Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Man, these days are painful. Not bad, depressing painful but...just uncomfortable painful. Too much time, a whole lot of ambition but nowhere to put it.

Short, heavy sleep last night. I was going to get up early and run a check over to the studio--the landlord wants ONE check from us rather than four though I can't imagine what difference it makes. I mean, they all convert to cash, yes? But sleep had a delicious, cheesecake-y density and post-sleeping waking up was too difficult. So I pushed the task into the evening hours.

Work was...not bad. Finally, a design project. Something that took some concentration and a slight bit of imagination. So I was fed and the day passed painlessly. This is what the job used to be like. Grabbed some quick lunch at a new favorite Korean place on 32nd, Woorijip. (I *think* that's spelled right. But I'm just a round-eyed devil.) Grilled tofu with some kind of vegetable pancake and sticky rice with a stringy green vegetable of some kind. I know that description wasn't appealling but, really, it was tasty. I brought the food back and ate at my desk. Just like I used to do. When I found the job challenging.

Quick trip into Queens of the 7. Off at the first stop to hit a deli for some beer. LOUSY selection at the place I chose, nothing but Beck, Bud Light, Bud, etc. So I got Bud. The guy behind the counter was blind in his right eye, was cloudy and blue, filmed over. No one at the studio but at least the elevator was still running. Saved me six flight walk. Got the work sorted and ready for the LBG show in Chicago next month; shippers are coming tomorrow AM. Cut up and old big drawing into five smaller drawings. I am beginning to think this is a decent idea as the compositions on the disected drawings were much more compelling and irrational than anything I could've managed on my own. Also, worked a bit on the leaves for the Foliage Coat drawing. Haven't been in the studio for over a week. Just not in the mood and all that lies ahead of me is hours and hours of tiny, tedious work.

I did find one good song while the iPod was on random: Cab Calloway's cover of St. Louis Blues. Just so dirty...

Going back to Chicago to have my hambone boiled
I'm going back way to Chicago to have my hambone boiled
Because these women in New York City have let my hambone spoil

Hmm. That sounds about right. No transciption of the lyrics will even get the feeling just right. But you know what I'm taking about, right? It's odd to hear the young Cab Calloway since, for years, my only knowledge of his sound was via The Blues Brothers movie, c. 1980. His voice is so lithe and flexible in these early recording, nothing like the "hidey-hidey-ho" thing from the BB.

Also, been getting a whole lot of Coltrane on the iPod random. I have to say, I don't like him. At all. Post 1962, he holds no appeal to me. And the closer he gets to death, the less I enjoy his performances. Sunship? Interstellar Space? He just sounds LOST. There's a kind of tone especially in the late late Coltrane--large, fat, blatting and sonorous--that is set up to sound profound. And, actually, it sounds like something skullsmashing is to follow. But it--he, Coltrane--just sounds LOST. I know, its supposed to be interpreted as "seaching" and spiritual. But, face it, the man is floundering. An amazing technical facility allowed to slip into intentional chaos. And, believe me, I like a little intentional chaos in my music--Ornette, Miles' fusion, live early Jarrett, Pharaoh Sanders, et al. But at a certain point, you have to know when to rein it in, acknowledge the melody and nod at form. Just a simple, passing nod. "Hey, Melody. Sup, dude." That's fine and that's all I asking for in my music.

I'll take a pass on the Coltrane. And why McCoy Tyner? Why? That guy is simply awful. His only credibility is playing with Coltrane and Trane's been dead for forty years. No style, no imagination...I don't understand why Tyner has the rep he does. Yes, I would looove to hear the same phrases banged out in block chords for the next 6 minutes. It always sounds like he's playing with his forehead, just pounding out the same phase over and over again. I hate that guy. Hate him.

Anyway, left the studio in the dark and avoided the vets. Took my shitty Bud with me. V train pulled in right when hit the platform. Home for a quick meal and then bed.

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