Insight Along the Artist's Way

Currently watching "Dark Mirror" on IFC.

When I was in my late 20s I was introduced to a book called "The Artist's Way" by my friend Sabrina. It is a workbook to help with creativity, and she knew several people who had success with it. Soon thereafter, through my eclectic travels that eventually led to my entry into grad school, it kept popping up. It seems a lot of creative people I respected had been making good use of it.

Eventually, I am not sure when, I got a copy from somewhere and decided to try it myself around 2003 or so. Since then I have done the Morning Pages and work in the book when I am feeling especially uncreative or blocked. I credit "The Artist's Way" with the successes of FreakShow Deluxe as well as my personal artistic growth.

Now that I have pitched that enough - here is the point of the blog: One part of the work you do are the Morning Pages. Every morning, first thing, you write no less than three pages (longhand - NOT typing) in a notebook. These pages are not for others to read. Not necessarily a diary. Not really meant for sharing. It is forcing you to be creative on a schedule... AND aims for some personal insight.

Alice recently finished one wall of my office, outfitting the 20-foot length with 6-foot high shelves suitable not just for books, but for displaying my collections of stuff. FINALLY, I am unable to unpack boxes sealed away for years - some more than 8 or 9 years old. I have been finding all kinds of stuff I had forgotten about. Displays from the Empire Amusement Hall, quirky things picked up on tour, obscure gifts stashed away... and mountains of paperwork needing filed and archived.

INCLUDING a variety of notebooks I have used over the years for my Morning Pages. Some of which I have never looked at since my initial writing.

As I was unpacking, Alice thrilled at the idea of looking through them - even though I asked her not to... but, whatever. My handwriting is such that she could barely decipher most of them. But she did come across a few she could read pretty clearly as she leafed through them.

And what did she see?

Repeatedly my commenting that I do not like the way that I dress or look. My calling for changes to how I look. Wanting to find a look that can be taken more seriously by other professionals. For years I have been on this kick - and yet I am still unable to make any kind of change...

I need help. Possibly psychiatric. More likely from "What Not To Wear." Except now they only work with women. *shrug* I guess men no longer need make-overs. I need a stylist - but the phenomenal ones who work with FreakShow Deluxe are more the rock-n-roll style. And that is not what I am looking for.

If I was wealthy, I could dress however I damn well pleased. Money talks way more than how someone looks.

Recently I had a long conversation with a friend as we discussed the "look" of success. And of wealth. The showy-off kind AND the more subtle. We agreed I do not seem to share ANY of those looks. Perhaps I will discuss it more later on this blog - but I welcome your comments.

Since the beginning of the year I have lost a few pounds. Eating better. Cut my calorie intake. Cut back on caffeine. Upped my water intake. Exercise, too.

After some kid referred to my chops as "metal" at a show, I cut them way back... I guess my long hair threw him a bit. I don't consider myself particularly "metal." And if that is what I am being mistaken for...

Anyway...



In conclusion: for nearly 10 years I have been bitching about how I look. Why have I not done anything about it?

Perhaps I will even return to "The Artist's Way."

10 Things I Love About My Girl

Listening to: the kids fighting upstairs to their iPod playing the Stray Cats. They are supposed to be cleaning their rooms.

Was just reading this article on the Business Insider website about being addicted to stress -- in which the author suggests a way to relieve some stress is to create a blog on Blogger (done) and do an entry titled "10 Things I Love About My Wife/Husband/Girlfriend/Boyfriend/Significant Other" or some such (current), which it says to fill with images from Google (but I can't figure out how to do it). So that is what I am doing right now -- they are in no particular order:

