"You need more exclamations!" My friend said "more. That will prove you are decidedly friendly." She was right, I needed more exclamations. Otherwise, my purely business-related "thanks, you're the best!!!!" would be seen as dismissal, if not outright passive-aggressive. And, if its as simple as an assistant receiving a package, we have obviously begun to (whether we like it or not) pay attention to specific social cyber-cues.
It is true, I believe, that emotional intelligence is a genuine genre of interactive intellect. Some people are amazing at making machines work, but have no ability to comprehend their neighbor's obvious boredom. Some people are the exact opposite. And while my friend advises me to add an extra "!!!" to my email, I begin to come to terms with the fact that our generation has become super-sensitive to vague social cues.
The internet, once again, the culprit. Take the emoticon for example. If someone ends their email with an ":)" they are either: being friendly, being flirtatious, making up for something their fault or, trying to send a more subversive sentiment.
Indeed, the subversive sentiment, the one we choose rarely to recognize. The smile that exists predominantly as the "eye roll" or the under-your-breath response.
It is If I wrote "its ok, I have a few other people who are willing to donate a kidney :)"
It is the emoticon of the martyr syndrome.
But whether we like it or not, these obviously expressive sentiments have become standard.
:) "i like you" [rarely used in heterosexual male friendships, used all the time in platonic male-female friendships]
:-O "you have a new cat?!";
:D "I like drinking"....;
;p "I wink and stick my tongue out at the same time because i don't take myself seriously, and people like that about me"
and let us not forget the:
[sentence]!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! aka "Most assuredly"
Passive social cues have become a bit more extreme over the internet, due mostly to the restrictions of text-related interactions. It used to be that social cues were set by the upper class, that is, after all, how etiquette came to be. The etiquette of old is changing. People are becoming *very nice* face-to-face but more specific on the internet.
When a republican family member wants to take advantage of my left-leaning facebook status, he does so. But at thanksgiving dinner, he might not bring it up or even challenge my philosophy. On the internet though, he feels much freer to express himself. No wonder I have to include a million exclamations to thank a coworker....
So we have become indoctrinated in specificity. Anyone who does not send a specific emotion is either being elusive or socially ignorant. Point is, next time your friend replies to your apology email with a series of abbreviations "it k, talk tmrro?" You should probably come to terms with the social eggshells about to crack under your toes...
Monday, September 7, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
About my Tattoo
So what happened on the tour became all very jumbled. We went from one coast and then back to the other. I have seen, heard, and witnessed unspeakable banalities. What is a good tour though, without a good tattoo. And if, after questioning, I am led to explain the story of my tattoo I get to say "I got it on tour" which translates into "I had an interesting life once upon a time."
So I kind of want to explain what it is and why it is, and all things related to permanent life decisions. What I got was this:
on the back of my right arm. Well not the whole thing, just the cello-man hybrid. What that is from, is Roy Lichtenstein's Cubist Cello. I liked the idea of a cello, its one of my favorite instruments that I do not play. The cubist element combines the perfect angle of art and logic -- mathematical yet emotional. It's bit of a yin-yang in its own existence.
But more importantly, it kind of solidifies myself and my musical career through the spirit of Roy Lichtenstein. We have some similarities. He was a pop artist, often criticized by his use of popular culture to make contemporary art. But instead of seeing popular culture as a consumer product, he saw it as a pallet from which to draw new ideas from existing social memes.
I'd like to think that good art doesn't rely on shock value, networking, or sexiness, sometimes its just a more accurate mirror.
So I kind of want to explain what it is and why it is, and all things related to permanent life decisions. What I got was this:
on the back of my right arm. Well not the whole thing, just the cello-man hybrid. What that is from, is Roy Lichtenstein's Cubist Cello. I liked the idea of a cello, its one of my favorite instruments that I do not play. The cubist element combines the perfect angle of art and logic -- mathematical yet emotional. It's bit of a yin-yang in its own existence.
But more importantly, it kind of solidifies myself and my musical career through the spirit of Roy Lichtenstein. We have some similarities. He was a pop artist, often criticized by his use of popular culture to make contemporary art. But instead of seeing popular culture as a consumer product, he saw it as a pallet from which to draw new ideas from existing social memes.
