"The Marathon Concert" & other stories

'Ello, you lucky people!

Seeing a band you like live is a really, for lack of a better term, "magical" experience. Or at least it should be. These are people who's work you really admire or connect to or even just think is catchy, and you can now see them in person a few (hundred in some cases) feet away. Last night, I had the pleasure of seeing a favorite band of mine, Gogol Bordello, with two of my favorite people, Joey and Chelsey. This was an interesting concert all around. It was the Halloween concert at the Boulder Theatre (a place that looks almost identical to the Bluebird in Denver) and so probably 50% of the people were dressed up in some form of odd garb. One person (I believe it was a female but I couldn't tell) was dressed in a large bunny costume. There were some devils and Zulu warriors and a ton of drunk bitches. I hear drunk bitch is the new black. One wore a furry white suit with fiber-optic lights built in. Like a glowing monster. Weirdos.

There was a dj on stage when we got there and after the opening act and he played some very eclectic sounds which I thought was pretty sweet. The "warm-up" band called themselves The Dub Trio. There were in fact three of them. They did instrumental music that was part hardcore, part reggae, part odd electronica. It was pretty clear they were excellent musicians but there's only so much of their type of music people can take when they come to hear Gypsy-punk rock. Dub Trio would have been great for a half-hour. Too bad they played for 50 minutes. Feedback becomes irritating after that long, no matter how you dress it. Plus EVERYTHING they played sounded like what they just played. And there wasn't ever really a break between songs, just 50 minutes continual noise.

So after them, we had about a half-hour more of the dj, which is kinda customary. Concert promoters and bands are pretty smart. They make the audience wait so long to hear who they want to hear and they start getting so antsy and tired, that by time the headliner does take the stage, the audience is twice as excited and happy. Good move. So, I had to open the Ballet office on Tuesday and open again this morning, meaning I was already tired from all day Tues and was gonna be even more tired when I got home, but I figured it was worth it. Gogol Bordello took the stage at 10:30 and it was just non-stop rocking from then on. Such a frenetic and energetic band, it really was a terrific live show. Eugene Hutz, a Ukrainian immigrant and lead singer of GB, ran around the stage like a crazy person and continually knocked over his mic stand, causing this one roadie to come out and pick it back up. Over and over again. I think by the end of the night, Eugene was knocking it over just to make this guy pick it up again. Pretty funny.

So, most headliners play for an hour, maybe 90 minutes if it's a very lengthy show. Gogol Bordello proceeded to play for two hours. At about 11:45, they left the stage before the obligatory encore, which I figured would be a song or two. Oh no, their encore was 45 minutes long and their final song was easily 10 minutes due to three or four false endings. And after everything was all over, Eugene invited all the crowd to an after-party. It wasn't just a generic, "let's all keep the party going," or anything like that. He gave an address. Nuts, these rockstars are.

So it's 12:30 and I was prepared to get home by 1 or so and be okay. But the adventure doesn't end there, my friends. I'm embarrassed to admit that I get lost pretty easily if I'm in a place I've never been or not been very often. I hate it passionately, but it happens. So it took me probably an extra 10 minutes to get back to the road that becomes Hwy 36. My knowledge of Boulder ends there. A road (28th I believe) turns into 36 and I'm out. So after getting slightly lost getting back to 36, I figured I was okay once I was on it. Nay, good people. There was an accident on 36 and the cops forced everyone off of it. "Now," to quote the film Snatch, "we're fucked." I get off and have no idea where to go. How does one get out of Boulder if not on the turnpike? So I'm driving around for a long-ass time looking for SOMETHING familiar. And since I've traditionally avoided Boulder like the plague (no, not JUST because of the hippies) nothing is familiar.

I called Joey to ask how she and Chels got out. They took the Foothills Pkwy which becomes 36. Okay... so where am I in relation to that? Joey did her best to figure out where I was but I had gotten so very lost. I ended up almost in the mountains TWICE. Fuck. So, it's dark, late, there's really no cars around to try to follow, and I'm somewhere I've never been. Finally I find Pearl St. I recognize that name from the one time I went to that God-awful outdoor mall, aka "Din of Bodily Filth and Hemp." I give Joey another call, this is easily a 30 minutes since I called earlier, and she hands it off to Cody who tells me Pearl runs into Foothills and I will then finally be able to get out of Boulder. I was filled with some apprehension because for the first little bit, it was taking me back the way I came, however I soon was able to get on 36. The accident occurred just before Foothills merges onto the turnpike, which is how my compadres avoided it. A truck somehow ended up on its top. I didn't see any people, who presumably were taken to the hospital well before this. I got home at quarter to 2 in the morning. And I had to wake up at 7:30. Gross. This boy is tired. Great concert though.

