Welcome to Friday

It was snowing up here in New England yesterday morning. I don’t really like the cold. The West is calling, or Hawaii or somewhere where you’re not freezing your ass off on a daily basis. I just had the sauna on, so that helped, but I’d rather live in an open air one without the humidity. “Go West”, now that was a great Village People song. I saw the Village People in San Francisco at this event they have every year called the “Black and White Ball”. Gavin Newsom was the mayor at the time, and he addressed the crowd outside the venue before we all went in. Not being a fan, I booed not very loudly, and was immediately attacked by a crippled woman behind me who used her walking crutch to hit me. Ah, those were the days. Peace, Love and mental illness. San Francisco was described as an open air asylum when I lived there. It’s got to be ten times worse now.

It’s kinda hard attaching the snow plow to the horse

You never knew when the bike nazis (I forget what they called themselves) would randomly decide to take over the streets and block the traffic. Bums were everywhere begging, pissing in doorways and defecating in the main street. Nobody cared. Everything was cool man. Live and let live. Live and let fucking die, would be better. If people want to destroy themselves, let ’em. I could never understand the homeless junkie alcoholic thing, but it’s really mental illness that’s driving it. The problem is that at least half the population are functionally mentally ill, they can’t even help themselves. But let’s not dwell on the negative. It’s Friday, and the good times are ahead of us. If you work 9 – 5 Monday to Friday, that is. I work all the time, but I pretend that the weekend starts here, so it does. Normally I would like to be playing a show somewhere if I had a band that left the house, but I don’t. Someone told me a couple of days ago that the gigs in Sydney were few and far between these days.

Hello Washington!

I don’t doubt it. Maybe the golden age of the rock band playing at the local pub is over? I dunno. I know I’d much rather record stuff at home and broadcast it on the internet, if it was a choice between that and playing to three people on a Tuesday night in a dreary bar somewhere. It’s the schlepping of the gear that I hate. The last time I played out somewhere I was so tired at the end of it that I dinged up my car driving it into the garage. Fuck that. This journal is going nowhere today. Nothing’s happening. Plenty is, but I don’t wanna talk about it. It’s actually nothing anyway. It’s scraping the shit out of the right fender. Unless Nuclear War is declared, who gives a fuck? The idiots who think they run the world will still be doing stupid shit, and in a hundred years from now, nobody will care. I wish I could finish up the week with a positive message. Thank God I don’t force myself to write anything on the weekend, it’s too much, but is it enough? I wouldn’t know if anyone reads this at all. I think there might be a couple of people who do, but I never get any feedback to speak of, and I don’t expect any.

I don’t wanna know actually. That way I’m not thinking, “oh, so and so will be reading this” and I’ll start catering to an audience. I’m writing it for me more than anything. If you get something out of it , fine. There are probably 10 trillion blogs being written around the world in every language today. Anyone with an internet connection and a laptop/phone/tablet can write one. The question is, do they post pictures of sexy beautiful women on Saturday and Sundays? I doubt it. That’s why this is so special. You’re welcome.

Not now Igor!

Happy Friday.

Today I saw a poster advertising the Jefferson Airplane playing a show in Connecticut in December. It’s 1969 all over again, but it’s more like the winter of hate this time around.

This is Jefferson Starship, but the Airplane will do it for sure. The city is San Francisco, I’m pretty certain about that.