I'd like to think that good art doesn't rely on shock value, networking, or sexiness, sometimes its just a more accurate mirror.
Friday, July 3, 2009
What Happens in Wisconsin...
Chicago was lovely. We had an energetic crowd, partially influenced by an injection of high-school-drama enthusiasm, which I remember from my days of old. The night ended with a lovely hummus plate I shared with a music journalist whose real name is Amber Valentine, who like myself, is in the music industry as a quick-path to fiction fame. I'd like to think we had good conversations with the few words we were able to get out intermittently under the loud jazz-funk band playing twenty feet away. Amber was allergic to wheat so I got to eat all the pita.
We received a text a day or two before Chicago asking us to play an outdoors park show in Madison Wisconsin. When you think of outdoors park shows, you generally tend to think about a large outdoors stage, a festive summer atmosphere, maybe even a couple of pretzel stands on the side. Or slush. This is what a summer, outdoors music concert tends to be.
When we arrived, we saw a small sports shack on a tiny strip of grass barely passable to be labeled a park. The audience members, barring the 3 people suntanning and a few children on the playground, were the infrequent kayak renters.
Being the professional musicians that we are, we say hey, we may as well play. Which would have been a possibility had the 20-year-old sound system not shat the bed one song into our set. As luck would have it, a few nightmare of you fans showed up expecting an actual show. With no sound system you have no vocals. No vocals mean no songs. What do you do with 8 musicians, no sound system, and no songs? a 40 minute, alcohol-laced spacejam.
What occurred was something I like to refer to, in memory, as Plushmare of Goo. A completely improvised atonal series of melodies being sprayed around rather haphazardly. Apparently, two people asked for CDs and the name of our band. Absurdity works over time.
The next stop on our trip was Omaha Nebraska. We came and went and everything fell where it was, as far as Omaha is concerned. We did meet a very nice young vegan lady who gave our tour manager, Skippy, a vegan cookie in Lawrence Kansas. Skippy is also a vegan, and on a trans-continental trip through the united states, a task of being such becomes quite complicated, making this small genuine gesture of cookie-giving a beautiful notion of human kindness.
Speaking of Lawrence Kansas, we have come to the conclusion that we really do like Kansas. But something horrible happened. We needed to pull an all nighter from Lawrence to get to Denver at 8:30 am the next day for a radio promo spot. That was hellish enough, as a concept, without the need to add an extra serendipitous fuck hole in our left tire. Thanks to an awesome dude, we were on the road sooner than AAA got there, and made it to Denver with one minute to spare.
while that was happening, we found out we co-won the Deli Magazine's artist of the month with the band, the Narrative. Congrats to us.
Sign the frog.
We received a text a day or two before Chicago asking us to play an outdoors park show in Madison Wisconsin. When you think of outdoors park shows, you generally tend to think about a large outdoors stage, a festive summer atmosphere, maybe even a couple of pretzel stands on the side. Or slush. This is what a summer, outdoors music concert tends to be.
When we arrived, we saw a small sports shack on a tiny strip of grass barely passable to be labeled a park. The audience members, barring the 3 people suntanning and a few children on the playground, were the infrequent kayak renters.
Being the professional musicians that we are, we say hey, we may as well play. Which would have been a possibility had the 20-year-old sound system not shat the bed one song into our set. As luck would have it, a few nightmare of you fans showed up expecting an actual show. With no sound system you have no vocals. No vocals mean no songs. What do you do with 8 musicians, no sound system, and no songs? a 40 minute, alcohol-laced spacejam.
What occurred was something I like to refer to, in memory, as Plushmare of Goo. A completely improvised atonal series of melodies being sprayed around rather haphazardly. Apparently, two people asked for CDs and the name of our band. Absurdity works over time.
The next stop on our trip was Omaha Nebraska. We came and went and everything fell where it was, as far as Omaha is concerned. We did meet a very nice young vegan lady who gave our tour manager, Skippy, a vegan cookie in Lawrence Kansas. Skippy is also a vegan, and on a trans-continental trip through the united states, a task of being such becomes quite complicated, making this small genuine gesture of cookie-giving a beautiful notion of human kindness.