One final bit before I sign off of this blog that is now nearly as long as last night's excursion. If people in Downtown Denver got a ticket everytime they ran a red light, the people in the entire state of Colorado would never have to pay taxes again. Every single day when I drive down there, I see no fewer than 10 people running a red light. But you're sort of forced to. The lights are timed so even if the flow of traffic doesn't necessarily require the light to change, it will. And people who want to go home after a long day of work don't really want to stop at every red light. Just stupid. Food for though, politicians. Just downtown. Not even all of Denver. Quoting Todd, "tink bou' dat."

Talk at you later and keep circulating the tapes.

"Fuck off, Tom" and other stories

'Ello, you lucky people!

Well, I finally deleted my Myspace account. It just kinda pissed me off but I still checked it 300 times a day. Anyway, it's gone. It's fitting that the very last message I recieved was from a spammer wanting me to go to a sex site. That's MySpace in a nutshell. I don't regret it or at least won't in the long run. It's an addiction I'm kicking. I never did anything with it, but I still was on it too much. Regardless.

I just purchased the Stanley Kubrick collection and am super stoked to watch all of the neat crap on it. Movies are an addiction I'll hopefully never kick.

I've been working my ever-living ass off (presupposing that I, in fact, have an ass to lose) It's nice to get money, but cripes it tuckers me out. This week marked my first as the interim lead ticket agent at the ballet. The people are pretty cool and since the promotion, people in management positions have been a ton nicer. Most even remember my name which is pretty cool. When I took the job, I didn't want to be a supervisor anywhere anymore and here I am in one again. But I didn't want to work in ticketing anymore and I've returned to that. I've said it many times, it may just be my lot in life.

I'm incredibly excited to go on a wee trip in a week and a half. Not gonna say too much, but let's just say it'll be a rejuvination and a reinvigoration for my burgeoning movie career. A visit to my holy land.

All for now, more news as it develops.

Talk at ya later and keep circulating the tapes.

"Love Kills"

'Ello, you lucky people!

So, I've started shopping around my first screenplay to different agencies and what-not, so I decided to post the first scene, the pre-credit sequence, for you to read. Enjoy my friends and if you'd like to read more, let me know.

"LOVE KILLS"
FADE IN:

INT. Bar -- NIGHT

A slightly nicer than seedy bar in a nicer than seedy part of town. A weeknight, so not too many people. At the bar sits a very distraught-looking 24 year old named DOUG. He cries to the BARTENDER.

DOUG: ...and then she said "I think it would be better if we didn't see each other anymore." Can you believe that shit?

BARTENDER:Yeah, I can.

DOUG : You know, it's just her father. He never liked me. He never thought I was good enough for her. But we're in love and there's nothing he can do about it.

BARTENDER: Well, give it some time. If things are meant to be, they'll turn out.

DOUG: Psh...yeah maybe.

BARTENDER: Sure it will. How long ago did this all happen?

DOUG: 3 months.

BARTENDER: 3 months?

DOUG: Yeah.

BARTENDER: Brother, you need to move on. It's not healthy.

DOUG: Oh easy for you to say. Brandi and I are supposed to be together.
We're gonna get married and have kids and grandkids and great-grandkids...

BARTENDER: Okay, I'm cutting you off, kid. You're talking crazy.

DOUG: No I'm not crazy! I'm in love! Why don't people get that?

A few seats down, another 20-something guy, DAN COOPER, turns from his drink and chimes in.

DAN: He's right. Nobody gets it.

BARTENDER: All right, I'm cutting you both off.

DAN: No, it's totally true. The whole country, hell, the whole world, is biased against people in love.

BARTENDER: Oh, come on. That's bullshit! The whole country puts people in love up on a pedestal. We're all supposed to be in love and if we're not, it's "poor guy this" and "poor guy that."

