Friedrichstrasse And Then...

I was just walking the city, fucking freezing because it's cold and again, I wander and float, often directionless and blind until things work out and I wind up where I'm meant to be. Not long ago, I had to get to the Gitte Weiss galley by 6 to rap with a woman I know through another woman that used to cut my hair before I started doing it myself and not paying 70 dollars - even if she was an artist with it, which she was. Now she comes to my spin classes, told me I had to go see Gitte. I told her I would, and made it sometime around 530 and we talked about the town and the things I had to see before I go, in the time I have left. The location was in a beautiful and elegant part of town and I tried not to take too much of her time, this incredibly kind and warm woman, maybe 50's, telling me about when to go out and to never rush it - that the good times don't start until well after 1. If I didn't have a date tonight, I would have taken her and her husband out, at least to dinner, made them tell me more about their lives and thanked them for their brief but memorable hospitality.

The following is a piece that caught me - a diagram of the human body we sent up or drew on one of the Apollo shuttles to explain to aliens what we're all about - made entirely of IKEA furniture. The implications are heavy and clever, the piece so beautifully constructed...

I had to say goodbye though, because like I said I've got a date with a German girl, so kind I'm not even going to talk about how beautiful she is. In spite of what you might think of me, the former trumps all. Always.

I met her today in Hackecher Markt so she could give me the ticket before running to get her hair done - because I think she's in the show and I think it's going to become very red. I honestly have little idea and it doesn't matter. All I know - she's looking out for me and taking care of me and pulling me along and that's not an easy thing to do - to step out of the tight lives we live and say stick with me you'll be alright. Fuck, the thought of it. She's better than I would be, I'm almost certain of that...and makes me want to commit to being better. Tonight, I get to be someone's American boy and I'm excited about that. I plan on honoring her for that. The place were going is supposed to be pretty infamous for Berlin and once her show is over, we'll stay or go and it won't matter and we'll see. I am free and things are right.

John is still sleeping somewhere across town. This behavior is pretty par for the course. He blows it out the first night, gets a little too deep and then rallies late in the game for night 2. I'll see him tonight, sometime in the 1's or 2's and he'll be sinister and he'll have plans to bury everything in our past with something epic and present. It's a lot to live up to, a lot. I know it, he knows it.

Things could be worse.

Easy...

The first point of order was to check in, to snap ourselves to life with pixie dust and then move through the city, everything, to eat it and consume Berlin. I had seen good bits of it but not enough. I told him we were going to go through my process, the way I take on a new city before the story can arrive. We walked and he bitched. We listened to people on the streets, watched the way they moved, observed their manners, the way they looked at us as we passed. Everyone looks at us as we pass. We are a hurricane on four legs, just moving. When Durban got cold, we stopped for a drink somewhere pretty and then moved on. When we got hungry, we stopped at an Italian place off Charlottenstrasse because John said look they've got big candles. There we drank wine and ate and met the owner of the joint and Durban just talked and talked with the guy. Endlessly. When I look in John's eyes, I can see inside him...know with certainty I am looking into a maniac. There is no other way to put it. John Durban is a maniac. He's unstable and moving and distrusting and brimming with acid. Often, I wonder what others see. I'm not sure why we work but we do, maybe because I see light in him where others see darkness. There is light, I'm sure of it, whether he will admit it or not.

From dinner, we moved. Bar to bar, stop to stop - every subway and stop in Mitte and beyond. We got cold often and stopped to drink often, talking the world, our next play, chasing beer with whiskey. Once we were walking straight, Durban began to get in the mood to grab a gal. He asked me if I wanted to wing him, spoke of the girls in Berlin to be all beautiful, something in their eyes. We met pair after pair starting sometime around midnight. Thing about Durban is that he's very discriminate, meaning that if he picks a pair, they're going to be worth it - at least superficially. For me the process is easy. Durban takes care of everything really, the approach and all that then comes. At some point, he looks to me and finds out which one I prefer and then takes the other...because 99 percent of the time, it doesn't matter to John. We're both particular but in a lot of surprising ways, I am more so...because I don't have an addiction like John. I don't need to have it, sex doesn't rule me like it does him. Last night, something was going on. John was having problems. He's been having problems ever since what happened happened - one foot in if at all. It meant that right out of the chute, we met two crazy young Berliners, 19 and 21 and taut and fiery. John pretended he was an American boy and they fell in love with us and I didn't need it but the older of the two took my hand and kissed my cheek for no reason and made me want her terribly. I was ready to leave, to see their apartment and her bed when I looked to John and saw him pulling back, walking out of the bar. I followed him and told my Girl I'd be back - because she had won me. John was walking fast and away down the street. When I caught his steps, he started spitting exactly they weren't right...not for me not for you. Then he said don't worry Burn I'll take care of you I'll take care of you.

