Thursday, August 30, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Redub practice ledger as 8/11/12
8/11/12- first practice with Logan
2 hours, room 5 $34- 17 paid by jeremy 17 paid by aron
8/21/12-2nd prax w/ Logan
3 hours, room 3 10p-1A $60- 30 paid by jeremy 30 paid by aron
8/27 3rd practice 2 hours $31- 15.50 by jeremy and aron
8/30 free prax in park logan and jeremy
9/9 3 hour practice- 530-830- $51 split between jeremy and aron
9/11-$34 split between jeremy and aron 930-1130
performances
8/22 molly malones
9/2 talking stick
9/12 good hurt
2 hours, room 5 $34- 17 paid by jeremy 17 paid by aron
8/21/12-2nd prax w/ Logan
3 hours, room 3 10p-1A $60- 30 paid by jeremy 30 paid by aron
8/27 3rd practice 2 hours $31- 15.50 by jeremy and aron
8/30 free prax in park logan and jeremy
9/9 3 hour practice- 530-830- $51 split between jeremy and aron
9/11-$34 split between jeremy and aron 930-1130
performances
8/22 molly malones
9/2 talking stick
9/12 good hurt
Saturday, August 18, 2012
There is no death- a rap
THERE WAS A GUY
Who beat up on cows
Where is he now?
He came back as a cow
I heard you died at the five and dime
They said your heart stopped like a coo coo
Clock,
Tired
Of keeping time
So now your soul follows me through dreams
In the great vast web o sphere
Like a spider web i keep running into
But
What if there is no such thing as death
We just appear somewhere else after out last breath
I have a hunch i got a feeling
That this could be true
But it doesn’t stop me from missing you
I heard you died because your body was tired
You did enough in this life
It was time to expire
Some dreams
Came
And some dreams
Went
And some others,
Well
You saw them through
So now the world will always remember you
Immortality is overrated
Say the pundits critics and super jaded
But i believe those who are most idealistic
Also have a flair for what is realistic
Who beat up on cows
Where is he now?
He came back as a cow
I heard you died at the five and dime
They said your heart stopped like a coo coo
Clock,
Tired
Of keeping time
So now your soul follows me through dreams
In the great vast web o sphere
Like a spider web i keep running into
But
What if there is no such thing as death
We just appear somewhere else after out last breath
I have a hunch i got a feeling
That this could be true
But it doesn’t stop me from missing you
I heard you died because your body was tired
You did enough in this life
It was time to expire
Some dreams
Came
And some dreams
Went
And some others,
Well
You saw them through
So now the world will always remember you
Immortality is overrated
Say the pundits critics and super jaded
But i believe those who are most idealistic
Also have a flair for what is realistic
How to cope
A screenplay summary.
How to cope is about 2 young people, Johnny Jiminez, an east L.A. native, and Jimmy Westnee, a white kid from the suburbs, who become best friends and party all over downtown and East L.A. They become as close as brothers but when Jimmy dies of a drug overdose, his parents bond with Johnny at the funeral and decide to let him come stay with them as part of the coping process. Because they hadn't seem him much in the past year, they figure Johnny can fill them in on what kind of life he was living.
When Jimmy's sister comes to visit, they become romantically involved. The parents want to set Johnny on the right path of school and work, and he soon becomes resentful and falls in with a local gang. There is pressure on his new parents from peers and relatives suggesting that they are making a mistake in their grieving process by letting Johnny stay with them. On one last rebound where things are starting to go peaceful, Johnny breaks down and admits that he is the one who turned him on to drugs and maybe their son would still be alive if it wasn't for him.
How to cope is about 2 young people, Johnny Jiminez, an east L.A. native, and Jimmy Westnee, a white kid from the suburbs, who become best friends and party all over downtown and East L.A. They become as close as brothers but when Jimmy dies of a drug overdose, his parents bond with Johnny at the funeral and decide to let him come stay with them as part of the coping process. Because they hadn't seem him much in the past year, they figure Johnny can fill them in on what kind of life he was living.
