After a Long Winter’s, Spring’s, Summer’s… er Slumber

“The dust and the mess of our mornings,
Promise that we’ll never quit
So drunk, though our hands surely woven
Entire fleets of staggering ships…
Now our ships line the floors of the ocean,
And the oceans breaching on the ridge,
And the terrified dreams of our wanderings
That once lit our way are now hid…

We want punks in the palace
‘Cause punks got the loveliest dreams

And our gang is liquored and lovely,
And smart and sweet and lean,
And burn with a curious flame
That spits and kicks and shines
And trumpets the labor of waking and trying

There ain’t none – sometimes there is
Banged and bitter – but cling to it
Power’s the province of miserable pricks
There ain’t none but sometimes there is…

Policemen in parallel lines
Blind! Blind! Blind!
The broken bones of quivering pines while
Empty waters rise…

And the light of our striving still shines!
Blind! Blind! Blind!
May the light of our striving still shine
And may the light of our striving still shine…

Love the horse or leave the horse,
Love the horse or leave the horse,
Lover oh lover oh lover oh lover…

Some ! hearts ! are ! true ! Some ! hearts ! are ! true ! Some ! hearts ! are ! true !

Ahoy ! Ye bland plump boys
Go tear wings for vainful gain
Our home made choirs, like forest fires,
Hiss ‘neath golden rain
And slip the leash and the chain,
And slip the leash and the chain –
Cause some hearts are true
But some hearts aren’t hardly true
But some hearts are true…”

BW… Some Hearts are True….

BLINDBLINDBLIND by A Silver Mt. Zion

Just another from the Trash Bin……

Well… not as exciting as perhaps my last (my spleen and kidneys agree) but have to say that this one ranks because it forced me to step outside of my comfort zo.. oh.. you know what I mean… My sub-gracious exit from my job at that “major” Investment Bank.

Leaving that hole opened me up to a world where I sleep at night and think that maybe I am doing something good for the world. Regardless of my culpability or responsibility, I am happy that I parted ways from ________ and now am on the path of doing something that is recognized in a bigger theater.

Tossing the Baby out With the Bathwater…..

So people are wrapping up the year and a memorable one it’s been. I won’t say that this year has been all shits and giggles but with ups and downs, a lot of lessons have been learned. Below is one of my fav asshole moments of 07

So over the Summer, I was with my betrothed (yes, some dashing young princess has elected to call the amazing SOVA her own) visiting family in North Carolina. Now mind you, it’s the middle of a hot East Coast Summer, eclipsing 102-103 degrees every day (with 99.98% humidity no less). Lucky you SOVA, lucky you. Anyhow, through a random act of family kindness, we found ourselves lodging at some hotel in assville N.C.. It was nice, at least by North Carolina standards, and as we were pulling up, I noticed a gaggle of college co-eds (mostly blondes) running into the hotel. Lucky you SOVA, luck you. Not just a few, mind you, but 20-30 girls, adorned in their matching Victoria Secret “Pink” shorts, which they were not afraid to offer sponsorship across their asses.

Came to find out that there was some sort of Sadie Hawkins dance going on or something of that nature. Whatever I mused to myself as the ass paraded by. The day went on leading to a still blistering hot night and it was time to turn in as I had taken a red eye and had been sleep deprived for 20 some odd hours. Properly medicated with a cocktail of downers, I was able to beat the heat and pass out.

What felt like twenty minutes (but in reality was a few hours) later, my girl screams and I sit up at attention, shaking off the heroin like coma I self induced just a few hours previous. She’s standing at the door, looking at me, saying: “There is a guy trying to break into our room!” I get up and move to the door carefully as the hinge lock is still attached, allowing me to see the perp trying to stick his hands in the door.