We moved on and around, beer and shot, beer and shot, meeting girls meeting girls. Dozens of girls. Every time we approached we'd win them. Every time, like whatever we are and whatever we project together is impossible to resist. It just happens. It got stale for me real quick. I couldn't stop thinking about the Girl I left behind, the first girl. If I fall in a night...which I rarely do and realized I might have, there is no chance I'm going to fall again. After the 3rd pair, we were just going through motions. John would bark and I would be quiet and precious and sweet and they would do anything to take us around, to show us their town...anything we wanted. At the exact point, for seriously 6 pairs, John would bail and walk out of the bar, storming even, and I would excuse myself and catch up with him and say something like you know there's obviously some poison shit going on inside of you right now. He told me he knew and that was all he said, all that needed to be said. We were drunk, fucking drunk and it was after 3. My skull was pounding and my heart was failing and I felt like everything I had left was about to drain. I told Durban that I was going to bail on him...knowing it was what he needed. He stopped, stood in the middle of the street and started turning in the darkness, blowing breath from out of his insides, so amused by it...seeing his steam escape. Then he said exactly, alright Burn alright...I'll be on tomorrow. Then he turned and walked away into the darkness.

UPDATE ------> DURBAN SPEAKS, LINK RIGHT

John Durban Arrives...

Much unlike the end of the world, with a bang, not a whimper. He saw me standing on the balcony from at least a block away and began belting, fucking belting, hat on Burn...get it on motherfucker.

I haven't seen John for a long time. So long, I don't even want to talk about it. We both knew that truth and spoke words without speaking when he showed up at the door and said give me something to get me started I need a shower. That's where he is while I'm typing, occupied like a small child. We're gonna grab a bite and then let the night take us away. I told him we're going to need a new chapter and that it might have to come from tonight and that that is a huge fucking responsibility but that I'm up for it. Of course he was too. Every quarter day John Durban lives could be a chapter.

He was supposed to come in last night or at least claimed that he was going to try. It was absolutely a show he wanted to see. We don't have all of the same tastes, but Muse certainly floods both our canals. Still, I wasn't put off by his absence. In fact, I knew he wasn't going to come. He's been reclusive since the incident, even though some time has passed, so when I went alone, there was no surprise. Not at all.

Today he sent me a text and I told him not to because it's expensive when bouncing from the states and through whatever provider is swiping me out here. I told him to write me in an e-mail, not thinking about who I was dealing with...

H / i / B / u / r / n (slashes denote separate texts)
Are you serious? Stop
Yeah, okay / I didn't make it / are you there? / please don't ignore me / I'm fragile
Motherfucker!
I read / It looked good / Those boys can play / Sorry / Again
Alright cocksucker text me. Drinks on you.
Drinks always on me
You're coming?
don't know
Alright dude...
tone! that's a tone. why do you have a tone?
You should come.
You should talk
Halloween. I met a girl on the flight from NYC.
what's she do?
Fashion, runway.
Yeah?
Has 6 friends, same bill, edge beauty the cast type.
My type
They want to get righteous for Halloween.
Coincidence! so the fuck do I!!
You coming?
I always was. For you not them. Though I look a little false now.
Your MO. When?
7, already in the cab.
Alright.
Do you really think we need another chapter?
Yes. Maybe 2. One more push and they'll publish.
Let's make her famous / the city / maybe a pair of dames, too...

Better...

For Now, This One's Pretty Good...

Sometime After 5 AM...

After going to bed at 1 and feeling like I had slept perfectly for days, I got up and went for a run. Today, I went west and went for 6 songs and then turned back, all Killers, set on shuffle. I shot steam with every exhale and in spite of things I've been through over the past few days, my legs felt strong, voracious. My breath was easy. I felt unstoppable and this is how it has to happen for the rest of my life. The TV doesn't work so I read books. I have no friends so I talk and wander and explore. I have no fear so I am fearless. There's an energy charging through me now, in this new city...in every new city from now until I no longer have the urge to do this. I am growing, exponentially when I chase these things and knew this when I booked the ticket a month ago, knew of its coming necessity - of all the reminder a trip like this provides. I need adventure to survive. I need growth to survive. It's easy to forget, to get comfortable and stable in the lives we live. To tuck away and be safe and just fucking hang on. There's a bloody red tattoo inked onto this right wrist of mine - reminding me to suffer, suffer in my pursuits - reminding me I don't need to be understood by anyone but myself.

