MUSIC
Saved by Demon SongLOS ANGELES 11 October 2009 |
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I’m hungry. I have no money at all, none is expected soon, and there’s no one from whom I can borrow. I pace all night, wondering how to come by a few dollars to eat.
Finally, slowly, a plan unfolds: I can walk down the street to an ATM, fill out a deposit slip for a phantom check, feed the slip to the ATM, and request a cash advance. The bank, of course, will quickly discover that no check accompanied the deposit slip, but once I’m contacted, I’ll simply say that, being in a hurry, I forgot. By then I hope to have thought of someone who’s willing to cut me a bona fide check.
If it works — if I manage to trick the ATM — it will only amount to a loan, or so I try to convince myself. The bank, on the other hand, could view it as fraud. I flash on stories of people imprisoned for stealing as little as five dollars, and can’t decide if it’s worth the gamble.
In the background I’m playing Nirvana’s newly-released In Utero, which I blast on my Walkman as I leave for the ATM at dawn. The music urges me on. It liquidates doubt and rallies me.
The ATM proves gullible.
*****
I wake late after writing all night, and my roommate tells me that my car has been booted. I go to the window and look outside. Yes, my car has been booted. I owe close to $1000 in unpaid parking tickets, and I’m almost completely broke again. I return to bed, demoralized.
When I wake again, it’s night. I’d been planning to see the Immortal Lee County Killers at Spaceland in Silver Lake, and I wait for my roommate to return home and possibly give me a ride, but he appears to be staying at his girlfriend’s place. I decide to walk. It’s a long walk, but, carless or not, I refuse to miss this band.
An empty cab passes me halfway to Silver Lake, and I hail it with a raised arm like the New Yorker I used to be. I’m surprised when it stops. I never hailed a cab in L.A. before, as I mention to the driver, who turns out to be a fellow expatriate New Yorker.
I ask what he thinks of L.A. He lists the usual complaints and asks what I think.
“Well,” I say, “it’s not New York, but it’s got one thing going for it: every band in America plays here. You can’t not play in L.A. And I’ve had a really fucked-up day, but I’m headed now to see a band, and I know it’s going to make me feel better.”
It does. I walk home in a state of bliss.
*****
I learn I won’t be part of a band conceived to include me. There was no official announcement. Instead I overhear a recording of a practice session, and a day later I’m invited to befriend the band on MySpace.
I take the news hard, prone on the sofa, crushed to the point of paralysis. It’s partly — perhaps mostly — my fault that things developed as they did, and knowing that adds to the pain. It’s physical pain. I feel as if I’ve swallowed poison.
I stare at my guitars, which rest on stands across the room. Go on, I think, pick one up. I finally do and sit on the floor and play a few chords. They suggest a melody, and I write a song in minutes. It seems to name itself: “You’ll Find a Way.”
I know I will. I have, many times, and I recognize the route by sound.
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Original comment thread:
Comment by Megan DiLullo
2009-10-11 08:34:25
Ahhhhhh, I was right there with you. What a beautiful portrait you have painted.
I’ve often wondered if that ATM thing would work, good to know.
I want to know more about your guitar picture.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 09:12:56
I don’t think it would work anymore. The banks, I’m sure, have since gotten wise. But thank God it worked at the time. The twenty dollars I was “loaned” kept me eating for a couple of days.
As for the picture, I wish I could say I took it myself or that it features one of my guitars, but it’s something I found online. I went searching for photos of bloody guitars back when I was proposing such an image for the cover of Banned for Life. There were mockups done with photos taken specifically for the book, but nobody seemed to like them. I love this photo, though, and I’m glad to have finally found the chance to make use of it. And glad you responded well to the piece.
Comment by David Breithaupt
2009-10-11 09:04:48
Vonnegut used to say music was the one thing that made him believe in God, or almost believe in God. In many cases, it’s saved my life on what seemed many an unsalvageable day. And yeah, that guitar photo…did you sneeze blood on it or what?
Nice piece.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 09:22:21
Thanks, David. I only just explained the photo to Megan. That’s what cut fingers usually do to guitars: the blood is kind of a mist. It’s a pain to clean off, so the blood often stands till all the strings are changed, and indie types, being lazy and often poor, tend to change strings only when they’re broken.
I’ve been listening to the Kerouac tape, by the way. I sometimes can’t tell which voice is coming from whom. But that’s Kerouac singing “My Funny Valentine,” yes? Not bad at all!
Comment by David Breithaupt
2009-10-11 14:46:27
Yes, Kerouac is the singer. I have other tapes of him singing Sinatra. Neal was more of a hummer.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:03:44
Yeah, I know Kerouac liked Sinatra. But he does a pretty good Chet Baker, and generally, as I said, he has a good singing voice, even though he does that fake-vibrato thing. I used to do that. I probably still do it on occasion, though I now have a real vibrato.
There are bits of humming on the tape, too. Now I’ll have to relisten (as I will many times anyway) to see if that sounds more like Neal.
I hear Kerouac address Allen at one point as he’s reading Proust. Do you happen to know when and where the tape was made? I know it’s bound to have been a few years after the Visions of Cody period, when he and Neal seem to have discovered the tape recorder.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-11 10:19:21
Short but sweet.
‘I recognise the route by sound.’
Lovely. And may your way always be filled with music…
But what does ‘booted’ mean? In regard to your car. Does that mean that someone has kicked it?
And the blood spray on the photograph is perfectly awful. Or awfully perfect. Perfect anyhow.
Comment by Matt
2009-10-11 14:32:15
They put a physical device called a “boot” (like a big metal clamp) on one of the wheels of the car. You can’t drive with it in place, and to get it off, you have to pay all your fines.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 19:46:23
I’d forgotten, Zara, how you dislike bodily fluids. And thanks for wishing that my way is always filled with music. It hasn’t been filled with it so much of late.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 19:49:28
You beat me to the explanation, Matt, but yours is no doubt better than the one I would’ve given. I wonder: Is the boot common throughout the U.S., or is it especially prevalent in California?
In L.A., the city will go on booting sprees. You can tell when it happens, even if you’re not one of the unluckily booted. At least in my neighborhood, there are bright orange boots everywhere. Revenue generation, I guess.
Comment by Matt
2009-10-12 06:15:40
I don’t know about the rest of the U.S., but Louisiana always seemed way more aggressive about towing offending cars than booting them. Several times while working in the French Quarter I had my car towed while I was legally parked. Getting it out of impound involved not just paying the impound/storage fee, but the towing fee as well! Which means I actually paid the city to tow my car, then paid to get it back again.
And of course, the filing fees needed to contest the tow in court nearly rendered doing so pointless.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 07:30:41
I’ve been through the towing saga a few times in L.A. Once, my car was towed and booted, and it happened under particularly humiliating circumstances, as I was meeting with someone about a writing job. Very expensive too.
One of the things I always loved about NYC was not having to drive. I like the freedom that comes with having a car — you decide you want to go somewhere and, boom, hit the road — but everything else about it is a nightmare: the repairs, the DMV horseshit, and yes, the occasional tow and associated, exorbitant fees.
Comment by Matt
2009-10-12 13:11:49
Which is exactly why I don’t miss owning a car. Public transportation can be annoying, but it does teach one the value of patience, and I’ve been steadily loosing weight the more I rely on my bike to get around town.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 13:56:19
At the moment, I’m relying on public transportation also. It’s unreliable, at least here in L.A., but I like one thing about it: the opportunity to people-watch. I see types I wouldn’t ordinarily. In New York, there’s diversity everywhere you look, which is one thing I really miss about it.
Comment by Irene Zion
2009-10-11 10:56:55
Duke,
I am relieved to know that that is not your blood on the guitar.
You should get a picture of a “boot” and show it to Zara. Those are NASTY!
This made me sad.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 19:51:48
But even if it had been my blood, Irene, the injury would have been slight. People are constantly cutting their fingers on guitar strings. They are made of steel, you know, and played at a fast pace…
Sorry the piece made you feel sad. It was finally meant to be uplifting; a kind of recounting of small miracles, or something along those lines.
Comment by Gina Frangello
2009-10-11 12:36:26
so evocative of an age, and a certain kind of logic that makes no sense from the outside or in retrospect, but perfect, utter sense when you’re living it.
very nice.
christ, zara, you guys don’t have boots? yet another reason to get out of this country, eh?