My gal moves to the other side of our luxury palace and I tell the guy (who is wasted by the way-duh) that he is trying to get into the wrong room. “Blah Blah Blah (insert jibberish here), no I’m not, let me in,” was his response. This goes on for a minute or two and I realize the guy isn’t going to quit. He’s taller than me, which isn’t saying too much (I’m an overbearing 5’9) but thinner. So I think to myself that he’s not much of a threat. I undo the latch to the door and as I open it, the kid puts a shoulder into the door and barrels in, knocking me into a counter and lacerating my back. At this point, SOVA becomes perturbed and proceeds to bend the young lad in half (backwards) until he snaps to the floor. Oh the joys of being on downers… I believe Dennis on IASIP refers to it as “Retard Strength.” I strategically place my knee on the kids windpipe and as he turns purple I contemplate beating him.

SOVA refrains.

However, by this point, my gal has called security and they come to pick his pieces up off the ground. It’s at this point that the young sport realized that maybe he wasn’t in the right room (in fact the room he was looking for was exactly one floor below ours). While the story isn’t that funny, the amusing part comes later as security ushers the kid downstairs to the “right” room to throw everyone out. The perp (such a lame word but whatevs…), now somewhat conscious, is now making threats to the security agent that his father knows Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s attorney and we are all “in for it.”

Here’s the hook: The police officer, who had arrived on the scene, replied to the well heeled stud, “I don’t care if you know Johnny Cochran, you’re going to jail!” Mind you, Johnny had been quite dead for a spell (see, I’m in my N.C. zone right now) and didn’t have much to do with rebutting the poor, jailbound, drunkie.

Lesson: Stay away from NC. It blows. I pissed blood for a week.

And Like the Sands Through the Hourglass…..

That’s what things are like right now. I think its tough to blog when you spend 20 hours a day with your head in a book. Doesn’t really give you the opportunity to experience much and therefore blog it but I was sitting back yesterday (for roughly 28.5 seconds) and I began to think of SOVA’s 10 greatest hits of 2007. Over the next few days I will reflect on the 10 most bizarre, life-changing, nerve-racking, and blissful moments of the year and that should fill in the gaps until I come up for air.

I hope you all had a fab Thanksgiving….

I’m SOVA, till death do us part.

Comme ci Comme ca

You know it was dark at 4:30 today? There’s so much I’d love to write but I’m a bit constrained these days. Nothing worse than a nasty attitude only to be subdued by a Hannibal Lecter mask. I can however quip at Barry Diller’s amazing racket with TicketMenstral.. er Master. Went to buy A. Bird tix and saw that for the low low price of another A. Bird ticket was the aggregate fees from TicketMaster. Amazing. Funny how TM charges you 2.50 to print your own tickets at home! I hope a  Ticket (insert any name here) hops in and rips the rug out from under these guys. Then again, maybe I’m gonna go buy a Prius and save a tree at the same time.  What is wrong with me? Its like the reverse Hulk effect. SOVA’s dashing capitalist cape is tearing at the seams. Nah. Couldn’t be.

