This past Sunday, my wife and I were on our way to South Plainfield to do some shopping. We finally broke out the GPS that my sister had gotten us for Christmas. I already kinda sorta knew where I was going, but I figured it’d be fun to plug in the address of the strip mall into the GPS just to see where it would take us. It seemed like it didn’t really know where it was going. It literally directed me to go in a complete circle at one point. I am now convinced that no one from Tom Tom – or, for that matter, anyone associated with MapQuest, Google maps et al – has ever set foot in the state of New Jersey.

Anyway, the GPS With Little to No Sense of Direction wound up taking me by my old high school (the name of which I will not disclose here because, with my luck, one of my old classmates will wind up seeing this and want to get in touch with me, in which case, chances are I don’t want to talk to you).

I literally hadn’t seen in since the last day of finals senior year. My last memory of that day was getting in my car to leave and the entire campus covered with cops to make sure none of us unruly seniors did any donuts and/or sped out of the parking lot. And, of course, there was Brother Joe (the principal) standing there by the exit with his hands folded behind his back, staring everyone down on the way out. Can’t you just feel the love? I can.

Anyway, when I graduated, I swore numerous oaths to never go back there again. Ever. But, on Sunday, I couldn’t help myself, so I turned into the entrance (actually the exit by accident) and decided to take a look around, Little Dolls by Ozzy Osbourne playing on repeat in my head for some reason.

I only did a short drive-thru of the place. The freshman annex, the brothers’ residence, and the chapel all looked the same. The main academic building had made a few large additions, one of which looked like a new gymnasium. In the back of the school was a trailer with a sign stating that it was the Regis Moccia Center of Admissions and Financial Aid or something. Really? That was necessary?

I pulled around the front of the school and I was about to have my wife take a picture of me standing outside, flipping it off with both hands, when I realized there were little kids playing over there. I decided to nix that idea, and we left to go get some dinner. I wasn’t even on campus for five minutes.

Though I didn’t say anything to my spouse, I felt a little numb after we left, and then a little sad. Sad over the trajectory my life took after that last day of finals. I remember graduation day being one of the happiest days of my life. I was so happy that I found myself shaking hands with teachers I loathed. Hitler could’ve been there, and I would’ve high-fived him and passed him the beach ball. I didn’t give a shit. I was OUTTA THERE. I was almost 18, my entire life was ahead of me, and all I cared about was hanging with my girl who I loved more than anything. I was Lloyd Dobler four years too early.

Having said that, after that movie ended, I went to college and majored in some useless subject to please my parents, and then the girl left and my entire world crumbled. I’ve been trying to rebuild it ever since. It’s been, at best, hit and miss.

Jon Bon Jovi, incidentally, went to that high school before he wised up and transferred after sophomore year back to Sayreville High. Interesting story: on the floor in front of the school’s main entrance is the “school seal”, and it was positively verboten to step anywhere near it, never mind on it. Before he left, he allegedly stood directly in the middle of the thing, declaring that he was going to be a big rock star and proceeded to tell off everyone within earshot. Or at least that’s one of his old classmates told me at a gig last year, anyway. I can totally see that happening, though. And he was right, what the hell did he need that place for? If I’d had a relative who helped build the fucking Record Plant and produced Hendrix, Ozzy, and the Talking Heads, I would’ve done the same thing. But I wasn’t him. He had parents who let him play clubs every night of the week, and he took advantage of every opportunity afforded him and succeeded, albeit with a great deal of help from the aforementioned relatives. I knew no one and kowtowed to everyone else but myself. Do the math.

So yeah, I couldn’t really get angry. I was on the school website yesterday, and 95% of the teachers I had either died or got transferred or both. They were pushing 80 back then, anyway. I was surprised to see Brother Mike’s name on the faculty list. Dude used to smoke 7 ½ cartons a day, and when he wasn’t having a cigarette, he’d be obsessively smelling his fingers for the scent of nicotine. Oh, and Mr. Powers, who I had for sociology junior year, and who accused me of advocating fascism or socialism or something on one of my term papers. Other than that, only a handful of teachers I had are still there, none of them being the ones worth telling off.

I don’t know what I expected to happen when I saw that place again, but it wasn’t quite the emotional experience that I thought it would be. Maybe if I’d stayed there longer or actually went inside and walked around by myself, it would have been different. But my wife was with me, and we were in the middle of doing other things. In the end, it was just a bunch of buildings.