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-11 13:04:00
The only boots we have are either on our feet or the thing at the back of a car which you guys call a trunk.. We call that a boot!!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 19:53:58
Yes, I now know that very well, but I didn’t when I first heard you refer to the trunk of my car as a boot. But I suppose, if you live where everything is upside down, it makes sense.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-11 20:29:08
Everything here isn’t upside down. It’s back to front and the wrong way round.
And the back of your car is a boot. Just like the front of it is the bonnet!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:36:18
Ah, so down-under car slang follows a woman’s body, huh? That’s much preferable to what we have here.
Also, I wouldn’t say everything is the “wrong way round” where you are — or would I? Hey, go check your toilet and tell me which way the water turns when you flush it. Wait. Maybe I should call you first and then leave the phone off the hook so as to run up an enormous phone bill when you go to ask all your neighbors the direction that their toilet water turns when flushed, as I’ll certainly request that you do. As per the Simpsons’ Aussie episode, this might result in a down-under plane ticket.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-11 20:40:22
I just checked for you. It goes clockwise. I doubled checked by filling my sink and watching it run down the drain: Also clockwise….
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:41:13
Thanks! Now for the neighbor part!
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-11 21:08:19
I don’t think my neighbours will help. You know what they think of me…
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 21:12:09
Am I being baited? Because if I quote those kids, you might get hurt and decide it’s the third worst thing ever said to you or some such.
Which begs a question: Why was their insult not the worst thing? I mean, I continue to hold the number-one spot, yes?
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-11 21:15:13
No, what they said was the first most funniest thing ever said to me.
And yes, you hold the number one spot. And number six. And number eight.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 21:17:40
Well, that’s a relief. At one point I held all the top spots. But I did work hard for numbers six and eight.
I bet you weren’t laughing, by the way, when those kids said what they did. It’s bound to have been one of those funny-after-the-fact things.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-11 21:21:11
Actually, I did laugh when they said it, if only because I hadn’t heard that term for several years. Oh and because to be fair, I had just called them little motherfuckers and told them to pick their bottles up off my lawn.
And I must have looked a fright. In my pyjama’s, all wild hair and screeching voice. No rolling pin or curlers though…
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 21:26:38
If only you’d had the rolling pin and curlers, it would have been the classic image we all have of surly neighbors. And wives, for that matter — at least when they’re waiting for their no-good husbands to return home from bars. There’s a wife like that in almost every W.C. Fields movie. I love W.C. Fields. Too bad there were language restraints in his day. If not, he might well have muttered “Ya fucken mole.” I just cracked up, imagining those words in his voice.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-11 21:29:03
I’m laughing all the way across the ocean.. You nailed it.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 21:32:49
So pleased to hear you say that. And I bet he said such things routinely. He was once discovered shooting at birds on his lawn, and a neighbor rushed over and said, “Mr. Fields! Put that gun down!”
“I will not,” he said. “I’m going to go on shooting the bastards till they start shitting green!”
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-11 22:22:49
I know that I too would much rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.
Especially if it was one of those famous giant beers…
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-11 22:31:10
Hey Brew….
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-11 22:47:39
Statue brew?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 22:52:33
Um. You guys are speaking that funny language again.
What does “statue” mean anyway?
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-11 23:02:18
Heh.
Q. What did one New Zealand stone carving say to the other?
A. Statue, brew?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 02:03:42
Thanks for the clarification, brew, which I’ve now received from Zara under other circumstances.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-12 09:52:45
aww good one, brew.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 09:54:51
Statue, brew?
Look, Ma, I be talkin’ like ferrenners!
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-12 10:03:35
Brew, we’ll have you talking like a kiwi soon as.
Now, we just have to get you down under.
But you do realise that if you come down here, as well as everything being upside down and back to front, we will try and keep you here? We don’t like to let visiting foreigner’s leave. We like to try and make American’s give up their passports and stay in NZ, so that we can ask them every day -’What do you think about NZ? Do you like us? Do you really??”
We are a bit insecure.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 10:07:58
As I think I said before, I was continually polled as to my opinion of Serbs while in Serbia, so I’m prepared for that. However, the giving-up-the-passport thing — that kind of reminds me of the Manson family, who would immediately strip new members of their personal identification.
Is NZ like a cult? Must one drink the Kool-Aid?
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-12 10:18:42
Yes, it’s just like the People’s Temple down here.
Okay, you can keep your passport but you will have to tell us every day what a lovely country we live in. That should keep you safe from the Kool-Aid.
Incidentally, I see that the NZ accent has just been voted the ‘most attractive and prestigious form of English outside the UK’ according to a BBC survey.
How this is possible, beats me. Australia is going to be pissed off by that..
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 10:22:01
Yes, well. Didn’t you once describe the NZ accent as singularly unattractive? Or were you just citing its reputation among Aussies?
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-12 10:25:15
I thunk ut’s a terrible eccsent. It’s schtewpid eh.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 10:39:33
An astoot observation.
Comment by Matt
2009-10-12 13:18:23
‘Most attractive and prestigious form of English outside the UK’ according to a BBC survey.
Umm, given the legion of different forms of English within the U.K., by what standards do the Brits rate themselves as the pinnacle of attraction and prestige? As Dennis Farina says in Snatch “This country spawned the fucking language! How come no one speaks it?”
Also: Go New Zealand!
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-12 13:22:42
Our accent is apparently ‘charming’ according to the survey.
To paraphrase Sally Field - ‘You like us. You really like us!!”
God, it’s terrible being so insecure. A whole nation of insecure neurotics. That’s what NZ is. Bless us.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 14:02:00
That’s a great line from Snatch, Matt. I don’t remember it, though I kind of liked the movie.
Oh, and Zara, America’s got more than its fair share of sociopaths, which don’t deserve anyone’s blessing. But the last time I used that word at TNB, I got an irate message from a Playboy centerfold, so maybe I should think before I post.
Fuck it.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-12 14:05:09
Please feel free to call us anything you like. Sociopaths or whatever. We’ll just be glad of the attention.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 14:09:46
Huh. You’d think a Playboy centerfold would be glad of the attention, seeing that posing in the altogether amounts to a plea for it, but apparently not. Maybe Playboy needs to recruit in NZ.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-12 14:52:08
Hey… hey wait a minute! Nu Zullund? The most uttructive uccent?
Crikey, mate!
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-12 14:57:30
Ut’s true brew.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 15:05:13
I’m finding this accent stuff more and more funny, which either means I’m exhausted or I’m developing a Down Under soul. Or could it be both?
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-12 15:13:36
Aw noo brew. You’ve got down under soul.
Go back and listen to the ‘Beached as’ whale thing if you’re finding this funny now. You will appreciate it more now, brew.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 15:20:06
Okay. But isn’t there more than one episode?
Comment by Jude
2009-10-11 19:09:47
Yep … we have ‘boots’ in EnZed - they’re called ‘clamps’. They do what they say!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 19:54:46
Clamps? That sounds kind of S&M. But, then, the boot is pretty S&M.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:22:29
Gina, if you should read this, I’m sorry my response to your comment ended up way down here.
Thanks for what you said about the piece. If I’d mentioned ramen noodles, it might have struck a chord with many a college student.
No pun intended on “chord” — if that would, in fact, amount to a pun. Y’know, the piece is about music…
Comment by Elizabeth Collins
2009-10-11 14:11:42
I had a boyfriend with a band and his fingers would always bleed after a show. And during the shows.
The present tense here is disarming, and effective, I think.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 19:58:49
Did you, by any remote chance, find it “sexy” when your boyfriend cut his fingers? Some women respond that way.
I was wondering about certain instances in which I go briefly to the past tense — if that grammatically held up. Here’s hoping.
Also, of course, the title is in the past tense, but it didn’t sound right any other way. I largely write by ear, so to speak.
Comment by Elizabeth Collins
2009-10-12 06:25:05
Sexy? No, not really. Especially when he put duct tape on them to stanch the bleeding but then kept playing, and the duct tape would get all torn and dirty. I just remember those dark years in NYC–seedy clubs, slimy people booking the shows and not counting me on the guest list because I was always there, anyway…dirt, grime, late nights. I sort of went completely in other direction when I got older (go to bed pretty early now, take my vitamins, don’t smoke, etc.). The shows were also really, really loud. Like so loud it pains me to remember them. His band did not care about being obnoxious (and people would leave, sometimes–even I would leave) because they were pushing some new experimental music that, at times, could be unbearable.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 07:22:25
Well, the experimental part sounds hard to take, but I’ve rarely encountered a good band that was too loud to my ears. Even a lot of people younger than me wear earplugs during shows, but I’ve almost never done it. If I don’t like a band, I’ll walk outside and wait out the show. If I do like it, I want to hear the band as they intend to be heard, no filtering.
