Musician, Freak, Dayjobber, Etc.

Ever find yourself suddenly – gloriously! -- FREE for a day? I did; very recently in fact. =)

There’s a modest drainage in a relatively non-descript area of a somewhat overlooked southern California National Forest that has been drawing me back time and time again this year (this was my 3rd trip to the region this year, my 2nd as a fly fisher). It’s a very small stream, the area is loaded with biting blackflies, and, overall, the place is kind of scruffy; however, there’s a certain color -- and spunk -- to the wild fish that inhabit this stream, and I find it delightfully intriguing.

So, on my unexpectedly free day, I found myself driving the 87 miles from my doorstep to this stream, carrying – for the first time – a 6’6” Diamondback Diamondglass 3-wt small-stream rod, one which a very kind soul on this board has let me “try out” for a season, just to see how I like it.

After arriving around 11:00AM and slathering myself in my favorite wilderness cologne – Eau de Deet – I made my way upstream, up good old Pink Diamond Creek:



As usual, it took me a solid, frustratingly fishless hour until I began to “dial in” the stream. I always seem to be a bit impatient when I first hit a stream, and this day was no exception. At first, I tried this, that, and the other fly (stimulators, streamers and nymph-and-indicator, in that order), to no avail. I began to doubt myself and my techniques.

My manhood came into question, frankly.

When I spooked an absolutely gorgeous, red-banded-and-purple-parr-marked wild rainbow from under a log in an otherwise totally exposed location, I began to think that I’d be eating skunk this fine autumn day. Listen: that spooked fish had absolutely beautiful coloration – I saw her every marking in the crystal-clear waters – and she was easily 12”. Damn these eyes!

Then I stumbled onto a larger-than-average pool and proceeded to switch to a classic fly: a tan-and-yellow #16 EHC. Before I knew it, I had caught and released four lovely, wild rainbow trout – all of them dinks (2”-4” range). =( I KNEW the pool held bigger fish – I saw an 8”-er rise not 5 feet in front of me – but I had been spastically reckless in my approach and, in all likelihood, had spooked the big ‘uns under a big rock near the tail.

From that point on, I took extra pains to be stealthy. I started crawling up to locations, keeping my profile low and my body crouched against the horizon. I tried not to make a noise. I stopped breathing for a moment, then decided to start again.

Guess what? It worked.

The stealthy “I am a predator” Ted Nugent(tm) approach –as I always seem to stupidly forget – paid off. I began catching some of the larger denizens (the largest was nine inches in the Measure Net) of this sweet little babbling brook. This one was taken from a pool that was about head-high, upstream from me as I stood in the spray of a small waterfall, tossing my EHC into the sunny pool at eye-level:



Or this sweetheart:



Or this:



Here’s a smaller one with the Diamondglass:



And so went my afternoon, spent in a haze of dry-fly drifts and spunky trout fights. Good times.

By the way, the Diamondglass RULED! What a fantastic small-stream weapon. This thing worked like a dream, casting with distance – such as it was -- when I needed it, and mostly used for “flipping” my dry fly from the end of the drift back to the head of the pool (again, this is TINY water). Nice rod, very nice. I like it. Now, if only it were a four-piece instead of a two-piece.

Later, on the way out, this fine tarantula was spotted:



Nothing like the feeling of another wonderful day spent with a fly rod in hand, taking home a head full of wild trout memories.

Hey ya’ll...sorry I haven’t blogged lately. I’m just not in the mood, PLUS, this is the time of year when my day job – I’m a direct marketing database admin./programmer, by the filthy way – gets really intense (read: busy) and I just don’t have the time to write stuff down.

Sometimes, I try sending mental blogs out to each of you, but only a handful of you have acknowledged receiving them. Sad, isn’t it? I mean, I’ll just sit there, standing, sending out these really funny mental blogs and, yet, no one seems to care. So I’ve stopped doing it.

So there.