1. She is a great mother. We have two (2) children, a girl & a boy, who could not be more loved, coddled and set upon a pedestal by their loving mum. Additionally, she looks out for their every need without spoiling them, too.
2. She is a fair disciplinarian. Again, we have two (2) children, who are of a particularly rabunctious temperment. While I often quietly endure it until I snap and fly off the handle at them - she tends to be more understanding and on an even keel.
3. She returned to college. While we have been together, I have encouraged her to return to higher education. She initially put it off, but finally returned and is excelling! Two (2) Associate's degrees and a full ride scholarship to work towards her Bachelor's degree.
4. She let herself be inspired. To be fair, she was goaded into this one of her professor's this semester - and I helped a bit. But we convinced her to start her OWN blog,  http://colombianchingona.wordpress.com/. It's not on Blogger... but go read it anyway.
5. She is Latina.  I have a real weakness for Hispanic ladies. Blame the over-abundance of corn-fed, milk-drinking (it does a body good) girls of spectacularly mid-European/Germanic lineage in my Ohio upbringing that made me susceptible to the forbidden fruit - but it's hot.
6. She is not limiting herself with her higher education. This semester she was inspired by one of her professors (not the one who wanted her to write a blog) to take her education in a completely new direction! She may be changing her major - and it is EXCITING!
7. She dares to dream! With her new idea about this new major came a new idea: the plan to move to a place where she has always wanted to live (well, maybe not always - but in the recent years that we have visited there). So we are on a two (2) year plan to be there. Exciting!
8. She is hot!! I think she it totally hot (not just 'cause she's Latina, either) - and I am not the only one who thinks so. Everywhere we go there are guys (and more than a few girls) hitting on her, too - from compliments on her feet to guys blatantly trying to take her home. HAWT!
9. She is caring. Yes, yes... she cares about me and such - but what I am referring to is how much she cares about other people in general. She's got friends and shyte who have, in my opinion, hardly any reason for her to consider them friends - but she cares about them and takes care of them.
10. She likes to drink beer. That's right! My girl isn't one of those foo-foo drink girls who daintily sips Zima or some other sissy kind of malt beverage shyte -- oh, no! She like chugging beer (and the occasional hard liquor) - and not frou-frou beers, either. REAL beer. 
11. Bonus: She is a demon in the sack. And in bed, the back seat of the car (front seat, too), back rooms, the shower, elevator cars, church parking lots, theaters, cabins, picnic tables, the great outdoors... and plenty of other places, too.

Understand this is not an complete list -- just the first ten (10) - er, 11... that came to mind. I love my girl - she puts up with a lot putting up with me. She amazes me every day.

Totally Made To Look Like an Idiot

I had the realization last night that my girlfriend has a game she likes to play. Now, I don't know what she calls this game, specifically, but it involves her purposely trying to make me look like an idiot.

Which is probably not that hard to do.

Not just talking about showing friends pictures of me in my Freshman year (I look a lot like Jeff Spicoli in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" - and not in a good way) or telling the people I work with how my tough exterior is just a facade, and that inside I am a gooey "teddy bear" once you get to know me (which is totally B.S., by the way). Basically, anything to remove the (nearly non-existent) belief of anyone that I am "cool."

Using the first time I can remember her doing this as an example, her game is played something like this:

1. I get pretty drunk (I can do this on my own without her help, thanks) while we are out partying at a bar or nightclub.
2. My girlfriend focuses on a casual comment I make about a "hot" girl I notice.
3. First she agrees with me that said girl is "hot," then says something along the lines of, "You should totally hook up with her!"
4. I laugh off her suggestion, but she insists. And insists. And keeps insisting.
1. Now at some point, though I suspect I am being played, I have had enough to drink and having a good enough time that I begin to believe what she is suggesting.
2. THEN my girlfriend starts insisting that I could really manage to hook up with this "hot" girl. "I want you to close the deal," is one of her favorite phrases.
5. My girlfriend then begins to challenge me with phrases like, "You don't think you could score that girl?" and
6. Finally, I begin agreeing with her suggestion that not only should I hook up with the "hot" girl, and that in addition to there being a chance the "hot" girl will hook up with me, I begin to believe said "hot" girl actually WANTS to hook up with me.
7. So then I make the move to try and hook up -- sometimes I take the lead, sometimes my girlfriend makes the introduction for me -- and it fails miserably for the following reasons:
1. I am so plowed I am not coherent; or
2. The girl is absolutely NOT interested in any way (for a variety of reason); or
3. The girl might have been interested, but my girlfriend sitting behind me making faces and rolling her eyes at my comments is enough to put her off; or
4. A combination of any two (2) of the above.
8. And I look like an idiot in front of my girlfriend, this girl and anyone else (often my friends) who happen to be nearby and catch the whole thing.