Gets me by.

Muse - Berlin O2 Arena - 10/29/09...

I woke up at 430 Berlin time, before my alarm, wondering who and where the fuck I was. Seriously. I felt like I was going to die so I turned to drugs, resurrection in the form of 15mg's and was on my feet in no time - or at least in anticipation of being back on my feet in no time. In the morning I had eaten some bizarre form of yogurt Haribos and that was it so I crossed the river and found a small Italian place with a table by the door...

I ordered house made penne with prawns in a lobster cream sauce and a small margherita pizza and a Warsteiner. Half-way through the beer I started to feel my guts, shooting - like all that I was going to be was coming to life. It would have happened without the drugs, sure...I just don't know to what extent, and I don't know how exhaustion would have played its hand. The night was too big to leave things up to chance so I didn't. By the time the food came, I was rolling and starving and all I wanted to do was devour it so I did. Incredible. One of the better meals I have ever had - absolute comfort. I was reading the map and memorizing the subways and squares and parks like a machine and the waitresses were softening to me because I am who I am. I started to ask them how to say things in German, maybe telling them I loved them for teaching me, for bringing me along, for giving me such incredible hospitality while all the while thinking I'm on drugs I'm on drugs I'm on drugs. They sat down at my table and we talked because it was slow and because I am who I am and I promised them I would return. Of course I would return. Of course I would never forget them. Of course. The more oncoming of the two told me I could walk to the O2 and that made me very excited, crossing town in 20 minutes while relying entirely on myself and my feet and my toes, knees, heart, eyes...my brewing fucking insanity.

The streets were cold. LA has thinned me in too many ways. My guts were pumping and I was thinking about all the small things it took to land me in this town - alarms to shuttles to flights to flights to hotels to maps to millions of things I wasn't even capable to comprehend. It was too much and there was still so much that would need to happen - like getting a ticket to the show I flew in to see. When I got there around 7, it happened quick. Face value from will call, floor - exactly and all I was looking for - something like 50 Euros. I told the will call girl that I loved her. She blushed.

I was standing about 4 rows from the gates when they, the band, came on. It's been a while since I took something in from the floor. The people surrounding were all German, everyone, naturally and surprisingly, and one out of every 3 was wearing a Muse T-shirt. Amazing! Concert T's and they didn't give a fuck about it or to know any better. Exactly where I wanted to be...right in the shit.

I can't really say what it was like. We all have a form of art that for a lack of better words simply speaks to us. These guys so simply speak to me...but with blazing force. The motherfuckers in the crowd surrounding me were crazy and rabid and I left the show wearing a jacket soaked with sweat. It was exactly what I came to see, exactly what I came to feel -- everything and then the drop in Cydonia to close. Every human should experience a moment like the one I caught before they die. I'd speak of it, but to speak of magic is to kill it. I'm certainly not here to do that.

Berlin...

I don't think I'll ever get tired of the feeling behind getting on a plane and falling into a daze for hours or days and waking up in a very different country in a very different part of the world. Last time I came to Germany, I remember it being somewhat scary and overwhelming. It was Munich for Oktoberfest and it was the second stop on my tour and it just felt so foreign. This time, the feeling is different, like I'm catching it in stride, like any town in the world I want to be mine can instantly become that. It's cold here, and drizzling, and the colors are beautiful, so fucking beautiful. I came to check into my room and my hands were so cold, I couldn't hold a pen...like that. It looks like this...

I haven't slept in days and my eyes are caving into my skull. I didn't sleep on the plane because I sat next to a Girl who is in town for a runway show - we picked her up in New York. I don't like to talk much on planes or in life, but we started talking and never really stopped. Beautiful girl. Model. Dark. Funny. Precious. She was on the plane with an entire staff of girls in town for the same show - flown in from New York. She was afraid of turbulence and for stretches, I wanted to kiss her or hold her hand because of it and for the sake of neither of us forgetting that flight. I didn't - can't assume the entire world behaves in the manner I do all the time. Instead, we agreed to meet at some place, at some point...out on this town. See what's what, fall for a couple hours or days or never see each other again. I prefer to make life behave in such a manner.

