the latest news:

jumped the ship

sig — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 06:21:41 GMT

Well, friends, I did indeed go my own way. I had a good run with tribe.net, but after a while the slowness and the general overwhelming-ness of, well, basically every social networking site ever finally got to me, so I moved my blog over here: http://sighafstrom.blogspot.com/ No one to friend, no flashy ads, no music playing, nothing but pure bloggy goodness. I won't lie, I'm behind on most of your posts (yes, yours), but I do read them, even if it looks like I'm never around. Come visit me where its calm and quiet, on my own new corner of the interweb. Ahhh...

IT BURNS MY EYES!!

sig — Fri, 18 May 2007 20:30:39 GMT

i think this might just be the cutest critter in the entire universe. from cute overload, of course. http://mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload/2007/05/outraaaageous_e.html

good times, better times, best times

sig — Tue, 15 May 2007 07:18:56 GMT

hello, darlings. three good times, and renegade poll: 1. killing my lobster at cobb's comedy club i'm back in the band! we'll be playing with the lobsters as they perform sketches from the soon-to-open show "killing my lobster saves the day", from winter's show "faces the music", as well as other favorites from the kml vault and stand-up from the much-adored paco romane. you will laugh. you will laugh hard. at cobb's comedy club 915 columbus ave, just north of lombard, north beach, san francisco wednesday, may 16, 8pm 18+, $15 tickets and info at http://killingmylobster.com/ 2. the swap-o-rama-rama at the maker fair the swap-o-rama-rama is this wonderful, beautiful, amazing thing where you can bring some old clothes and add them to the piles, or not, and then regardless you dig around in the piles and find clothes you like, and you can just keep the clothes you like and wear them as they are, or take them to the sewing stations or the screen printing stations or to any of the d.i.y. workshops throughout the day, and alter your new-found-used duds into unique, custom garments, and there you go! you will never need to consume new clothes again (except maybe socks and undies, but that's your own business). i'm organizing and mc'ing the recycled fashion show at the end of the swap on saturday, featuring some of craftiest re-use clothing designers from the bay area and beyond. the swap is from 11 till 5 on saturday, 11 till 4 sunday, and the recycled fashion show is on saturday at 5. as if you didn't have reason enough to check out the maker fair. at the san mateo county fair grounds 2495 s. delaware street san mateo, 94403 saturday and sunday, may 19 and 20, fair opens at 10am accessible by samtrans and caltrain info at http://swaporamarama.com/makerfaire07.htm additional info and tickets at http://www.makerfaire.com/ 3. more killing my lobster i just can't keep away from these people. i'm doing props for the next full-length sketch show, "kml saves the day!" inspired by the comic book and cartoon super heros we all know and love (or ignore and hate), you will certainly laugh until you pee yourself at this latest piece of lobster magic. it's brilliant as always. at the eureka theater 215 jackson street at battery san francisco june 1 - 16 wednesdays, thursdays, fridays 8pm saturdays 7 and 10pm plus sunday june 3, 7pm $17 general, $14 students wednesday and saturday 10pm shows are pay-what-you-can tickets and info at http://killingmylobster.com/ 4. the renegade barbershop poll so, like, the last few barbershops were fun as always, but a bit lightly attended, which is actually kind of nice, frankly. but then some renegade clients who didn't attend started asking a week or so after barbershop when the next barbershop is, because they really, really need a haircut. and then, i'm all like, "we just had barbershop, where the hell where you?" so now i'm wondering, should i announce the barbershop separately from the rest of the good times, or am i perhaps announcing it too far in advance, or are you crazy kids just not writing this stuff down? i like cutting your hair and having you over, so i'd like to make the barbershop work as smoothly as possible so everyone can come have a positive renegade haircut experience. private appointments are also possible, but my evenings fill up fast, usually a week or more in advance (i go to _a_lot_ of planning meetings and rehearsals), plus i really prefer the barbershop, because then my floor isn't constantly covered in a fresh layer of hair. plus, its just, you know, super fun. so, for all you renegade clients out there, tell me what you want: 1. a separate barbershop announce list 2. a good times reminder a day or two before the next barbershop 3. no more barbershop because i made you look like a page boy/hescher/mangy ape last time your input is greatly appreciated.

