Tour Chicks

It’s a rainy saturday afternoon and I’ve done all the apartment cleaning one can possibly do within a 5 hour stretch; a good time for a trip down memory lane:

It was the summer of 99′, Bill Clinton’s library was but a faint idea, GWBush was on the 12-step program, Lionel Jospin was still popular in France, and one of the fastest rising NJ Ska bands of the third wave set off on the longest tour of their 3-year history. I remember it well:

I was entering the third year on my undergrad career, and One Cool Guy’s first EP was selling like hotcakes in the NY/NJ area. They never really told me the specifics about how much money was made or what was sold, all I know is that thousands of CD’s and a countless amounts of shirts had been sold. I myself couldn’t even get my hands on each of the different screenprints.

We set out from Jersey with one goal: to have a hell of alot of fun. OH yeah, and play music, promote the album, and reach new fans bla bla bla. And so we did, with the usual trials and tribulations: Being unable to find Athens, Georgia. Having a Gainesville, FL show moved to a Radical Bookstore, playing some sort of abandoned barn in whatevertown, Indiana. I can remember all 10 of us staying with some teenage fans house in south Florida. The mother made us brownies I think. I distinctly remember thinking “OK, nobody break any laws tonight.” Having found a corner to put my air-mattress, I was easing off to sleep, when a little girl stood over me smiling like I’m her new pet goldfish. “Goodnight” I said, pulling the blanket over my head. “Goodnight” she responded, I’m not sure how long she stood there watching me sleep. I awoke to find some other teenage girl with a backpack on, who greeted me with a cheery “goodmorning” as she went off to – i guess- summerschool.

But there were moments that still to this day leave me with a huge smile and sense of satisfaction: Arriving in Palm Beach (or something like that) and sitting on the dock of a canal with the horns, jamming like we own the state while the neighbors seemed to stop everything to listen. Or stopping along the highway to watch the Sunrise in Tennessee with Dan Skatalite, while the other guys slept in the back of Red Leader and Gold Dust, our legendary vans. I’ll never forget playing at a Laundromat in Cincinnati where my darling, Willie Nelson’s daughter, came to see us. And the best memory of all, returning home to NJ to a sold out crowd of enthusiastic fans at the Palace in BoundBrook.

Almost five years later, here I sit, trying to retrieve the memories from that cobwebby part of my mind. Scanning old photos. Making plans to see the boys when I’m in Jersey next month. Hell, I even got fanmail this week, ain’t that some shit?

I swear I meant to tell this story better, with more illustration, but in the end it’s one of those things that, well, you had to be there. And even then, you wouldn’t have believed it.

Today’s Sounds: Zero 7 – When it Falls

And I feel fine

What will the end of the world look like? I mean.. the initial day, if you look at the sky, what color and things will you see?

What I love about this city is that there is always at least one day in the week where I wake up, look outside, see giant baseballs of hale, black angry clouds, and a junky flying away on a broom, and I think: Yeah… could be today. And then I go grab a bowl of Fruit and Fiber and a banana. Cause shit, I want to start off end of the world day with a healthy breakfast.

As I was cooking my specialty last night, in honor of Jamie’s last night, we were talking about forms of government. The Netherlands is a type of constitutional monarchy, like the UK, and so the Royals handle most of the symbolic handshakes and ribbon cutting. Plus they keep the tabloids in business. On the other hand, I’m a fan of the republic system, as in Portugal, where the president is mostly symbolic and runs around like he’s everyone’s dad. Thus leaving the PM to be the national asshole; yelling in Parliament (toiletpaper… toiletpaper in our time!) and on executive decisions. We both agreed that the US system, despite being a type if republic, is a drag. The pres has to make all the photo ops and empty speeches, while presumably also handling the bill signing and vetoing, etc. In the end, spending more time on one or the other, how can he/she be good at either one? They can’t. It would nicer, at the very least, if the VP handled the executive tasks, while the pres ran around kissing babies and foreign leaders. Considering the current duo in the white house, this might -unfortunately- already be the case.