DAN: THAT, my friend, is bullshit. Love is a dream. People in love are crazy. No one's supposed to be happy all the time. Perpetual happiness is a sure sign of insanity. If two people are in love with each other, the world says "good for you, you're both equally crazy and are now able to go and live your crazy life and have 2.5 crazy kids and a crazy dog named Barnaby." But, God forbid you fall in love with someone who doesn't feel the same way. You have to get over it because you're wrong. You have to move on and forget about it. Why isn't it the other people who have to change? If love is so great and revered as you say, then how come they aren't expected to be in love with the person who clearly loves them? It's because the world needs for people to be miserable. And unfortunate as it is, the loveless are the most abundant people on earth. It's shitty, but it's life.

BARTENDER: Man, you're bitter.

DAN: Nope. I'm just a guy who’s been there.

DOUG sobs a little more.

BARTENDER: Come on, man. It'll be okay.

DAN: Yeah it will. Come on, I'll take you home.

BARTENDER: You sure you wanna do that? It's sure to be a long night.

DAN: Yeah, I got it.

DAN helps DOUG off the stool, slaps a 20 on the bar and leads him out the door.

EXT. BAR -- CONTINUOUS

DAN turns a corner and leads DOUG down a mostly-darkened alleyway.

DOUG: I really appreciated what you said back there.

DAN: Don't mention it.

DOUG: No, it was great. Do you really think Brandi's wrong?

DAN: No, in this case Brandi happens to be right.

DOUG: Huh?

DAN sets DOUG on the ground next to a dumpster.

DAN: Or, more accurately, Brandi's father is right.

DOUG: But you just said...

DAN: I know what I just said, and it's usually true. Under different circumstances, I'd be right there with you. But, Brandi's father happens to be a very powerful man who doesn't really like how you've been treating her.

DOUG: I don't...how do you...?

DAN: He showed me a picture of a shiner you gave her last week. Looked pretty painful.

DOUG: She wouldn't listen to me. I just wanted her to listen...

DAN: Well Brandi's father didn’t seem to think that was an acceptable way to go about it. Not in the least.

DOUG: What does he want me to do?

DAN reaches into the back of his pants and retrieves a silenced pistol.

DAN: That's kinda what I need to talk to you about.

DOUG: Oh, no! No, you can't. All those things you said. You've been there, you said!

DAN: I have been there. I am there. But I would NEVER punch a girl. Certainly not one I loved and CERTAINLY not one who has a mob-connected businessman as a father.

DAN raises the gun and aims.

DOUG: No, please.

DAN: Sorry, Dougie.

DAN puts two quick shots in DOUG and he falls over. DAN looks a minute at him, sighs, then returns the pistol to his jacket, and walks out of the alley and back into the bar.

INT. BAR -- CONTINUOUS

DAN walks back up to the BARTENDER.

DAN: He got mugged.

BARTENDER: I know.

DAN: Wait twenty minutes and call the police.

BARTENDER: Will do.

DAN: Thanks, Bobby.

BARTENDER: Anytime, Dan. Make sure McCarthy remembers me.

DAN: He does.

BARTENDER: Stay and have a drink.

DAN: Can't. I've got class in the morning.

DAN walks out again.

Talk at ya later and keep circulating the tapes.

Random Thoughts

'Ello, you lucky people!

So, I tend to come up with bizarre notions or ideas. Here are some.

The idea of coming up with a sport is kind of crazy. You know they all started with bored kids. "Hey, let's hit a ball with a stick." That's it. It all started from there. "If you kick this ball between two trees, you get a point." Multi-million dollar deals are now brokered all because kids were bored. Remember when you were a kid and decided the floor was lava and you had to jump from pillow to pillow so as to avoid burning to death? What if people went to college for that and make a million bucks a year? Just add a bunch of rules that only 30% of the world understands completely and you have yourself a sport.

I'm sure they went through some different versions before settling on what we know today. "Gee, Jean-Pierre, I really like this game, but what if we use something else to hit the pucks into the net besides a telescope? I bet a piece of wood would work all right."

And why are some games now professional and some aren't? There should be professional tetherball or four square. Kickball is essentially baseball so why isn't there a professional kickball league? They'd change it a bit, but as long as they still use that big red ball, it'd be A-Okay.

I watch musicals and can't get passed those big musical numbers where someone just starts singing and 50 other people join in. The only time that ever happens is on a birthday. If you start singing the Happy Birthday song, people will join in. Like it's a rule or something.

I understand "Big wheel keep on turnin'," but what the hell's with "Proud Mary keep on burnin'?"

Why don't deaf people have hearing-ear dogs? And aren't dogs supposed to have really bad eyesight?

Eyesight... as opposed to kneesight or nipplesight?

