10-16-05
Diner/Bar in Tucson, AZ, Tom Waits and Charlie Parker playing. They have RC and diet RC and Red Velvet cocoa cake. The waitress is thin but pretty. All the kids have too many holes in their faces. I'm so lonely I could cry.
Took the scenic route from my mom's house in Oceanside yesterday through the Palm Desert, which was beautiful but stressful. Like I haven't spent enough time lately in the Desert of the Palm, ha ha ha, uh, shit. All these steep cliffs with no guard rails are just a little too tempting. I felt my hands clamping down on the wheel like I was fighting some unseen force beckoning me over.
The radio's dead, so I just spent the whole day examining my life. At one point, I think I'd actually made peace with breaking up with Allison. I realized that the same narcissim and self-involvement that contributed to the demise of our relationship is also a self-preservation reflex. So I will always be okay... but I guess I'll always be alone. It sucks, because I've had conversations with folks in the past about relationships and they've argued for keeping a little bit of yourself to yourself, and I maintained that for true love, you've got to commit yourself entirely and just trust that the other person won't hurt you. I guess I thought I did that with Allie and I tried to do that with Allie and it seemed at times like she did that with me. I guess, though, that at the end of the day that the gulf between two human beings is insurpassable. I'm going out of this world the same way I came into it-- naked, alone and screaming.
The show last night was good, but not as good as I think Ron or I had hoped. It was a decent turnout for one of my shows, but I think it was pretty slim for what they were expecting. One of my favorite performers, Paige the Village Idiot played, which was fucking awesome. Ron was totally hilarious, as expected. I sold two CDs to a couple of chubby girls-- which I'll complain about, but I'm secretly delighted. I'm reaching my target demographic! Ron threw me twenty bucks which I promptly blew at the bar drinking with Paige. Towards the end of the night, I realized I was going to be going home alone, so I made a half-hearted attempt at hitting on an unnattractive girl. Why are other folks not as eager to betray themselves as I am? I went home alone.
Well, my old mom's alright. I was lying around tonight drinking beer and my mom said "Hey, I'll trade you a drink of scotch for one of those beers." When I told her I was trying to lay off the hard stuff, she said "no, I'll trade you another one of those beers for a drink of the scotch you have in your van." She cleaned my van about two months ago and remembered spotting a bottle of scotch in my van-- a bottle that I'd even forgotten about. And good son that I am, I was already halfway into the loft in the back of my van like a terrier after a gopher before I realized that the beer she was going to trade me for my scotch was my beer that I left here last time I was here...
The show in LA last night was great, especially considering the complete and utter lack of preparation I put into it. Ryan was great, picking me up at the airport, then ferrying my drunk ass to the club and back to their crib afterwards (I fell asleep in the back seat). Then he even drove me down to my mom's in Oceanside today on about four hours of sleep with nary a complaint. He and Ron have really been struggling in LA, but it's heartening to hang out with someone who is totally committed to making their art work. LA's fucking bizarre, at one point last night I was standing on Hollywood Boulevard, looking down at Charles Schulz star right around the corner from the L. Ron Hubbard reading library.
I listened to the new record and, after hating it on my little boom box in the Pit Of Despair, I loved it on Ryan's car stereo. Ryan dug it, too-- but man, his face really lit up when he heard Beat the Devil. The Beat the Devil shit is better, and I can say that without any bitterness. Still, it's hard to see a friend and a fan have a deeper response to the band I've played bass in for a couple of months than he did to the shit that I've ruined my life for. I don't feel threatened by Shilpa's writing prowess and I don't feel the need to compete with her; she's so far out of my league that instead of feeling like I've got to match her or best her, I feel happy and lucky to be playing in a band with such a talent and I just want us both to become better writers. Of course, being BFF with her and Justin and having both of them be so sensitive and supportive of what I'm doing makes the whole thing easier. (Justin said the first thing he and Shilpa thought when they were getting ready to move into their new place is that they'll have to get a couch for me to sleep on). I'll come out and say it: I'm optimistic, both about Beat The Devil and my own stuff. The record's really good.
Denver Post is running something about my Denver shows! Man, for once it's actually going to be good to return to the site of my greatest defeat with some kick ass press heralding my return. I mean, it'll all end in heartbreak anyway, as it always does, but I'm looking forward to it right now.
I'm already missing Justin and Shilpa and Jesse and Jay, all my pals who have been so awesome in the last coupla months. I'm doing okay, but I know I'll be run pretty fucking ragged by the time I make it back to NYC. Either way, tomorrow, it's on.