When Jimmy's sister comes to visit, they become romantically involved. The parents want to set Johnny on the right path of school and work, and he soon becomes resentful and falls in with a local gang. There is pressure on his new parents from peers and relatives suggesting that they are making a mistake in their grieving process by letting Johnny stay with them. On one last rebound where things are starting to go peaceful, Johnny breaks down and admits that he is the one who turned him on to drugs and maybe their son would still be alive if it wasn't for him.
How to cope song 2
HOW TO COPE
Song 2
The funeral
Hello it’s nice to meet you
I feel like we’ve already met
I heard a lot about you
Some good
Some I should forget
Your son was my best friend
The brot
Its not that we’re angry, just sad.
Maybe we could spend some time together
Try to get to know you a little better.
her that I never had
I feel like I could have saved him
I understand if you hate me
I accept the sight of me makes you mad.
Hello Johnny
It’s not like that at all
We are grieving for our son
Now it’s time for you to stand tall
You spent a lot of time in the last years
With our boy
It was hard to keep in touch with him
As he was
Growing up
But when he was younger he was such a joy.
Maybe we could have raised him better
We tried to give him what we never had
It wasn’t enough sometimes these things just happen
Song 2
The funeral
Hello it’s nice to meet you
I feel like we’ve already met
I heard a lot about you
Some good
Some I should forget
Your son was my best friend
The brot
Its not that we’re angry, just sad.
Maybe we could spend some time together
Try to get to know you a little better.
her that I never had
I feel like I could have saved him
I understand if you hate me
I accept the sight of me makes you mad.
Hello Johnny
It’s not like that at all
We are grieving for our son
Now it’s time for you to stand tall
You spent a lot of time in the last years
With our boy
It was hard to keep in touch with him
As he was
Growing up
But when he was younger he was such a joy.
Maybe we could have raised him better
We tried to give him what we never had
It wasn’t enough sometimes these things just happen
How to Cope 1st chapter
JOHNNY WOKE UP IN A HAZE. IT WAS SUNDAY MORNING HIS MAMA WAS PROBABLY AT MASS. HE WAS LYING DOWN ON ONE OF THOSE CHEAP BLOW UP RUBBER RAFTS IN SOME LOFT DOWNTOWN. HE THOUGHT ABOUT HOW HIS MOM WAS ONLY A OF MILE AWAY BUT IT MAY HAVE BEEN MARS. HIS EYES BURNED.
The sun was shining through a cracked window. The L.A. sky a mixture of beautiful blue and dooming smog, depending upon which direction you’d look.
His best friend Jimmy was lying 5 meters to the south, scrunched up with his head near the door.
“Jimmy, wake up.” He shook him. “Someones gonna hit you if they come through there.” Johnny rolled over a few feet to safety and went back to sleep.
Jimmy Westnee was a white boy from the suburbs, Johnny Jiminez was brown and from boyle heights. Guatemala was where his mother was from. That’s why everything was so colorful in their house. She had a sister with a bit more money who could manage to get there more often then she and would bring her back bric brac and trinkets from Antigua, where some of their family still lived.
An hour later they got up and rode their bikes toward L.A. City college. Johnny wanted some espresso from his favorite coffee shop. Jimmy got a drink too, A mocha and they both went up stairs where a bunch of people were hanging out and doing homework on laptops, etc. They got a seat by the window.
“I’m so....fucking.....tired.”
“Well it was a crazy night last night, Gringo. Don’t party so hard next time if you can’t handle it.”
“Nah, I can handle it, it’s just.”
“We’re young men, we ain’t allowed to cry yet about these things.”
“True.”
Ernesto the punkrocker came upstairs.
“What up locos?” He greeted them loudly. “You like my new haircut?” He pulled off his bandana to reveal a mohawk spiked up half a foot tall, bleached and black.
“Wow man, looks good,”Jimmy said.
“I don’t know, pretty crazy,” said Johnny.
“So when you joining the band cabrone? We giggin’ two times a week, you still have your bass?”
“Nah man. I sold it so I could buy that thing.” He pointed out the window downstairs to his fixie bike that was locked to a newsstand. They had stategically sat where they could keep an eye on their prized possessions.”