cops and bikinis

sig — Mon, 16 Apr 2007 08:06:44 GMT

1. so, i have a stomach ache tonight, like the kind where i just feel gross and on the very edge of pukey, and earlier i was dizzy and had a bit of a headache. i decided to go to bed early, and while lying in bed heard footsteps in the fallen leaves and brush outside my window. they were person footsteps, not critter, and though it gave me a start, i told my self not to worry, it wasn't a big deal, people walk up the driveway into the back area of our building (a duplex) all the time, looking for recycling and that kind of thing. once someone even took up residency in one of our sheds. it was full of junk anyway, so we didn't have a lock on it. nonetheless, the majority of rent-paying residents (at the time i think there were eight of us between our two houses) voted to evict our uninvited shed dweller. but i didn't really mind he was there, and wouldn't mind if someone made a bed under my window and went to sleep. it a sheltered spot, quiet, dark, and off the street. unfortunately, whomever was out there tonight didn't go to sleep, but instead kind of scratched around in the leaves, so that i could hear him (or her) creeping gradually along the wall. i didn't like that, but honestly was afraid to go out there and ask him to leave. call the police? i don't know, it seemed kind of rash. i didn't want to jump to conclusions or be reactionary, plus it would probably take hours for the cops to respond, not to mention they have better things to do here in oakland that bust sneaky homeless guys combing the bushes for recycling. still, i couldn't help but think about the time i looked out my window to discover a guy with his pants down and his half-hard dick in his hand. then i saw the shadow of a human head through my curtains and got the heebie-jeebies deep down in my soul, so i called the non-emergency number. the dispatcher asked if the person was a man or woman. i told her i didn't know. she asked if the person was trying to look in the windows. i told her i couldn't tell, but just the question made my heebie-jeebies come on even worse. she said she'd send someone around. after i hung up, i didn't want to go back to bed because i was too creeped out. i wanted to be brave, to go out there and check it out, talk to the guy, but what if... ew, what if? but then again, it would probably take the police hours to get here anyway, and the guy could be in my room chopping my head off by then. i put the kettle on, turned the computer on and looked at email while waiting for tea. a few minutes later i thought i heard police radios outside. the doorbell rang, and i opened it on a surprisingly cute and charming cop. why, hello officer! the beat cops (if you can call them that - i don't think i've ever seen one unless someone's called) in my neighborhood have always been pretty chill - that is to say, non-threatening - but he took the award. oh, and there was another cop on my front porch with him, but i'll be damned if i could tell you what he looked like. the cute one asked about what i'd heard and seen, and told me they'd already checked around the driveway. i told him what little i had to tell, and then said i hadn't gone out and looked myself because i didn't feel comfortable. he said that was understandable, and they'd go have another look. just then another police car pulled up, and i realized these two on my porch had each come in separate cars, that there were three cops with three cop cars parked outside the building. either creepers outside windows were far more serious business than i'd thought, or it was a very slow night for the oakland police department. the night is clear and warm tonight, almost balmy, so i stood out on my porch looking out over the neighborhood and trying to act cool about three cop cars stopped in the street outside my house. the three cops came back around the side of the house, and the cute one reported they'd found nothing. "but," he added, "if you hear or see anything else tonight, call 911 instead, okay?" serious business indeed. 2. the above photo has nothing to do with the story about the creeper and the cops. the photo is all about a rhinestone skull-and-crossbone bikini. and i want it for my birthday. the bottoms, too. and i wouldn't mind the hoodie, either. i'll take the top in an extra-small, the bottoms in a small (or maybe i medium - i got back for a skinny girl, and i like to keep it covered, thank you very much), and the hoodie in a small. my birthday's may 7. http://tinyurl.com/3adqk4 thank you in advance. ps. while i was sitting here typing this post, a spider gave me a giant bite on the foot. it itches like mad and is swelling up to an astronomical size.

clowns, bibles and haircuts

sig — Mon, 09 Apr 2007 21:43:56 GMT

i forgot to post this! there's a renagade barbershop tonight, monday, april 9, and one more weekend of clown bible. here is the latest listing of the good times: 1. first and foremost, to the many of you out there in good times land to whom i owe a phone call or email, i apologize for not getting back to you, but i've been a crabby little hermit for weeks. i promise i'm trying to come out of my shell and give some signs of life, i still love you and haven't forsaken you! that said, there are still good times in store for you (and me)! 2. three more shows of ten red hen's new and original show, clown bible. like, for real, this is the weirdest show i've even done. i did performance art when i was in art school, and this is weirder. plus, unlike my crappy performance art, clown bible is amazingly good - absurd, beautiful, heartbreaking, tear-jerking, and hilarious, sometimes all at once. i'm playing viola in the orchestra, but get my turn as an innocent, victimized virgin. intriguing, isn't it? if you ask nice i'll show you the bruises. ten red hen presents clown bible a musical, acrobatic romp through the familiar and obscure - clown bible explores power, corruption and failure in the relationship between man and god, and god's own evolution. at the willard middle school metalshop theater 2425 stuart street near telegraph (next to willard park), berkeley thursday, friday and saturday, 8pm, march 22-24, march 30-31 (no thurs show), april 5-7, april 12-14 for directions and more information www.tenredhen.net suggested donation: $15 - 20, no one turned away for lack of funds for advanced tickets www.brownpapertickets.com 800.838.3006 for groups larger than 10, please call 510-547-8932, or email clown@tenredhen.net and you can get a discount - rally the troops! 3. the renegade barbershop! you know the drill - come for a trim or a whole new doo, or just come to witness the transformation. please bring snacks, drinks, treats, music, wigs, costumes, stories and etc. to share. the tip jar will be out (though it may be hiding) for your tipping or not tipping whims. and as per kenny's suggestion, i'm looking for some kind of additional activities and entertainment to be going on while folks are waiting for their cuts (as though sitting around my living room talking about burning man isn't fun enough!), so if you have some special talent or bit of entertainment you'd like to share with the barbershop, please feel free to "bring it". monday, april 9 5pm till some time well after dark at nest of sig (formerly house freedom) 478 40th street near telegraph oakland, 94609

i've become that woman

sig — Thu, 15 Mar 2007 05:24:13 GMT

that woman who pays $5.65 for a half pound of fancy salt. but not just any salt, i'm talking the pure, flakey, unmolested crystals of maldon sea salt. i've discovered recently that it is not a capitalist ruse but a plain, honest fact that salt comes in many flavors. i don't even have much of a pallet and i can taste the differences. the way to test a good salt is on a perfectly ripe organic california avocado - has to be californian, chilean is unacceptable (yeah, apparently i'm an avocado snob now, too). really, though, its the texture that sold me on maldon salt. it's like sprinkling your food with wonderfully salty tiny little puff pastries, perfectly crunchy and layered, like crushing the bones of a salty little fairy between your teeth. magical! no, i'm serious. a bit of maldon salt on a perfectly ripe california avocado is like heaven to me - smooth and creamy and thick and comforting and crunchy and pungent and earthy and magical! like fairy bones. so, in short, i highly endorse maldon sea salt. plus it wasn't $18 like some of that himalayan pink salt - i mean, really. if i turn into that woman, though, i'll let you know.