Having said all that, though, it’s nice when a band knows better than to play too loud. Sonic Youth is great about that. They should — they’ve been doing it long enough.
Unfortunately, I still love seedy clubs and all the things associated with rock & roll, including duct tape on bleeding fingers, though I draw the line at the slimy people who book shows — and, of course, to most musicians, all such people are slimy, just about.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-11 14:20:12
I remember seeing a friend’s band once and suddenly noticing that the bass player was blowing on his fingers to cool them down. It seemed very impressive to me at the time.
I’m with Zara - what the hell does it mean to have your car booted? Over here it would translate to giving it a good kicking.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:19:23
Zara and Jude and Matt have, I hope, cleared up the booting matter.
You know, I have to confess that I still think there’s something cool about cut fingers at shows. It makes you feel like real passion has gone into the performance, even though that impression is usually, simultaneously nullified by the music.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:20:27
Oh. Wait. Is that mention of a good kicking an allusion to the Simpsons’ Australian adventure?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:55:47
Oh, and: Hunnnnnnneeerrrrrrzzzzz!
I’d wanted to do that a comment above, just for the hell of it, but I thought it might be misunderstood, seeing that I was writing about lousy music.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-11 23:01:16
Hey, my comment disappeared!
What I was originally saying:
It’s not a kicking, Duke! It’s just a little tap in the bum.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 02:05:24
We’re back to the disappearing comments, huh? That’s happened to me a few times.
I would gladly take the tap if it meant a ticket to Oz. Want to visit so badly at the moment.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-12 03:13:26
Just don’t bring any bullfrogs.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 05:24:51
I won’t if you promise not to wear a giant boot. If you did wear one, I’d be scared to be around you.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-12 14:52:44
I’d like to promise that. Really and truly I would. But then I’d be ostracised by the community.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 15:03:26
What if you wore it on your head? Would that maintain your community standing?
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-13 11:40:25
I’d have to headbutt someone at least once just so the other Australians knew I wasn’t a Kiwi in disguise, trying to put one over them.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 22:40:54
Zara, are you going to take that?
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-13 22:57:26
Oh thanks Duke for pointing that out. I missed it -glad you’ve got my back.
Oi Simon! Fair suck of the sav, mate! You Australians are always trying to put one over. After all you are the masters of the underarm bowl.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-13 23:00:25
Oh and Duke - I meant to say, nice placement of ‘Hunnnnnneeeerrrz’.
Cop that, Simon! It’s true blue, brew.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-14 03:31:09
Yes, well. I did have your back, but I also wanted to provoke a fight. Men are shit-stirrers, you know.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-14 09:43:31
See, here I am always thinking the best of you, and there you are, just wanting to cause me trouble. Gee.
Men.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 03:21:56
Well, to be fair, I was trying to cause you and Simon trouble. It’s all part of my master plan to have New Zealand declare war on Australia, or the other way around. Unfortunately, you refused to take the bait. Oh, well. Maybe I can get something going between the Irish and English again. That should be comparatively easy.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 13:10:52
Well, we would declare war if we could. We’d love to start empire building.
But we only have a couple of Orions and two or three Hercules planes. That’s about it for our air force.
As for our navy - oh ha ha ha ha.
We’re sitting ducks. Let’s hope Australia doesn’t notice anytime soon.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 13:16:39
If they didn’t before, you just gave the game away. I hope this doesn’t result in infamy when war begins.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 13:19:06
Shit.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 13:25:31
Simon is the key. If Simon agrees not to spread the word in Australia, you’re safe. And if Simon does tell, you can always move to L.A., where treason is not only acceptable but universally admired.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 13:32:56
Well, we are still part of the Commonwealth and treason is the only crime that still has the death penalty. Shit.
Can we swap lives for six months? You come here and I’ll go there. By that time things should have blown over.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-15 13:45:28
Fat chance, Benedict Potts! And you, King Haney! My God. I’d throw both of your teas in the ocean as soon as look at you.
You say you’ll swap lives to avoid the storm? I say, no relaxation without representation!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 13:52:34
But won’t they kill me in your stead, Zara? Or arrest me as a collaborator? Gosh, who could ever have thought that TNB could result in such a fate.
And, Simon, I need not remind you that I’m a duke, not a king. Also, I think your L.A. fortune teller had her wars mixed up. You clearly date from the American Revolution, not the Civil War. This is surely the first of many inklings, and possibly accounts in some way for SSE.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 13:59:56
No Duke, they’ll probably make you Prime Minister. You’ll be fine, I swear.
But Simon! How quickly you turn on me! I’m sad that you are so quick to codemn my treachery - especially given the history of your own great nation. I would have thought you might have offered me sanctuary.
Duke, you may have got your war!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 14:06:04
I withdraw my intention to start a war — that is, unless war is necessary in order to become Prime Minister. That’s my condition.
Simon, for God’s sake, look into your cold Aussie heart and give this woman sanctuary. Don’t you see the trouble she’s in? She didn’t mean to give away national security secrets!
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-15 14:07:36
I don’t know… for a duke, you’re acting awfully like a certain King George. And I don’t mean Georges One or two.
And Z, hey, I’m sorry that it turned out this way. But your one mistake was to list your secret plans to wage war on Australia on a public comment board. An easy mistake to make, I suppose, in hindsight. And yet a mistake nonetheless.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 14:12:04
Hey, I never taxed anyone — except emotionally. I’ve done quite a bit of that.
Your past life is completely taking over, Simon. Resist. Otherwise you’ll take to wearing powdered wigs and stockings, and I know that’s something you’d rather avoid.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 16:58:59
Wow. So this is how it is huh?
Turns out, Duke’ll give me up for a paltry prime ministership and Simon’ll turn me in for nothing.
Thanks guys. You’re SWELL.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 17:37:13
Well, you’ve got to admit turning you on for a shot at Prime Minister tops turning you in for nothing.
But I’ve reconsidered, and decided I won’t turn you in under any circumstances. I hope that causes you to think the worse of Simon.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 17:42:21
Well I should bloody well think so.
As for Simon… That remains to be seen.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 17:46:33
So the war is potentially back on? I mean, I don’t want to sound overeager or anything, but I never started a war before. It’s kind of exciting.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 17:54:06
Yes. You may have started a Trans Tasman war. It can be averted if Simon backs down. If not - it’s all on.
(Secretly I back Australia to win)
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 18:04:49
Your parenthetical remark could be further grounds for charges of treason, you know.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 18:19:33
Aw. Bugger.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 19:55:41
I had a word with the NZ government. It’s all taken care of. You’re off the hook. They love Americans, you know.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 21:12:02
Oh thank god. I just went into hiding for an hour. Is it safe to come out?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 22:50:19
All safe, check — thanks, as always, to American intervention. Gosh, this country is swell.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 23:02:23
You know you’re going to get the key to the city when you come here. And a parade.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 23:08:48
I’ll only make the trip if I’m appointed Prime Minister. One is being sought via an ad, and only Americans are being considered. I’m bound to be a shoo-in.
And now to sleep before heading to SF in the morn. There’ll be no key to the city when I arrive in SF, I’m sure of it.
Comment by Debbie
2009-10-11 14:24:28
Really liked this, Duke. Its kind of melancholy, but hopeful at the same time.
Love the picture…it reminds me of a friend’s guitar.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:29:34
Has he never cleaned it? That’s what I was saying to David to above: blood on guitars often stands. But I guess it’s not just poverty or laziness; there’s also, in theory, bragging rights. “Hey, man, I played the shit out of this fucker one time.” And melancholy but hopeful was exactly the combination I was trying to capture, so thanks for the appreciation.
Comment by Debbie
2009-10-12 03:40:13
He used to clean it all the time…always hated the sight of his own blood on it. But the last time he played that particular one he was teaching me to play, so most of the blood is mine. As far as I know, it hasnt been cleaned since he died. Unless someone decided to sell it…..
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 05:22:40
Oh, God, Debbie. Is this the guy who was recently killed in a car wreck? Either way, you can’t let that guitar be sold. It properly belongs to someone who loved him.
