Already Given This 30 Minutes Of Nothingness That Is Time

So there's some electromagnetic pulse that radiates from my body
that interferes with electronics and jumbles up their senses and just
wi-fries everything, perhaps it is because I'm actually just too human
and I'm not meant to be part of the machine- I go kicking and screaming
so many mornings when forcing myself to oil and grease the gears of this
Machine World.  The emanation from my being is actually my brother's
problem, and the whole thing was his idea.
     Just stopping at a Barnes & Noble for a split second to send out a letter,
it turned out the place had blocked the wall sockets so many laptops and
devices had died, and I was amused to see a great many of people writing
in notebooks and reading real books.  However, the connection didn't
work there, so I left, even if making a Tuesday point to no one else but myself.
     So now we got it going.  In a haste to go do some recording tonight.
     And, I have text messages now again, for the first time in some years.
At one point, I just turned them off, for I was getting so many messages of
even just jibberish (some of the kind of people I know) that one month my
bill was about the cost of rent for a humble apartment (lucky I was homeless-
do those words even work? not for money) and gas and food and phone bill
was my rent- so they were gone- but now, due to reasons, as things are usually
due to reasons, unless you hang out with Nothing Unreal until past dawn sometimes,
text messages are back on now.  I've come across several people who realized they
were having a one-sided conversation with themselves and called me on it after some
days, and then I realized that perhaps I've lost some friends in the past thinking I'm a
no reply. Possible, probably not, though.
     I waited for 10-15 minutes to speak to a person on the phone who was trying
to overcharge me 20 bucks a month at first, then down to 10.  I said no, someone
else just last week told me what the price was.  They didn't know shit.
     I went to the store and the phone guy hooked me up in one minute.
     I don't want to get all hung up on phones, though, so i'm hanging up for tonight,
and I'll call you next week, and we'll hang out some more.
    

Post- Apocketoflips

Continuation from wherever this was left off, leaving you hanging out
on a cliff (I wouldn't do that)-

     Schemes of new album orchestrations and malfunctions are now
underway.  Several tracks have now been recorded and now I (we)
are stacking tracks like Jenga and hoping it won't fall down in a
trainwreck (not Bloody likely).  I'm from Oklahoma, but I'll say
"bloody" anyway.  OK, not UK.

     October and November are the two months of the year when I'm
alive- the rest of the year I'm dead and speaking from the grave.  Don't
take that literally- In January, February, I'm stranded and freezing.
In March, I'm being born, in April, I'm learning, May, I'm loving but
running from tornadoes and other deathly gestures, June, July, August,
I'm melting but returning to my origin in a pool of cool- Sept. I'm leaving,
Oct., Nov. I'm alive, Dec. I'm indoors by a fire waiting to die and be
reborn and repeat the cycle, making plans and living and dying in the
moment.

      So Falltime is recordingtime and I hope to have a new album soon-
It's already been 5 months since we put out Make Out The Sound- 5 months
is too long- forever ago!  (All of the world is a joke, especially the music world,
taking itself seriously)

      Why do musicians become obsessed with recording their music?  There's songs
from the vaults waiting to have some light and fresh air shed on them as well as new
ones, that have never been performed with anyone or properly produced, and now
that is the motion put forth.  However, no stress in the end as far as recording- Mozart,
Beethoven, Bach, all of these fellows never recorded music, did they?

      I've been driving through these spread-out American cities from OKC to L.A. and
all around the west, and I'm longing for an Old World city to walk around with windy
little roads and alleys and curves and loops to go get lost.  Let's start building more
American New World cities like these old time cities and walk around-  at least a few
more over here this way.  It can take three hours easy to go 10 miles in L.A. and most
of these cars you look at jampacked along the road have one person in them.  And I
look at the Hollywood sign and I think oh it's a foggy morning then I realize no, this
is smog- the Smog of your Dreams.  Smog Magic.
      We got a parking ticket there, but since I'm contesting it for no extra fee (playing dumb), it has a 90 day hold on it.  Before, I've called places and asked if I could have my parking ticket expunged, because there wasn't a sign you could readily read, and abracadabra it worked, a few times.
      Some things come in threes, or clusters, because we were at a house party briefly and though it wasn't me, one of us saw W. Lips sitting on the back porch and thought, what a poser, trying to look like him, and as it turned out it was him.  So a few blocks down, we decided that was enough, and we went back to ask him if he really was Wayne Brady?  Didn't we see you on Whose Line Is It Anyway?  But he was gone.  Vamoose.  Then we were, too, and none of us were any of us anymore exactly like we were before.