if you only ever take one piece of advice from me, let it be this:

sig — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 08:53:02 GMT

if you are anywhere near the bay area, go see kurt elling at yoshi's this weekend. as of this moment, he and his band have six more shows. i feel confident in guaranteeing each one will be mind boggling. i just caught a show, and i feel like a changed woman. how can a voice be so moving, pure, and strong? he sings like an angel, and i don't mean like a castrated cherub squeaking away in a cloud; i mean like a creature possessed by the glory of the universe in totality, singing with an undiluted voice that rings though every atom of his being. yeah, its like that. and his band ain't hacks, either. his pianist just about broke my brain, and that was during the opening number. as for the rhythm section, you'll just have to hear them for yourself. i wept, with real, uncontrollable tears rolling down my cheeks, twice. my second piece of advice to you is go see kurt elling, but don't wear mascara. for real. www.kurtelling.com

here are the good times you requested

sig — Tue, 13 Feb 2007 02:16:11 GMT

1. bad ass bronco! TONIGHT!, monday, february 12 at club six 60 sixth street near market san francisco 21+, no cover $5 whisky and pabst specials - yippy! steven broke his darling '79 bronco, and this is a benefit to get the poor little thing back in action. in his own words: It twisted my drive shaft into a pretzel, and destroyed the differential. Yikes. Well that’s what brings me to the purpose of the party. I am hoping that all my friends will come out and share their support for a good cause. i'll be there early spinning classic rock gems, you come on down and drink whisky and pabst and help a monster truck out. 2. babus: a memorial and celebration of the life of james kim. saturday, february 17 at the golden gate park band shell 1 pm - memorial, 2 - pm celebration this is a public memorial and celebration to mark the life and passing of our beautiful friend james. we'll be celebrating with music and dancing until sunset. everyone's invited - feel free to bring the kids, a picnic and some warm clothes. http://jamesandkati.com/ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_kim 3. the cloud factory presents cloudhouse saturday, february 24 sweet underground san francisco location to be announced starting at party time, going all night long pre-sale tickets only, please email sig(at)cloudfactory(dot)org or missmeliss(at)cloudfactory(dot)org for ticket info smooth line up in two rooms. in the dance room - daniel v. monty luke orestes dan suda dj drüe stonie and the chill room - missmeliss sig swoops dj cloud rave is back, ya'll, and its gooooood.

C!U!T!E!

sig — Tue, 23 Jan 2007 07:08:58 GMT

friends and loved ones, it is my duty to show you this picture, which can be found at http://mfrost.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/knitted_kitteh.jpg

Some Things That Are Good, and One Thing That is Bad

sig — Sat, 23 Dec 2006 00:50:08 GMT

Good. 1. Elliott Smith, either/or This is the second time this year I've rediscovered this album of two-and-a-half-minute junk-folk gems. George and I listened to it on the way home from Burning Man, and I hadn't heard it in so long, it made me regress like hypnosis. It fucking hurts its so goddamn good. I saw Elliot Smith perform twice, and they were wildly different experiences. The first time was at the Fillmore. No opening band, and I swear his set was at least two hours long. The Fillmore is a cavernous venue, and the stage itself is giant. You know you're seeing a good show there when the performance is bigger than the space. He and his band totally pulled it off, and yet the show was quite intimate. I later learned he was clean from heroin during that tour. The second time was at the Warfield, and Granddaddy opened. I like Granddaddy, but they couldn't play live to save themselves – which I suspect contributed to their break up. When Elliot Smith and his band took the stage, he was obviously exhausted, smacked-out, numb. The set was lifeless and ended quickly, but this was hardly surprising - it was the next-to-last show of a long tour of Europe and the States. My friends' band opened for him in Europe, and they said he'd started using again during the tour and wasn't doing well. We hung out in his bus after the show. A third of the people on the bus were high on coke, and another third we're about to nod-off on junk, and the last third – including me - sat uncomfortably between them. It was a weird scene. A few months later he stabbed himself in the chest. Elliott, why'd you have to be such a fucked-up junky? You wrote the most brilliant, understated, elegant songs. Well, I guess this sums it up: so sick and tired of all these pictures of me completely wrong totally wrong go walking by here comes another guy jailer who sells personal hells who'd like to see me down on my fucking knees everybody's dying just to get the disease 2. William Orbit, Hello Waveforms This album came out early this year, and Timmmii's been taunting me with it ever since. It was one of those albums I'd forget to pick up till he'd play me another track and I'd remember how good it is and get all in a twist about it again. Finally Timmmii made me a copy. Thanks, Timmmii! The whole album has a very unified sound, sounds a lot (I mean _a_lot_ ) like Air, but with a deeper groove – move soulful, less kitschy. There's a full-on diva slow jam called Spiral that fucking kills, makes me want to have a first-time make-out session in a car with a really cute boy, and the song plays while the windows get all steamy – it's that kind of jam. Fantastic album. 3. Haruki Murakami, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle This book came highly recommended by many, and highly reviled by few, which is usually a good sign – like the Bible says, God hates the luke-warm. I had no idea the book would be like _this_, though. I thought it was a sci-fi/cyber punk kind of story. Its way weird, but no sci-fi. Its more in the vein of a turn-of-the-20th-century Russian existentialist novel. Don't get me wrong, I'm no expert on early 20th century Russian literature of any persuasion, but its got that Dostoevsky kind of mind-scraping, labyrinthine personal toiling. I'm still about 150 pages from the end and am practically ripping out my hair in hopes some kind of answers will start coming soon. I want to get to the end simply for the possibility of unraveling what the hell is going on with Mr. Okada's reality. Mr. Okada, you reality is way weird. What the fuck? But don't get me wrong, I love it. Such a super-compelling read. I can't read it fast enough, and certainly its both dense and enigmatic enough for repeated readings. Count me amongst the recommenders. Bad 1. The Quay Brothers, the Piano Tuner of Earthquakes Worst. Movie. Ever. Fucking forget it. I almost left repeatedly, but its a short flick and I'd paid my $8.50, so I stuck it out. I love the Quay Brother's stop-motion animation - creepy and beautiful and poetic and ambiguous and dark and graceful. Even though Piano Tuner is a live-action film, I thought they could translate their stop-motion aesthetic and sense of rhythm, and that it would have a Jean Cocteau feel, or like a Jean-Pierre Jeunet (City of Lost Children) feel, or a The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover kind of feel to it, and certainly those influences were apparent, but my god, what a boring script, and flat-as-damp-news-paper acting, and static, dreary blocking, and absolutely abysmal continuity, and it could have been 45 minutes long if properly edited, and there wasn't nearly enough stop-motion, not to mention its a film about musicians and there's hardly a lick of music. So disappointing, so boring, such a waste of 90 minutes and $8.50.