It's one or something in the afternoon here. I have to make my way over to the O2 at some point, or to some ticket broker at some point to get this Muse ticket. Of course I don't have it yet. I'm exhausted but fueled, oh so fucking fueled. I just spent the last 2 hours wandering the city on foot, waiting to stumble upon my hotel or the street of my hotel before I stopped to buy a map...so I've seen a lot. I don't care why I do the things I do anymore and have instead learned to accept them and myself. This city feels heavy to me, beautifully and romantically and tragically heavy and I'm floating through it. I need to sleep but I need to wander, I need to walk, I need to see what's out there. And when the legs start to give and there appears that tired ache behind my eyes and my beating heart tells me to stop to fucking stop to take a fucking breath, I compromise on something that looks something like this...

And press the fuck on.

Aha, A Letter From John Durban...

In the morning, sometime around 5, super shuttle is going to come and take me away to New York so that another airplane can take me to Berlin. Durban has been living in London for as long as I remember, and though he can be absent for good stretches of time, he does come back when due. His words, not as eloquent as mine, go something like this...

Burn - so Berlin, of all places when you come to my side of the world. I understand the obsession with Muse, they can kick, but the last time I was in Berlin, I think I got in a lot of trouble. I was in jail, maybe, and someone told me I was the devil's son before they told me to never return. Wherever I go, someone is always telling me to never return. It hasn't happened in a while, and I suppose they call this growing up, but I'm fucking sick of it so you better come with your hat on motherfucker. With your hat on.

I'm bringing a stack of books from Frey to Burroughs to Bukowski and enough lift me drugs to power though anything that days of deprived sleep and hours and hours of cross world flying can take out of me. And then of course, there's whatever JD decides to bring to town. Look out.

Floor to ceiling. We're gonna paint it.

Why Does Walt Make Me Want To Wear My Levis?

Wild Things...

No, not Neve Campbell pouring champagne across Denise Richards and giving me awakening. This was something else, that book from when we were kids or parents about a boy who wears pajamas and gets transported to this wild land with wild and amazing creatures. That. Holy shit, those creatures were amazing, maybe one of the most amazing things I've seen on screen in a long time - and the music was so great. Really. And I haven't walked out of a movie in a long, long time. I did for this one -- but it wasn't necessarily because of the movie - as I'm sure one day I'll learn to respect it. I don't know what kind of mood I'm in these days to make me do such a thing - but I just remember feeling like I was having an episode there in my seat as this world was unfolding and nothing was happening and all of this wild magic was going to waste. I read great books sometimes - books that someone has told me were great, epic, life-changing and I'll get through 100 pages if even that and drop it because if it hasn't connected, it won't. Movies, I don't ever play like that but last night was a different story. It was failing me and I don't know why. I kept on having these visions of riding down dirt trails going 100 miles per hour on a pedal bike and hitting a stump and flying over the handlebars and rolling and tumbling and smashing and destroying and wanting it like a mad craving. I wanted to leave the theater and get in a fight and not fight back and just get beat up. I was so still and have such intolerance for it. Sometimes, I don't know what to do.

In 5 days, I leave to go to Berlin. Maybe it's my body prepping to fly all day and night, twice to go to some new and live city and paint it like a motherfucker in a blitz of 3-4 days. Maybe I've been writing some vicious shit and it's starting to get to me. I don't know. Sometimes when my crazy leaves, I get bored and wish it back. When it's here, I'm not saying I wish it away, but it can be a lot. Timing isn't everything but it's a lot of things. I think I need to think about all of this.

Feel like a slacking dickbag...

Cause it's been a while and I've been working and fixing cars and riding bikes. Sometimes all it takes is to leave a post here after it's been a while to settle me because I'm hopelessly obsessive like that. Right now, I'm sitting alone at the century city AMC because I just saw Paranormal Activity with my LA family and now I'm wasting time waiting for the IMAX Where The Wild Things Are. I've biked at least 30 miles today because my transmission is fucked and after the movie I've got 12 more because I'm riding to Delancey to have a couple beers because I've always wanted to ride my bike to a bar...pick up some really beautiful girl I don't really want to sleep with and then get outside the bar and say something like I rode my bike will that be a problem?

My Thursday when the sun goes down. Blogged from an iPhone.

Christopher Lloyd...

Things tend to drag sometimes when I'm at work late in the afternoon when the bar clears out. Things slow down...I go off and fetch and restock everything we lost in the crush. It's slow...the time goes by slow...I count the minutes until 430 when I can actually escape. Today, I came back from the wine room with my arms full to see there was someone sitting alone at my bar. And I had a moment where I told myself something like, yeah I wish I was doing something else with my Monday Tuesday and Thursday afternoons...something not Mozza and more related to moving my pen or fingers to make words. All in due time. But anyway, my loner was this guy...