Ryo Okumoto (www.ryookumoto.com) is currently on tour in Japan and then Europe, so in his absence, he’s left yours truly with the task of hooking the band up and practicing his music, which we have faithfully done. You know what? We sound pretty good! Who needs Ryo? :) We plan to continue rehearsing until he gets home from tour in late October, then we’ll see what happens with regard to gigs and recording. It’s pretty funny: practicing his music without him there is kind of weird, ya know? It’s like, “Is this right?” and stuff, but whatever – we are one hell of an ‘80’s metal machine, baby! (Growing a mullet as I type this missive.)

The Abe Lincoln Story continue to love, live, and gig; check out our most recently archived live show via streaming video/audio at the official website (www.abelincolnstory.com) and tell me what you think. Sadly, the keyboard player, Brian Mendelsohn, and I are not visible in the video until the last couple of tunes. No loss – calling it “video” is a stretch anyway, the stuff is pretty blurry, BUT the music sounds good, to me anyway. For once, I can hear my guitar! My tone isn’t all that horrible! To quote Brian Mendelsohn: “I don’t hate it!”.

Who wants ice cream? Folks, this fatty – me – has been on an ice cream jag these past few vanilla-blueberry weeks. Been eating a tub of Ben and Jerry’s almost every night before bed. What a dummy! I can’t help it! Please, someone, stop me before I clog what’s left of my remaining arteries.

Well, what do you know? The Ultra Suede (www.myspace.com/theultrasuede) actually played a nice, quiet gig recently, our first ever. We had two intense pre-gig rehearsals, and we all thought we were sounding pretty smashing, pretty bedazzling, pretty 7-11-ish. We were smiling, collectively, as a band. You know, The Band Smile. So, the gig is ready to happen – a party, by the way -- and our fearless leader, unannounced, brings a keyboard player onstage to play with us – us, the tightly-rehearsed band. Well, the keyboard guy – who was fantastic, by the way – obviously didn’t know the material and, trust me folks, the Ultra Suede tunes have more than their fair share of wacky chords and strange progressions. So, basically, I felt like we sucked, just ‘cause the keyboard player was always *just* a step behind the changes. What a bummer. Our first gig, and we sucked. The freaking room EMPTIED, people. EMPTIED. Part of the mass exodus might’ve been my fault: I was using someone else’s bass amp (thanks, Culligan Man) and for the first song – a cover of The Monkees “Pleasant Valley Tuesday” – my volume was extremely loud. I had it adjusted by the next song, but by then we were playing basically for my girlfriend and maybe a cricket or two. Everyone else was out on the patio, smoking marijuana and making passes at one another.

Lastly, my ex-band, the excellent-yet-sort-of-snooty Tribeca (www.tribecamusic.net) are finally having a CD release party. I’ve been asked to sit-in with the band for one song, throwing down a lead guitar solo, but, the other night, when I was messing around practicing my lead, I got some of those “bad vibe” feelings I used to get when I actually played with those guys – you know, that “your tone is too rawk” or “you’re playing too noodle-y” vibe – and now I am reconsidering. You know, I wanna COMPLIMENT bands I play with, not COMPETE, so I am still deciding if I’m gonna do it or not. Regardless, I will be at the gig and you should be too because Tribeca’s songs KILL and I’m betting the band is a highly polished ‘70’s-sounding smooth jazz-pop machine. Check the website for details, minutia, etc.

So goes the life of a lame musician.

Anyway, that’s what’s up with my bands; otherwise, Nipper and I have been having a great, mellow summer, and looking forward to an even mellower fall. We went to a party recently at the home of Anna Borg (www.tallboyrecords.com), which was really fun, and we’ve seen a few gigs here and there, and this weekend we’re going to see the Urinals and The Last and The Leaving Trains and other bands at this thing: http://www.happysquid.com/HSR%20site/URI%20site/urinews.htm. We’ve been hanging around town a lot, and Nipper’s been landscaping her front yard and re-tiling her kitchen, so we haven’t been to as many parties as usual, but who’s complaining?