Comment by Debbie
2009-10-12 09:42:24
No..Jake’s been gone a long time……14 years next month now that I think of it. The last time I saw the guitar it was still hanging on the wall in his parents family room. But I lost touch with them a few years ago….
The friend you mentioned left all of his guitars to a friend of ours, so I get to visit them regularly.
I’m realizing as I write this, that there seems to be a pattern about the men in my life…
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 09:50:00
I hope Jake’s parents haven’t sold it. Guitars are very personal — or favorite guitars, anyway.
But your other friend was a musician too? Man. I understand a little better why you stopped reading BFL at the point you did. That’s so awful. My heart goes out to you, if I didn’t say so before.
Comment by Debbie
2009-10-12 10:01:58
They are all either musicians or artists….I like to be around creative people.
I’ve realized, in my life at least, that uncontrollable things happen and you just kinda have to let them happen. (its part of the reason I don’t get too close to people anymore) But thanks…I appreciate it.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 10:19:33
No thanks necessary. It’s a horrible thing to lose a friend (or friends) under any circumstances, but especially horrible when they’re so young and die so unexpectedly.
Comment by Matt
2009-10-11 14:34:53
Nice one, Duke. I’ve just spent the better part of the day thinking about how a good concert can be almost like a transformative religious experience, and here you are writing about that very thing.
Every now and then I’ve been faced with the choice of eating for a couple of days, or going to see one of my favorite bands. I’ve chosen hunger each time, and never regretted it.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:40:25
Wow. A man after my own heart. Yes, I’ve almost always opted for music over food. I really need music in my life. It’s like breath to me. And I absolutely do see a great show as a religious experience — but did you have SSE in mind when you said what you did?
Comment by Matt
2009-10-12 07:01:54
Not so much. I just went to a great show on Friday (one that involved me dropping a meal a day for about two weeks to afford the tickets) and am still pretty high off of it.
And I’m with you regarding the emotional, almost physical need for music in one’s life. The stereo is almost always on when I’m home, even if it’s just the radio. Prior to the days of the MP3 single I was one of those people who spent probably-ridiculous sums of money to track down and purchase obscure songs by my favorite bands. But man, the feeling when when that rare pressing of a 45 or white-label only CD turns up in the mail….
Finding a good record shop, like finding a good book shop (used or otherwise), is like stumbling upon Aladdin’s treasure cave from Arabian Nights.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 07:51:46
As much as I enjoy going to records stores, I like having my favorite objects — books and records — delivered by mail, if only because it’s a welcome break from the usual horror: bills and junk. Letters are great for that reason too — they’re great for a number of reasons — but, of course, letters are rare to the point of non-existent these days.
Also, the hunt for rare records is great fun. I looked and looked for a copy of an EP by a SF punk band called the Fuck-ups, and I finally found one, which was selling for $75. That was too much to pay for a band I’d never heard. (I’d read about them, and was fascinated by the stories people told; the Fuck-ups lived up to their name and then some.) If I were rich, I’d have shelled out the money in a heartbeat, and still would, even though I’ve since heard the Fuckups and decided they weren’t all that special.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-11 15:10:02
One evening in the 70’s while walking down a street heavily laden with coke heads I heard a pleasant voice drifting across the breeze telling me:
Life is one big road with lots of signs, yes!
So when you riding through the ruts, don’t you complicate your mind:
Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy!
Don’t bury your thoughts; put your dream to reality, yeah!
I left that coke head town and never looked back.
Just so you know I’m always good for food money no questions asked.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:26:47
You ain’t the only one, Sheree. Times is tough. Which is a phrase I never thought I’d use, seeing that I didn’t expect to live through the Great Depression Deux, as I now somewhat have.
So you had music act as the voice of God at least once, too, did you? Jesus, I’m still living in a cokehead town. I guess God must want me here.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-12 10:06:44
When I hear birds singing just before dawn I like to think it’s God calling on the day.
Looking back now I realize that it wasn’t a coke town that I was living in, it was just cokehead times. It was the height of the free basing era.
Funny thing is I got a job looking after a man who lost an arm while free basing right after I moved from one coke town to another. I did not know at first that the house was full of closet free basers until the one armed man finally broke down and told me the story of how he lost his arm. I was then informed that if the coke heads got out of control where they were free basing in another part of the house to call the police and leave. I finished my shift and never went back to that house ever again. I thought 500 dollars for a 48 hour shift was a lot of money, heh now I know why.
The free basers were prominent people in the community. Smart people with brainiac jobs. You’d have thought they’d have stopped free basing after their friend lost an arm. Crazy ass world.
As for God wanting you where you are. It’s a big ass world that he created for the sake of evolution. I tend to think that wherever you decide to be is right where God would have you be, or else freedom is a bust.
I could be wrong though so don’t take my word for it.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 10:34:40
At this point, I would enthusiastically work a forty-eight hour shift at a house full of free-basers for five hundred dollars. And I don’t doubt that they were smart and prominent people. So are a lot of heroin addicts. So, for that matter, are many drunks — and Errol Flynn, who was a junkie and had tried every known drug in his time, called alcohol the worst of them all. He died from it, and he looked pretty ravaged by the end.
Now, here’s a kind of theological question, and I’m not good at such things, but here goes: If, say, I were to move by choice, would that be because God had prompted the choice, or would it amount to God’s blessing of my free will? I don’t think I’ve phrased it very well, but I’m curious. I’m interested in the overall question of free will.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-12 11:06:22
Free will depends on the mind applying it.
Everything depends on the mind of the individual.
I believe that God gave us free will to use for the sake of goodness.
While others may believe that they have the free will to do as they please, fowl or good.
Free will as I see it confines some while freeing others. It depends on the mind set. I have the whole of the world to explore my free will and I try to exercise my free will with goodness as I believe that my understanding of God would have me do.
Of course in my younger years I used my free will wisely as well as unwisely in my own opinion. I learned eventually that I liked utilizing my free will for good rather than what I deem to be bad for myself. If any of that makes sense.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-12 11:20:47
* By confines I mean using free will within the laws of the ten commandments.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 14:20:20
“Free will depends on the mind applying it.
Everything depends on the mind of the individual.”
Does that mean that free will allows us to define free will? Which raises another question: If God has given us free wheel to use for goodness, but some use it otherwise, is that because we’re being tested? So, I think, some have argued.
Hope you don’t mind my asking. As I said earlier, it’s a question of interest to me.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-12 16:14:23
I don’t mind you asking although I really am not qualified to answer them in a theological sense. I’d have to ask an elder who has a degree in this field. Unfortunately said elder is tied up fighting for the rights of Indians who were never paid their just dues in Arkansas.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-12 16:16:35
After thought: Besides I can only give explanations that apply to myself and no one else. My understanding may not be your own.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 07:46:54
Arkansas? What tribe? I’m curious, as always.
I understand that spiritual questions can be answered many ways, but I don’t get often get a chance to ask them, since they’re not of interest to most people I know. I hope you don’t feel like I put you on the spot.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-13 10:56:19
No, I don’t feel like I’m part of a Haney Inquisition. It’s just that what we’re talking about here takes more than a comment or two and eveything that I say in these comments only apply to myself. I cannot speak for anyone else.
My christian learning came from the Cherokee Bushyhead Baptists and people in my lines who followed the ways of the Hospitallers for hundreds of years, as well as codes of Chilvary and the great law of the six nations known as The Haudenosaunee, then throw the moral shorts of De Maupassant on top and you have a small look into my understanding of individual freedom.
It’s taken me five decades to even begin to grasp the sense of freedom my elders fought so hard to obtain for my life. Blood was shed, lives lost, harsh sacrifices made on behalf of my life. I take my personal freedom very seriously.
I spent the last decade of my great grandmothers life listening to her teachings as she lay in bed next to me nightly for three weeks at a time. My elders were a rag tag group of freedom fighters from three different cultures who band together against oppressing forces for more than 500 years.
500 years of culture crammed into a few comments will never be able to do justice to what I have come to understand for myself. Plus, I am still turning these learnings over in my head, working out the deeper meanings and how they apply to todays standards of living.
See what I mean, this comment alone takes up a spit load of space and I’ve not even scratched the surface you’re asking to see under.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-13 11:39:31
After thought:
The hardest thing a man can learn is how to excercise his own rights without invading the rights of others. My grandfather told me that when I was 10 years old. I’ve never forgotten it.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-13 11:40:23
*exercise
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-14 04:01:24
Yes, a comment board isn’t exactly the best forum to do justice to such heady topics. Even whole books fail to fully cover them.
