So Serious.

The Only Reason Why I Have This Space Anymore Is To Follow This


"enjoy."

there's also this.

www.bronxcheer.tumblr.com

get live.

recent rundown: new band in the works, still working way too much, car is still a money pit, records still get got, new acupuncture treatments have been leaving me insanely gassy.

Full In The Waist.

"Dude, we have to go to Alice's" enthused Claire. "It's the best place for Karaoke in the city!"

I met Claire about 7 years ago... I was instantly smitten; I loved her style, her wit and how kind she was. Little did I know my daily trips into her restaurant to grab some pre-work coffee would lead to one of my closest relationships since moving here. We've helped each other through break-ups, life changes, personal growth, and we've had a goddamn blast doing it.

So, yes...sometimes we go out and belt some numbers. Arriving at Alice's I realized I had been there before. In 2006, Steve Spataro and I drove (well, Spataro drove, I threw money around and thanked him endlessly) from Plattsburgh, NY to Chicago. My mom passed away in '05 and Steve helped me move a bunch of my mom's furniture to Chicago that was in storage. When we got to Chicago--after two grueling days on the road (thrown off by a massive snow-storm on Superbowl Sunday...that's a whole other story) we dropped the truck off at the rental location. I figured while waiting for a cab, we'd celebrate at the bar across the street, but the fact that we had to buzz-in to gain entrance (and I'm sure being fried from the trip) bugged Spataro out and he quickly dashed a potential cheers to our return.

4 years later, back at it and yeah we had to be buzzed in; the bar was way too well-lit, and quiet. We had to wait an hour before the karaoke started. We drank quietly, while a woman at the end of the bar made her presence known with loud obscenities and the malaise of the public school system. An hour later the bar was packed and we were cheering strangers on... Claire sang "You're So Vain" and I went with my token "Boys Are Back In Town" complete with a shout-out to the bar we were in. While watching a gang of young adults sing "Blister In The Sun" I remarked that the brunette "Had a good look." She was curvy, confidant, looked happy, and had a modicum of punk rock to her. Claire says "Yeah she's cute... full in the waist"

Full. In. The. Waist.

I love Claire's brain; its rich and well connected and she has the most finely tuned bullshit detector on the planet. She's also the only person I'll listen to when it comes to health and diet changes. She does acupuncture and eastern medicine... she got me on a diet wherein I lost 40 pounds. In May, it'll be two years since I drank a glass of milk. I've lost about 40 pounds since going on this diet. I feel like I've plateaued, but I still work with it, and try my best.

I have my bouts with self image...maybe more than most 34 year old white men. There are good days, and bad days but I try to not let it get the best of me. The winter is hard...vegetables aren't as enticing as they are in the summer, comfort food is really nice, holidays allow people to fuck off with the gluttony of Romans. Its great, but I could not stop thinking I gained all of the weight I lost.

Then something happens like having to have your suit taken in because you have a formal event coming up and the suit you have makes you look like David Byrne circa "Stop Making Sense." So now, I have a nice fitting suit, and I'm less full in the waist (maybe just a little bit.)

Right now, Claire is in Chicago's best Power-Trio, "Hot Air." They have a podcast... they're all funny, talented women and I want to gnaw all of their brains.

Claire plays bass in Hot Air.

Motor Away.

I think it was August/September of 2002. I was at a party at Camp Gay. I wasn't playing records, but I was dancing... I think a band played, but JR Nelson definitely selected some cuts after the band finished... I think we talked about how vicious the JB's were.

Camp Gay is a hair salon now; I've been there twice since to get a haircut, and never once thought about that. Never once thought about Sam Axelrod insisting I play KARP before The Narrator went on stage one night. How I had to take the bus with all my records AND a mixer to the party, only to knock on the door of a man who was presumably a drug dealer (there's an art-gallery THERE now, natch.) How we--Spataro, Barron and myself--rode home in the breeze of a pick-up truck talking about Silkworm.

While the lady cut my hair, I didn't once think about that evening in August (or September.) How there was a dream-boat on the stairs that I eyed moments after moving to Chicago. How I said "we should go out on a date when you get back from your vacation." How she agreed, how I leaned in for a hug and burned her friend with my cigarette. Or how I turned around while walking away to say goodbye to said dreamboat, I tangled my ankle and hit the ground like a bag of cement. She giggled, I shucked it off like it was nothing, and limped home. Occasionally, there will be a misstep in my walk, and it will trigger the limp.

Since taking up a bartending gig, I've fucked my body up in numerous ways. I have deep bruise that runs down my entire right shin, from tripping forward over a couch in the dark; i've acquired dozens of cuts/scars and match-stick burns on my fingers. I've hit my head on the low ceilings in the basement cooler... at the studio, I've turfed out turning a corner while carrying a drum kit; in recreation I've spilled off the bike, stepped on box-cutters, and fallen off stages.

Nothing stays in Chicago, its counter-culture maps have all been burned in the name of big business or real-estate. The story is like so many stories, and all we have to save it is the personal (and sometimes physical) marks it leaves on us.

"Nice N' Slow..."

this is basically going to be an exercise for me. Herein I intend to rebuild my chops as a writer, recounting stories from my past and present life. Undulating arrogance, awful jokes, pictures of my cat, pictures of whatever I'm watching, and songs that set the table will be in tow as well.

Last year, I bought a moleskin planner, and I never once cracked it; I'm hoping I can do better here.