Actually, I feel like I’m losing touch with some key scenes and people – like, I hardly ever see any of the IPO pop people anymore, what’s up with that? And I haven’t heard from the Willy Wisely (www.wiselylive.com) crowd all summer. Waaaa!!! Where are my party people?

One thing that might explain my lack of touch with old(er) friends and scenes is this: I am getting so tired of seeing bands in clubs. I hate having to YELL OVER THE MUSIC WHEN TALKING TO PEOPLE, and I hate having to kindly fake applause for music I find less than interesting, and I hate standing around awkwardly in rooms that aren’t comfortable for hanging out in, etc. I mean, these days, if I go see a band, they’d better blow me away or else I’ll consider the evening a waste. I must be getting jaded; even really good pop music is boring me to tears. I need a new hobby.

Like, say, heroin.

But all is not lost, musically: I’ve been HIGHER THAN A KITE over Jeff Carlson’s (www.psychedelicate.com) new band (Sonata Form) and album (Harmony, Courage, Joy and IQ) and I’ve even corresponded with Jeff and he mentioned perhaps collaborating soon – how ultra-groovy-insane-peanut-buttery goodness is that? Listen: if you love Todd Rundgren, then buy Jeff’s album; he makes Todd look like an amateur. Ok, not really, but Jeff’s songs kick so much ass your teeth’ll fart. I like that word: teeth’ll.

And then there’s fly fishing (haven’t caught any flies lately, thanks for asking, Susan). I’ve been out with my guitar hero ultra-bro Bernard Yin (www.themigs.com) a couple-three times over the past month, but I haven’t bothered writing about the experiences because they involve extremely vulnerable, sensitive local streams, and I’m not sharing that info online where poachers can see it. Sorry, but poachers make me sick and if I EVER catch you netting or bleaching trout out of ANY of my local creeks, look out shithead, ‘cause I’m coming after you and I am fucking armed to the teeth. Really. God, I wanna kill poachers, the same way Pat Robertson’s god wants the US government to kill Venezuelan strongmen. Anyway, I DID do a local backpack with some buddies recently, and I WILL post a report very soon. Meanwhile, folks, FALL IS HERE and that means two things: 1) I masturbate a little more often (the smell of decaying vegetation turns me on) and 2) I go to the Sierra’s to fly fish for spawning runs of fat wild brown trout. So, in early October – just around the time of this, my 34th birthday HAHAHAHAHA (actually, reverse the numbers “34” and you will deduce my correct soon-to-be age) – I will be heading to the western Sierras for a few days, hopefully with some of my hardcore fly fishing buds, to work the magic waters and search for massive wild brown trout. This year, I vow to catch-n-release a 20”+ brown on a fly – I mean it!!! So, I am excited about spending an autumn week in the Sierras with some friends, fly fishing, drinking beer, and hanging out, like mountain men of old.

Do you guys think I should quit some of my bands and focus on songwriting and demoing again? I haven’t had time to write in almost two years and I am sort of itching to get back on the writing/recording horsie, so to speak. On the other foot, I really enjoy being in the different bands and hanging with the different musicians, playing gigs and stuff, so I am torn. Please, help me decide.

Well, I’m bored. Time to move on. Time to start working on my new invention: The Fondle-izer. It’s a battery-operated (two “C” batteries) machine shaped like a human hand (that of an older man, actually) that gropes and squeezes when activated. You place The Fondle-izer in the lap of a small child, activate it, and let the machine do the fondling for you. It’s clean, quick, easy and LEGAL. I’m hoping to market this invention to the Catholic church; I stand to make a bundle.

Okay, that’s all. Class dismissed. David Lee Roth has left the building. Until next time, remember: architecture is frozen music, so build yourself a Kenny Chesney-styled mansion in Kentucky today. xoxox kErrY xoxox