To me, the question of free will is rooted in the old parable about the scorpion that stings the frog who’s carrying it over a stream. The scorpion, in asking for the ride, has assured the frog that he won’t sting it, since the frog will die and drown them both. But he stings it anyway, and when the dying frog asks why, the scorpion responds: “It’s my nature.”
I could point to countless moments when I thought I was acting out of choice, but in fact, looking back, I think I was only doing as I can’t help but do. But maybe not. Which is why I return to this question now and again.
I wish, by the way, that my grandfather(s) had spoken to me as yours did to you. The adults I knew as a kid weren’t as reflective as I might’ve hoped, and that’s one reason books took on the importance they did.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-14 09:33:48
I’d say that frog exercised his free will unwisely. People exercise free will unwisely all the time.
All I can say is this: If you believe that God created the whole of the earth for you to be rooted in one single spot of the whole of the earth then it is your right to believe so and remain in that one spot on the whole of the earth God created for man to walk. Even though you have the ability to freely walk away on the two good legs that God gave to anywhere else on the whole of the earth that God created for man to walk.
If you believe that God wants you in that spot and you remain in that spot, its because you chose not to exercise your free will to move to another spot but instead chose to remain in that spot because you believe thats what God wants you to do and you wish to honor him.
Not exercising free will is different than not having free will.
The frog chose to exercise his free will poorly and take a chance on a nature that he himself questioned before the deal was made.
At least thats my understanding of free will.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-14 10:21:38
I posted something a few months ago on my blog about free will: See Spe Et Labore @ Confessions of a temporal lobe.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-14 13:12:00
Maybe free will is Gods way of putting the brakes on absolute powers ability to corrupt.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 03:45:00
It could very well be. Meanwhile, I’m impressed with your interpretation of the frog/scorpion story. I’d never stopped to consider the frog’s point of view. That surely says something about my limitations.
I read the Spe Et Labore piece, as well as a few others. All read like poems, even when they’re not explicitly in verse. I like that you say, at one point, that Reaganomics did nothing for you. I don’t think they did much for anyone, actually, aside from the rich.
I only read a few stories by Maupassant, and now think I should read more. I still have a volume of them.
Have you heard the rumor that Maupassant was Flaubert’s illegitimate son? Like Flaubert, he frequented brothels, where his appetite was legendarily prodigious, and it was probably at one of them that he picked up the disease that killed him.
I just checked Wikipedia to see if there’s any mention of Flaubert having possibly fathered him. There isn’t, but there are a few other factoids that may be of interest, though you’re probably familiar with them all:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_de_maupassant
Comment by sheree
2009-10-15 09:33:32
I know nothing of De Maupassants life. I only have one book by him that was my great grandmothers. His choice of living may well be the reason why he was so good at writing moral shorts. My favourite short by Guy is The Farm Girl.
The picture of the tombs in Spe Et Labore ( translation: By hope and work) are my grandparents who were entombed in the 1830’s. I used to lay on their tombs and read all the time.
As for that poor frog. There’s always more than one side to every story. Learning to see all sides takes time and patience. I wrote the poem She Said about myself and a friend turned it into a blues tune for piano 10 years ago. I have a cd of it somewhere.
Thanks for letting me poke you in the eye with some of who I am.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-15 10:44:24
A cold bird wanders up to a large warm cow. The cow asks the bird if it’s cold. The bird replies yes can you help me get warm. The cow replies yes I can. The cow backs up to the bird and unloads a big steamer onto the birds head. The bird squaks hey you shit on me and the cow says why yes i did but aren’t you warm now? The bird chirps why yes, yes I am.
My father loved to tell me that story.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 12:04:50
Well, in that case, the cow was obeying now just its nature but the nature of us all, though we’d hopefully be more polite in placing it.
My grandparents owned a number of ancient tomes, but none by the likes of Maupassant. The only book of serious literature I remember on their shelf was Silas Marner, which was apparently a high school reading assignment for one of my aunts.
Funny that you mention “She Said,” because I think that piece, for me, may have been the most striking. I loved the ending, and I’m not at all surprised that it inspired someone else to do something with it.
Thanks for the lesson in perspective, as per the frog story. I like to think of myself as someone who can see both (or more) sides of a story, but I must be deluded.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-15 14:20:14
I wouldn’t say you were deluded. Maybe your just more interested in strong characters than unimposing ones like the frog.
I wrote She said after misssing a city bus home. A cop stopped me when I was walking home thru a rough area and tried to insinuate that I was a hooker on the stroll.
It was absolutely humiliating. Standing there with a thrift store bag in my hand with black pants I’d just purchased for a new job at Taco hell. I even showed the cop my taco hell paper work and dollar black pants for the job.
He still babbled on about how I should not be hooking and that he didn’t want to see me on his beat ever again.
I made it a point to walk that damn street every fucking chance I got in my taco hell uniform. Fucking lump with a badge would just pass me and smile.
Meh, enough of my old country mouth. Yeah i’m still peeved about it.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 17:34:53
Hey, it did make for a good poem. And rest assured that I’ve been harassed by cops, though never for perceived hooking. A few months ago, I was pulled over on Mulholland Drive and told that there’d been a number of recent thefts there and “to get out of MY hills.” That’s what the guy said to me: “MY hills.” I thought, What, has this guy seen a lot of Westerns?
Yeah, I’m still kind of peeved about that.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 19:58:07
Oh, and I think you’re absolutely right about my having more of an interest in strong characters like the scorpion. This follows my childhood interest in poisonous and otherwise dangerous animals.
An astoot observation, as Zara might say, mocking the American accent.
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 21:13:20
Never mocking…
Not me.
Never.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 22:58:20
If I had the energy, I’d answer you in haiku. As it is, I’ll simply agree: No mocking. Never.
Ain’t I nice?
Comment by Zara Potts
2009-10-15 23:04:59
Yes. Yes you are.
Even when you are haiku less.
Original comment thread (part two):
Comment by David S. Wills
2009-10-11 17:55:18
“and a day later I’m invited to befriend the band on MySpace.”
Ouch. It reminds me of when people get divorced and sign on to Facebook to find their recommended friend - the ex.
Man, I empathise with your poverty. I’ve been there. In fact, I spent a long time there. I think that’s why I put up with Korea. It’s the only place I’ve ever been wealthy. I maintain, however, that I was a better writer when poor - the starving artists speaks sweeter.
Comment by Matt
2009-10-11 19:12:10
Facebook keeps recommending I become friends with my ex-girlfriend’s mom.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-12 10:23:30
I keep getting notices of people following me on twitter. I twittered once about a year ago. I get invites all the time from people on facebook that I don’t even know. That or I have a shit poor memory for people I should know.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 10:42:22
They’re probably mostly from porn sites, Sheree. I get them all the time. But I don’t typically get Facebook invites from strangers. I must scare them for some reason.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-12 11:10:30
OMG! Really!? Porn sites. Holy spit I’m an idiot!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 13:45:45
Not at all. And there are a lot of others who spam at Twitter — a lot of self-help and real-estate types. Still, I was followed by many who threatened me with Britney Spears sex clips.
Comment by Debbie
2009-10-12 16:10:47
“Still, I was followed by many who threatened me with Britney Spears sex clips.”
Made my whole day. Totally need the laugh!!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 07:39:18
I am to please.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:48:32
I think what you say about starving artists, David, pertains not simply to writers. Bands, for instance, typically go bad when they sign to major labels (though, of course, that’s hardly a guarantee of forthcoming wealth). Also, actors usually do their best work before they hit it really big. You’d never know it, to watch them now, why Pacino and DeNiro were once considered the two of a small handful of the greatest actors of their generation.
In the case of the MySpace invitation, it was sent not by MySpace but by the band itself, which added to my sense of hurt. I now have a better understanding of how everything went down, but I didn’t at the time, and I was like, Jesus, how fucking inconsiderate.
I’m glad, meantime, to have a better sense of why you’re in Korea. It wouldn’t be my own first destination of choice, but, hey, different strokes and all that. I mean, most people would never understand why I moved to Serbia.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:50:26
Don’t you love it, Matt, when computers make guesses as to our emotional lives? And yet everyone seemingly can’t wait for the world to go 100% digital.