“Dude, riding that thing around like a pansie ain’t gonna get laid, Esai. Playing in the band will. Maybe your friend wants to be in my band? He can play drums, we have a whole rhythm section. I have the baddest motherfuckin’ name you ever heard too.”
“Not the bloody cunts, I hope,” said Johnny, pulling a last sip of his espresso.
“Nah that’s old news. Get a load of my new name. You sittin’ down?”
They just look at him stupidly. He leans in conspiratorily as if he’s going to tell them it was his grandfather who killed Kennedy.
“The Twitchers.... You like it?”
“Hey man, I like it,” said Jimmy, always eager to please.
“What the fucks it mean?” Asked Johnny.
“Well you know how my one friend Sullivan has tourettes? And he shakes and twitches when he gets nervous? I just started calling him Twitcher as a nickname. Then I thought it would make a great band name.”
“It’s kinda cool.” Johnny was warming up to it.
“We played the Smell a couple days ago.”
“No Shit?”
The Smell had started out as a place all the cool underground bands had been playing. Some of those bands had become successful so now it was more of a big deal to play there.
“The owner likes us too. He might even give us a residency.”
“What’s that?” Asked Jimmy.
“Like, when you play every week the same night, same time, so people know you’re gonna be there. It’s a great way to build a scene!” Ernesto’s enthusiasm was definitely contagious.
The sun was shining through a cracked window. The L.A. sky a mixture of beautiful blue and dooming smog, depending upon which direction you’d look.
His best friend Jimmy was lying 5 meters to the south, scrunched up with his head near the door.
“Jimmy, wake up.” He shook him. “Someones gonna hit you if they come through there.” Johnny rolled over a few feet to safety and went back to sleep.
Jimmy Westnee was a white boy from the suburbs, Johnny Jiminez was brown and from boyle heights. Guatemala was where his mother was from. That’s why everything was so colorful in their house. She had a sister with a bit more money who could manage to get there more often then she and would bring her back bric brac and trinkets from Antigua, where some of their family still lived.
An hour later they got up and rode their bikes toward L.A. City college. Johnny wanted some espresso from his favorite coffee shop. Jimmy got a drink too, A mocha and they both went up stairs where a bunch of people were hanging out and doing homework on laptops, etc. They got a seat by the window.
“I’m so....fucking.....tired.”
“Well it was a crazy night last night, Gringo. Don’t party so hard next time if you can’t handle it.”
“Nah, I can handle it, it’s just.”
“We’re young men, we ain’t allowed to cry yet about these things.”
“True.”
Ernesto the punkrocker came upstairs.
“What up locos?” He greeted them loudly. “You like my new haircut?” He pulled off his bandana to reveal a mohawk spiked up half a foot tall, bleached and black.
“Wow man, looks good,”Jimmy said.
“I don’t know, pretty crazy,” said Johnny.
“So when you joining the band cabrone? We giggin’ two times a week, you still have your bass?”
“Nah man. I sold it so I could buy that thing.” He pointed out the window downstairs to his fixie bike that was locked to a newsstand. They had stategically sat where they could keep an eye on their prized possessions.”
“Dude, riding that thing around like a pansie ain’t gonna get laid, Esai. Playing in the band will. Maybe your friend wants to be in my band? He can play drums, we have a whole rhythm section. I have the baddest motherfuckin’ name you ever heard too.”
“Not the bloody cunts, I hope,” said Johnny, pulling a last sip of his espresso.
“Nah that’s old news. Get a load of my new name. You sittin’ down?”
They just look at him stupidly. He leans in conspiratorily as if he’s going to tell them it was his grandfather who killed Kennedy.
“The Twitchers.... You like it?”
“Hey man, I like it,” said Jimmy, always eager to please.
“What the fucks it mean?” Asked Johnny.
“Well you know how my one friend Sullivan has tourettes? And he shakes and twitches when he gets nervous? I just started calling him Twitcher as a nickname. Then I thought it would make a great band name.”
“It’s kinda cool.” Johnny was warming up to it.
“We played the Smell a couple days ago.”
“No Shit?”
The Smell had started out as a place all the cool underground bands had been playing. Some of those bands had become successful so now it was more of a big deal to play there.
