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28 september 2000
dum dee dum dee dum There was a nasty accident in front of our studio tonight ... a big van labeled "Dr. Dirt" was stopped at the light, and this camaro filled with young gangsta types came barreling around the corner, through a red light, into the side of the van, which skidded across three lanes of Venice Boulevard into a small honda, which in turn jumped the curb into the parking lot of the car wash next door to our building. "Dr. Dirt" emerged angry from his van, a tall gangling man in a pristine white lab coat who was probably on the way home to his family. He started screaming at the camaro youths. I liked him immediately. We called the police. They said they wouldn't come if no-one needed hospitalization. Welcome to LA. When I totalled my car a few years back at the outset of the Worst Three Months of my life, the guy who hit me called the police, and they never showed up because he didn't know if I needed medical attention, and neither did I because I was semi-conscious. Luckily, a good friend showed up and took me to the hospital. LAPD: "To Protect and To Serve." Believe it or not. And the Bangles sing "All the Cops at the donut shop say way-oh, way,oh..." So the cops never showed tonight, but Dr. Dirt got all the necessary info from the culprits, and the band volunteered as witnesses, and I've got an idea for my next song, which will be a funk tune titled "Dr. Dirt." The melody popped into my head on the way home last night. Mc Donald's fed me today. Breakfast, consumed in the car on my extra-long commute from Culver City, was a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel with a hash brown slab and a small cup of "WARNING: VERY HOT" (and very tasteless) coffee. I didn't have time for lunch, so I munched on chocolate-covered macadamia nuts that Brutus brought back from Hawaii and left in the server room. Dinner, on the way home from band practice, was a shredded beef guacomole concoction off Ronald McDonald's new "Fiesta Menu" (is this a nationwide thing, or only in SoCal?), and it was surprisingly tasty, but I'm sure it won't last. Even better, I peeled the little sweepstakes thingie off my fries and won a crispy chicken sandwich. Yum. It's ok, really. Saturday I'm picking up a sashimi-grade tuna steak from Santa Monica Seafood and bringing it to Wamba's house. We'll marinade it in my trademarked soy sesame rice-vinegar happy juice and sear it on the grill. Yum, indeed. And then I'll finish "Shake." Shake. I brought the lyrics to rehearsal tonight, just to show Angel and to make sure that certain lines were not too tasteless or risque for our audience. Her verdict: she called her nine-year old daughter (also my on-and-off girlfriend, depending on the grammar school social scene) over to check it out, which was her way of telling me the words were fine. Soon Casanova was looking over our shoulders, and he wanted to hear the tune, so I went up to the synth and started playing and singing, and I realized that it's impossible for me to play and sing this song at the same time (something I need to address immediately with either a lot of practice or a different piano part). But it didn't seem to bother Casanova, who was crying "instant hit song" and "this is gonna be so much fun to play" and I'm standing there dumbfounded because I've never before heard such an immediate positive reaction like that to one of my tunes. I think the biggest compliment he paid me was when he said "wow, it sounds so Brasilian!" Casanova was born and raised in Brasil. With "amababa" I was aiming to write a hit song. With "Shake" I was aiming to reach deep inside myself and pull a song from my soul. I probably failed on both counts, but at the same time I've got a much better composition in "Shake." Am I writing too much about my music lately? I don't want this journal to have a one-track mind. Howabout other people's music. Well, I've been enjoying the new Crowded House album for the past week, and my MP3 playlist at work entertained me today with such wonderful ditties as "Take on Me," "Centerfold," "Don't You Want Me," "Walk Like an Egyptian," "Fantasy," "Get Down On It," "Sanford and Son," "Save a Prayer," and (lest we forget) "Funkytown." Oh yeah, and I think I remember that Spandau Ballet tune popping up as well. I know this much is true: I must sleep. 28 september 1999: : on a long hiatus 28 september 1998: : on a brief hiatus 28 september 1997: working sunday surf : So we drove a little bit further up the coast, and I soon realized that The Big Boss's idea of a meeting begins with "So, what size wet suit do you wear?" [ swim back | email me | swim ahead ] |