Comment by Matt
2009-10-12 06:35:56
People keep asking me why I don’t try one of those online dating resources, now that I’ve been single for the better part of a year. I can’t stand the idea. When it comes to the idea of maintaining an emotional life, for me there is no substitute for actual, personal contact, even if it’s infrequent. There are exceptions, obviously, and while the Internet/e-mail is great for maintaining contact, but nothing beats a handshake or a hug or even old-fashioned eye-contact.
And as I mentioned in my last post, I refuse to except the idea that my identity as a person can be quantified as a mere collection of data.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 07:43:12
Unfortunately, I think that’s exactly how people are more and more being seen.
I’ll never forget once catching a marketing expert on TV. He had people broken down into various categories, maybe seventy of them, and he knocked on doors and asked those who answered if he could come inside and have a look around, and while snooping through the house, he would say, “And there’s probably a bottle of imported beer in the fridge,” since people belonging to this particular category would likely buy imported beer, and lo and behold, he would open the fridge and find said beer. Then he’d turn to the camera and, smirking, say, “Typical.” I hated the guy, but the frightening thing was how his data seemed so deadly accurate. Are we really as unique as we like to believe? Maybe not.
But I certainly agree with you about Match.com and all the rest of them. I stubbornly cling to a romantic outlook that precludes that kind of thing — many things, in fact.
Comment by David S. Wills
2009-10-12 03:23:16
Indeed, starvation probably fuels creativity…
Interestingly, though, I used to write/paint/make music with more hope and beauty when I was poor and single… Now I have more, I write like I have nothing…
Maybe I need to go back to Big Sur; embrace poverty.
And you’re right about bands going crap when they get famous.
I could see myself going to Serbia, actually. That sounds like a weird kick.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 05:20:59
Serbia was, for me, a wonderful place, but I understand it’s changed a lot since I left a few years ago. But places always change. And it’s funny that you mention Big Sur, since Greg Olear wrote a few words about Henry Miller below.
A friend of mine just went to a wedding in Big Sur, where he apparently started a romance with Miller’s granddaughter, who was tending bar at the wedding. But how could that be? I thought Miller’s children were all born far too long ago to have children who who are now in their twenties. Maybe this girl is Miller’s great-granddaughter.
Comment by David S. Wills
2009-10-12 20:34:25
I went to the Henry Miller museum/house when I was at Big Sur… It was very beautiful. I sadly didn’t have any flirtatious adventures with his relatives… Maybe next time.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 07:38:35
I’ll alert you if the bartender becomes available. I haven’t spoken to my friend, so what I know comes from gossip. There’s a lot of it in the circles in which I travel. If I tell someone something at one o’clock, I’m sure the word’s been spread by two. It’s like freaking housewives hanging over backyard laundry lines in days of old.
Comment by Erika
2009-10-11 19:12:37
Why is it that all bad things happen at and around the same time. Especially financial matters.
I am glad that you were able to trick the ATM into giving you money to eat although I’m still confused on how you did it.
Music does make everything better doesnt it. I for one tend to spend most of my extra income on itunes, concerts and food related activities, oh, and shoes.
Now off to grocery shop my house has nothing in it but wine, vodka, and cheese.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:16:25
Wow. Sounds like a party. I hope it is one.
One of my exes once said, “You spend all your money on books, records, and booze!” She was right, actually.
The ATM scam was hard to explain, and I was afraid I hadn’t done a good job of it, but the idea is that ATM “thinks” you’ve put real money into your account and is willing to part with a small sum of it when you make a deposit. It’s an advance, as small advances can be made against checks when you deposit them in person.
But my anecdote is dated, and I haven’t done anything like it since, so I don’t know that it would work now, as I mentioned above to Megan.
Comment by jmb
2009-10-11 19:49:57
Man you know you captured it perfectly
that whole hard times and yet you look back
and something about them seems so desperate and free.
Passion, for living for something good is going to happen
one day
for the best is still to come.
This was very good.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 20:10:29
Thanks, man. I was kind of nervous about this piece, to to tell you the truth. I worked on it for a long time, meaning I would discard it, thinking it wasn’t coming together, only to pick it up and discard it again, and on and on. Also, I generally have the sense that my music stuff doesn’t do much for others.
Still, I can’t help but go back to that subject every once in a while, being that it’s so close to my heart.
Comment by jmb
2009-10-11 19:50:43
Really. It was.
Makes me want to write about that
era where you had
nothing
and yet you had everything
Comment by D.R. Haney |
2009-10-11 20:05:21
Unfortunately, JMB, I seem to be still living through that era, though, as usually happens, you don’t realize the “everything” part till later.
Comment by Lenore Zion
2009-10-11 21:05:31
i can’t tell you how happy i was when i realized that the ATM thing was from a long time ago and not now. i didn’t want to have to go visit you in jail.
i mean, i would. but i’m so beautiful that all of the other men in jail with you would lose their minds at the sight of me. and i wouldn’t want that.
some day, i want to see you perform.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 21:09:46
Someday I’d like to see myself perform. Or, actually, I probably wouldn’t.
But you’re right about the men in jail going crazy at the sight of you. I’d have to hold them at bay with bribes of cigarettes — do you think that would work? I don’t know karate.
Comment by Lenore Zion
2009-10-11 21:35:13
i’d bake a cake with a giant nail file inside. you’d break out before you ever needed karate.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-11 21:36:55
I didn’t realize you’d watched as many old movies as I have.
Comment by Rich Ferguson
2009-10-12 04:21:31
What a beautiful piece, Duke. Such a meditation on music, money (or the lack thereof), and keeping body and mind together in difficult times.
Hey, speaking of which, if you ever wanna go out for some free grub, just contact me. T’would be my pleasure to pick up the check. And hell, it would give me a good reason to hang out in my old hood again.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 05:15:06
I wouldn’t hear of having you pick up the check, but it would be great to hang out, Rich. I know Lenore’s mentioned the prospect of kidnapping you. Game?
Comment by Greg Olear
2009-10-12 04:45:13
This reminded me of Henry Miller, who created wonderful art in a similarly perilous financial state in Depression-era Paris. You need to find yourself a hot erotica author with a wealthy husband who doesn’t mind her fooling around…
And also, in a word: more. More, please. I think you should write a Miller-esque novel, an almost memoir with yourself at the center. Not many people are fascinating enough to pull that off. You are.
(Aside: the opening graf of Tropic of Cancer is perhaps my favorite beginning of any novel.)
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 05:14:12
That’s an interesting idea, Greg, to write such a novel. The thought would never have occurred to me, though I do hope to write at length a book one day about a certain recent period of my life in L.A. I’d thought to heavily fictionalize it, but maybe it would be better to do it as you just suggested (though I won’t go so far as to agree with you that I’d make for an interesting central figure).
Meantime, the last time we spoke, something you said sparked an idea for another novel. I didn’t mention it, but I was inspired enough to spend a few hours working on a sample section, just to see if it grabbed me enough to continue. It did, but I still don’t have any sense of where it all leads.
Oh, and this piece was inspired by a comment Steph made about Banned on GoodReads, I’ll have you (and her) know. You guys are the best.
Comment by Greg Olear |
2009-10-12 05:23:01
Trust me, you’d make for an interesting central figure. Right, commenters?
Oh, good, glad to hear that ideas are sparking. Yay! And Steph will be delighted with that — she did enjoy the “Nanned” exchange…
Thanks
G
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 05:26:50
Cue sound of crickets.
Of course, if I did become your personal Tony Danza, the ideas would never cease. I mean, not to hint or anything.
Comment by Stephanie
2009-10-12 06:24:58
the offer still stands.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 07:24:31
We’ll negotiate a deal when Greg shows up in L.A. Then I’ll board a plane that will undoubtedly take me right back. It keeps happening again and again!
Comment by Stephanie St. John Olear
2009-10-12 11:46:04
Ok - so that’s that. Christmas. Porch. Prying but only if need be.
Grocery shopping with Zara. I’m commenting out of order.
I also just wanted to make sure to say that I am beyond flattered
that my comment inspired you to finish this piece - because you inspired me, as you know, so anyway….I hope this means that music has found it’s way back to you.
And I agree with Lenore - would love to see you perform sometime and hear you sing.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 07:32:36
It’s unlikely to happen, but hey, thanks for saying so. And, yes, it was your comment about music having saved your life that inspired the piece. I started thinking of specific times when I felt that music had saved my life and, well, this is what came of it. How does it feel to be a muse?
