hours... Midnight to eight-thirty in the morning, five days a week. It dawned on me this morning that I have been nocturnal for over six months now working this incredibly unimportant job. Wow.
David Estrin, the worthless man.
I was on my lunch break in the very early morning taking a walk, as I always do, and thinking about the exact amount of money I am actually earning after taxes, and then I realized that that is my current worth to the world... my current worth is seven dollars and fifty cents for every working hour I contribute to this store, this company, this planet. I must be worth more than that to someone.

And I couldn't be more unhappy about it.

Tonight I go back into work, after two good nights off.


Other meaningless news: When I see John C. Reilly in movies, I often think about Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Why? I can often imagine Phillip Seymour Hoffman playing the character John C. Reilly is portraying (e.g. the movie Criminal). This morning I was watching the movie Hard Eight, starring none other than John C. Reilly, and I again had Hoffman on the brain. I was wondering if they had been in a movie together, and wishing I could cross reference names on imdb.com... but not too much later, there was Hoffman throwing dice at a craps table. That was interesting. After that movie I began watching a documentary called Helvetica, which, incidentally, is the typeface I am currently using. About halfway through that movie I couldn't hold my eyes open anymore. I had spent two nights as tired as can be, and by eight in the morning I was ready to crash. I slept for less than three hours before waking up, I was then up for over three hours. I only slept again after taking melatonin, So again I slept less than was desired. I was really hoping to sleep ten to twelve hours to make up for the lost sleep, but it is what it is. I go into work at midnight and will be there until eight in the morning. Such a shift is not for me... but it is mine nonetheless. Tonight everything is difficult.

Thanks to Sean Carnage

I could not resist going back to Los Angeles to see the bands listed in chalk above. Toe Jam was a "Free Grunge" band that Kyle Mabson and Peter Moran and Sean Carnage played in, along with other fun folks. It was very funny. Free improv with grunge lyrics on top. After that High Castle played, they were my favorite band of the night. Good solid beefy punk rock, from Oakland. After that set was a delay heavy Brooklyn band called Zulus. I enjoyed their set, and got a free button. The final band to play was the great NASA Space Universe. They got everyone wild, and gave out surgical masks. Mid-set the bass amp stopped working and it seemed as though their set might be over, but their bassist just grabbed a mic and raged into the crowd, where he proceeded to chip his tooth. The bass was then restored so they played more, but after realizing he had chipped his tooth the bass player was not so happy, as he told everyone. Basically the whole set was madness on a very high level... no further explanation.

I am home now, on my stationary bicycle.

The show was swell. I always love going to The Smell, even after a hot day when the place acts much like a greenhouse would act. I paid my five dollars to allow my entrance and to get a kitty stamped on my wrist to allow my entrance several more times throughout the night. My first order of business was to purchase a copy of the new AIDS Wolf album, March To The Sea from their singer, Chloe. We spoke for a couple of minutes, she has a very firm handshake. After walking the CD to my car, and eating an apple, I went back inside to see an all female band named L.A. Dies (so incredibly clever) I recognized their guitar player as the singer from Kit, and their drummer as a member of Foot Village. Their set was a debut, a little shaky but very fun. I really hope they continue to play, because something is there.
Up next was Captain Ahab. I had heard the name a lot, but never actually seen these guys before tonight. I always imagined they would be a loud, fast band, but what they do is beyond description. I will attempt: Captain Ahab is two guys, one who does a sort of DJ/Live electronics thing with ironic club music, while the other guy dances like he is at the club. He jumped around on stage a bit, then he came into the crowd and danced with people, touched them, wrapped himself nearly around a few of us, all with a very sexual, grinding kind of feel. By the third song he was wearing nothing but his underwear. There was also video to go along with the music... the video was nothing short of amazing, that's all I can really say about it.

XBXRX played next. Short, fast and loud, as always. I went all the way to the front and as soon as the music began the crowd went completely batshit crazy, as is to be expected. I felt it was a little excessive, but the real trouble was to come during the next set. About one minute into the XBXRX set I had to shuffle to the side to avoid being battered by a bunch of rowdy hooligans. The big trouble was that I was constantly being hit in the face and head by other heads of other humans... Heads are one of the harder parts of a human. The set was great, as is to be expected.
AIDS Wolf. What can anybody really say about this band that would give anyone a clue as to what is going on at their shows? Just go see them, as soon as you are graced with the opportunity. This band, now a three piece, consists of a drummer, a guitarist, a singer, drums, guitar, microphone and a stage full of amps and other noisy gear. AIDS Wolf is great. AIDS Wolf is brutal. Let's talk about the crowd though... this is where all hell broke loose. At first things seemed fine. Everyone was kind of rushing the stage and smashing themselves together into a sort of human goo. Fine. Then, as things got more rowdy, less people were in the pit area and more room was established to run amok in. People all seemed to be swinging their fists and elbows around, and inevitably a fight was trying to break out between two tiny men, in a galaxy of one hundred-billion stars. There were enough people to diffuse the situation, which took a few tries before finally one of the men just walked off. Then things were more spread out and people took to running as fast as they could into other humans and forming allies with whom they would clasp together and plow into people. When decency really degraded piles of humans would form on the cement floor until one brave soul would pry each one off and sort of throw him in some direction. A lot of people, including members of the band, seemed rather perplexed by such behavior. My thought, "Relax, it's just music." Earlier when I had purchased the new AIDS Wolf album, in my chat with Chloe she mentioned that the new album seemed to divide the listeners, meaning not everyone likes it. I then said I would let her know what I thought of it, "on facebook or something" and she suggested I tell her after the show, so I waited until the merch booth that she was running cleared and told her how much I enjoyed the set. We also talked about the absurdity of the crowd, she was pretty confused by it, as was I.
I drove home listening to Inara George and Van Dyke Parks' album titled, An Invitation, for a change of mood. I then came home and talked to my pets a little bit, and amped myself up for a ride to nowhere on my stationary bicycle, which I have now been on for seventy-seven minutes... Got to go, NOW!