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We got envieís new CD in the mail a week or three ago. Itís got a heavy Kate Bush flavor, as Iíve mentioned when reviewing their live show. Itís got some interesting moments, mixing electric guitar with harp (yes, harp) and lilting female lead vocals, very arty but honestly it wasnít for me. If youí
re into that kind of thing, check them out his Saturday at The Earl for their CD release show, along with The Sweetloves and Gringo Star (formerly A Fir-Ju Well.)
In other performance news, we got this from Calu off myspace:
Well Dollsquad is kinda splitting its truope into 2! We all love each other and everything is cool if you were wondering...
Barb and Sadies new project is called Blast Off Burlesque..so give them your love and support!
And my (Calu) new project will be billed as The Dollsquad presents..Calu`s Lil` Go Go Peep Show! It will be a smaller version of all the dolls you know !
So come Check out Us out @ Smiths Olde Bar Oct 26th with the Greatest band in the world...SUPERGROUP!!!
Degenerate Press has been quiet lately. The stint at the Loafing had me tired of reporting, honestly. Thatís beginning to wear off.
As always, fall snuck up on me before I could get one last camping trip in.
The season always gets me down. However the more depressed I am the more I write. My fall fugue can be combated with travel, obscene amounts of sex, and/or antidepressants. Two out of three ainít bad, thus the lack of communication of late.
But even when Iím in the mood to write, there hasnít been much going on.
Netflix, Adult Swim, and slowly getting the house ready to host a party have been ample entertainment. I didnít even make it to the Little Stevenís garage rock show on Wednesday. Mid-week shows are all but impossible to get to for an old working stiff like myself.
Thursday I had dinner at The Earl with an old acquaintance whoís slowly becoming more of a friend. She had tantalizing tales of lesbian lust but even that couldnít keep me out late.
Friday I had a late dinner at The Five Spot, then called it an early night before the live music could even get started.
Saturday it was ribs at Daddy Díz followed by a few drinks at Estoria. The wait staff there is cute and reasonably attentive, but I never feel like ití
s *my* place. It was my brotherís haunt before he moved to California so there are some familiar faces, but the few I know by name happen to be a few I donít necessarily want to talk to. Late on Saturday nights hipster DJís crank out a mix of rock and pop music that is simultaneously impressive and depressing. Shit, *I* couldía been that guy behind the turntables, had I found used record stores in my youth, or been a few years younger when DJ culture came to the fore. Now Iím an aging Ė or *aged* - hipster whoís friends are all home with babies. I meet them for dinner or events from time to time but the baby conversations inevitably drive me away. I understand the attraction to having kids, then I realize once itís happened what the hell else do you have to talk about? They are, by design, all-consuming.
And if thereís anything consistent in my life itís a steadfast refusal to get all-consumed by anything. Family, career, religion, drugs, alcohol, art, music Ė none of it has a strong enough appeal to give any of the rest of it up in trade. Itís been year after year of distraction but nothing central to get distracted *from.* Itís a pleasant life, but a life without great meaning, challenge or accomplishment. And I seem to have a complete lack of motivation to make it otherwise.
Kids? Meh. Despite 40 looming on the horizon, I havenít gotten the bug. My last partner was dead set against them and I was ok with that.
Career? I do what I can to get by, enough to keep me in a comfortable position but not enough to climb the corporate ladder toward greater responsibility and the rewards that would come from it.
Religion? Please. Iíve been an atheist since I was 12, if not before that.
Make the world a better place? Feh. Weíre at 6.5 billion people and counting. In the entire course of human history there has always been poverty, hunger, violence, crime, and competition for natural resources and itís only going to get worse. I fantasize about some Mad-Max-style post-apocalyptic future but I know thereís not even hope for that. Instead, itís going to be a slow slide into hell and I donít think thereís a damn thing I or anyone else can do about it.
Make a great contribution of some sort? I am smarter than most, so I can at least recognize genius when I see it, and I donít see it in myself. On a good day, I am merely clever.
I think some of this malaise is the product of mass media/communications.
When it was only word of mouth or even the written word you didnít have to do much to be an exception. A good man would have his praises sung, a strong man became the stuff of legend, a charismatic man Ė the son of God himself.
But with hundreds of channels broadcasting tales of humanity 24/7, rising above the mundane requires Herculean motivation or the cosmic alignment of fates.
Itís enough to make one want to go on a shooting spree.
Hey! Now I *AM* depressed Ė Iím writing again!
And this is how I feel when life is going *well*? Maybe I should take the antidepressants after all.
In more cheerful topics, degenerate BH put together this site:
believe it or not, itís work-safe.
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