But maybe that’s the point.

Tags: gps, high school
Current Location: work
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: none

Because they’re all kinda getting that way…

Worked all day. Wife calls me in early afternoon to tell me that she called Red Bank Animal Hospital because Chia (who may be terminally ill now, more on that later) was weak when she walked her, and they said to bring her in because she may have “turned a corner”. I told her to call them back and ask them what the hell they were going to possibly do for her at the ER that hasn’t already been done. She calls me back again and then it’s “oh, they just said to watch her for a few more days and see how she is…” I tried to sort of show her the error in her thinking (why I even bother anymore is beyond me) and we naturally started fighting on the phone. At. My. Job. I had to go out in the car and continue it on my cell because David walked by and told me to keep it down. After work, went straight to my wife’s doctor who is now going to do yet another injection on Wednesday and see if that takes. Then to IHOP for dinner where I had trouble swallowing my salad and wound up coughing it up through my mouth and nose at the table, and then H&R Block where we discovered (only good news of the day) that we’re actually getting a refund because the wife’s job finally started taking out the necessary amount of deductions from her paychecks. Not that we’ll see any of the money because it has to go towards what we owe from previous years, but at least we don’t owe any more. Then to Shop-Rite for “a couple things” (yeah, right), and then it doesn’t dawn on her until we’re pulled up in front of the apartment and the FUCKING IGNITION IS SHUT OFF that she left the new wallet that I got her in a shopping cart in the Shop-Rite parking lot and the first thing out of her mouth is, “YOU left it in the shopping cart”, as if it’s now my responsibility to make sure she has her stupid wallet with her all the time. I only bought her the thing over the weekend and I even said, “It’s kinda small, aren’t you afraid of losing it?” She goes, “Oh no, it’s got the strap”. Uh huh. So we went back and thankfully it was still there and everything was intact. By the time I got home, it was almost 9 pm, and I couldn’t even see straight.

So yeah, about Chia. Took her to Red Bank Hospital on Saturday where they did an ultrasound and they think she’s got lymphoma in her abdomen. So, having agreed there was no point in doing more tests for cancer as she’d never survive chemo and we couldn’t afford it anyhow, Chia is on prednisone now and they’re giving her 2-5 months. And, much as my wife swears up and down that she heard the doctor say this, she did not tell us to call on Monday with an update on how she’s doing. She’d only been on the meds two days. Common sense would dictate that the meds wouldn’t be in her system long enough to do anything one way or the other, but I should know better than to accuse my wife of having common sense. That’s why I got so angry. It’s bad enough I’ve got a wife who doesn’t think straight half the time, I need a bunch of hospital employees freaking her out for no good reason.

And now, I check my bank balance and it’s $24.56 overdrawn so I have to take care of that on my lunch, and then Romeo may have to be taken to Banfield after work because the adhesive on his diaper (yes, I have two dogs in diapers now) somehow snagged his skin and it was bleeding last night and we think he may have an infection near his crotch.
And I had to shell out over 200 bucks to Stanley Steemer on Saturday so they could clean the rug from all the times the dogs peed on it. After they finished and left, my wife discovered that it still stunk in that one spot where Romeo goes all the time, and had to actually pick up the rug and cut out the pad from the bottom because the stains had gone all the way down to the concrete. Yeah, and when the Stanley Steemer guys were at the house, they were like, “Oh, for an extra $200, we can sign you up for a year plan where we come out 4x a year” and “No rug shampooer is going to do what we do”, and when my wife called them back about that spot, they were like, “Well, um, there’s nothing we can do if it’s all the way down like that”. So, we went out and bought a rug shampooer at K-Mart, and hopefully that’ll take care of that.

This is my life, surrounded by sickness. Lucky me. I could smash myself in the head with a hammer for still being in this fucked up situation at this point in my life. I’m so sick of it. Nearly every morning, I’m talking at my windshield on the way to work about this shit because it’s the only thing in my life that doesn’t either judge me or offer some whack-ass advice with little to no understanding of what I’m talking about. All because I can’t handle being alone. I might as well admit it. When Mark Rosenwald died, what little coping mechanisms I might have had for being alone went out the window. And that’s going on 20 years ago now. I’ve sacrificed everything in my life for this over those years, more than I have for any band I’ve ever been in, and what have I gotten in return? Trauma and bullshit, that’s what. When I think about where I’d be now or what I might have had if I’d just wised up, it depresses me sometimes to the point of incapacitation. And not only that, whatever I give never seems to be enough. I might as well not even bother.