more good times

sig — Mon, 27 Nov 2006 03:39:27 GMT

photo illustration compliments of brady clark i hope everyone had a happy and satisfying thanksgiving. while we're on the topic of giving thanks, THANK YOU for your continued love and support! your encouragement, assistance, and enabling make the good times possible, and i appreciate you more than i can explain. as a small token of my appreciation, i will try to keep it brief and factual. 1. the one year anniversary session of the renegade barber shop! friday, december 1 5 pm till hella late (the barbers shop went for five hours last time and i cut eleven heads of hair. believe it!) come for a trim, a radical make-over, or just to hang out and absorb the nurturing atmosphere. bring snacks, drinks, treats, music, wigs, costumes, stories and etc. to share. and somebody please, bake us a cake. if i remember to put it out, the tip jar will be chillin in the background for your tipping or not tipping pleasures. and for our one year anniversary, THERE WILL BE SCHWAG. yay! please rsvp so i can try to do some scheduling (eleven heads of hair!), but, as always, no one turned away for spontaneity or lack of planning. at house freedom 478 40th street near telegraph oakland 2. the house of love pink party! saturday, december 9 late till hella late featuring a live set by the eggplant casino, and i'll also be spinning some records, plus more dj's galore, and a live set from the why because and of course, don't miss the infamous make-out closet. come dressed in pink or FORGET ABOUT IT. $5 donation at the door at the house of love 1596 fulton at lyon san francisco 3. the house freedom tree trimming party! saturday, december 16 not quite so late till pretty hella late please dress fancy (open to interpretation, naturally) and bring an ornament to decorate our tree (again, open to interpretation - um, i mean the ornament, not the tree. the tree will be the standard blue spruce or doug fir, not one of these: http://tinyurl.com/yhqqoa but please, for the love of all things sacred and secular, do not bring eggnog [snotnog] into my home. it is offensive. thank you.) at house freedom 478 40th street at telegraph oakland 4. killing my lobster faces the music! friday, january 5 through sunday january 21, 2007a various days and times we had such a good go of it the first time, we're doing it again! thanks to everyone who made the first leg of the show such an incredible success. and if you haven't seen this brilliant work of musical sketch comedy yet, here's your second chance to find out why everyone keeps going on and on about this "burrito sketch". tickets $15 - $20; wednesday and 10 pm saturday shows pay-what-you-can at the odc theater 3153 17th street at shotwell san francisco www.killingmylobster.com factual, wasn't it? thanks for reading. love: sig

All Day I Dream About Half Dome

sig — Thu, 02 Nov 2006 20:25:05 GMT

My web browser at work opens to this page - live from the Ahwahnee Meadow in Yosemite Valley, a picture from a camera that snaps photos of Half Dome: http://www.yosemite.org/vryos/AhwahneeMeadowCam.htm Every time I open a new browser window, there it is, a live picture of Half Dome in all its domey loveliness. At first, I referred to this site as Yosemite Porn, because of the desire it roused in me every time I looked, but now its just the Jonesing Cam. I have a Yosemite Jones like you wouldn't believe. For months I've watched the grass in the Meadow turn from green to tan, and watched the angle of the light shift as the sun's path slouches south. As I write, the sky above Half Dome is bright white with clouds. For most of the summer, the sky was relentlessly blue, and the temperature – noted on the bar across the top of the photo – stayed at a cozy 90 degrees. If I had it my way, everything would be 90 degrees all the time. The meadow is closed, I happen to know, and stays deceptively free of people. As I sat at my desk all summer, I'd look at that brilliant blue sky and the bright green grass, and the majestic enormity of Half Dome, and that steady 90 degrees at the top of the photo, and my god it would huuuuuuurt me, I'd want to be there so bad. But then I'd think, off in the trees that border the meadow are one million people swarming like ants all over the valley. One million soccer moms and juice box dads and bratty kids with Gameboys and grouchy grandpas that stand at the bottom of Yosemite Falls and grouse "Niagara is better" - yes, I actually heard a grouchy old man say that once, which was nothing compared to the time I was at the bear-proof food boxes near the parking lot in Curry Village, when a Hummer pulled up, three people climbed down out of it, and the driver asked one of her passengers, "are you wearing your Eddie Bower outfit?" This sad state of human affairs, though disturbing, does not turn me off from Yosemite, or humanity. Despite all our failings (or perhaps flailings), I still love the United States of America; I love the Land and I love the People. There is more than enough good in us to shoulder responsibility for the bad, or in this case the annoying. I believe the Land should be for the People, and the People for the Land, and if that means the Land is the sacred ground of Yosemite and the People are grouches in designer pants, then so be it. Granted, I'd rather be in the presence of said Land than in the presence of said People, but I could never even discourage said People from knowing their Land, or enjoying it, or even, yes, criticizing it for not being as loud or wide as Niagara. This land is your land, teenager who'd rather sit in the tent all day listening to cd's, and dad in so much sunblock it slides off your skin like frosting melting off a cake, and this land is my land.

