Wrapped up in Wood
I finally got around to building a frame for my Carson Ellis print. Since it's a square, not a standard photo or poster size, I couldn't just go to the department store and buy a $5 frame. I called a place and they wanted more than $50! So I went to Lowes and got some wood, etc, and built my own. It cost me just a few bucks. DIY wins again! When I mounted it I reused the box she shipped it to me in, preserving the hand-lettered labels. Cool, huh?

If You Think You See with Just Your Eyes, You're Mad
I've been looking around with no particular purpose at amps. All I've got right now is a Squier (cheapo Fender) 10W practice amp. It's actually more than fine for around the house. Anything past like 4 makes the pictures rattle (and starts to distort), but, I'm curious about what makes bigger, more expensive amps so much better (besides vintage tubes). So, I look at all the Fender amps, and see the 25W Frontman. It retails for $230, sells on the street for $140. It has reverb and slightly better EQ possibilities. It's generally got good reviews, and for me it would be 2.5x as powerful. Then, I discover that in adddition to the Squier line of cheapies, Fender makes a Brand X line. They too sell a 25W amp ($220, or $130). I download their manuals to see what's the diffference between them. Guess what it is? Nothing! They have the same controls, but slightly different knobs. They even have the exact same part number! Why would they do that? I'm enough of a poser geek that I would pay the extra $10 for the Fender plate on the front. Who would want a "Brand X" amp?
I think I'm going to check out the local pawn shops. They always have guitars and stuff from losers.

The Horror!
There will be no pictures. It's too embarrassing, too incriminating.
I didn't really know, honest!
They didn't come with any label or logo on the case.
My glasses are supposedly made by Nike. Nike! Child-labor rapists of the world!
I would never have bought them. The salesgirl didn't tell me. But there's little tiny swooshes by the hinges, and the tiny printing inside the legs(?, arms?) confirms it. I've been wearing them for months and never noticed? What's wrong with me? I feel so ashamed.

Yet they do suit me.

Tales of a Big Fat Hypocrite
OK, I had to do it. But I did not go out into the Xmas shopping orgy of consumerism.
I had to get some medicine for Lauran, coffee, and soap. I then came home and made a couple loaves of French bread (sort of--we don't have one of those steam ovens, who besides bakeries does?)
Still waiting for my Tele kit. Perhaps it's being sent by pack mule.

Top Secret
Sshh!
This is what I'm sending Matt for Christmas (along with some typical accoutrements). Don't tell him!

Since my new one is on the way (well, the raw materials are--I wonder what's taking so long?) I thought it would only be fair to send the spare to my little brother. The guys at the local guitar store gave me an empty box, so I wrapped the thing in bubblewrap, put it in its gig bag, filled up the empty spaces, then taped it all up.

Remember, it's BUY NOTHING DAY. It's not your job to rescue the economy singlehandedly.

Over the River and through the Woods

Sam woke me up this morning. "Poppa! It's snow! It's real snow, I went out and touched it with my own hand!"
He also left the front door wide open. Then he announced, "It's a french toast party!" Then he lectured me on how to make it. This is going to be an interesting day.

Some People Say That It's Gotta Be Sad


Did you know they use your belly button for one of the holes for laparoscopic surgery? Man!

I Have to Call the Doctor Every Time We Kiss
Gall bladder is out. Lauran still feeling groggy and sore.

New U2 album is out. First impression: it sounds like U2--all hymn-pop and elegiac ballads. Bono promised a guitar album.

New Harry Potter movie is out. Haven't watched it yet.


That bump is a gallstone, I hear. Ouch!

Ooooooooo
Rumor has it Apple is planning on offering some sort of audio interface to use with GarageBand. I'd like that, as most interfaces are either aimed at a pro-recording level (all that M Box gear) or are overpriced toys (iMic). I'll believe it when I see it on the street. It could very easily be the video iPod or the Apple PDA/phone or some similar vaporware. If it comes to pass I can properly record my Xmas song for real and some of the other songs I have in my demented stable.

Also, I haven't been sleeping well for weeks. Perhaps I need to wean back down on the caffeine. I have 3 cups of coffee in the morning, Diet Coke for lunch, and then a 16oz coffee in the afternoon. Sometimes more Diet Coke with dinner. The morning coffee is half decaf, but still, I think I might be getting a little too much. Or maybe it's the stress.

Somewhere in Texas a Village is Missing Its Idiot
That's what the bumper sticker said in the parking lot of the music building at BGSU. We went there to hear our young lady Heather's senior recital. She did great, all solo violin-y and stuff.