Well, back to work.

Tags: dogs, sicknesses, stupid marriage crap
Current Location: work
Current Mood: cranky
Current Music: none

She’s been leaking urine for about a week now, plus she hadn’t eaten anything in a couple days and just sleeps all the time. Just like Bogwa towards the end.

Took her to Banfield. Waiting on results of blood tests. In the meantime, she was given amoxicillin and sent home. Bought a diaper for her (Ed: Romeo has also been wearing a diaper for a while, since he can’t seem to stop peeing in the house, which has ruined the carpet, causing the smell which lead to the fight on Saturday, etc etc) and she had to spoon feed her food last night because she can’t take the antibiotic without it. Had to transfer $400 from savings to cover all these expenses, which my other half will completely forget about weeks/months from now when we need money from savings for something or other and there isn’t any left. Which, of course, I’ll be somehow blamed for.

So yeah, we had to actually speak to each other yesterday because of the dog. Not about anything re: our marriage, mind you. Nooooo. Because that would imply that we actually have some sort of rapport or some sort of interest in being on the same page or something. Or maybe that the female side of the equation needs to wake up to the fact that a marriage wouldn’t be able to survive over the long haul with both parties living a thousand miles apart from each other. Or that the mere fact that she said this DURING HER SORRY-ASS EXCUSE OF AN APOLOGY to me has undermined our entire relationship.

But that’s OK. She can just keep running her mouth with that shit and one of these days, a one-way Greyhound ticket with her name on it will magically appear in the house and she can pack her shit and go off to that never-never land back down South which I cruelly banished her from when she married me, fucking asshole that I am.
Bitter? Moi?

Tags: dogs, stupid marriage crap
Current Location: work
Current Mood: pissed off
Current Music: see yesterday

I should be writing about how awesome SXSW was, but as usual, everything gets tainted by shit happening back home. While I was away, my mom fell and had to be hospitalized for a few days. Fell flat on her face in the bathroom and banged her head on the wall on the way down, and only went to the ER after her family and doctor pleaded with her to go. Oh, and she had chest pains just prior, which is new. She’s OK now, but she has arthritis in her spine, and, of course, her doctor(s) can’t figure out why she faints. And Mom won’t go to physical therapy or pain management.

And then there’s my wife. She had another epidural for her back/hip/whatever pain on the day I left, and my sister calls me at my job saying she “wasn’t doing too good.” I’m thinking something went wrong during surgery or something, so I called an hour later asking how she’s doing, and Nancy was like, “Oh, you can call her on her cell…” No, my family has no idea what they’re dealing with, thanks for asking. It’s been eleven fucking years of medical crises for me, so I’m “used to it”, If Daddy isn’t there to hold her stupid hand, everything goes to hell.

And, of course, I came home and got sick for two weeks with a flu that turned into pneumonia. All of which shrank my paycheck, though not as badly as I thought. Of course, this little tidbit of info didn’t stop my stupid bitch of a wife from picking a fight with me over the fucking carpet on Saturday morning, then acting like I started it, and then played the I’m-moving-back-to-Florida card and she “wasn’t bluffing this time”. Again. I love how whatever I say IN RESPONSE to what she says somehow becomes me starting the fight, but anyway…

Now, I didn’t want to call Seth about the rug because I thought we were going to get charged for replacing it. Fine, I was wrong about that. I also started screaming BACK at her because I’m fed up with her crap and didn’t know what else to do to get through to her. I had also just woken the fuck up from a rather troubling dream and maybe didn’t feel like listening to her complaining again at her usual jet engine volume (which was, btw, a reenactment of our argument over the rug LAST MONTH which was solved by renting a rug shampooer like we’d always done). And the way you were refusing to lower your voice when I CALMLY asked you to was cool and super mature, btw. I said, you know what? If you can find someone who can do what I do BETTER than me, you go fucking find him. Then yesterday, she makes this half-assed apology and tells me that she wasn’t threatening divorce because “plenty of married couples live apart”. Yeah, especially the ones who don’t want to lose the financial benefits. And by the way, I was the one who suggested we hold off on getting a laptop this week (the AC jack is broken), but she wanted to play her games at night, so don’t give me this “you just care about what you want” bullshit and “we always have money for what YOU want” and all the blah blah blah that’s been spewing out of her pie hole from DAY FUCKING ONE OF THIS RELATIONSHIP.