Comment by Stephanie St. John Olear
2009-10-15 06:48:32
Why is it unlikely?
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 06:54:16
Well, I’m hardly a solo performer, so unless I’m able to get a band going, I don’t think I’ll be putting on a show any time soon.
Now, a reading on the other hand — that’s easily done. I wish you were accompanying Greg to L.A. next month.
Comment by Stephanie St. John Olear
2009-10-15 07:15:48
me too. But I can’t. Grrrrr.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 07:25:28
I’ll see your Grrrrr and raise you one.
However, when I’m your manny, I’ll start a band with Domnick, and we’ll play for you every day. In fact, you may bump up my salary not to play.
Comment by Stephanie St. John Olear
2009-10-15 07:40:15
Do you sing - don’t you sing? You have one of those speaking voices that suggest there’s a singer in there too.
And Prue will be on drums - don’t forget - well, she won’t let you forget.
It’s going to be such a great band and also great material for “Nanned.”
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 07:43:50
I mentioned on Facebook that I saw riot grrrl potential in Prue’s drumming. And, yes, I sing, but I have a feeling that Prue and Dom are going to want to sing, too, so we’ll have to take turns at the mic. It will be a very democratic band, although I have a feeling I’m going to be an emotional disadvantage, since I’ll easily capitulate to all my bandmates’ demands.
Comment by Stephanie St. John Olear
2009-10-15 09:07:06
Well, yeah, as manny and bandmate there might be a conflict of interest - like - when Dom wants to throw and smash his amp and Prue wants to throw her kit, out of intensity of the moment - maybe there could be some role confusion and the manny in you might want to say,”Hey guys, we need to respect our instruments and who’s going to clean up this mess” - but the bandmate in you might be all for it. hmmmm.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 11:51:26
Oh, the bandmate in me will always taking precedence over the manny, at least during a show. One must surrender to the moment. It’s a cardinal rule of rock & roll mayhem.
I will willingly clean up any mess afterward, and I expect no help at all from my bandmates, which will surely hasten the end of the band.
Comment by Stephanie St. John Olear
2009-10-12 09:19:06
Tell me about it. It’s almost as if it’s not supposed to happen when, clearly, this is the most meant to be situation to grace if not quality television viewers of all of the land, then, at least my porch.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 09:44:12
Christmas. If I’m able to make it east for Christmas, you won’t be able to pry me off your porch. Not that you’d try, right? Right?
Comment by Stephanie St. John Olear
2009-10-12 09:59:57
I would never want to pry you off, but during Christmas-time, you might actually get frozen to our porch and then we’d kind of have to pry you off. But you wouldn’t take it personally, right? We’d only be trying to save a limb or two.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 10:04:26
No, I’d understand. Especially if, like the boy in A Christmas Story, my tongue got stuck to — what was it again? A flagpole? Except that’s very unlikely in my case. But even if it weren’t, I would understand.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-12 13:09:06
Joe Dirt and a dogs balls frozen to a porch comes to mind. I hope that never happens to you Mr. Haney!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 13:41:54
You ain’t the only one. But I seriously doubt it will happen in Southern California — or anywhere else, for that matter.
Comment by Simon Smithson
2009-10-12 14:55:06
You can forget about that Red Ryder for Christmas, Haney!
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 15:01:05
That’s okay. I would only have shot my eye out anyway.
Comment by sheree
2009-10-12 16:21:27
I have a scar right between my eyes where my older brother landed a bb with a sight that was slightly off. Heh, he nearly had a heart attack when he thought that he may have shot my eye out. I forgave him immediately. He always let me ride on the handlebars of his bike every weekend as he delivered the paper and bought me doughnuts on sundays with his tip money.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 07:29:05
I was more interested in bows and arrows than guns as a kid, and I very nearly shot a kid’s eye out with an arrow that he insisted we sharpen in the pencil sharpener. I’ve never forgotten releasing the string and seeing that kid with his hand over his eye a second later, blood streaming down his face. I was around five. My God, my parents were furious! His, too, obviously.
Comment by Erika Rae
2009-10-12 10:26:40
Nice one - I liked the structure of this! Gullible ATMs, lost hope and redemption through music. Beautiful.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 10:37:46
And it’s short too!
Bless you, Erika.
Comment by Justin Benton
2009-10-12 11:31:11
Interesting. Makes me think about walking around to music, and how it permanently attaches itself to a moment, a scene. Which, now, is less relevant because you can carry your whole collection with you anywhere you go and everything’s shuffled anyway.
I can recall walking through the Chicago loop, on my way to the Chicago Symphony, where I worked as an usher, listening to Foreign Affairs by Tom Waits on cassette tape. (This was before MP3s and Discman’s were clunky.) And every time I hear that record I see downtown Chicago at night. I am there again and it’s wonderful.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-12 13:38:53
That’s a fantastic thing to say: “I am there again and it’s wonderful.” I feel like I can see it too, just by your comment.
There was something about the shape of a cassette tape that I always liked. Or maybe it was the action of slipping one into a player, like loading a 9mm. But I shouldn’t use the past tense, since I still use cassettes every so often to record songs I’ve written, or am writing.
Comment by JB
2009-10-13 08:10:04
This post made me go back and listen to Nirvana. I laid in bed last night, listening to The Muddy Banks of the Wishkah, trying to recall why Cobain was so good. I think I’ve got it figured out, although to understand it I have to think like thirteen-year-old.
Cobain came up with some stunningly bizarre and deceptively simple barre-chord progressions. I mean, the progression for “Lithium” should not make any musical sense, nor should it even be anywhere near as catchy as it is. Same goes for most everything on Nevermind.
Like most kids, barre chords were life-changing. What’s more, Kurt’s soft/loud/soft structure caused permanent damage.
Anyway. Thanks for bringing up good memories. I will promptly disappear for now…
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 08:35:41
After Cobain killed himself, I couldn’t listen to Nirvana for the longest time. I felt like his death was tantamount to saying: “I don’t want you to listen to me. I want to be erased, and my success is a large part of the reason.” So by putting his records aside, I felt like I was obeying him.
Even now I don’t listen to Nirvana often, but when I do, I’m always reminded of how great they were — and are, since the music survives. And I agree that the barre-chord progressions are deceptively simple. It’s not as easy to play some of those songs as might be assumed.
Thanks for thanking me for sparking good memories. I have them also — in a big way.
Comment by Meghan
2009-10-12 17:00:40
I have encountered a gullible atm or two in my day (though not in the last ten years).
I still have a cassette player and I use it at least once per week.
I’ve thought a lot about that blissed feeling that comes from certain live music. Sometimes I think it’s about scale (something larger than you, something outside of you); sometimes I think it’s about being in your body (I think of that fugazi concert that was so loud I was inescapably aware of all my internal organs - and I inventoried them).
Thanks for the piece.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 07:22:29
And thank you for responding to it, Meghan.
I love that you write of having inventoried your organs. That only somewhat happened to me on acid. But I think you hit on something when you mention scale, because I’ve been through earthquakes and felt something similar, occasionally, at shows: a sense of large power outside of myself that simultaneously dwarfs and, being part of it, expands me. I’m thinking specifically of a Mogwai show when I was standing right by the stage, and also of seeing Black Rebel Motorcycle Club maybe six years ago and having a kind of meltdown in the best of ways. I’m reminded of Rimbaud’s thing about the derangement of the senses. That’s why I’ve never been much on music as “entertainment.” I’m always hoping for something more profound, something cathartic, and I’ve been spoiled by having experienced it here and there.
Comment by Meghan
2009-10-15 07:47:43
Mogwai. Totally. The last time I saw them, the experience had me thinking of the things I had to do before I die. Because it throws your body and your ability to respond to your body into contrast with daily life. I agree whole-heartedly. Music - especially good, live music - is not something I use for entertainment; it’s something I use for wonder and awe.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 08:01:40
The Mogwai show I attend was transcendental. The funny thing was, I’d never particularly responded to their records. (I do now.) I was there to see …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, who were friends of mine, and friends with Mogwai. There was a party afterward, and I tried talking to one of the Mogwai guys, but I couldn’t understand a word he said. I kept nodding my head and laughing at what I hoped were appropriate moments, but his brogue was incomprehensible. I’m sure the fact that we were both drunk didn’t much help.
Comment by Meghan
2009-10-15 16:57:21
…And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead are so good. I’d love to see them live. Hasn’t happened yet. But that’s a nice pairing. Really graceful.