I've waited on everyone. Sometimes, it's funny to find out the few who actually faze. Something about this guy is so iconic to me. Maybe because he's an icon - I was rapping with him and I think I was thinking something like, well all things considered this might not be a terrible way to spend a slow hour at work, hanging with Doc...

I'm Not One To Plunder Unless Truly Moved...

Foran put this up. I'm stealing. We've all known this one to be coming for a long, long time. Gilliam seems to me pretty hit or miss and after Heath Ledger died, and I heard stories of Jude Law, Johnny Depp and Colin Farrell taking his place as the same actor in the same movie, I was hopefully optimistic. But come on. I immediately all but chalked it up as a fine farewell to a fine actor and began to prematurely appreciate the film for what it was - a miracle if they put something...anything together. Then I saw this...

And at some point, my easy sensibilities turned to hope...turned to something else entirely - left me wondering if this could possibly be something great, some form of terrible fortune masterpiece. Because the trailer cuts with an energy that says something close to exactly that. But it can't be, right? It has to be a bloody mess. Nothing can endure what this had to endure and make it out alive, right? I'm not so sure.

Getting Moving...

I was at work today when I got an e-mail that read:

R -

Send me the book. I'll check it out.

J

...

Before that, I was invited to write this person. My words read:

I can only imagine the battles you fought and the process of first getting published. I've never chased this and have never been anywhere near the NYC pipeline to even know how these things work. Maybe one of the agencies takes it on and sets me up with an editor that wants to take it on and we really start the fight. That's what I imagine, but there's no spine behind my imagination. I look at your work like this...the way I look at the work of true artists - that if for whatever reason, your stuff never made it out into the world, the world would have failed and become a lesser place for that failure. That sounds grandiose, I know...but I feel that way about my work - about my future work - that it's time for me to start my walk.

I needed to speak this to someone who understands. maybe you have some light to shed, maybe not. But know that I appreciate you allowing me to reach out.

Best,

Reilly Winburn

...

I had just carried a keg of Moretti through the kitchen, across the floor and to the back of the bar before I pulled out my phone to check how much time I had left to put in. His response was sitting there waiting for me. The man behind those few words is an author who I respect a great deal. I also now have to read and re-read some books because what an asshole I'd be if he finishes mine before I finish all of his - a man who has trampled the NY Times bestseller lists. I read somewhere that someone dubbed him the most important author of the last 20 years. I don't know about that...or anything...or if I would ever do what he's doing when I'm in his position. But I sent it, and I think all of this is what they call momentum. I don't really see it stopping anytime soon. I feel like I might be getting strapped into the ride...or at least finally at the front of the line. Here's to that.

Madison Reese: "Expect Something In The Mail Soon..."

Honestly Reese, if it's anything less than Gweneth Paltrow's head, I'm going to be severely disappointed.

I Just Started Thinking...

That when all three of these guys are gone, I am going to be terribly sad. Because new stuff like this will never come out again. And then I'll move somewhere far, far away and never come back. Just perfect.

It's Starting To Smell Like Renewed Adventure Around Here...

Saturday 3-Fer...

I showed up at the Grove sometime around 11, intent on making my Saturday a day at the movies. It's been a long time since there have been 3 movies released in the same weekend that I really wanted to see -- Invention of Lying, Zombieland and Whip It. Also, I have no problem spending 5 hours of a beautiful Los Angeles Saturday in the dark of the matinee. So, that's what I did, starting off with this one...

Part of the reason I was so inclined to participate in this binge was because two of my obsessions held starring roles, starting with Ricky Gervais. He is a unique, unique talent and actually co-directed this one too. I liked it...or especially parts of it. I find him fascinating - his performance, the direction of his voice. But unlike Ghost Town, I think you can wait for this one to come out on DVD.

Second up was Zombieland...