Then Again
I could always try and make a Joe Strummer replica Telecaster. It seems some guy in Japan did (scroll down a bit). And a very nice job, too! He even sunburst'ed it first, then did the black and stickers and general battering. I can't read any of the text (can you?) but it's somewhat fascinating, nonetheless.
The real one was spotted in the hands of Mick Jones, though I don't know exactly when. (With Badly Drawn Boy--that's Mick in the black suit and bald head.)

The copy:

The real one, I believe:

Is This Thing On?
This was supposed to be the end of it all. The one year mark.
My original plan was to do this blog for exactly one year.
That's why I never bothered with a custom template or cared much about where graphics were being hosted or what sizes they are, or anything technical like that.
But now, it's going to go on until I get majorly bored by it. I think I may only post when I feel like it. The post-a-day thing was part of the whole one year experiment. Of course, since I've paid up for a year of hosting with Globat, it'll go until about next September. I might as well get my money's worth. But I don't want to be oppressed by it.
I still have to move all the old graphics over to the new domain, which I haven't done yet. Maybe I'll just leave them on Bright.net. I dunno. Does it really matter?
That's always the question, isn't it?

Gabe and Sam have found the family treasure box of Legos, and are really into them. (Actually, more accurately, they're not into them, they're surrounded by them, as they have spilled them out all over the family room floor.) What they do is build these space ships and then have "battles" by smashing them together. Someone's gonna get hurt, I'm sure.

Spleens A Go Go
Any resemblance is purely coincidental (and nonexistent).



Also, here's my whole song, but only for the musically indiscriminate: Xmas Song (4.96MB). Everyone else, stay away.

I Wouldn't Mind Dresing in Green If I Thought You'd Understand What I Mean


I have only this to say: Em7add11

I Believe in Surgery, and That's a Fact
It's official! Just in time for the holidays, Lauran will have her gall bladder out. Apparently it's not just sludgy, it's full of rocks. Now, I was brought up to expect sugar, spice and everything nice. But it turns out girls are just as yucky as guys. Maybe more so.
Damn.

Frankly Mr Shankly
So, this mornning I walk into the boys' bedroom to help them get dressed. I notice that on top of Gabe's dresser is a collection of pictures of me, some of them several years old, some predating his own existence. A shrine to his Poppa! Including this one:

I don't remember where or when that's from, but them're definitely my feet.
(Why do feet inspire the use of bad grammar? They always seem to for me.)

Honestly, who wouldn't want a shrine to me?

Here's an mp3 clip of my "Let's Subvert American-style Christmas" Xmas song. (Only for the iron-eared or tone deaf. It's that bad): XmasSongDemoClip.mp3

Sweet Clementine!
It's not very interesting to anyone else. It's certainly not glamorous, but this is the new version of my "place to put my iBook to watch DVDs whilst I spin" thing. This version has a sort of marionette frame mounted to the ceiling, which suspends the shelf. That's my road bike underneath. Still have a ways to go to stay in shape for next season. Thus, when it's cold and dark out, I watch Shrek2 (or whatever) and sweat.

Loose Ends
We're coming up on the 1 year anniversary of this humble blog soon. Plans for the next triumphant year include a whole new look. Details to follow.

The back may look something like this. I don't usually do many studies, or sketches, of planned works, for that matter. I'm just trying to do something while I'm waiting for the "art supplies" to arrive.

I don't think it should have a title, as it will (hopefully) be used to play many different things, so just a name stencil and a date somewhere on the side. Being stuck with just one name would be too confining, I think.

Could Be Convenient
So, I was doodling yesterday and made this.

I don't really need to keep it, since no one here is named Carmen or Tommy.
However, any engaged couples with the names Carmen and Tommy might like it.
They can email me if they can make any use of THIS ORIGINAL ARTWORK. I sure can't
We're Lauran and Christopher, and we're already married ("here's proof--we have suntans"). But soon there will be less of us. Well, less of Lauran, as the ghouls doctors want to take her gall bladder out sometime soon. Apparently it's full of "sludge."

Stupid, You Can Call Me That...But You Have No Idea
Minor musical triumph for the theoretically retarded (me):
Scales.
On guitar. Real scales, across the neck, not just up and down one string (duh).
It seems you're supposed to envision a "box," but I could never figure out what to do with the dots in the diagrams. It turns out you have to learn the notes (and the intervals of that particular kind of scale), then you know exactly where to go (duh). Then you can put the box wherever you want and it still works. Ha!
I'm pleased, but still largely ignorant. It took me a book and bunches of time to figure it out.