  

3 Weeks and 6,000 Miles of Bug Guts

         Got back some days ago from that home on wheels.

An episode yesterday (I'm attempting to write these earlier

in the week now so everything isn't rushed and pressured),

and this I didn't realize until after I was in the parking lot:

I had 2 encounters with 2 famous Wayne's in 6 days. 

Looked up in a coffee shop and there was Wayne Coyne of

the Flaming Lips almost sitting next to me, talking to some googly-eyed girl.  

A few feet away, he stirred his coffee and went on his merry

way.  We looked at each other for a second, and I'd been 

debating about introducing myself, or what I'd have to say, but

schmoozing's not really my specialty, so I just said an old-fashioned

"How's it going?" but he didn't seem to hear me, maybe all those loud concerts.

Or maybe he did and replied and I didn't hear him.

I met with Matt McCleary after this on a patio cafe, and he laughed aloud

and said it sounded like a SNL skit.  "So you didn't say anything a second time

because you feel stupid."

    The other one was Wayne Brady on his Hollywood game show, Let's

Make A Deal.  Something about Wayne Brady, when you mention his name,

people just chuckle. McCleary said I should've asked Wayne Coyne, "Hey,

are you Wayne Brady?"  

    Close encounters of the third kind- close encounters of the Weird Kind.
    A few days later I ran across him again.
    Oops. Time is precious and short- I'm writing a story right now and also working
on a new album.  I'm hoping to do 2 albums a year.

---

Oh all you beautiful women with your loser lovers,
You struggling, fed-up men with your needy, whiny females
I am a spirit that floats in the air
All you ugly people with immaculate hearts
You mediocres with little drive
To you who think you own the land
when you didn't even build your own house
To those who sleep on sidewalks
Eventually, to all
Don't let money or no money get you down
Breathe the sky
It's yours for the taking
Don't be afraid to be too nice
or to step on the right person's toes
This is some kind of war
Money and "careers" is why
we're all rich, in between and poor
Let's rethink
Let's relearn
Let's start rebuilding our world from the ground up.


So if I start spouting such idealistic, so-called unrealistic talk
are they going to call me socialistic and balk?


These notes from the Studonym flow freely through the air.
Some of the most fun in life I've had was being a loser- reminds
me of Smells Like Teen Spirit- oh, so it's the 20th anniversary of
Nevermind.  Oh, well, whatever, nevermind.

Not too sure blogging is really my style.  It's hard enough to do one thing
well, on top of that, do another one well.  Or juggling 10 or more different
things it's easy to get sloppy or not be wholly efficient but for some reason I'm
mad-set for fulfilling a Tuesday deadline unto myself.

Tuesdays can be fun, boring or be the blues, or they can be filled with Notes From the Studonym.

Our only problems are usually just not having enough time.

At any rate, back from the West, working on putting together a tour of the Eastern seaboard.

Must take actions, regardless, or we become dull and stagnant, or, if you're a talented daydreamer, then I guess it's a different story.  It's difficult at times summing up universal truths in a single quotable sentence.  Maybe I should just quit writing and listen to sounds.

If you hear all different sides of an argument, how do you make a point?  Except by saying, what is IS.  One time we discussed the concept of Isism.  And my being needs rest.

-----

Heading to L.A.