Youre Next Audrey….. Day 3- The Mentor Gets Mauled

So last chapter, we left an anxious young SOVA going solo with Lily- A night filled with a great dinner, a hetero-flexible Say Hi concert (sprinkled with a dash of hillbilly) and finally fresh out of a Nigerian’s cab with a clean 20 dollar bill, compliments of some Chicago drunkard who was saying to him/herself “Where the fuck did that 20 go?”. One would posit good luck for the strapping jr. alcoholic. Oh kiddies, how right and how wrong. In fact, it still amazes me a week later how so right could be so wrong. The following Saturday has become a timeless event, kind of like the hand prints of Zsa Zsa Gabor on the walk of fame. Yes, very ugly, but still very cool. I felt pretty shitty for the obvious reasons (if necessary, refer to chapters 1 & 2) and was informed by Lily that her kidneys would not let her go out and play at the Do Make Say Think concert that night (which btw is the reason why I have the damn poster up). At the time of her announcement, it seemed that my attendance was in question as well. But, being the tough boy scout that I am, I pulled it together to make a mission of seeing DMST.Audrey informed me of her plans to rendez-vous downtown with pals so I intercepted her on the eL and we were off like Batman and Robin. We fought evil in the damndest of places. Audrey bitchslapped a hippie environmentalist back up the tree he was trying to save, I bummed a cig from a bum and we crusaded mightier and louder than any Christian could ever boast.Enter shit bar. Drink. Drink more. Drink ourselves silly. Smack. Bite. Fight. Laugh. All an exercise in training for the Caped Crusaders. Suddenly, any vital organ of mine was further in hiding than Osama himself. Enter little bit nicer shit bar next door (yes, that’s how blasted we were, we couldn’t make it but next door).Demanding the table in the window, Audrey and I took it to the next level. Ribs, faces, arms, hands…. There was nothing off limits. We humored two pseudo market mavens who scoffed at my inability to commit to “blood diamonds” for Audrey’s ears. They happened to believe that the violence being displayed by the two of us could only be the product of a deep love shared by a couple. Nah. However, the bar manager was not so happy with our Gitmo style form of smitten-ness and for the most part threw us out of the bar. I guess Chicago isn’t so rough and tumble in the end. Whatever. It was approaching show time anyways (not that I had any idea of what time it was) so I thought I would persuade Audrey to walk to the Metro from the bar. Little did I know that it was a shorter walk to Toepeka, Kansas than the Metro. We walked and walked, and walked, and fucking walked. I whizzed (supposedly) at oncoming voyeurs who probably have nightmares to this day and stumbled my way towards Mecca, I mean Metro. At some point I lost my co-star in “A History of Violence, pt. 2” but I am sure I probably tried to persuade her to have my offspring, or at least go to the show with me. Showtime. I made it to the Metro. The walk did not in fact sober me up. I was wasted. I saw a bit of Apostle Hustle and for the most part they were alright. However, a feral cat in my pants would have been alright at this juncture. I did sober up though when the band that made my trip came on stage. I had missed them in SF but they didn’t get away this time. The set was absolutely amazing. Breathtaking at that. The horn solo (which if you know me I always talk about this) in the middle of Reitschule almost made me cry. So complex, so sad, so hopeful, so painful. Amazing. The folks at baebelmusic filmed a DMST show earlier in the year in NY. Check out their footage of Reitschule here. It is really, really awesome. I was sad that neither of the Twins of Sin were with. But I am very happy to say that I saw the show and have something to remember it by. I will add a side note. At one point in the show I was sitting down on the balcony floor. It sounded good at the time. My eyes were closed as DMST isn’t much of a groovy type band. More of a peyote type band. I security guard came up and gave me the tap: “Hey!! Are you okay!!!” Just a funny side note. I nodded and continued to soak in one of the best shows I have ever seen.  All in all, it was a pretty fantastic weekend. I had some issues arise on Sunday that aren’t necessary to dig into but all I can say is “Wow.” Thank you Audrey and Lily. You will always hold a special part of my heart.

Have the Manatees Become the Mentos? Day 2

….. and then on a chilly autumn Chicago morning, the Twins of Sin walked out of the door and down the street. Wait, with my bank card! Well, not that I didn’t trust them, and not that I had a lot of money in the account (I’m much more Amex friendly). Lily was very cute, looking at me, blue donuts and all… “SOVA. I will take out 40$” “It’s ok” I replied.

So that was the first day. I walked back into my place, my spleen had engulfed my kidneys and my liver had decided to join the fray by going on strike. It was a new exciting day in Chicago and yet I laid down & passed out. So after a few hours of sleep, I was dying for something to eat. Texting back and forth with Lily yielded our next excursion… food. We were going to the Say Hi concert that night so I guess it made sense to actually eat something. Lily was over in a flash (an hour long flash) and we see-sawed our way off to a little Italian restaurant around the way. It was cute, as it always is with Lily. She’s so uncomfortable in her skin which is fucking crazy because she is everything you would want in a woman. Well read, beautiful, awkward, and maladjusted. I can’t specifically speak for all of my readers, but if you read this (like a surprising many of you do) then you are probably a bit damaged too. So Lily and I sit in the restaurant, drink a decent Zin, shoot the shit, and for the most part let the ether do the rest of the communicating. I for the most part try to be the sounding board and hope Lily provides the sounds. For the most part, she does. Game, Set, Match. Lily’s drunk…. again and we are off to the Concert.