The first time this happened we were at a goth nightclub in an old church in Charlotte, NC, while we were there doing a month of shows. I was having a great time, and drinking pretty heavily while my girlfriend was off dancing with the rest of the cast. There was a hot goth girl all tarted up in skimpy latex and fishnets I was checking out from our table.
My girl came over to check on me, saw who I was checking out - said she would love to see us hook up and, being three sheets to the wind, I agreed. So she went over to talk to this girl and brought her over to the table to introduce us - then left us to "talk."
I am not sure how long with we were "talking" before my girl came back over to save that poor girl. Apparently, one of our cast members noticed that I was desperately holding on to the table to keep from falling over and, after they all had a great laugh at my expense, my girlfriend agreed it was sorely pathetic and came over to break it up.

So this game has continued on several occasions at different places. Sometimes I will be just talking to someone (who I may find attractive) and she will put the idea in my head (and, of course, I can't get it out of my head once she puts it there) so that the conversation eventually goes awry. Sometimes she points someone out she thinks I should "hook up" with. Though laughing at me, she always seems surprised I can't "close the deal."

Why can't I close the deal? There's a ton of possible reasons:

• It is no secret my girlfriend and I are together. And we are THERE at wherever it is together, too - so it's probably just too creepy for most girls. Especially with my girl making faces and rolling her eyes behind me while I make my "move."
• Maybe I'm just not that attractive in the first place (To my girlfriend's credit, she feels that I am - at least she SAYS she feels that way).
• No, really... I realized I'm getting to that "creepy old guy at the bar" kind of age. Ug!
• Could be because given permission to fool around, it just throws me off my game.
• Could be I don't have much "game" in the first place to throw off!! (Honestly, when I was single I was never really a "hook up" or "one night stand" kind of guy - I tended to play the long game.)
• Maybe we're just not trying this at the right kinds of places. But if it won't work at a bar full of drunk folks - where WILL it work?!

 This is my girl, by the way, who says she would rather give me a was of cash and send me to a strip club for a night out with the boys then let us head out to the local bar. She knows we all have less of a chance hooking up at a strip club then a regular bar (Totally true. The girls at the strip club only want your money, guys).

So there you go...

"Why," you might ask, "if you know this is the game she is playing on you do you continue to do it?"

That's what relationships are about, folks! She enjoys it - it makes her happy - and I love making her happy.

Besides -- someday I may just get lucky! ;-)

Almost Had a Shootout Tonight

We have had some problems in my neighborhood with drug dealers.

The whole city has had a problem with idiots folks from out of town coming in to buy drugs. Police tell me that heroin seems to be the big one of choice these days. The other day some retards kids came in town from the sticks out of town and tried to make a buy, and instead got jacked robbed and shot. Not speaking ill of the dead, but my thought is if you come into the hood an area you don't know and try to buy smack do something illegal and get fucked up shot, you are getting what you deserve.

I have a no-tolerance policy with drug dealers and buyers in my neighborhood that the police know about. I have chased down a few folks - probably most well-known for chasing one down with a sledgehammer in hand. We've also pulled a shotgun on junkies and gone out after dealers and cunts buyers, alike. One of the local officers told me that when he has busted arrested dealers in our area, he has told he is doing them a favor:  to save them from me.

Well - to be fair - to save them from us. Alice is usually the one holding the shotgun...

So tonight I was driving to the corner drive-thru to pick up some beer (new member of the Beer Drinkers Union - Local 32 oz.) and I saw two cars pulled up next to each other just around the corner. Typical buy/hand-off posture. I came to a stop to look at their license plates when one of the guys got out of one car with a baseball bat in his hand. I took off.

Just to go around the block, and pulled the company logo magnets off of the truck to jump back and and tear around the block to catch them. Had my phone out ready to call the cops, too --

As I came around the corner, I saw one car leaving and followed it, accelerating quickly. Within two blocks I was right up behind it - getting the license plate number to call in. But within moments, they know I'm there and they obviously suspect what I'm doing - pulling over to the side of the road on the busy street.