99% of being an artist is self-promotion

sig — Thu, 26 Oct 2006 16:28:51 GMT

okay, maybe not 99%, but my god, this self-promotion thing is quite the juggernaut, isn't it? it perplexes me. i just sent this out to my mailing list, which sort of feels like sending a spaceship into a black hole - i have no idea what happens after it leaves my in-box, it just kind of disappears. does it still exist somewhere in the universe? i'm constantly surprised to get messages back from folks saying they can or can't make it. i'm just excited they actually ready the damn email! the same goes for blog posts. is anybody out there... out there... out there... okay, i know you are, but anyway, if you aren't on my mailing list and would like to be, send me your email, and you'll get a post every month or so from me. and you'll be in the finest company - the beautiful people are on my list. i'm quite proud. but anyway... ******** i've been working on the new musical comedy "killing my lobster faces the music", and we open next week! eek! technically, i'm the prop master, but claire mack's actually doing all heavy work, and without her we'd be dead. i'm also playing in the band and have been putting my back into it, so yay for me on that one. anyway, the show is ridiculously funny, so much so that if i watch some of the sketches i laugh so hard i can't play my part, so i have to look at the floor*. you, on the other hand, can just sit in the theater seat and laugh your ass off. killing my lobster faces the music comic vignettes for the aurally pleasured november 2 - 18th thursday, friday and sunday 8 pm, saturday 7 & 10 pm $17 general, $12 student pay-what-you-can saturday 10 pm shows at the odc theater 3153 17th street at shotwell san francisco www.killingmylobster.com/ and then, i'm even more giddy than usual to be dj'ing at the extra credit's after school special. need i say more? no, but here's the official release anyway: The Extra Credit Proudly Presents: After School Special School Themed Party complete with spiked punch, teachers and detention/make-out area All kinds of dirty little games that evoke the naughty teenager in you House, Breaks, Downtempo, IDM, and Ghettotech 'til the Break of Dawn Special Yacht Rock and Punk Rock sets Saturday, November 4th $7 for appropriately clothed students or teachers, $10 for everyone else Underground location in San Francisco (Ssshhhhh!) [note: not that secret, its on the website, but for the sake of the game, i won't repeat it here. why, i dunno. -sig] www.theextracredit.com/ oh what a beautiful morning! the good weather inspires a profound happiness in me. i hope you're you're feeling some inpiration as well, and hope to see you soon out at the good times. love: sig * i used the word "so" four times in that sentence. because i'm a genius like that.

ouch, my brain

sig — Mon, 23 Oct 2006 17:50:00 GMT

yargh! my head's been not quite on right for the past few weeks; i've had terrible insomnia and felt restless and aggravated and even almost violent. i've had to concentrate hard not to act like an asshole the whole time. the spandex party went smashingly well on saturday night and into early sunday morning, and even though i didn't get that partied out, i was still completely cracked sunday and woke up intensely depressed today. it was all i could do to get out of bed. the funny thing is, i didn't even go to bed properly. i put my bedding in the wash, and while i was waiting for it to dry sat atop my pillows and blankets and feather bed listening to the rough cut of the eggplant casino album (fyi: greatest thing in life). then i woke up at 8 this morning in the same position, plus with funky teeth and a headache. it was the best night of sleep i've had in weeks, but now i feel awful.

The Same Five Songs Played Over and Over and Over

sig — Wed, 11 Oct 2006 22:40:00 GMT

Got off the Smiths kick, but now I'm back onto Pinback with a vengeance. Pinback is just so good. I know I already sung their praises here once, but some ideas bear repeating, almost like a mantra. Up until Monday, I only owned their second full-length, Blue Screen Life, but had been indulging heavily in other people's Pinback stash, and finally had to order the Offcell/Some Voices/Summer in Abandon package dealy-o from Absolutely Kosher. Summer in Abandon is their newest full-length (from 2004), and Offcell and Some Voices are each e.p.'. I, as a rule, don't believe in e.p.'s Just record a fucking album already. But Offcell might, in fact, be the greatest five songs in life, and at least the songs are all over four minutes long. I jones for the song B like its drugs. If you haven't heard it, please, do yourself a favor and download it here: http://absolutelykosher.com/pinback.html