From the Floorboards to the Flies
Sam now says "I cut the cheese."
Gabe often dismisses me with a "whatever."
Lauran...well, she just gives me a look.
Most everyone else gives me the respect I deserve.

Fruity
How do you take perfectly good fruit and make it unhealthy?
Cover it in milk AND white chocolate!

That's one of the goodies over at the coffee shop across the street.
My colleague bought some for me. I don't really like sweets, but those...yum.
I'd be able to post a picture if I wasn't such a pig.

Some Enchanted Evening
WARNING! Unless you are an obsessive Robyn Hitchcock fan, read no further and come back tomorrow. It may not make sense.

I went on a feg-pilgrimage with Michael B and Brian Nupp to see The Greatest Living Englishman at the Beachland Ballroom. They are, BTW, two of the nicest feg-chaps you'll ever meet. Very generous with beer and mileage. We arrived in plenty of time (thanks to my expert navigation) and settled in at Music Saves, the tiny record store two doors down. Robyn appeared, a little later than the 7pm advertised in-store, but we were glad to see him of course, at any time. He unpacked a slightly worn Fylde and fiddled around with tuning. He then asked what we wanted to hear. The dozen or so people there seemed perhaps a little surprised, and no one chimed in right away. So I asked for The Bones In The Ground, a fairly rare tune, not very often in Robyn's setlists(!). He said he'd have to see if he remembered how to play it. He did, after a few moments of finger-wiggling. I was certainly impressed, as that was sort of our joke request; also that he could remember it--a 20-odd year old bonus track. Wow! He also sang the one with the chorus, "W sucks, but Rumsfeld is the antichirst." Then I think 1974. And some more. Brian certainly knows what, since he taped it, with Robyn's kind permission. We were only about 3 feet away from him (neon green jeans, black t-shirt, neon yellow shirt, sort of a Jewels For Sophia ensemble), so when it was time to sign things, we were there first. My Can Of Bees insert now has his name in silver and black Sharpie. Then we talked about the music business and his future plans.

At the show proper, Michael Fracasso opened up. He did a rootsy sort of "native Texan" thing, with a lot of Jesus namechecking in the songs. When it was time for Robyn all the assembled fegs and fans dutifully trotted forward to place the requests at the edge of the stage, as suggested by Robyn at the in-store. He said it saves him the trouble of coming up with a set list, but he'd have one anyway. A new way of working for him, he explained. He appeared in a shiny new black and white diamond shirt and got right to it. After each song he'd tune a little, check the requests and play something good. I got Linctus House, Michael got I Don't Remember Guildford, a stunning rendition, I'd say. When it was time he dispensed with the ritual of going away and then coming right back for the encore, which he played a lot of on a white Telecaster, fitted with some sort of humbucking pickup at the neck, but not, as far as I could tell, at the bridge. Hmmm, I don't know what version that is, unless it's a custom mod. At one point he was traipsing amongst the tables, singing his Funky Town/When You're In Love With A Beautiful Woman/Sound And Vision medley.
It was an absolutely fantastic show, with Robyn in fine form, singing more than joking, doing a sort of career retrospective request thing. It was almost like he forgot to promote his new album, so he did stick in a couple of tunes from that for good measure. Also for good measaure he played One L twice in a row, as he insisted the tuning wasn't right the first time. We expected that the second time round would end at the first chorus, but nope, he did the whole thing. It sounded great the first time!
After the show I went to the stage to see what kind of gear might be up there, and there was his own handwritten setlist, very little of which he followed, which is exactly what made the gig so great, though once we saw it we wished we could have heard some of those, too. But we'd have been there all night if he played every request!
I, for one, greatly enjoy Robyn's strummy side (though the rockin' side is another kind of aural pleasure, too!). And some of the newer stuff that I wasn't too sure about from the CDs was a lot more alive for me. V V good.

One final wish is that my stupid camcorder wasn't on the fritz. It would have made a great DVD. Of course, the mental theatre never has technical difficulties, so I'll watch it there--and listen to Brian's boot.

UPDATE: It was probably an American Fat Telecaster, now discontinued, though replaced in the product line by the new American Tele HS. Geek!

Cryptic Complaint of the Day
Looking for the bright side all the time has left me squinty, with a headache.

But at least tomorrow night I'm going back to Cleveland, to see Robyn Hitchcock.