Lily explains in the cab that the bar/club, Subterranean, is in a nuvo-art fag, quasi chic, part of Chicago. Sounds like a somewhat immature version of an immature Williamsburg, Brooklyn (which by the way I will always give props to for being home to Kokies in the late 90’s!). While being a bit busier and in the earlier phases of gentrification, the scene was right on. The opening band, The A-Sides were okay. A little too neo-country for me, but I knew that Lily was into that Boot Scootin’ type stuff so I stood pat. They actually have one catchy song, “We’re the Trees,”  that will probably give them traction. (Side Note: As I just went to iTunes to find the song “We’re the Trees,” it is the most popular ranked song)  And then there was The Velvet Teen……..

The description of “Two whales raping each other” would not do justice to the agonizing sounds coming from what I thought were supposed to be instruments. I’m not old, yet when I would listen to the lead singer (who by the way sounded like he was the lead singer from Rush) I would question if it was time to stop going out and start listening to Wagner. The fact that there were people there actually into the words, which at one point I asked Lily “Is he speaking English?”  was disturbing. I’ve run the gamut with music and if these guys were going for unique, they got it.

But then Eric, who is in essence Say Hi came up on stage and made the pain go away. Lily gave the show a good review here but I have to add my two cents because I also got to see Say Hi the first night they played their new stuff in San Francisco at Bottom of the Hill (which btw is one of the best places to see a show!). At Bottom of the Hill, Say Hi was not the headliner but the second opener after the A-Sides so I left after they finished (which also kept me from hearing The Velvet Teen). They headlined this show and it was worth its weight in gold. To peer down and see the expression of Lily during “Midwestern Girls” and “Sweet Heart Killer” will always remain with me. You see, it’s a great thing to see Lily genuinely happy and not being the fab actress she always is. Back to the concert, Say Hi was so much tighter than in SF, it was simply amazing. As the show began to wind down, I noticed a Say Hi poster to the right of the stage… specifically next to where Eric was singing. I tried my best to be sneaky about it but gaffled it and gave it to Lily. Point- SOVA (as usual). Eric saw me pull it and seemed a bit flattered. Lily said she rapped with him for a bit. I didn’t because I thought I’d come off as a stalker. Eric, if you read this, I’m not.

With the exception of the whale raping and then great Say Hi recovery, the funniest part was the chick that Lily pointed out to me as being “hot.” There wasn’t much of that in this place so I was intrigued. A closer look revealed an art chick that looked kind of like King Tut but with rat tails. In fact, the haircut looked exactly like the one Rick from the Young Ones would sport. Actually in retrospect, she looked just like Rick, sans the eyeliner…… LOL

Lily and I walked out in Chicago eve to part ways. After stumbling by some major vom (Was Audrey near?) we jumped into separate cabs for another ambivalent ending. Good Times.

As I rode in the cab on the way home, I found 20 bucks on the floor and told the Nigerian cabbie of my plan to go to Africa. He told me I wouldn’t last long in the Sudan. Uh oh. Well, to test my mettle, I would engage a terrorist of sorts on day 3, Audrey. Solo. Story to follow…. and it gets real ugly.

SOVA Meets His Manatees….. Day 1

Much more to follow but SOVA is back from his tour of Chicago where they grow em tough….

So after much consideration regarding logistics, timing & whatnot it was necessary for the Mento to get out and visit his Manatees in the crown of the midwest- Chicago. I had planned for some time to go there to shop G-Skools and such so it was a natural extension to hang with family and fans. Oh boy….. Was it shark week.

Now my undermensches, Audrey and Lily will tell something of a different tale… but in the end, ambivalence (gotcha bitches!) of the greatest kind prevailed. I got in Thursday around noon and made my way downtown. It was from that point when I met a wandering Lily by the Omni, wearing the sexiest of purple eye shadows, that my heart, kidneys, spleen and liver would be changed…. for ever.

After hugs, on to the upscale Grand Lux Cafe (not that upscale but hey) where I haggled with the help to please allow me to drink a “double” bourbon on the rocks. The staff, dumbfounded by the request, brought to my attention the prohibition era law enforced by Mayor Daly that outlawed “doubles” of any kind. It was at this time that I knew the menage a trois I dreamed of was in jeopardy. However, Lily’s purple eyeshadow cast ever so menacingly into the waiter’s eyes, a Nascar sized tumbler of oakey delight sat in front of me.