Geeked on Pandora

sig — Thu, 28 Sep 2006 22:32:07 GMT

www.pandora.com I just started using Pandora last week and since then have been utterly fascinated, dare I say preoccupied. Maybe even obsessed? Its made me think a lot about what music I like and why, and leads me to ponder unanswerable, almost koen-like questions - _does_ Shakira really sound like Siouxsie Sioux - and imparts me with startling realizations - Marc Bolan really _does_ sound like Frank Zappa. I realize one of the stations I'm trying to invent - basically a survey of Brit Rock from the Zombies through Editors - is actually far more conceptual than it is aesthetic, because no, Billy Bragg really does _not_ sound like Stereolab. When Pandora first asked for an artist or song, I went with my initial impulse and chose David Bowie as my champion. Wouldn't you fucking know it, the first song Miss Pandora played was from goddamn Tin Machine. Pandora, what were you thinking? Thumbs down. The next song was off Reality, which is not a bad album, but as Pandora can't actually read my mind she has no way of knowing when I say "David Bowie", I mean 1969 - 1983 David Bowie. Finally she got it right - Stay, off Station to Station. My Mo-town and Soul station did not start off on a better foot. I didn't even know Aretha Franklin was still recording, much less recording cheesy duets. Ronnie Spector has new and terrible music out, too. And hello, Michael Bolton? Pandora, I'm embarrassed for you. Why do you even _have_ Michael Bolton? Are you daft? Thumbs down, thumbs down! Clearly the key to Pandora is specifics. Once I got her on the Four Top's incredible Walk Away Renee, everything turned out okay. Well, mostly. I'm kind of surprised at what's not "available", tracks she doesn't recognize, including a few really vital ones like the original Tainted Love by Gloria Jones, the Shagri-la's Leader of the Pack (but she has Bette Midler's version - what?) or William DeVaughn's Be Thankful For What You Got. FYI, in case you are unaware, Be Thankful is one of the greatest songs on Earth - its the "diamond in the back, sunroof top, digging the scene with a gangster lean" song. If you don't know it, get to know it. My tip to you. P.S. My latest station - just started it today! - is going smashingly well so far. Specific songs, that is key: Bjork's Isobel and All is Full of Love, Sufjan Steven's Chicago, David Bowie's Heroes, Beck's Paper Tiger. After a handful of specifics, I started simply adding artists, and Pandora turned up some very insightful choices. She was cleaver enough to discern that Kate Bush plus Rachael's plus Coil equals Dead Can Dance - nice job, girl. Thumbs up. The cool thing is, the station started with I Know There's an Answer by The Beach Boys. Expect to hear me biting some of Pandora's selections in my next mix.

Reading McSweeny's and Getting Angry at Myself

sig — Fri, 22 Sep 2006 18:30:59 GMT

I get the McSweeney's news letter by email, and upon reading it just now, I sweltered with a sense of anger at myself for not having produced anything... I'm searching for words here. I was about to say "brilliant", but I worked on Evolution: the Musical, and _that's_ brilliant. Ooooh, just you wait, you'll see. Then I was going to say "I haven't produced anything that's truly my own", but that's not right either. Making and doing my own thing isn't much of a challenge at this point. I was raised on Free To Be You and Me, child therapists, and Sesame Street; I know the score. I can have a true-to-my-Self moment at the drop of a hat. Hell, this _post_ is truly my own. Anyway, I also thought to say "I haven't produced anything significant", but that's off, too. Maybe I've never made anything universally significant, but I can think of times when something I made really actually moved someone – in fact, the time I'm thinking of specifically was dj'ing at an after party on a Sunday afternoon in a big, empty converted loft down the block from Stevenson Alley. I was in such a sour mood. The party was completely disorganized, the schedule hours behind, and I'd waited half the day to go on. When I finally started my set, all these cracked out kids were running amok all over the space, doing whatever the fuck it was they were doing. I put my records on without paying them any notice. Goddamn cracked out kids. Whatever. Eventually I looked up from the decks to check the scene. Suffice it to say, I was dumbstruck. Every kid in the place had pulled out a pillow or blanket or bean bag chair – hell, they might have just pushed their backpacks into a pile – and lay in front of the decks jumbled on top of each other, watching and listening. They gathered around me like I was their guru, their awful, bitchy guru, and I hadn't even noticed. I almost started crying. These brats totally got it, they understood. This was meaningful to them, and intensely meaningful to me. Significant, all around. So, we've therefore observed that I have, indeed, produced things that are brilliant, my own, and significant, so that then strips us to the real meat of this nut. I am angry at myself for not yet producing that which brings me fame and fortune. I'm not famous, and I haven't gotten paid. And I am angry at myself about it. There, I said it. Damn. the brilliance that is McSweeney's http://www.mcsweeneys.net/

update: camera found!!

sig — Thu, 14 Sep 2006 20:36:06 GMT

yay and hooray! i'm so happy i could split my skin! you know that feeling, when your happiness feels like its going to burst you right open, physically? well, anyway, they've got it at borg h.q., and i've been instructed to come and get it. i'm so greatful for this! to whomever it was that brought it to lost and found, thank you thank you thank you thank you!! hooray!

Anything Is Hard To Find When You Will Not Open Your Eyes

sig — Wed, 13 Sep 2006 17:35:11 GMT

The month of August, as it turns out, was completely fucking lame. But how random. Why August? There's nothing particularly notable about that month. Other months are distinct: January is dark and sad, but begins the year, so its also clean. March can be cold, or warm, or fresh, or damp, but always ushers change. May is like a very slow come-up on a very bright drug that's dropped at the end of April and starts peaking in June. November is lovely and lonely and graceful, like a poem, a really good poem by Sylvia Plath or T.S Elliot or Emily Dickinson – an I heard a fly buzz when I died kind of month. But August? Not to disparage it, but its just kind of there, between July and September, which are also mostly unremarkable. I never would have picked August as a month of turmoil, but it picked me. It took a few days to get its wickedness rolling, and then lingered into September a few days before it blinked out, which is typical – start late, end late, never quite on schedule. Typical. I wrote that I'd been derailed like a train. I didn't think about it at the time, but I was talking with Kenny earlier in the summer, told him I felt like I was a train rolling at full speed in the creative process and shouldn't slow down or else I'd come off the track. I didn't slow down, in fact I might have gained a little speed, and then derailed anyway. The faster the velocity, the harder the wreck. I hardly slept or ate for the entire month. My body could not take on fuel. All I could do was listen to the Smiths and wait for the fear and loathing to pass. And now, I feel fine. I eat, I sleep. I'm still listening to the Smiths like an obsessed 15-year-old, though. I'm listening to them as I write – I'm not happy and I'm not sad. Meh, sad face. But I just can't stop. It curious. I was walking down Mission Street with George two days ago, with What Difference Does It Make stuck in my head. He's done his time with the Smiths, so when I started singing "the devil will find work for idle hands to do," he knew the score. I told him, "I've been listening to the Smiths obsessively for weeks now, and I wondered today, just how many times in my life have I heard this song? Five-thousand? And why am I listening to it again? What's the purpose of this?" He doubted I could have heard What Difference Does It Make five-thousand times. That seemed too extreme. "That's like saying you've seen Star Wars a hundred times," he said. "I bet I have seen Star Wars a hundred times," I said. The song that, at this point, is meaning the most to me is one of the one's I've heard the least – less than five-thousand times, to be sure. Its Accept Yourself, and there's this one lyric, now written on a post-it note stuck where I can see it: Anything is hard to find when you will not open your eyes. What does that mean? Well, I _know_ what it means, but why is it meaningful now? What am I not looking at? It somehow feels like it must be the moral of the story, but I have no idea why. Where am I going with this, not this writing, per say (though I don't where I'm going with that, either), but with my mood, my life, my Self? I'm back on the track, and I'm rolling, but where the hell do these tracks even go? Barstow? I hope not Barstow. the end.