“The owner likes us too. He might even give us a residency.”
“What’s that?” Asked Jimmy.
“Like, when you play every week the same night, same time, so people know you’re gonna be there. It’s a great way to build a scene!” Ernesto’s enthusiasm was definitely contagious.
How to cope
Jimmy and johnny were punkrockers
And bike rockers
But jimmy was gone too soon
Found his way to the grave
With a needle and a spoon
They both met a couple years out of high school
On the streets they were running fools
Chasing girls
Ignoring the traffic lights
Skating and rocking
Drugging and blackout fights
They thought it was a story
That would go on forever
Until the day
That the streets screamed never
Jimmy and johnny
Were rebel boys
And rabble rousers
Safety pins
In eyebrows
And noses
Tattoos of
Skulls girls and roses
Thursday, August 16, 2012
GIVE
It should come across as obvious that if you're a parent with a child who has neurological issues, those issues are only ignored to that child's peril. Thinking that they will simply "grow out of it" is unfair. If you didn't want the responsibility that came with parenting you might have thought about that before giving birth, and if necessary aborted the child, or given him or her up for adoption once you realized you would not be fit to provide for their needs.
Neglect may be glossed over by the parent, but the child rarely forgets. It grows into resentment, which is particularly difficult when the parent is loving, because it then becomes internalized as guilt. Sometimes children with altogether unloving parents have a simpler time in life because they are able to tell their folks to fuck off. However, if you have a combination of loving/ good natured folks who were slightly careless in raising you, it merely gives you the feeling that you are your own parent now, and you must play a slow and clumbsy game of catchup, all the while never admitting your feelings to the elders that let you down.
Neglect may be glossed over by the parent, but the child rarely forgets. It grows into resentment, which is particularly difficult when the parent is loving, because it then becomes internalized as guilt. Sometimes children with altogether unloving parents have a simpler time in life because they are able to tell their folks to fuck off. However, if you have a combination of loving/ good natured folks who were slightly careless in raising you, it merely gives you the feeling that you are your own parent now, and you must play a slow and clumbsy game of catchup, all the while never admitting your feelings to the elders that let you down.
Modern Artists Manifesto
There will be a trend of musicians peeking later.
All or most of the types of musicians who write great songs, if they have no patrons or record contracts to at least (temporarily) let them rely solely on their music for paying the bills, will peak later then they would have, had they been brought up in an age that was kinder to that type of musician/ artist.
For a half century it was easier for very talented musicians to get discovered. There was a lot more artist and repertoire in the business, whose sole purpose was to discover talent. Not that it was easy and not that some musicians didn't fall through the cracks then, but it was more possible (if not probable) to make a living. And so there was more time to left to the devotion of craft.
Today many artists miss opportunities because they have to labour harder just to survive. If you compare the inflation, and how much easier it used to be just to get along decades before now, it is clear we are not living in an artist family society.
Artists and musicians are often impaired of the ability to be caught in the hampster wheel of the rat race. Even though in some ways we'd rather join them because we can't beat them, it is against our nature and we suffer dearly for not listening to our inner calling.
The luckier artists who have to work are usually more outgoing and can subsist bartending or waiting tables, which actually pays the bills fairly handsomely. The more internally resolute have a harder time making it unless they are brainiacs who are able to cultivate side businesses like web design, etc.
Because most free thinkers in our modern society have realized how stupid it is to do things you don't enjoy for money, many would rather live off the government. Can you blame them? The government spends so many trillions of dollars on stupid causes like war and imperialism, leaving barely nothing for the working class. We have realized that financially, being an unemployed slave to the system is only a small step down from being a wage slave and when you aren't working a job you despise it's easier to devote your energy for creative pursuits.
If you are a lucky artist, you are gainfully employed in something artistic to pay the bills, like film editing or graphic art. I know some of those types and they seem to be the happiest. However many of them also come from at least an upper middle class background and have gone to good universities.
Personally I was depressed around the time I was supposed to go to college and it became unimportant to me because I was so unhappy. I now regret this in many ways but it is what it is. I do not feel I had the proper guidance and mentors to see me through the proper channels of entering college. My parents are good people what were not involved in pushing me in this aspect of my life. However, I am in some ways grateful for them for sustaining my talents through their lack of pushyness. In many ways though, I feel as if they weren't hard enough on me.