And that’s just it. THIS SHIT DOESN’T CHANGE. IT WILL NEVER CHANGE. SO FINE, MOVE BACK TO FLORIDA AND WE’LL SEE HOW LONG THIS MARRIAGE LASTS. BUT I KNOW YOU WON’T DO IT. AND DON’T THINK I DON’T KNOW WHY, EITHER. ASIDE FROM THE MONEY, YOU DON’T WANT TO LOOK BAD IN FRONT OF YOUR FAMILY, SO YOU’LL JUST SPIN IT TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE I’M THE ONE WHO WANTS OUT AND THEN YOU CAN BLAME ME FOR EVERYTHING JUST LIKE YOU DID DURING OUR MARRIAGE AND EVERYONE CAN GO “OH POOR ANGELIA”. FUCK THAT FUCKING NOISE. IF THESE PEOPLE KNEW EVEN ONE-TENTH OF WHAT IT’S BEEN LIKE LIVING WITH “POOR ANGELIA”, THEY’D BE WONDERING WHY I DIDN’T RUN AWAY SCREAMING YEARS AGO. SO YOU CAN STOP ACTING LIKE A FIVE-YEAR-OLD WHO HAS NO UNDERSTANDING ABOUT HOW MARRIAGES WORK AND TAKE YOUR PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE “I’M NOT REALLY THREATENING DIVORCE” BULLSHIT AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS. I’M SICK AND TIRED OF HAVING THE SAME FIGHT OVER AND OVER, AND THEN VENTING THE SAME THINGS IN MY JOURNAL YEAR AFTER YEAR AFTER YEAR AND RESOLVING NOTHING!

But, in the end, Stanley Steemer will be here next Saturday to clean the rug. And Mark and his wife will probably end up “making up” and reenacting the above scenario until one of them gets cancer and dies. Because neither of them can nut up enough to have admit that if these things aren’t working out by now, they probably won’t. Because, deep down, one is waiting for the other one to say “I want out” so they can spin it to make it look like they’re the victim here.

And there’s nothing left to write.

Tags: adhd madness, adhd-ridden spouses, stupid marriage crap
Current Location: work
Current Mood: angry
Current Music: like it fucking matters

We leave for tour in less than two days. And while it feels like things are coming together for the band, the situation at home is predictably the polar opposite of that.

Jeremy is in jail, we found out yesterday. His girlfriend reported him for “domestic violence on a pregnant woman” due to her coming home Saturday night at 4 am. She also is a schizophrenic who apparently is cheating on him with two other guys and frequents a crack house. Now, of course, this being Jeremy, nothing is ever that cut and dry, and there are several different versions of what did/didn’t happen i.e. whether or not he held a gun to her head or even if she’s actually pregnant (or, if she is, whose baby it is). Of course it’s a mess. Were you really expecting anything different? My wife talked to Sam a couple times yesterday, and the general consensus is that the girlfriend will drop the charges, seeing as how she could easily lose her kids should someone report her drug usage to the authorities or something. On the other hand, this is Florida; I wouldn’t be surprised if they started handing out crack pipes at Child Services.

Oh, and my wife has been in severe pain for the past week and a half. She called her doctor last week, and was told that he would examine her when she goes for her lumbar injections tomorrow. That’s it. No other assistance was deemed necessary. Yeah, um, I’d HOPE that he examines her prior to the procedure, seeing as how it’s a basic part of prepping someone for something like that. Fucking idiot. This is the same guy, mind you, who decided to inject both her hips at the last minute when she started having this done in January, and that was only after a nurse said something to him about her condition. Anyway, hopefully my wife will get some relief tomorrow, but I’m not getting my hopes up. The more doctors I deal with in Jersey, the more I’m beginning to think they got their training in Florida.

Why does it always feel like I’m on a train and the wheels are about to come off?

Tags: family bullshit, medical incompetence
Current Location: work
Current Mood: bitchy
Current Music: Whole Lotta Rosie playing in my head (if that counts)

From 3/1:

Well, yesterday turned out to be...some day.