What choice did I have? I went around them and gunned it hard. But they gave chase.

I blasted right around a corner, tires squealing - then quickly shot left while people jumped up on the curb to get out of my way. I gunned it down the quiet, dark block - then, tires screeching in protest, whipped left around another corner before pulling into the drive-thru.

Not the lane to buy, but the parking lot. Then jumped out as the other car pulled up and strode out to ward the street with my hands out in the typical "What you gonna do?" move --


So you think you pretty gangsta? Well I'm pretty gangsta myself. Cunt.


The guy with the bat steps out yelling, "What up?" To which I can yell back, "What up, esse? What you gonna do?" (O yeah. I actually said it. Verbatim.)

And this guy's like, "What you want?" and I replied "What are you doing on my block?"

To which HE replies, "What are you doing on MY block? I live on that corner." And I'm like, "I live on that block, man."

At this point - hopped up for some of the ultra-violence - I suddenly realize all is not as it seems. I throw my hands up and say, "Hold on. Hold on. Let's take a step back here."

By this point he and I are almost nose to nose at the edge of the street, and the other people in the car have now gotten out. I look over and recognize one of them as one of my neighbors. "Oh, hey," I say, "I know you. What's up?" The first guy looks over at my neighbor and says, "Does he live there?" and my neighbor nods.

"Shoot man," the first guy says, "don't roll up on me like that. I almost shot you."

"Are you kidding?" I reply, "I almost shot YOU!"

So my neighbors and I laughed about nearly shooting each other and talked about the problem with drug dealing in our city - and, apparently, our neighborhood - as well as sharing our adventures & experiences. The guy with the bat and I spoke about our mix-ups with drug dealers.

While the police have asked me to stop physically running them off with sledgehammers, they have apparently asked him to stop smashing buyer's cars. We both say that's what they get. He says he's going to start firing warning shots. I promised back up...

So you dealers and junkies: I have some advice for you --

Don't come up on our block, yo.

ADDENDUM: After all this I went through my drive-thru to pick up my beer, and the guys who work there (who know us pretty well) were like, "what's up? we thought there was going to be a fight." And I told them the whole story. The one guy was like, "Man, I grabbed MY gun cause I thought the shit was going down." That was part of the reason I went there - not just because it was well lit. I knew there was back up. 

A Point of Confusion

So let me get this straight:

If I call a company or overall business on their cheating, lying and stealing - I'm wrong. Standing up for fairness and ethics means I'm asking for hand outs, denying these thieves their legal right to make money (even if it is at my expense), and deserving of scorn from both the media and politicians.

And then if I think someone is being removed from their job because they allowed children to be molested and assaulted basically IN THEIR OFFICES and under their watch - because it happened numerous times and they never blew the whistle - I am wrong, because someone's football career is more important than a child's ruined life for some pervert.

So if the accepted morals I was brought up with are wrong... then obviously there is nothing wrong with lying, cheating or anything else... including murder and rape .

And if that is the case, then it's okay for me to do all those things... so no one is safe: no politician, corrupt ceo (I was going to say corrupt politician too, but that's a total oxymoron), or person on the street.

If holding on to some moral compass is going to be illegal, then it just further confirms I am an Outlaw. Screw your 99% I am still a one-percenter.

Not Looking Any Better

Currently watching Captain America: the First Avenger on DVD (from Netflix).

I am cancelling my Netflix account tonight. Just don't use it enough to make it worthwhile.

Often as I have gotten older, I thought of myself (with some solid looking in the mirror) as a rugged older Sean Connery or - at my worst - maybe an Ernest Hemingway... but with more hair (in both cases). I expressed this out loud once. My girlfriend laughed so hard she almost peed herself.


So, instead, I am trying to own up that I might just look like a fat junkie these days. So you KNOW that's not good. 

"What?" you say. "Fat?! Really...?"