All or most of the types of musicians who write great songs, if they have no patrons or record contracts to at least (temporarily) let them rely solely on their music for paying the bills, will peak later then they would have, had they been brought up in an age that was kinder to that type of musician/ artist.
For a half century it was easier for very talented musicians to get discovered. There was a lot more artist and repertoire in the business, whose sole purpose was to discover talent. Not that it was easy and not that some musicians didn't fall through the cracks then, but it was more possible (if not probable) to make a living. And so there was more time to left to the devotion of craft.
Today many artists miss opportunities because they have to labour harder just to survive. If you compare the inflation, and how much easier it used to be just to get along decades before now, it is clear we are not living in an artist family society.
Artists and musicians are often impaired of the ability to be caught in the hampster wheel of the rat race. Even though in some ways we'd rather join them because we can't beat them, it is against our nature and we suffer dearly for not listening to our inner calling.
The luckier artists who have to work are usually more outgoing and can subsist bartending or waiting tables, which actually pays the bills fairly handsomely. The more internally resolute have a harder time making it unless they are brainiacs who are able to cultivate side businesses like web design, etc.
Because most free thinkers in our modern society have realized how stupid it is to do things you don't enjoy for money, many would rather live off the government. Can you blame them? The government spends so many trillions of dollars on stupid causes like war and imperialism, leaving barely nothing for the working class. We have realized that financially, being an unemployed slave to the system is only a small step down from being a wage slave and when you aren't working a job you despise it's easier to devote your energy for creative pursuits.
If you are a lucky artist, you are gainfully employed in something artistic to pay the bills, like film editing or graphic art. I know some of those types and they seem to be the happiest. However many of them also come from at least an upper middle class background and have gone to good universities.
Personally I was depressed around the time I was supposed to go to college and it became unimportant to me because I was so unhappy. I now regret this in many ways but it is what it is. I do not feel I had the proper guidance and mentors to see me through the proper channels of entering college. My parents are good people what were not involved in pushing me in this aspect of my life. However, I am in some ways grateful for them for sustaining my talents through their lack of pushyness. In many ways though, I feel as if they weren't hard enough on me.
Monday, August 13, 2012
fuck it
don't need your photo op
not gonna learn
photo shop
if i get a zit
i'm gonna keep it
till it pops
gonna grow
my hair grey
until it stops
i don't need
your autotune
thats for those
who find
inspiration
every once
and a blue moon
i keep going
i keep the
light coat
flowing
and
flowing
like wheat
grass
juice
i'm bestowing
nutrition for your ears
and your brain
not going to cover my pain.
not gonna learn
photo shop
if i get a zit
i'm gonna keep it
till it pops
gonna grow
my hair grey
until it stops
i don't need
your autotune
thats for those
who find
inspiration
every once
and a blue moon
i keep going
i keep the
light coat
flowing
and
flowing
like wheat
grass
juice
i'm bestowing
nutrition for your ears
and your brain
not going to cover my pain.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
haven't met you yet in the flesh but i've known you for years
you're beautiful you're kind and so sincere
and when i talk to you, you soothe my fears
oh, oh my Heidi girl!
u love to listen u love to dance to the music
we like the same bands
and she is a muse yeah
she lives in cleveland ohio
haven't been there yet but i want to go go
she so classic with a heart of gold gold
everybody loves her like they love a song
yeah you feel you've known her all along
she's my heidi heidi heidi heidi girl
and she belongs in my world
she's my heidi heidi heidi girl oh yeah!
you're beautiful you're kind and so sincere
and when i talk to you, you soothe my fears
oh, oh my Heidi girl!
u love to listen u love to dance to the music
we like the same bands
and she is a muse yeah
she lives in cleveland ohio
haven't been there yet but i want to go go
she so classic with a heart of gold gold
everybody loves her like they love a song
yeah you feel you've known her all along
she's my heidi heidi heidi heidi girl
and she belongs in my world
she's my heidi heidi heidi girl oh yeah!
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