I supposed I should give you some back story on my health over the past couple years. I finally had hernia surgery in October 2011. It was originally supposed to be in August of 2010, but it was cancelled last minute after I insisted that Dr. Simkhayev do an ultrasound as a precaution, and, sure enough, they found that the clot had returned (though not as bad as the first time). So, I spent about a year back on blood thinners trying to get the clot thing squared away so I could have my surgery. A year passes, and Dr. Simkhayev still hasn’t said anything, so I asked, “Sooo…about my surgery, um, can I, you know, HAVE IT NOW??” He said – in a tone of voice that suggested “yeah DUH!” - that I could have it; I just needed to be taken off the blood thinners and get special injections a few days prior to having it. I was like, gee thanks, you couldn’t have told me this earlier? I could’ve had this over and done with by now. Anyway, the actual surgery and recovery wasn’t too bad. The hernia itself turned out to be tiny and not endangering any vital organs. I was out of work for a couple weeks, and couldn’t play drums for an entire month. I stayed at Mom’s for about a week until I was able to get around more or less on my own, the scar healed nicely, and I’ve since returned to my normal activities with little to no pain. The most aggravating part of the whole thing was getting the runaround from both Dr. Simkhayev’s office and my surgeon’s office who took their sweet old time (and very nearly completely fucked up) getting my papers, tests, and injections in order prior to surgery, and then nearly sabotaged my getting my disability money due to my surgeon’s office not filling out the disability papers right. It took me forever to sort this out, and, as a result, my disability was very late coming and caused much financial stress (like we needed any) because I practically had no vacation/sick days left and was relying on that money for bills. Bloody nightmare. That bit was actually WORSE than the surgery.

My blood clot, however, is a different story. I was told last April, after my last ultrasound, that the clot was dissolved, but I had to stay on Coumadin because there was residual damage to the vein in my left calf, thus causing the swelling which is still there today. At my appointment yesterday, I asked Dr. Simkhayev what we were looking at long-term, as I’ve now been on the blood thinners for 2 ½ years, and the swelling in my leg has not changed despite my being on a higher dosage now than when I had the clot. He informs me that I have DVT and I’ll have to be on the shit for the rest of my life since the clot came back (albeit not as bad, according to him) the last time he took me off it. I said that wasn’t what he told me last year. It was also the first time he told me it was DVT; up until then, he was saying it was a superficial clot. He then did a complete blood workup on me (as opposed to just checking on my INR levels like he usually does), and ordered a new ultrasound which I will get done when I get back from the tour (which I’ll get to in a minute). He also referred me to a vascular surgeon for a second opinion. He also suggested I wear a stocking all the time, and then tried to sell me one for $40, telling me that it’s cheaper than the store price. Uh, maybe for THAT particular one it is, but I paid twenty bucks for the last one I got and it works fine. I think I’m going to join my wife and switch family doctors, too. All this one seems to care about is the money anymore. I remember taking off work to make an appointment to get Heparin shots in preparation for my surgery, and the doctor not even showing up. Then I was told I didn’t need the shots by the receptionist. I was like WHAT?? And then, after his staff came to their apparently miniscule senses and decided that, yes, I DID need the fucking shots, reset my appointment again, and I walk in the office and the first thing the receptionist says to me is, “Uhh…what are you here for again??” Unbelievable.

I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of having to be on Coumadin forever. Last February, on the night of a Brooklyn FUSE gig, the entire band and crew caught a horrible stomach virus that Toast’s mom apparently brought in from Belgium (or so I was told) when she was staying with him. I had to go to the ER at Old Bridge because my fever hit 102 or something and wouldn’t come down. And incidentally, said ER was teeming with people with the same problem and they were retching their brains out. They wound up keeping me overnight for observation and making me wait forever for the antibiotics that probably could’ve been administered outpatient had it not been for one thing: the blood thinners. That’s why they had to keep me. So yeah, I’d rather do whatever to be off the shit, but whatever, I’ll see what the specialist says. It’s just getting harder for me to trust my doctor anymore. And much like his handling of my hernia surgery, if I hadn’t brought it up yesterday, he probably wouldn’t have told me anything and just let me show up at his office and tell me that my leg looks EXACTLY THE SAME once a month from now until infinity. And I have to ask, if my “DVT” is so bad that I require such a high dosage of Coumadin, why are my INR’s not being checked every week like I used to rather than every month? Something’s not adding up here.