Excellent, awesome. Maybe the winner of the day. Jesse Eisenberg has been getting some press in here lately and I don't know how all these excellent roles are lining up for him to take (also Social Network), but they are...and he's killing them all. Love this guy. The rest of the cast is perfect, the movie is perfect for what it is. Absolutely see it. But the best moment of the movie happened in the opening credits. There's this intro to a world infested with flesh eating zombies and they're tearing people apart and blood and guts are spewing everywhere and I noticed this stumbling movement out of the corner of my eye. 3 people were already getting up to walk out...but here's the thing - they were a combined age of at least 230, walking sticks and traumatized looks and all. They walked right past me and I couldn't take it. I pulled my hood back and stood up, found eyes with anyone and everyone I could - some great witnessing moment. How the fuck did they end up at a matinee of Zombieland? And who gave them this recco? What did they think a movie called Zombieland was going to be about? How the fuck could they confuse the title Zombieland with anything else that is out right now? Amazing, I thought...and then of how much I wished for that moment I wasn't such a proud loner. One of my friends mentioned to me going in that this movie had one of the greatest cameos in the history of cameos. I was looking for it the whole time and when it came, I said the same thing to myself - hands down. Greatest ever. Hands down. It doesn't matter how much I build it up.

Last one was Whip It, starring my second obsession of the day - the wonderfully talented Ms. Ellen Page...

There are a couple actresses out there that I'll see in anything, because they make me feel like I've got a crush when I walk out. She's absolutely that to me...just holds it so tight. Good movie, good moments, flawless lead.

I walked out around 5 and it was cool and it felt like fall. I started to think of how little I miss summer, how I didn't want to be doing anything else anywhere else in the world. That's usually how I'm judging my life these days. Lately, it's been lining up fairly well. New SNL on tonight, I've got a new script that I think I might be excited to start writing...I mean really start writing (sorry TB). Sometimes, I feel like I want to fall in love for hours at a time, that it's the only thing that's missing. But I know better. Seriously, it would never work out.

Thom Yorke - Echoplex - 10/3/09...

I woke up this morning and went running for 210 minutes, early enough to make it back before noon to fight and claw the Ticketweb shitshow and snag 2 tickets for tonight's show. At least that was the plan. Of course, I didn't get my tickets and watched as they popped up all day on Craigslist and eBay from anywhere to 250-3000 dollars. I've been pinching lately, fighting to put away every dollar I can spare for my end of the month trip to Berlin. So, no matter how much I wanted to see the show, I wasn't going to pay more than 60 to see it. I couldn't.

I left my apartment around 730 to make the drive over to the East side. I parked and walked up Sunset and stopped at the back entrance to talk to security. They told me it was impossible, that there was no chance, that they couldn't even get their girlfriends in. I waited in line anyway. It looked like this from the "need tickets" side...

We watched as the hundreds - yes, barely hundreds filed in for about an hour and a half, two at a time. There were moments like the one where Zack de la Rocha walked by and I worried I was going to spend the night standing in line and not get in and miss his jumping up onto the stage for an encore and on my deathbed think I should have done more...whatever it took to make it in. But it never came to that. Once everyone was inside, they counted all who were left and let us through. When I stepped up to the front of the line, there was a girl talking to security and they weren't letting her in. In fact, they were escorting her out and she was saying something about not having any money and needing to get inside to get it, promising that she would come right back out but they were still taking her away. When she crossed me, I grabbed her arm and took her inside, paying her 20 and my 20. We were walking through the door and there was smoke and she was thanking me and Thom Yorke was singing over my shoulder and Flea was jumping around the stage when she broke down crying. We stood there. Then she said exactly and unraveling, it's been the worst day. Then she fell into me. I was holding her in the middle of that club and for a moment, I forgot who or where I was. Then I said something exactly like, baby girl it's okay...look around we're inside...what in the world could be wrong? She smiled. Thom Yorke was playing a room in Los Angeles. A fucking room. We were there.

So This Crazy Motherfucker...

Has been pouncing around town for a couple weeks now. This Sunday and Monday, he's playing at the very intimate Orpheum downtown. I didn't get tickets, instead, was too busy lining up my ducks to travel thousands of hours and countries away to see another band. Sometimes, that's just how things go. No sweat. In the meantime, something else came up, they're adding a show at the Echoplex tomorrow night - Friday. It's this little mashgroup that's going to run through Yorke's entire The Eraser that came out a couple years ago. It was one of the albums I had with me in South Africa, the unforgettable sort that included the then recently released Sam's Town. Quite a time in my life and that music was directly tied. Anyway, I'm trying not to think too much about the chances of racing battalions of LA hipsters. Not going to think too much about that. Or that this place is about the size of my fist. Not gonna think about that. But holy shit...for 20 bucks and a cross-town trip to Echo Park, to catch this crazy motherfucker...

Could be a solid friday night. Could be, could be.

Does Anyone Else Feel Like eHarmony Lee Beats The Hell Out Of His eHarmony Girlfriend...

Because I do.