Treasure
I'm not such a stuck-up artist-type that I can't appreciate the work of others (although back in art school I hated crit days--why would I want to spend hours upon hours talking about someone else's shoddy work?). Definately not shoddy is this print, Okies, by the lovely and talented Carson Ellis.

I haven't decided where to put it yet.

Whistling in the Dark
I'm not really the political junkie that recent blog posts would suggest.
So, back to my real life.
This is more of what the guitar will look like, although it always depends on what happens when I actually start painting. My sketches and finished works rarely match up, usually for the better, I'd say.

I think to retain the classic Tele look, I'll leave the pickguard mostly alone. Besides, paint won't stick to it and it has to be there to hold the neck pickup in place. I probably should keep all the hardware clean while I'm at it. I plan to mount a temporary neck (otherwise known as a 1x2) to a hinge to my "easel" so I can work on both sides at once. Of course, this is all a long way off--it probably won't be anywhere near done until after Christmas, because it'll take time to layer up my patented anarchic, accidental underpainting technique, and the fact that the guy who sells them on eBay (it seems to be his main business) will hold the shipment for 2 weeks to make sure my check clears (it probably will...just kidding!).
Not only will it be cool to have a one of a kind guitar, I think it will also satisfy a deep psychological need. Perhaps my frustration with learning music is being superceded or reconciled (or something) with the visual arts, which I am, if I may say so, fairly gifted at.

Right On
"Bush Wins on Moral Values" is one of the headlines I've seen. (I think it was from the wires at Salon.)
What, only pandering, quasi-evangelicals have moral values? Please!
Is it moral to lie to the American people about the basis for a war in Iraq? Is it moral to kill thousands of civilians in Afghanistan and Iraq? Is it moral to let more assault weapons out on the street? Is it moral to give tax breaks to the rich? Give me a freakin' break.
At least he has 4 more years to clean up the messes he's made. If only he gave a crap...
Well, the thing is, it's not the end of the world, we've pulled out of deficit-spending before, our economy naturally has its ups and downs, and we've slowly but surely gotten out of messy wars in the past. It's just that the future has to pay for all these current mistakes. Thanks, George and Dick, for making the world my children will inherit just a little bit nastier place.
I never really thought Kerry would win, nor did I particularly care for him, but at least he isn't W.

There's Got To Be a Morning After
While the nation is recovering from its electoral idiocy, I have been making much more important plans--for yet another guitar.
I still can't hardly control the things (for me it's kind of like musical bull-riding, with the same grace and style--all fast and bumpy), but that doesn't stop me from cluttering up the house with them.
For quite some time I've been checking out the SAGA Telecaster clone kits. I've seen them for up to $130, and as low as $72. That's what I paid on eBay. They've generally gotten fair reviews--as in, "you get what you pay for"--but the thing is: a) a Tele is sort of my dream guitar [Ada, keep your mouth shut], and b) I plan on doing a painting on it.

I hear that the tuners need to be replaced, but I can't sing in tune, so why worry about the guitar? I also hear that the pickups leave something to be desired, but I only have a little baby 10W practice amp, so how could I tell? Again, it's a DIY kit! If I was expecting a real vintage Fender, I have to be paying about 10-20 times as much. I know full well that over time the painted finish will get chipped, scratched, and worn, but that's part of the appeal of the project for me. I love the idea that pieces of artwork have a lifecycle after they leave the artist's studio. So they have a story that goes beyond their creation. That's very cool. Plus, I would be quite happy to live in a world covered in my paintings, a la Kurt Schwitters' Merzbau.

So There!
I voted, you better do the same.

Almost...(gasp!)...Done...Just a...little (sputter) Longer...
In 8 or so hours the polls open here, without Republican "helpers" to block the doors. [Update: They are allowed back in. Stupid lawyers! "That would be voter intimidation!" "OK, they can't be there." "But it would ensure fairness!" "Well, then I guess they can." Fairness, my ass.]
Of course, as they say on The Daily Show, it's all just "Prelude To A Recount."

Please, people, let's just be done. Reagan's famous line in the 1980 campaign was, "Are you bettter off now then you were four years ago?" He trounced Carter with that, and I'd suggest we all ask ourselves the same thing. I have a feeling that unless we're heavy-duty idealogues, we'd have to go with...NO. We've lost jobs, erased a surplus and plunged back into deficit spending. There's that pesky war* and those crazy terrorists...hmm...remind me what's so good about this President? (I could handle the garbled speech if he had something to say.)

Just my 2¢. That I can put it up here is one of the things that makes America great. Of course, direct democracy would be nice, too.



* Sorry, wars, plural.