So yeah, the tour. Met with the band last night, didn’t rehearse. Well, we made $5227 in donations, which is $1541 over our initial goal, which is awesome. X and Toast met with this Kosher Dills (MC name, not an actual pickle company employee) last night, and gave him $1000 in cash in exchange for a showcase on Friday, 3/9 in Austin, plus other possible gigs backing up other acts and maybe do a show in San Antonio. Thing is, we need to leave a day earlier in order to make it in time, which is proving to be a problem for a few people, so the band is kicking in for airfare to Texas. For me, it’s going to be hard because Michelle is having lumbar injections that day, and there are also the dogs to consider, so hopefully my family can come through on that end. Spent most of the time talking about travel arrangements, lodging, and whether or not to have Toast’s ride follow the Mothership on this trip. By the time I left – and the idea of “holy shit we’re actually doing this” was finally starting to kick in – Toast was going to crunch some numbers and get back to everyone about what we’re going to do.

Tags: band news, medical incompetence, tour news
Current Location: work
Current Mood: awake
Current Music: none

Well, my wife's disability check FINALLY came yesterday. They said they were mailing an $819 check last week, but whoever told my wife that from CIGNA was full of crap, as they didn't have all the information back from her doctors yet. So, she called them on Monday and they said they were mailing out one for $1585, which arrived yesterday. At least we won't have to worry about rent or other bills for a while.

Lineup was good last night. It was Mandy's birthday. Plus VR and Frances handed us $100 for the tour fund (we're up to $1600 as of this morning). The tapdancer guy came back and jammed with us. It was sick. Good night all around. Crashed at Toast's and actually made it to work on time today for the first time all week.

The wife and I have Lindsey this weekend. It's supposed to snow. Joy.

Tags: financial stress, fuse, gigs
Current Location: work
Current Mood: exhausted
Current Music: none

3/1:

Went to my cousin’s wake tonight. After being told by my Mom that Dad wasn’t coming, I got a call from Nancy saying that he was going to be there after all. So yeah, I saw him. I was absolutely dreading it, but it was OK. It is what it is. As long as the topic of conversation stays on music, we’re fine. Literally any other subject and we’re not. So, he paid some friend of his to drive him to NJ and back. He’s working on new material as well. Mom wasn’t there, but apparently, both of them went to the funeral, making that the first time they’ve been in the same room together in probably 15 years. I haven’t talked to Mom since, so I don’t know how it went. Saw people on my father’s side who I haven’t seen in forever. Aunt Lorraine walks with a cane and looks like she shrunk about six inches. She didn’t even recognize me. Uncle Ronny looks like my father, only with straight hair. He's in North Carolina, along with Michael and Cheryl. Tommy is divorced, living in Aunt Lorraine’s basement, and had a huge bruise between his eyes. Carol looks like she weighs 70 pounds. She was remarking to me about the way the family ended up and how sad it is. Yeah well, sooner or later, the chickens come home to roost, know what I mean? It was kind of sad, actually, and not jut because of Maria, either. Everyone there seemed sort of broken and ravaged by time. But, I'd argue there are many obvious reasons for why THAT is. Anyway, everyone knew about and was impressed by my going on tour with Fuse. I only told my sister and Mom about it. News travels fast. Tommy said he was proud of me for carrying on the “legacy”. I don’t know why, but that made me feel good.

3/2:

Grisly Pear was empty tonight, but we sounded alright. X was considering taking IthMara aside soon and asking him to consider giving it a trial run as a possible permanent member of the band. I vetoed that idea, as the next couple months would be mighty awkward if he said no. But he has moved the Scoundrels’ practice schedule around to accommodate us, though, so that’s a good sign.