I’m trying really hard not to have this be a back and forth where I basically say, “Hey. I like that band, too!” But, honestly, that’s part of the live music thing for me, too. More than any other community of which I’ve been a part, people who are fed by live music in this way are my people.
I like having people.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 17:29:31
Come to think of it, the last time I saw Trail of Dead play was that show with Mogwai. I’m still in touch with Jason here and there, so if you should ever get to see TOD, you should mention me to him. I know Conrad and Kevin also. The newer guys I’ve never met, but the ones I mention will recognize my name immediately. Jason’s a hoot, and a very nice guy. I’ve met his entire nuclear family, including his brother, Cole, and his parents, who are missionaries (!) in Hawaii, which is where he met Conrad. I’m glad to see that TOD left Interscope. I never thought it was a good idea, signing with Interscope, but hey, it’s none of my business.
Trail of Dead is in my novel, incidentally. They make a couple of cameos — no name change. A number of real-life bands are in the book, and I’ve slipped copies to a few of them, including, recently, Penelope Houston of the Avengers. I’m a little nervous about that one, but I’ll likely never hear from her. She probably thought I was a psycho.
I was already beginning to realize that we had something in common, musically, when you mentioned Fugazi. Ian Mackaye is one of my heroes. I’ve been around him a few times, but I never had the guts to say hello. I’ve met so many people I’ve admired, and in most cases they disappoint, as I’m sure Ian wouldn’t, but why take a chance? Still, I know a lot about him from mutual friends, and they speak of him in exactly the glowing terms you might expect. We should all be spoken of in such a way. Unfortunately, most of us, unlike Ian, are undeserving.
Comment by Meghan
2009-10-15 17:45:17
Well, I’m ordering a copy now. Or, momentarily.
I’ve gotten better about just talking to musicians I admire in the last five or so years. At the time when I was going to Fugazi shows…I don’t know. I was a teenager. There weren’t a lot of girls at the shows and that sometimes made me feel intimidated. And I suppose I thought it would be too much of an imposition to talk to him.
Also, I’ve just looked up TOL’s tour dates and I am shaking my head at myself. I just missed them in Boston (although it was at a venue I hate so I probably wouldn’t have gone), but this summer they played in one of my favorite new clubs (in Connecticut! - I don’t know if you’ve been here, but there’s not much in the way of clubs) and that would have been a great and raucous place to see them. Oh well. With luck they’ll be around again and I will certainly and shamelessly drop your name.
Comment by Meghan
2009-10-15 17:45:57
Ahem. TOD. Long day.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 18:02:01
Add an ‘S’ after the ‘T’ in TOL, and you’d have TSOL: one of the most violent punk bands of all time. But I would’ve known you’d meant TOD.
Yeah, there have always been fewer women at such shows than guys, so I can see how that might have made you feel intimidated. Also, Ian has always had so many people coming up to him. Kids have idolized the guy since he was in his teens. They used to run away from home and turn up on his doorstep, thinking he alone understood them, and his mom would take them in. She died a few years ago, sadly.
I’d hope that Jason, at least, would speak well of me if my name were dropped, shamelessly or not. A friend of mine spotted him in a hotel lobby here in L.A. around the time TOD was mixing their final record on Interscope, and he mentioned me to him, and Jason said, “Oh, Duke. Great guy.” I can only hope he’d say the same to you.
I’d appreciate a read, obviously, but I didn’t say what I did to bait you — honest.
Comment by Meghan
2009-10-16 07:47:08
I know you didn’t - not to worry!
Comment by Ducky
2009-10-12 19:23:42
Man, I’m so there with you. I was once a hungry musician, too.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 06:27:37
I wouldn’t presume to call myself a musician, but hungry — oh yeah.
Ducky, what *haven’t* you done?
Comment by Reno
2009-10-13 07:46:09
good one here, duke. i think ur right: every band plays L.A. let me know when you see frank black. goose that fat fucker for me if you do.
oh, btw, not having cash blows. i haven’t had any in 40 years. i don’t things are gonna change. shit.
keep writing songs. pitch them. sell them. might end of delivering you some cash.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 07:56:33
Thanks for the thought. Maybe I should move to Nashville, if songwriters still sell songs there.
Don’t rule out windfalls, by the way. They’re rare, but they do occur. I speak from experience.
I’ll only goose Frank Black if you’re there beside me. Which is veiled way of saying I wish you were here.
Comment by Reno
2009-10-13 21:26:08
wish i there too, sir. maybe one day. one never knows. next time i see you we’ll get some guitars going. a little bowie w/ a hint of REM is what i have going. a charlotte rag called my stuff “country goth.”
so there.
if you think you have the guns to handle that observation than i am your man. good luck out there, duke. you’re an excellent writer and one hell of a fella. see you around, bro.
okay,
reno romero
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-13 22:50:36
I don’t know that I have the guns to handle country goth, Reno, but seeing that we agree about Rush, I’m sure we could work something out.
You’re a hell of a guy too. Is it raining in Sacramento? It is here. It doesn’t usually rain in L.A. in October — a good sign, I hope.
Comment by tip robin
2009-10-14 11:34:04
was this three thematically-related vignettes but were actually completely separate in terms of time and/or location? i intuited this (actually i guess it’s kind of obvious given that In Utero and My Space are at least a decade apart), and like the ambiguity.
i saw Blitzen Trapper last night and, well, it liquidated whatever doubt might have existed that they are a solid sophomore band who can write a great melody a la Neil Young. i haven’t seen a live show in months and this jolted me back into some sort of realization that music is very spiritual, and essential for my mental health, which is ultimately good my physical health, which is also ultimately good for everyone else’s health around me. so music is good for the world at large.
great little ditty-entry here Duke. i see this one has a shot at making it in the highest commented one.
be well, and keep doing good work.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 03:14:33
I considered opening each bit with a date, but I ultimately decided against it, since it seemed to conflict with the piece’s insistence on the present tense. I always try to follow where the writing wants to lead.
I like your trickle-down theory of mental health and the role music plays in it. I’ve been a crabby fuck of late, and if I’m sure I’d feel better if I saw a stellar show — it’s been a while. In L.A. at least, the music scene feels moribund, and only a few short years ago it was thriving. I’m not sure what happened. There are more bands than ever, but very few grab me — and music really has to grab me. A sense of brutality helps. Even Nick Drake is brutal, emotionally speaking; “Pink Moon” about death, you know, and as Nick Drake correctly states, it’s going to get us all.
This piece is a little ditty, Kip, so I’ve been especially appreciative of the kindness shown it, yours included. Be well yourself, yes? And remember: With less pain, you can do more during your day.
Comment by oksana
2009-10-14 15:03:11
Very touching, Duke. Music is the ultimate magic, that’s for sure. If I didn’t play I’d be locked up in a mental institution a long time ago.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 02:34:48
I may yet be locked up. On the other hand, I haven’t been playing much of late, and there haven’t been many shows I’ve wanted to see. Ah well. I’ve spent the last few hours trying to get my record collection in order — a big job! — so it’s not like I don’t have plenty of music near at hand.
Comment by Steve Sparshott
2009-10-15 12:25:08
The first part felt so familiar. I’ve had ’90s nostalgia since, well, 2000; the sun’s always shining and I’m fiddling with my old Volvo, listening to, I dunno, Soul Coughing or somesuch. And then I remember wondering whether I could afford to buy cheese, and quietly borrowing - BORROWING - money from the collective house account, and missing out on a nifty charity shop t-shirt because I didn’t have a spare two pounds. I still like Soul Coughing though, and I miss that Volvo.
I’m glad you had enough cash to get to Silver Lake.
Comment by D.R. Haney
2009-10-15 12:47:18
Yes, well. I treated myself, spending money that really should have been spent elsewhere.
The nineties were, I thought as I lived through them, monstrously boring, but the underground music scene was crackling. The sixties are generally regarded as the acme of rock & roll, which is fair, in light of the innovation taking place at the time. A record like Sgt. Pepper would have been unthinkable for a rock band only a few years before. Still, I continue to listen predominately to nineties stuff. It’s not nostalgia — or at least I don’t think it is. I just prefer the bands from that time, especially Sonic Youth and the bands they influenced.
I hear you on the “borrowing” front, and I wish I could say I missed the ‘66 Mustang I owned for most of the nineties, but that thing was a mechanical nightmare.