My neighbor's kid is an idiot. We have a big ol' flag pole surrounded by lights in the lawn of the complex. One time during a rainstorm, he was hitting the lights with a big metal pipe. During a RAINSTORM. A 10 year old with a death wish.

Walkie-talkies are the stupidest inventions, not because of their function, but because of their poor marketing. Why couldn't they come up with a better name? "Walkie-talkie" sounds like how you'd explain how they work to a foreigner. "You walkie and talkie!!" Because you have to yell to foreigners or they won't understand. If they named other products like that, you'd have vacuums called "pushie-suckies" or cars called "rollie-goies."

They should create something called a "borange" just so every word rhymes with something. Just to be fair.

To aid in embryonic stem cell research, being that it's not legal currently to experiment on human embryos, they've created a new species that is a hybrid of a human and HAMSTER due to the similarities in DNA strands and so research can be done without it being on humans. This thing is called a "humster" and though a creature has never been allowed to fully develop, I am incredibly creeped out by this. Stem cells can be used by the body to replicate and become any type of cell. So, what if they use these cells from a humster in a human? What if dude with Parkinsons gets cured but then has a rodent kid a year later? It's a recessive trait, but so is green eyes or red hair. Creepy-ass shit. A kid who lives under the stairs and sleeps in wood shavings. And always keeps me awake with its constant running in the wheel.

Before "Make Love, Not War," I think the original slogan was "Just fuck each other indiscriminantly and hopefully you'll forget how pissed off you are." Didn't fit on T-shirts though. Plus there's a swear word in it.

It's irritating how open people are sometimes. I like being forward, but sometimes it's a little too much. At work, one of the new girls was talking about how she almost caught herpes one time, but "Don't ask how." If I could think of a list of every question I'd ask her BEFORE I'd ask about how she almost caught herpes, it would be a list of... every question. Including, "Where's the beef?" "Who shot J.R.?" and "Why do you think I'd want to know that?"

That's enough. But there's so many more.

Talk at ya later, and keep circulating the tapes.

The Thing with an Ironic Title

'Ello, you lucky people!

When you hear the word "master," you get a very distinct mental picture. I'm not going to explain the nature of semiotics because frankly I don't understand it myself, but essentially it's how our mind understands words based on what they symbolize. Think about the word "master" for a moment. What do you picture? A Master Lock? Yoda, who was a Jedi Master? He-Man, who was the Master of the Universe? MasterCard even? At any rate, it's understood that the word "master" should only be applied when something is, in fact, the honest to God best there is at something. I happen to work for a company, The Colorado Ballet, that happens to use TicketMaster. I'm going to tell you all, in case you weren't already aware, that TicketMaster is in fact the LEAST masterful way to buy, sell, distribute, or keep track of tickets. It's an ironic title. It's like calling a big fat guy "Tiny" or a savage Rottweiler "Cuddles." The unfortunate thing, though? TicketMaster ACUTALLY believes it is the master of tickets. In reality, the only thing it IS the master of is bating.

Tonight was my first night working a show at the Colorado Ballet. Every thing seemed to be going well. Was it going well? No. I didn't realize it wasn't going well until the END of my shift when literally none of my reports balanced with any of Ticket-fuckin-Master's reports. And here's why: When you sell tickets at the venue (Secondary as the G.M. calls it) and someone uses a credit card, if the card runs correctly and everything is gravy, it automatically prints two reciepts and you are then able to print the tickets. You keep a reciept and you give one to the patron along with the tickets and you're done. Everything is great. Go have a scone. You want to know what happens if the card is rejected? THE SAME EXACT FUCKING THING. It prints two reciepts and you can print the tickets to your heart's content. The only difference is that the word "rejected" is written on the reciept, in lower-case letters even. Did anyone tell me this was the case? Absolutely not. So I "sold" probably 10 tickets without ever knowing that no money ever actually came in. People were getting in for free. Which is great for them, but shit-tacular for me.

It took my supervisors and me an hour extra to reconcile this and all that really ended up being was a note written to the G.M. saying pretty much "It got all fucked up." This idiotic thing might be enough reason to hate TM, but there's more. It is easily the most archaic and counter-intuitive ticketing system I've ever used, and I've used four. From a selling standpoint, it's incredibly inconvenient. It takes close to 5 minutes to even sell tickets to someone. You first have to find the date of the show using the show code, then say that you want to look up seats, then scroll down to the section of the seats you want, then highlight the zeros on the screen representing the seats, then put in the qualifying codes for those seats, then put in the type of card the customer is going to use, then get their name, address, phone number, e-mail address, and marketing code (for EVERY customer, even during a rush) then actually put in the card number, then exit all the way out of their reservation just to go back into their reservation and finally print the tickets. In case you weren't counting, that's 15 steps. It takes FOREVER if you're waiting to go in to a show.