3/3:

Played the “Legendary” Dobbs in Philly tonight. Oy.
Got a last minute text from SK saying we were going on at 8. We naturally left late and didn’t get there until 8:15. The sound guy comes outside as we’re loading in and tells us we’re late and we have to go on NOW. X talked to him further and it was decided that we’d go on at 12:15 on the second floor (as opposed to the ground floor where we were supposed to have played). So, after hauling the equipment up to the green room on the THIRD floor, X, Segan, IthMara, K-Dez, and I got cheese steaks at Jim’s down the street. It was OK, I’ve had better. Went to Starbucks and ran into SK, hung out; X videoed me talking about the childhood drum kit that my father made me. All the spots on South Street have an upstairs to them, the club, Jim’s, Starbucks, everything. Then it was back to the club and that stupid green room with its sad, desperate graffiti and inane conversations by members of the other bands. After what seemed like an eternity, we went on to very few people, but we did make a couple connects for future shows and whatever. Some guy ran onstage right after Love & War, came right up to the drum kit, shakes my hand and yells, "Who the FUCK are you??" and "Boy's playin' some MAD BEATS!" Didn’t get home until 4 or something.

3/4:

Dead tired today, but managed to stay awake for the two shows I had tonight. In the afternoon, I rehearsed at Jules’ house in East Brunswick for the Shabbat Shirah services gig at the East Brunswick Jewish Center that night. Jules bought everyone lunch. Had this huge pastrami sandwich. As for the gig, it went OK, I guess. Honestly, it didn’t seem like anyone gave a damn what I did, or if I did anything at all. Like, I’m pretty sure that there were some songs that I should’ve played on, but I didn’t and no one even noticed. Still, it was an easy $75. Mike ran sound for it. I asked him how his hand was. He’s basically playing until his hand literally gives out, and then he’s going for surgery, at which point he may be screwed. Granted, the doctors can't figure out how his hand got this way, but still, I don't care how risky the surgery may be, any doctor worth his salt wouldn't tell his patient, "Oh just use it until you can't anymore and we'll worry about it then..." We should probably change the name of the band to One Man’s Slow Suicide. Anyway, did a Fuse gig at the Old Bay straight after. It was balls out awesome, except for the end where I clocked myself in the head with a stick mid-roll, knocking my glasses off my head and sending one lens flying God knows where. I effectively played the last couple songs blind as a bat, but I managed to find the lens on the floor by the right wall where the keyboards were.

3/5:

Had off today. Went to Englishtown, bought about 14 CD’s, and then went to dogsit Echo at Nancy’s for a few hours. Got takeout from Ryan’s Pub, took a nap, went home.

Tags: band drama, family drama, gigs
Current Location: work
Current Mood: awake
Current Music: none

Mom called me on Sunday and told me that my cousin Maria died that day. She’d contracted hepatitis at some point, stuck herself with a needle at her job or something, and had been in and out of the hospital for years. On the day she died, she’d just been given last rites and John was all set to turn off her respirator, but she beat him to it. So, according to the online obituary that I read this morning, the wake is tomorrow, the funeral on Thursday. And, since it’s Dad’s side of the family, I will not only be seeing all of “them” for the first time in probably 20 years, but Dad as well, as I was informed yesterday by Mom that he and the creature he married will be coming. Mom, of course, will have the luxury of going to the wake in the afternoon so as to reduce the possibility of seeing my father. I, on the other hand, will have to go after work, and you just know he’ll be waiting around to see me and cause all sorts of drama.

Oh yeah, that. I haven’t spoke to my father since Christmas 2010, when he picked a fight with me on the phone – CHRISTMAS DAY – and that was it. This past Christmas, Nancy made me call him and leave him a voicemail, knowing, of course, that he was gonna think that I wanted to finally talk to him, and call me back. Well, guess what happened? He thought I wanted to talk to him and called me back. I didn’t answer; I just let the voicemail get it. Suffice it to say that’s the last time I let my sister make me do anything. Nice way to get the old man’s hopes up for nothing, by the way. So yeah, that won’t be TOO uncomfortable.

Aside from that, my wife had another round of shots last Wednesday. It’s still not doing the trick. She had one good day on Friday, but that was it. It’s probably more due to the fact that she’s more restless than a little kid – coughcoughUNTREATEDADHDcough – and can’t allow herself to get the proper rest that she needs and allow this…whatever it is, to heal. She, of course, doesn’t ever see that until it’s too late. Oh, and she only takes the painkillers when she absolutely has to because they make her drowsy, and she doesn’t like laying around the house when there’s things to be done. Gee, you don’t think this mindset has had anything to do with her declining health, do ya? But whatever, she just wants to do whatever she wants to do. Life on the edge, you know.