It was sunny and blue without a cloud in the sky in San Fran most of the time and further

on down the coast, but then we drove through a blanket of fog and were a snake of cars stuck behind a truck so have gone a little over 200 miles in 7 hours. Nice scenery of course but lousy timing and unfortunately booking through third party internet sources disenables a person to simply change a hotel room to a closer room along a highway because it's “out of their hands” or the system is always just a bit too stupid or you can't get a refund so tired travelers either travel tired or lose money. Another strike for impersonal technologically advanced communication of modern times. Oh well...

Now zipping along typing on a highway, some pig-looking thing or short warthog or dog

or what ran out in front of us and thankfully made it scot free. Will post again, just wanted

to make a Tues. letter happen and say hello, we're pulling over and getting gas right now and

sending this off from a Mickey D's.

XXX

Jimmy The Gingerbread Man-

Jimmy the Gingerbread Man,

red hot cinnamon buttons

and icing cuffs,

wanted some candy, late at night,

so he took a bite

one by one

of his cinnamon

button

until suddenly he was full and done

Then looked down with candied eyes

and let out a gasp of surprise

He was naked, he'd eaten his clothes

spared his eyes, but even munched his nose

He was a piece of nude food

Now how he felt so intently

that life was fleeting

especially when you can't stop eating

yourself

All the other cookies on the shelf

laughed and pointed and taunted

and little Jimmy felt haunted and kooky

showing off his dough felt spooky

So he devised a plan he would hatch out of the jar

at 5 till midnight and seek

goodies ornaments and decorations from a cabinet

So he laid 'neath a cookie sheet

silently counting the hours

He didn't know how good of a climber he was

or if he could really open a door

but suddenly the light shone in

the lid was ajar

and into the eyes of a cookie monster

all of them stared frozen,

a freckled fatty of twelve

began a massacre of the dessert shelves

A few unfortunate ones were immediately devoured

by the hungry human that towered,

but that monster must not've liked the taste

of gingerbread he swallowed in haste

and so he picked and plucked off their buttons

sucked and chewed them down,

licked off their icing

and left them there,

naked and free,

no one dared to laugh or throw a jibe

for they were all as one in their Gingerbread Tribe.

(started a few weeks ago in Belle Isle, OKC,

finished 2:55 pm, Seattle, WA)

Rolling through Boulder

        Sitting in a spot called the Laughing Goat right now in Boulder, CO.  I'll keep this quick, because we're on the go.  But first, I'd like to say that we went on a 6 1/2 mile hike up a mountain to the Continental Divide yesterday afternoon, and when I paused to catch a breath and get a drink of water, I turned around and even though we were both wearing sunglasses, I a hat, he a bandanna, we recognized each other immediately and called out each other's name.  It was Dane Pryce, a neighborhood friend of mine who grew up down the street from me.  We ran around the neighborhood trails in elementary school with the other kids, and a friend recently asked me about him, but no one seemed to know what had happened to him.  It's been probably 12 or more years since I've seen or talked to him.  So we walked up a mountain together, and they went ahead to race the storm clouds and eventual coming of the dark, for they were camping through the night. Tonight is his going away party in Boulder, for he's heading to Brooklyn the next day.

    I remember him being around a thick, mossy pond when the neighborhood kids were pushing each other in, and I can't remember if he was on the giving or receiving end of the pushing.  A caravan of us went to a concert together and about 15 of us got stuck in an elevator, crammed together for what felt like 15 minutes.  Just random memories.

     We're headed to downtown Denver to play tonight, then we'll be on our way to play in Portland on the 10th.   If you or someone you know is around any of these towns, including Seattle, San Francisco or Santa Fe, come on out.  Check these show dates here for directions, times, etc.  

      There's a new facebook page entitled:  www.facebook.com/thegardes  We're late on making a page there.

        I keep thinking the guy sitting at the table to my right is Mel Gibson.  I heard a story yesterday how Bill Murray walked into a restaurant in New York one time and everyone quietly watched him, and then when he left, he picked up a fry from a guy's plate, dipped it in ketchup, took a bite and told the guy, "No one will ever believe you."

      P.S. Nevermind he just walked behind the coffee counter.  Well, no one seems to have heard from him in a while, and he is an actor...