Anyhoo… there goes Jamie, off to NYC via Munich, and I didn’t even get a photo of us together. Oooh photos, have I mentioned how much I love Flickr? Mostly thanks to Jill/txt I’m spending alot of time fiddling with FLickr, and I recommend it to all of you. (how bout that photobox in my left tab, nice eh?)

Today’s Sounds: Howard Stern on WJFK (DC)

Black Actors

This subject has been floating around my atmosphere for the past week or so: racism and hate. So if you’re michael powell and seeing a woman’s ankle offends you, skip this post and consider resigning like your father, and stop HURTING the world.

The first part of this concerns the comical and potentially offensive “black petes” who do all of Dutch Santa Claus’s dirty work.(and they have weblogs!) All the newbies in Amsterdam are always shocked by this, but I am not, and that’s not what I’m here to discuss today. What interests me is how Americans react and what this reaction means:

Pardon the generalization friends, but it is most commonly Americans who have trouble seeing white people dress in black face, red lipstick, jerry-curl hair, and big gold hoop earings, in order to give candy to children who are screaming “PETE PETE PETE PETE” in adoration. Dutch people think nothing of it, they grew up with it, they’ll defend Piet’s painted black-ass to the end. Americans see it as offensive-imitating another race, and that this character is effectively a slave for old-white Sinter Klas. Of course the inevitable Piet revolution is already being televised.

But wait, there’s a part two:

During a friendly-match in Spain, against England last night, fans started chanting racist slogans towards black players like Ashley Cole and Shaun Wright-Phillips. Much like the Lazio fans in Rome are infamous for harassing the shit out of non-white players. And then FIFA comes out with all these statements about how it is unacceptable, and shocking, “in this day and age.”

Each of these stories keep resurfacing in different ways. And all I keep thinking is, does it matter? I mean, are Americans less racist because they’re so much more concerned with not doing anything overtly racist? Would Spanish or Italian fans be less racist if they showed up to matches and behaved themselves? Underneath it all, aren’t all these cultures seemingly hiding the fact that they are no further evolved then they were 50 or 100 years ago?

I suppose if I had to choose between the two, I’d rather live in a world that was only secretly racist, rather then publicly proud of its racism. But the truth is, both scenarios suck anyway. Was in not dostoevsky who said “The level of evolution of a society can be seen by the conditions at its football matches.”

One more thing that kind of sucks, but in a nice way, Jamie of the Known Universe is set to return to the people’s republic to brooklyn tomorrow. I will miss his Amsterdam blogging and his presence in the city.

Today’s Sounds: Bill Frisell – The Willies

Eat and Spread Gossip

Popped in at the office of my communication research ladies for gossip and a sandwich. Food and gossip go together, don’t they? I find myself searching for food when there isn’t any around, and inventing gossip when I don’t have any. I tallied one caprese sandwich, one bag of paprika chips, 2 steamy affairs, a fist fight, and a pair of illegitimate children to boot. Gotta keep my comm reseach ladies entertained, otherwise their research alone will lead them to MADNESS. — one step beyond.

Brace yourself, I’m about to nerd out on Fantasy Basketball. Why? Because my golden child, the chosen one, the Puerto Rican dream, IS BACK. Yes, Carlos Arroyo played some minutes for the Utah Jazz after being injured SINCE FOREVER. But I never gave up on him, I kept his hobbly ass on the bench, keeping the faith. And now it will pay off, my whole lineup is inspired and logging big points lately. Being the proud fantasy coach that I am, I’m making virtual cupcakes for each of them, and Carlos gets extra icing.

Speaking of Utah… what’s with that state? What are the mormon rules again: don’t touch technology on saturday, don’t advertize beer, send your young males to Europe in bad suits and lame name tags. Something like that?

Someone call the state of NJ and urge them to take it easy with the amount of visitors they send me in one week. To her credit, this one is going to expense-account me a dinner. Tibetan here I come!