UPDATE: Mom called me yesterday. Dad isn't coming to NJ after all. Nancy talked to him, and he's afraid of facing Mom, plus he's got "leg problems". Nancy apparently gave him a lecture because it's "his family" etc etc. Yeah, Nancy and her lectures. Also, my wife talked to her insurance company, and a $819 disability check is getting sent out today from the state, but we have to wait for the bigger one from insurance because her job hasn't sent the paperwork back yet to ANYONE, including the state. Her insurance company told her that they came up with that amount based on what she told them, and that they'd add/subtract from the next check accordingly if that was inaccurate. None of which makes any sense; I just went through this shit a few months ago, and the state didn't send a dime until they had any and all forms filled out, t's crossed and i's dotted. I tried to point out this point of fact to my spouse, who gave me an attitude.

Some days I don't know why I bother.

UPDATE: Apparently, my wife called her insurance company again, and they told her that the state treats each case differently according to what insurance company is involved. In this case, they're more lenient with CIGNA re: sending money to people. Whatever, she still needs her forms filled out if we want to keep getting any checks after this one.

Tags: family drama, medical incompetence
Current Location: work
Current Mood: awake
Current Music: none

Went to Toast's last night to rehearse, but we couldn't because the upstairs toilet somehow flooded out the basement. Tried to clean up somewhat and air out the carpets, but they were too wet and took up too much room, so we stood around talking about the tour for a couple hours. We got approved for the Kickstart program, so we can start fundraising now. X is going out of town 'til Monday, so I'm playing guitar at the next couple Fuse gigs. Kiba never showed up to practice, so I'm just gonna have to wing it. I'll just give you a moment to let all that sink in.

Lineup on 1/19 was fantastic. Was Jim J. Incredible’s birthday. He did a DJ set with the band that was ridiculous. Pharoahe Monche was sitting in back of the room watching, according to SK, but apparently didn’t want to get on the mic. IthMara was at some restaurant down the street after we finished, and Chelsea Handler came up to him and asked him if he knew “Jay” (meaning Jay-Z, I guess, I don’t know). Thought she knew him from somewhere, I guess. Crashed over Toast’s and went to work next day as usual.

Another Fuse gig on Saturday, this time at Queen Makeda’s Bar in DC. On the way to pick up K-Dez, Toast ran over a speed bump on a residential street at full speed; the impact sent me flying and I hit my head on the roof of the Mothership. My neck and back hurt for a couple days, but that’s been it so far. On the way, in between vain attempts to keep warm, we attempted to make a video to submit to Kickstart.com, the website we’re using to raise funds for the tour. Shot some of it on the Ship, some during the show, and then some loading out at the end of the night. The club was actually upstairs from an Ethiopian restaurant. Did a 4-hour set, no breaks. Endless parade of MC’s giving us tracks to learn and play on the spot. Good show, but DAMN, that was long. Slept a little on the way back, then a few more hours at Toast’s, and then went home. It snowed the night before, and I didn't get a chance to change into the new boots I'd bought that day before I left, so I wore my crappy old ones and my feet were freezing the whole time. Also didn't eat anything the entire trip besides two raspberry danishes; the rest of the guys were able to eat something during the set, but I obviously had my hands full.

In between all this, of course, my wife ran me ragged doing errands, mostly back and forth to pet stores for a fish tank and supplies. My sister came and took our old tank (plus several fish) because it was too big and unmanageable, but the tank she gave us in return was too dirty to be suitable, so we had to buy a new one. Had dinner over there Sunday night before I came home and collapsed. Fish seem to be my wife’s new hyperfocus. That and getting the apartment painted. Rose was supposed to come by on Sunday to paint, but she had a job interview that afternoon, and besides, all the commotion re: the fish would’ve made it impossible anyway, so we’re shooting for next weekend.

Both the Court Tavern and Southpaw closed down in the past seven days. The owners of Southpaw are selling the place. As far as the Court goes, no one knows. Or, rather, no one is saying. People came to work and the place was locked with a "Closed Indefinitely" sign on the door. No warning, nothing. X thinks it's because of the owner's heroin addiction. I don't know about that, but something's definitely fishy with that shit.

Tags: band news, court tavern, gigs, southpaw
Current Location: work
Current Mood: awake
Current Music: Eno/David Byrne - Very Very Hungry