i lost my precious little camera!

sig — Thu, 07 Sep 2006 07:38:33 GMT

yeah, and i lost it a burning man. i've posted everywhere about it - craig's list, e-playa, here. if by some off chance you've seen it (ie, i left it in your camp) please oh please let me know. its a silver canon power shot A410, with a wrist strap and no case. i'm offering a $75 reward for its return. i can't believe i lost it; i think it fell out of my back pack. though i've been known to leave a scarf or a tooth brush here and there, i don't loose things like cameras. hell, i've had the same set of keys for, like, 8 years. makes me so sad. sad face.

I Can Feel the Soil Falling Over My Head

sig — Fri, 25 Aug 2006 22:12:32 GMT

Sometimes life will catch us on the blind side, some unexpected turn of events hits hard enough to knock us off the track entirely. I saw a derailed train once. It'd jumped the track right outside of Mojave, where the railroad comes down out of the Tehachapi's. Six or seven engines had pulled the train, all freight cars, no passengers or livestock, no carnage, though it seems impossible the engineers weren't injured or killed. It derailed at the front, the engines off the track first, pulling the freight cars with them. The cars lay on their sides in the dirt around the tracks, crushed in like cans, smashed, wrecked, and dusted in cement powder and whatever other fine white mineral they'd carried. Some huge bulldozers had been there righting the engines, pushing them back up onto their wheels so they stood bruised and beaten in where ever it was easiest to flip them, and not one of them on the track. Their metal wheels gouged down in the dirt like anchors. It looked unnatural, these several huge engines off the rails in the dirt, twisted and out of their element. I have no clues as to why the train derailed. Suffice it to say, it was an unexpected turn of events. The train was riding free, rolling down out of the mountains on a gradual slope, when it was hit on the blind side--in this case, under its wheels. I have always delighted in putting a penny on the train track, so that the train rolls over it, wheel after wheel after wheel, and flattens the penny to a burnished orange smudge. The penny seems to have no effect on the train whatsoever, though the train transforms the penny irreversibly. I have been told, though, that it’s illegal to put a penny on the track because it might derail the train. I reason that really, if it really is illegal at all, its because you shouldn’t be playing around the train tracks, and derailment is just an excuse, only to frighten. But still, under the thin veneer of reason, I believe morbidly and delightfully that pennies derail trains, and even entertain the idea that it was a penny that triggered the snarling destruction along side the tracks near Mojave. One tiny penny, forgettable and ordinary, which should, by all expectations, have been squashed flat, lie on the track at such a pitch that day as to cause the train to squash itself instead. The train totally freaked out. It never even saw it coming. And so, right now, this is me: a jumbled wreck of a train off the track, ground into the dirt and dusted in my own guts. And all because of a penny I didn’t even see; and why bother seeing, it should have been rendered down to a flake as I passed over, not worth noticing. But the penny fucked up my train, and we smashed. Like every other penny, its has a man’s face on it. No, not Abe Lincoln, just some guy's. As a person, he is as grand and good and important and beautiful as everyone else, but as a face on a penny, he’s unimportant. Never mind who, he’s just some guy, some penny, some idea, the catalyst to catastrophe. (To be sure, when a penny derails the train, the penny is smashed, too. It certainly can’t escape. And its not like it derails the train on purpose. Absolutely unpremeditated.) But this, as it turns out, is not the point at all. All this about the train and the penny, its back story, strictly tangential. The real meat of this nut is that to make myself feel better about my current state as a wrecked train, I’ve been listening to the Smiths. I love the Smiths, ever since I was a kid. Even now they’re one of my favorites, but I’ve restrained myself from ever taking them too seriously, especially not the lyrics--I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour but heaven knows I’m miserable now? I wear black on the outside indeed. Morrissey is like Pollyanna in reverse, unreasonably and solipsisticly moody--not even depressed, because its never that deep. Yesterday, or maybe the day before, I was thinking about the man with his head on my penny, and thought an amusing thought--not all together exaggerated--that I liked him better when he had less confidence. It was pure Smiths. So why not, I thought, indulge myself in a little bit of mope to the Smiths, knowing it would make me feel better. That’s the wondrous thing about moping to mopey music--it makes us feel better. Something about hearing someone else externalize our unhappiness gives us the sense of being understood, understood by someone eloquent who can form beauty from the same ugliness soaking inside us. And I’m not just talking about mopes like the Smiths, either. I mean, Aretha Franklin. Stevie Wonder. George Harrison. But my saving grace now is the Smiths, in all their indulgent, unreasonable, solipsistic glory. And here’s the bit I'm reveling in most: I know it's over, still I cling. I don't know where else I can go over and over and over and over. I know its over, and it never really began, but in my heart, it was so real, and you even spoke to me and said, “If your so funny, then why are you on your own tonight? And if you're so clever, then why are you on your own tonight? If you're so very entertaining, then why are you on your own tonight? If you're so very good-looking, why do you sleep alone tonight? I know: ‘cus tonight is just like any other night, that's why you're on your own tonight, with your triumphs and your charms while they're in each other's arms." There is no neat way to end this. All along the wrecked train in Mojave, there were great tire ruts in the earth where the giant bulldozers had righted the engines. This was years ago, and the wreckage is long gone. Did the bulldozers return, or enormous cranes to lift the heaps back onto the rails? Did people come in organized hoards to dismantle the engines and cars scrap by scrap? How the fantastical chaos was ever cleared away, I also have no clues. Perhaps the train lie on the ground humming “please please please let me get what I want this time” until it got back up on the rail itself, dusted itself off, and rolled away, squashing pennies like nothing had ever happened. I don’t know. Void.