Enter Audrey– Sauntering in with her Top Gun wire frames, a new red phone, and attitude for days. It had felt like I knew Audrey for years, though meeting her only for the first time. Maybe it was the matching wire frames, maybe it was the mutual idea of dumpster hugging, maybe it was the notion of being an outlaw vampire. It was now a reality and the triad was complete. Armed with only a few pieces of seared ahi (and some new, creative ways to eat edamame) to soak up the boozeful bliss with my lovelies, your dear SOVA was his own version of Angus Young… clearly traveling on a “Highway to Hell.”

On to Lux Bar where the booze and snickering, offset by some key lime pie and an ice cream sundae, was becoming more ridiculous. I think at this point, Lily began to whine about helping the poor and her tutoring came into play. I wanted to sleep with her student but then again, I was ready to sleep with 3/4 of Chicago at that point. Audrey and I chided her repeatedly until Lily realized that a.) she was drunk and b.) she couldn’t save every Slovakian in Chicago.

Like a beaten UFC fighter, Lily submitted… but then we remembered “We have ADD!” Lets find our focus!!!! Back to my place where we found our focus (ahem) then off to another bar… Or was it the other way around? Yes fans, your darling SOVA was a mess. As Lily put it, I was walking into poles (racist) and Audrey was just messy (improv’d btw). Regardless of which came first, it entailed more bourbon, more ketel (with diet coke or sprite- its how I could tell the difference between the twins of sin) and more infighting between my vital organs. The night ended up back at my place with a vicious series of Wii challenges and an unusual incleling for beating on Audrey (and much so vice versa). This is also the time, in between Audrey’s haymaker punches to my midsection, that Audrey would sneak off to the secret place to vom. I did not know this until the next day. Lily and I rapped to the emo-ith degree until 6 am, only having blue donuts along the way. Audrey had passed out with sugar plums dancing overhead, and vom runs every hour or so. The twins of sin left SOVA cold at 6 and change with Lily and I regrouping the next night for the Say Hi concert. But that’s for the next chapter…..

I Hold My Hands Up, I am a Believer In Joy Division…..

“Fucking Hallelujah” shouts Rob Gretton, extolling the band that would thrust him into fame and fortune.

Hallelujah is right. Hallelujah to Anton Corbijn for making Control, Hallelujah to Deb Curtis for having the courage to show us all sides of the Ian Curtis story, and Hallelujah to Peter, Bernard, and Stephen for carrying on the legacy of Joy Division and Ian, via New Order.

As the movie wound down yesterday, my eyes welled up with tears as the moment approached. Anyone who knows the story of the troubled Joy Division front man knew the frame was set for him to take his own life when Ian banished Deborah from their small Macclesfield home and sat on the couch to watch Herzog’s Stroszek (which wasn’t in the pic). The following morning he would hang himself.

I cried not only because of the depiction of a hero taking his life, but because I found how easy it is to seem so isolated and introverted that the only solution would be to end it all. Ian, like many of us at one time or another, felt like he had no where else to turn. The inner strife stemming from being married at an early age with a new daughter while not so secretly having an affair with another woman, and dealing with an unwanted rapid rise to stardom all weighed on an already fragile conscience.

This movie is permanence for Ian. I have read countless reviews, starting from Cannes to the present, regarding the movie’s merit and frankly, it’s simple to see who really understands what Ian means to the existential purist. I made a mention a couple of weeks ago of a review by LD Beghtol who guts the biopic, calling it trite. After seeing the movie yesterday, I no longer need the validation of any review. As Ian answers a question from Annik in an interview regarding the beauty of Joy Division’s music: “Not all of Joy Division’s music is supposed to be beautiful.” To me, Control is not supposed to be beautiful. It is supposed to be complex. Complex to those who are thinkers, who question, and who don’t know it all.

If you haven’t seen Control, think, question, and go see it.  Bravo.

It’ll Be Alright

More Tomorrow, but What a Night….