Thank you all so much for tha very cool Fishbone experience ...
Funny that so many amazing things can happen in one night. The first thing that comes to mind is ... before the show, I said to Angelo, "Awright man, let's do it!" And he said, "Ohhh, we gonna DO IT!" And we did go on to rrrrrock tha house, and OPM was pretty cool, too. The house was definitely rockin'! Yes, we got it up, as they say ...
Angelo did this cool vamp, as the drummer left the stage to take a dump:
"Give us this day or daily bread, no wait ... our daily crack, and for all the mexicans and ALLLL the transvestite hookers!" (I might be paraphrasing ...) And then one of the most hilarious moments was when this fan walked up, thinking that we were OPM (?) and asked Karl reed, the sax player, "So, um ... how long have you been playing with OPM?" And he goes, "Oh ... when I first joined them, they were just called 'O' ... and it just grew from there." Hilarious! So you see, mucho fun was had by all. And BK played a killer drum solo, and everyone raved about Aberslumbie's fretless bass, and I was just plain me. Karl played the bejesus outta his alto sax, which he calls, "Janice Joplin in a bag!" Sooo real ... Squeelin', squawkin', tha kids were gawkin'. He played that horn like Clarence Clemmons' crack baby. Whoa. Did I just write that? Anyway ... Felt good, singin', too. They had a brand new sound system in the club (Santa Barbara's finest), which is cool, except when the microphones don't always work. Ha! But we done done jammed! Yezz! I told the crowd that the song "Cockroach" was about a penis with a joint. Think about it. Cock ... roach. The stoners (and there wuz alot!) thought that one was great. And all the sex pidgeons ...
There was this cute groupie-girl who invited us to her restaurant for breakfast early the next morning. Yeah, we swore we'd be there at like 7:30 in tha morn, but we got there at about noon instead. Heh! Then later I was driving with Cumbie, and we decided that it's really fucked-up world, owned and operated by fucked-up people. But we're all a little bit fucked-up, I suppose ...
As we drove down to LA, I thought of many of my friends. Saw a bus from Culiacan, Mexico, and thought of my bud West Side Ken, who is playing in the orchestra down there. Then Cumbie and I saw this bumper sticker that said, "KNEEL BEFORE ZOD" and it made me think of this friend of mine, named Zod, from Vienna. I suppose they kneel before him, dunno. If any of you musicans out there haven't met him yet, he's the suave scientist/bassist who looks like a russian spy, but he's not. Cumbie and I talked the whole way down. We talked about life. We talked about girls. We talked about a girl named Beth, and "my" three english girls. We talked about whether those auto-flush toilets photograph your dick. We also talked about the genius and beauty of tongue-piercings. Said aloud that I'm wondering if I should go for it with this kinda young girl who's entirely too cute and we've been flirting. He goes, "If the iron's hot, then ya gotta just IRON!" And he has a point ...
Then we got to LA, and I stayed in a hostel with a bunch of fun (albeit, entirely wasted group) guys, who sang and drank all night. At some point I was cajorkled into joining them. The eight of us wrote three songs together, "Black Skinny Woman," "Put Your Lips On It (Softly)" and "Where's The Pipe?" So this last part is for the Crazy Eights in Room 8. You guys are twisted, and I luv ye ...
Here's a little something about joy.
What is Joy?
Joy is what you find when you discover true friendship.
Joy is the ultimate opposite of darkness, madness, war, unhappiness ...
Joy is the word on the pizza box coupons.
Joy is when she says ditto on tha phone.
Joy is the thing that screenwriters refer to in kewl new movies like the Matrix.
Joy is the expression of souls in a feeble-hearted world.
Joy is art.
Joy is Music.
Joy is cinema.
Joy is god.
Joy is knowing there is a devil, too, and beating him at his own game!
Joy is the destruction and antithesis of negative shit.
Joy is doing the undo-able, the unthinkable, the unbelievable.
Joy is what you feel when you never give up, in spite of all the odds.
Joy is the profound statement of not making your life not matter.
Joy is listening to Radiohead and Bjork.
Joy is the feeling that I have 'cuz Justin is coming to California.
Joy is listening to the Kinks.
Joy is listening to the Velvet Underground.
Joy is listening to the Atari's for the first time.
Joy is sending letters with Andy Warhol commemorative stamps.
Joy is hanging out with Bernard.
Joy is hanging out with Aberslumbie.
Joy is hanging out with all my friends, too numerous to mention.
Joy is hanging out with Eliot.
Is Eliot reading this?
Joy is kissing a yummy girl with a yummy tongue piercing.
Joy is eating pizzas in twos.
Joy is a new song I'm a-gonna write.
Joy is bein' in tha flow.
Joy is the Crow.
Joy is life.
Joy is the mixture of light and darkness, the raw complexities of life.
Joy is the feeling that you've struck something incredible pure and rich.
Joy is going into the recording studio this weekend.
Joy is the feeling JFK must've had with Marilyn.
Sorry Jackie O.
Joy is the feeling that John had with Yoko.
Joy is the time I saw the other Marilyn perform in europe.
Joy is european coffee.
Joy is european sex.
Joy is european gigs.
Joy is american money.
Joy is having big american money, and still saying "Fuck you!" to big business.
I'd like to have a big american monkey.
No idea what that means.
This is Joy!