People seem to hate TM mostly due to the fees. There are fees for everything and there might even be a multiple fee fee. At the Ballet, there is an $8 per ticket fee, and a $3.10 handling fee. The $8 fee is unwaivable, even if someone has a two for one coupon. They pay for one ticket's BASE price, but still have to pay the $8 for their "free" ticket. There's a deal out now from 5280 magazine where people can buy two tickets for the improbable price of $52.80. But really it's two tickets for $52.80 plus $8 plus $8 plus $3.10 making the "deal" $71.10. An extra $19.10. In FEES. The most ridiculous thing is our rush tickets an hour prior to showtime are supposedly half off, making a $49 ticket, you'd assume, $24.50. Not so. It's half off the base ticket price of $41, making it $20.50 but you still have to add the $8 fee so it's actually $28.50 which is only 40% off, roughly. TicketMaster is all about lying to people. And trying to explain that to a patron with a modest income is really not fun for me.

God bless you for reading all that ridiculousness if you did. I just had a shitty day at work due almost entirely to the software and had to vent. I had two days off prior to today which would have been great aside from the fact that I was sick through both of them. I swear the next blog will be more light-hearted. Say, anyone want to get a beer?

Talk at ya later and keep circulating the tapes.

Mislabled Interval and Impatient Wankers

'Ello, you lucky people!

Rush hour sucks. Driving with other people on the road sucks in general, but when there's a slew of hungry, tired, over-worked fuck tards traversing the interstates with you, it's nigh unmanagable. "Rush hour" really is an ironic misnomer. First of all, people seem to go 15 percent slower, yet slam on their brakes 27 percent more during this time of the day. Second, it lasts WAY longer than an hour. There's just way too many people driving places at the same time. It used to take me about 20 minutes to get back to the apartment from my job downtown but that was when I was leaving work at 8:30 in the eve. Working 9-5 may in fact be the way to make a living as Dolly "G-Cup" Parton suggests, but it sure ain't the way to stay sane on the roads.

There is a specific issue that I feel needs to be addressed when it comes to people on the road. When we were kids in line for something and someone tried to get in front of you, it was called butting (or cutting, but I preferred the former). No one wanted this to happen to them and usually it resulted in you A) quashing the butt yourself, or 2) getting a teacher to do it for you. As adults, if someone did that to us, we'd certainly have words and possibly fists thrown their direction. I, myself, still try to find the nearest teacher and report them, which is much harder to do in line for an Incubus concert than it was waiting for recess. Butting/Cutting is no socially acceptable. Why, then, is it okay for people in cars to do it?

Not a day goes by where some fucker doesn't attempt to get in front of me on the road, despite there being very few people behind me. People are far too impatient. I understand if someone is going really fucking slow, I mean that's just asking for it. But I don't. I drive fast, and still these dick beans find it necessary to get in front of me even though the car ahead of me is less than twenty feet away. That space I leave in front of my car is NOT for someone to get in, it's so I can safely stop if I need to. Tailgating? Yeah, that's a good way to wreck the front end of your car AND pay hefty insurance premiums, stupid.

Even more irritating is when a line of cars is nearly deadlocked and some brown eye gets in another lane, speeds up, and then gets back in the line, a huge way up from where they were. Excuse the fuck out of me, I didn't realize the crown head of Sheba was taking the I-70 interchange today. Surely you should be ahead of the rest of us who wait patiently as there's nowhere really to go. Go ahead, Your bleeding Highness. And yet there's no recourse for people who are victims of automotive butting. You can't make them get back, unless you start a "Death Race 2000" with them, and honking usually just makes everyone around you think they're the target of said honk, making the rest of your voyage that much more tense.

So, I am proposing that we as good drivers (and you know who you're not) band together to stop this new form of highway robbery. If someone tries to butt in front of you, flip them off and speed up so they can't get in. Yeah, it might be dangerous, but eventually these cock biters need to learn to take their fucking turns. Why do you deserve to get to your destination approximately 3 minutes before I get to mine? You're not better than anyone. Just queue up like everyone else.

Talk at ya later and keep circulating the tapes.