Speaking of Lawrence Kansas, we have come to the conclusion that we really do like Kansas. But something horrible happened. We needed to pull an all nighter from Lawrence to get to Denver at 8:30 am the next day for a radio promo spot. That was hellish enough, as a concept, without the need to add an extra serendipitous fuck hole in our left tire. Thanks to an awesome dude, we were on the road sooner than AAA got there, and made it to Denver with one minute to spare.
while that was happening, we found out we co-won the Deli Magazine's artist of the month with the band, the Narrative. Congrats to us.
Sign the frog.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Chapter 3: Landlocked Insomnia
The past couple of days have been blending together. Such is the unfortunate cycle of anxiety-driven insomnia. It all started in Lester Pennsylvania. We had a nice day off between Washington DC and Philly where we took time to work out some major kinks in our marketing. Namely a merchandise display. So we took a few hours, at a random Target in Maryland, and now we have a beautifully colored picnic basket filled with goodies. The best part is the frog-shaped stationary we are now using for our mailing list, leading to the new and effective mantra: Sign the frog. (see diagram 1)
So we were feeling good in Lester Pennsylvania, a brand new merchandise display, a frog to sign, and parking-lot wiffleball. Yet for some reason that night, I was completely unable to turn my exhaustion into sleep. The running narrative in my brain just would not stop. I had "Don't You Want Me" on repeat somewhere in the iPod of my frontal lobe, splicing with a sci-fi story I plan on never writing. Perhaps it was the anxiety of a 6 month tour ahead of me, or the excitement of having signed my first boob. (see Diagram 2)
So many things go wrong when you get no sleep. Feeling hungry and cold then nauseous and warm within a matter of seconds. Moments of drunken ecstasy followed by an envious hatred of those who were able to shut off the night before. Our second night on the tour was at The Northstar Bar in Philadelphia , and despite being absolutely loopy, I decided that it was a good idea to engage in conversation with other life-forms; this dialogued appeared to be more akin to a spoken-word mad-libs than any normative sequence of syntax.
I was lucky enough to get sleep that following night. We are now driving en route to Lancaster PA from Columbus OH. Matt is exchanging sweet nothings with Nuvi, our Garmin Navigational personality. Their relationship started rocky at first, sometimes we take familiar routes for granted, but once Nuvi proved herself right (after we tried to check into the wrong hotel despite her constant "U-Turn Here. U-Turn Here. U-Turn Here. ..... Recalculating.") Now Nuvi and Matt have developed a creepy symbiosis. She knows exactly how fast he is driving, and when we will exactly show up to our destination.
The show tonight rocked. I loved that our audience members danced with us and had a good time. And an awesome amount of people signed the frog. Adding to the list of first-time autographs, tonight I signed a pack of birth control and a beer. Two of the world's best inventions. Hopefully the hotel we get to has internet, so I can finally post this, and get much needed rest. Lansing is next.
Sign the Frog.
So we were feeling good in Lester Pennsylvania, a brand new merchandise display, a frog to sign, and parking-lot wiffleball. Yet for some reason that night, I was completely unable to turn my exhaustion into sleep. The running narrative in my brain just would not stop. I had "Don't You Want Me" on repeat somewhere in the iPod of my frontal lobe, splicing with a sci-fi story I plan on never writing. Perhaps it was the anxiety of a 6 month tour ahead of me, or the excitement of having signed my first boob. (see Diagram 2)
So many things go wrong when you get no sleep. Feeling hungry and cold then nauseous and warm within a matter of seconds. Moments of drunken ecstasy followed by an envious hatred of those who were able to shut off the night before. Our second night on the tour was at The Northstar Bar in Philadelphia , and despite being absolutely loopy, I decided that it was a good idea to engage in conversation with other life-forms; this dialogued appeared to be more akin to a spoken-word mad-libs than any normative sequence of syntax.
I was lucky enough to get sleep that following night. We are now driving en route to Lancaster PA from Columbus OH. Matt is exchanging sweet nothings with Nuvi, our Garmin Navigational personality. Their relationship started rocky at first, sometimes we take familiar routes for granted, but once Nuvi proved herself right (after we tried to check into the wrong hotel despite her constant "U-Turn Here. U-Turn Here. U-Turn Here. ..... Recalculating.") Now Nuvi and Matt have developed a creepy symbiosis. She knows exactly how fast he is driving, and when we will exactly show up to our destination.