Look - whenever you meet someone new, don't you compare them to someone famous, or recognizable to you? Well, they are doing the same thing to you. Sometimes they TELL you who they're thinking of and comparing you, too. I had high hopes of who I might be being compared with... But lately all I have been hearing is that I look like someone specific:

This guy.

Meat Loaf.

Not the newer, slimmed down Meat Loaf who often plays a movie villain, but the 70s era "Bat Out of Hell" singer. At least his voice was amazing. I cannot say the same for myself.

The other problem is how I have been dressing whenever I am not on stage. Here's some examples:

Yesterday morning I didn't put in my contacts - so I was wearing my Versace glasses...

This bears some explanation. I'm not some damn hipster or anything like that, wearing awful glasses, a horrible beard and all kinds of shyte (What? You think hipsters are cool!? Some time in Silver Lake trying to get a decent drink at a bar should fix that for you.). I have always liked wire-framed glasses, and they look good on me, but they're hard to wear on my scoot. I like the glasses worn by my friend Jonny, who works for Motor Trend Magazine -- but I don't know if I can pull the look off. He sure looks good, though.

On easy street... er, pier.

It just boiled down to: when I needed new glasses, the Versace ones were the only ones in the store that looked good on me. That's what I get for glasses shopping at the Glendale Galleria.

Anyway - so yesterday I go to take the kids to school... I put on my glasses, didn't have time to brush out my hair (luckily still kind of braided from the day before) or brush my teeth, wore some Old Navy jeans and an over-sized light blue  Full Throttle Saloon shirt (both of which I slept in the previous two nights) - my boxers (also slept in) is black with orange bats - and a pair of black Crocs. Yeah, you heard me. I threw on a FreakShow Deluxe sweatshirt over this ensemble.

Winning.

So after dropping them both off I went ahead and finally got a shower, and changed my clothes. This time into:

An over-sized Venice Beach Freakshow t-shirt, an old pair of Aeropostale sweat pants (with a hole where the dog bit me once), red plaid boxers and the Crocs once again. Still wearing my glasses, but this time throwing a skeleton hoodie over the top of everything.

I wore THAT outfit until after taking the kids to school today - where I switched (after yet another shower) to some olive green BDU pants, a grey old school Mickey Mouse t-shirt, and a pair of black utility Sketcher's shoes. Skeleton hoodie and glasses still... not up to putting in my contacts. The cold, wet weather just doesn't call for it.

Even when I am "dressed," I just don't know... Maybe I need that show where those two people go through your wardrobe and help you choose a style. OR just stay in my show stuff all the time!

That's style, baby!

Can't Work On a Plane

Flying on an airplane, with Zookeeper playing on the screen.

I find it impossible to work on airplanes.

For whatever personal reason, I just can’t get comfortable to work. I like to try to – in fact, I am trying to write this blog entry while on a plane right now. It’s not going well. The person in front of me just leaned his/her seat back and knocked the computer pretty badly. Ass.

Anyway. . .

I really need to -

OH! Just had a thought. I think FreakShow Deluxe may set a cup of coffee down on a counter at the beginning of each long run of shows – and then it has to stay there until we leave. We photograph it each day for the entire run. Then we compare them over every show…

AND we need to put Motley Crue’s “Kick-Start My Heart” in the FSD set list.

See, that’s what happens… All this wacky stuff keeps getting in my head and keeping my attention –

So, anyway, my point was that I need to start wearing long sleeves when I travel. Why, might you ask?

Cause from doing the pincushion, stapling and messing with flame, fire and sharp pointy things, I must look like a junkie. That’s what people must think when they look at me. Especially after this week of mayhem – shows every day of the week – lots of sticking myself with all kinds of shyte. It’s like I went rounds in a Mortal Kombat video game – all stuck up, bruised and stuff.

Add that to some greasy hair, an unshaved face and still wearing the clothes I slept in… ug. You know what, and it never occurred to me that this is what I look like since I have never done drugs or anything like that. Or spent much time hanging with junkies.

But I have spent SOME time with a few.

So when I saw some pictures of my raggedy-assed self and noticed that I looked just like the pictures of said junkies… Well.

Covering up a bit will help. And a shower, too –