Today’s Sounds: Off the Wall on WUSB Stoneybrook, from last night. www.2600.com

Hi Neighbor

The dutch waitress with the cleavage revealing shirt returned to our table with a single glass of a golden liquid none of us had ordered. She leaned over slowly to give anyone interested a show, and placed the glass securely in front of NoCoins. She said in her cute dutch accent: “Since it’s your last night in Amsterdam, this is sort-of typical dutch and compliments of the house.” The man, my friend since the early days of high school, gave her a huge smile and thanked her for her kindness. We ordered some snacks, and sat there doing a combination of reminiscing and deep reflection on human relationships. Viola, the last night in Amsterdam for two of my favorite people.

Part of what keeps me connected to folks like this, and people scattered around the world, is of course blogging. I think most of us know that we are a community here, made up of writers, readers, critics, fans, or simply browsers, who pop-in randomly. Part of the beauty and richness of such a community is that it is completely open to anyone who is interested. You may decide not to comment, but you’re still part of it, you’re a reader and you’re forming opinions in your head, regardless if you share them or not. This creates a unique bond, blog readers and writers, because we know each other without knowing each other, and regardless of if nothing here is true, or not. Beyond that, through posts and comments, arguments and discussions, agreements and disagreements, we form new opinions or re-enforce old ones, collectively – so-to-speak.

Why the hell am I dwelling on this point, you’re wondering? Perhaps because next week I shall meet with an important someone from the Amsterdam School of Cultural Analysis about my forever pending PhD plan. More likely, it’s because I was thinking about Mathemagenic’s paper/post on weblogs like buildings in a city, and communities emerging between the buildings, in the public spaces that aren’t clearly defined.

Keeping with that metaphor, and in the spirit of lameness, I’d like to think of myself sitting on the stoops of my blog, chatting with the neighborhood wiseman Brian, or with the girl-next-door the deconstructionist. And then there are the new neighbors on the block, like WinterofDiscontent or HelpyChalk, who might come over for a barbecue and chat about politics or parenthood. If it was a really good night, professor B and xTx might walk over from their blog-buildings and join us. Later we would all toast to Colin Powell for packing up his white vials of powder, and exiting stage left, along with his pathetic colleagues in Energy, Education, and Commerce. Come to think of it, there would be more bloggers than I can possibly list here hangin out on the front stoops. Still… I can see it now, my own shiny, happy, sim-blog-city.

Today’s Sounds: The Shins – Chutes too Narrow

Santa Arrives

Woke up this morning feeling just as hazy as last night, yet somehow I did everything I’m supposed to do on monday morning. Struggling through the morning, trying not to make eye contact with anyone because they’ll see the tired eyes. I’m pretty sure I dotted all my I’s and crossed all the T’s, but I’ll be damned if I remember half the conversations I had this morning at work. At some point as the employees wandered into the kitchen, all the ladies we’re standing their reading each other’s palms. Like an amused toddler I held out my palm as if to say “read mine.. read mine!” They barely seemed to notice me, and I thought “make your mat? kid, and get out of here before you say something stupid.” Note to self: Sunday nights should never be mistaken for Friday nights.

So with its mountains of opium, Afghanistan has now become the world’s leading narco state. Move over Colombia, there’s a new junky in town! I’ve been reading the Afghanistan Watch blog and I was looking at photos of the plant in this week’s Parool Magazine, man is that a pretty flower, no wonder they grow it – makes an otherwise grey landscape look dreamy. “The hills are alive, with the scent of opium!”

Went browsing Harper’s Magazine, Znet, and American Prospect, which I haven’t done in a while. At Harper’s I finally read the article on how to become an expat. (not that I don’t already know from experience) At Znet I was engrossed in Robert Fisk’s piece on Arafat and the interview with my professor and friend-for-life Steve Shalom about parapolitics. He used to urge me to write something for ZNET, and somehow my lazy ass never did, opting instead to stick to blogging only.

Ms Thingk handed me a lovely gift today, the Garden State Soundtrack, which I’m loving. This will have to hold me over until the movie finally arrives in the NL. Zach Braf, director/actor/blogger, recently announced on his garden state blog that its now available on DVD.

Today’s Sounds: Off the Hook – www.2600.com