The show tonight rocked. I loved that our audience members danced with us and had a good time. And an awesome amount of people signed the frog. Adding to the list of first-time autographs, tonight I signed a pack of birth control and a beer. Two of the world's best inventions. Hopefully the hotel we get to has internet, so I can finally post this, and get much needed rest. Lansing is next.
Sign the Frog.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Chapter 2: In Cold Water
The van we rentedwas supposed to arrive at 10 am today. But, this is the music industry so we should have assumed that it would arrive at 11:46, which it did. Our goal was to drive to DC, despite traffic, within 5 hours (insert 24 style clock ticking now)
1:15: We have picked up all of our merch from various, GTA-mission-style locations, and are stuck in Jersey City. How do we get back to the highway? Don't worry, I have invested in a Garmin to help us out. Problem is, apparently garmin's personality is that of a passive aggressive 2nd-phase-feminism-gone-housewife dominatrix.
"Turn right twenty six seconds ago."
"Thanks"
"I told you to keep right"
"There were five possible rights"
"Sure there were, just like there were five possible nights of the week we could have gone to see Star Trek. I still have a life you know." (paraphrased)
2:25. Dialogue, as remembered by me:
Taylor: "there was a clear presence of toilet paper between my ass and my hands."
Matt: "But you still have to wash your hands."
Me: "Toilet paper is slightly between jello and solid substances. It flushes."
4:43:
me: "Ni Hao?
everyone: "what?"
me: "oh, I thought you were speaking mandarin"
6:10:
we arrive to our location, set up, play an awesome show with Brian Bonz and Nightmare of You while I continue to drink. As we are loading, Taylor takes a moment to jam, dissonant jazz style with a street performer, catching the attention of natives waiting for a cab.
1:45 am we leave for our out-of-the-way hotel that charges lower fares for smoking rooms. Immediately upon entering this smelly locale, we regret saving the extra 12 dollars.
3:36 am
I am sure there is more to report but right now I am more psyched to sleep than report. So have a good night. Tomorrow, we will be rocking out in Delaware. Or at least catching our barrings.
Rocking in Delaware. A dream come true.
In and out. See you in Philly
1:15: We have picked up all of our merch from various, GTA-mission-style locations, and are stuck in Jersey City. How do we get back to the highway? Don't worry, I have invested in a Garmin to help us out. Problem is, apparently garmin's personality is that of a passive aggressive 2nd-phase-feminism-gone-housewife dominatrix.
"Turn right twenty six seconds ago."
"Thanks"
"I told you to keep right"
"There were five possible rights"
"Sure there were, just like there were five possible nights of the week we could have gone to see Star Trek. I still have a life you know." (paraphrased)
2:25. Dialogue, as remembered by me:
Taylor: "there was a clear presence of toilet paper between my ass and my hands."
Matt: "But you still have to wash your hands."
Me: "Toilet paper is slightly between jello and solid substances. It flushes."
4:43:
me: "Ni Hao?
everyone: "what?"
me: "oh, I thought you were speaking mandarin"
6:10:
we arrive to our location, set up, play an awesome show with Brian Bonz and Nightmare of You while I continue to drink. As we are loading, Taylor takes a moment to jam, dissonant jazz style with a street performer, catching the attention of natives waiting for a cab.
1:45 am we leave for our out-of-the-way hotel that charges lower fares for smoking rooms. Immediately upon entering this smelly locale, we regret saving the extra 12 dollars.
3:36 am
I am sure there is more to report but right now I am more psyched to sleep than report. So have a good night. Tomorrow, we will be rocking out in Delaware. Or at least catching our barrings.
Rocking in Delaware. A dream come true.
In and out. See you in Philly
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Chapter 1: Packing.
It has become apparent to me that preparing for a long tour is a bit like packing before summer camp.
I hated summer camp.
But at least this time around, the big scary kids are bouncers, who need legal recourse before torturing their victims with worms, projectile fruit boxes, and toppled over porta-potties. Except maybe in Dallas.
So I find myself here, in front of a smorgasbord of relatively useful crap that I may or may not use. So what does Dan from Plushgun pack? In no significant order:
7 pairs of socks.
10 pairs of underwear (re-using socks; not nearly as big of a sanitation folly)
2 black shirts. Because they are slimming
2 button-ups, for shows
3 skinny ties.