not the music room

sig — Mon, 31 Jul 2006 22:47:24 GMT

hiya, friends. last week i posted that my installation the music room would be open for viewing tonight, but its just not true. things have changed. instead i've got a rehearsal tonight for the show we're playing this weekend at epic arts' casino night. yep, that's right, eggplant casino is playing this saturday night! here are the details: epic arts casino night at the oakland metro 201 broadway at 2nd street, in oakland's jack london square saturday, august 5, 8pm - 2am $10, 21+ featuring live music by eggplant casino and tippy canoe and the paddlemen reycyled fashion show by haute trash plus poker, blackjack, cocktails, glitz & glam, and you, baby, you! info: www.epicarts.org/casino 510.644.2204

my hormonal roller coaster ride

sig — Thu, 20 Jul 2006 00:19:01 GMT

so, about six weeks ago, i went back on the pill. i'm going to admit, my reasons were strictly vanity-based. it was my skin. i'm an adult, and frankly, one of the big selling points of adulthood was that the acne would go away. friends, this is a lie. sure, it gets better, but it hangs around still, it lurks, waiting till we're feeling comfortable and cute. fortunately in this fine, modern world, there's a pill for everything. and what's better at clearing up the old epidermis up than a big, heaping dose of ortho tricyclen? plus, the added benefit of warding off pregnancy isn't so bad. who knows when an errant sperm might swim my way? the down side: last weekend, i went out camping in the woods (at the field day camp-out. you should have been there, you missed an excellent weekend of top-shelf down-tempo, not to mention my set. but i digress...), and left my little white plastic pill case at home. oops. by the time i got back sunday night, i was already transforming from the sudden lack of artificial hormones. the boundaries of my personal space seemed to shrink until everyone was invading it. this, naturally, invoked the desire to murder wantonly. i fortunately managed to suppress this dark urge and those around me were left unharmed. and then, i did what you're supposed to do when you forget to take a couple of pills: i doubled the dose. oh yes. i went from not enough to too much in a few hours, like some kind freaky far-out norgestimate/ethinyl estradiol trip. i felt sick and confused the whole next day, which was unfortunate, because it was monday and i was at work. and as i missed two doses, i got to do it again last night. i'm still pretty grouchy, plus now i'm super hungry, my boobs hurt and i just want to get in bed and pout. the worst part is, my skin is kind of greasy and gross today, too. is the roller coaster ride worth it? well, just so long as i don't do _that_ again. just in case you're curious, ortho tricyclen's hella scary website: http://www.orthotricyclen.com/acne/acnehome.html

ride me

sig — Mon, 19 Jun 2006 19:36:54 GMT

hiya, friends. i'll be playing a sick and sweet sunrise set saturday at revolution's campout out through the looking glass this weekend. check it out: www.makesweetrevolution.com i'm way excited about this party. but i am still looking for a ride up there on friday night. as fate would have it, though, i also have a prior commitment on friday night (and am saaaad to be missing mix master morris!), and won't be able to leave the bay area till around midnight. i know, its crazy, but is there anyone else out there who is possibly into leaving late on friday and rock staring it into camp in the wee hours with me? i am an accomplished passenger and will keep you entertained the whole way in addition to contributing gas money, etc. and i don't even need to be back till monday, so i can do a long weekend if you want. lastly, you won't even believe this, but i'm in the process of scheduling my driving lessons at a driving school. i know, right? me driving. crazy. it ain't cheap, but for obvious reasons, i'm going here: www.fearlessdriver.com/ eek.

pinback: cooler than you are (cooler than me, too)

sig — Fri, 16 Jun 2006 01:31:07 GMT

i only have but one pinback album which i don't play all that often, and i've never even seen them live before, but my love for this band is still deep. way deep. they're flawless. you know what i like about them? they sound unflappable, like no matter what you do to pinback, they never get angry. and sometimes, they sound like they're about to get angry, but then they don't. sometimes they get kinda happy, too, but hey, you know, not a big deal. they never loose their cool, they just maintain. i had this music theory class once, and the teacher talked about the elusive but vital difference between being complicated and complex. complicated is a mess, you can't find anything or figure any of it out, there's too much information and no one can make heads or tails of it. complex, on the other hand, is just enough, not too little and not too much. balanced, i think is the word. pinback's sound is deliciously balanced, angular but laidback, intense but understated, almost raw but mostly clean. the mix is so fine, too. i'm speaking specifically of the tracks on blue screen life, but i find its true of all their songs. the vocals are layered in with the instruments snuggly, like the sounds are all coming from one instrument. in this respect -- if i may venture a far-out comparison -- pinback is like jesus and mary chain's way super mellow, well-adjusted younger cousin. yeah, that's right, i said it and i'm sticking by it. discuss. so, in summation, pinback, super cool. http://www.pinback.com/