2 pairs of sneakers
1 pair of running shorts
1 pair of swim trunks.
200 condoms (for the great condom-water-balloon battle of Lawrence)
1 female condom, passed over from Freezepop, to be handed over to Nightmare of You.
Xanax
Excedrin
Imodium
14th century Spanish Short Sword
FIFA '05 for PS2
Portable fan
Tennis Racket
Wiffleball set
3 pairs of jeans
Chair
Treasure Map
Floss, which has yet to be opened, despite being purchased 3 tours ago.
2 Nerf dart guns
Macbook
Season 3 of Six Feet Under
1 copy of the US Constitution
Flask
toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant.
3 ounces of dignity
and one pint of shame.
I suppose I need more than the average person for a cross-country quest, though it is not because I am high maintenance, but just in general, a quirky man-child.
Lets see who's laughing when I find that treasure...
I hated summer camp.
But at least this time around, the big scary kids are bouncers, who need legal recourse before torturing their victims with worms, projectile fruit boxes, and toppled over porta-potties. Except maybe in Dallas.
So I find myself here, in front of a smorgasbord of relatively useful crap that I may or may not use. So what does Dan from Plushgun pack? In no significant order:
7 pairs of socks.
10 pairs of underwear (re-using socks; not nearly as big of a sanitation folly)
2 black shirts. Because they are slimming
2 button-ups, for shows
3 skinny ties.
2 pairs of sneakers
1 pair of running shorts
1 pair of swim trunks.
200 condoms (for the great condom-water-balloon battle of Lawrence)
1 female condom, passed over from Freezepop, to be handed over to Nightmare of You.
Xanax
Excedrin
Imodium
14th century Spanish Short Sword
FIFA '05 for PS2
Portable fan
Tennis Racket
Wiffleball set
3 pairs of jeans
Chair
Treasure Map
Floss, which has yet to be opened, despite being purchased 3 tours ago.
2 Nerf dart guns
Macbook
Season 3 of Six Feet Under
1 copy of the US Constitution
Flask
toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant.
3 ounces of dignity
and one pint of shame.
I suppose I need more than the average person for a cross-country quest, though it is not because I am high maintenance, but just in general, a quirky man-child.
Lets see who's laughing when I find that treasure...
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Prologue: The calm, unrequited.
Very shortly, we will be shipping off to tour the country for about six weeks. This will, by this point, be considered the longest "on the road" experience we will have had. As much as I am slightly nervous about the expectations, and unable to navigate the uncertainty of the events that lay ahead, I am also keenly aware of the literary opportunity that is presented in front of me. Or at least a voyeuristic insight that is rarely if ever truly seen: the touring life of a baby buzz band in the national sphere.
This is not a tour with buses and laminated passes. We are stuffing 4 guys and gear in a van, to drive state to state, stopping at standardized highway rest-stops to pile on top of the already-liver burning fast food. The glory of a touring band is highly assumed and misrepresented. Glory days are over for the music industry, and we are working with what we have to get by and spread our sound.
I am going to be using this blog to give you a candid glimpse in our lives in the next month.5. Names will be changed to protect the innocent, but let me be blunt: this is no typical tour diary, where bands present how fun their lives are and what sights they see: if I inexplicably wake up in Vegas wearing a cheerleader outfit, you will know. Perhaps not why as I may not know either...
As we embark, the Plushgun pirates on a concrete ocean, I invite you to join our adventures.
Ahoy!
This is not a tour with buses and laminated passes. We are stuffing 4 guys and gear in a van, to drive state to state, stopping at standardized highway rest-stops to pile on top of the already-liver burning fast food. The glory of a touring band is highly assumed and misrepresented. Glory days are over for the music industry, and we are working with what we have to get by and spread our sound.
I am going to be using this blog to give you a candid glimpse in our lives in the next month.5. Names will be changed to protect the innocent, but let me be blunt: this is no typical tour diary, where bands present how fun their lives are and what sights they see: if I inexplicably wake up in Vegas wearing a cheerleader outfit, you will know. Perhaps not why as I may not know either...
As we embark, the Plushgun pirates on a concrete ocean, I invite you to join our adventures.
Ahoy!
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