“I was up this morning blues walking like a man.” Okay, so I wasn’t exactly feeling blue, and not exactly walking–it was more like up this morning sleepily driving Ilya to work after a late night and early wake-up. Instead of returning to my couch bed following the morning commute, I decided to hang around the apartment for an hour. I showered and toasted a bagel, then I walked down the street to a shockingly empty coffeeshop. Alas, there were no silly conversations overheard today. Perhaps the neighborhood idealistic youths came to the sudden realization that they should let their dreams die.
Before I knew it, it was noon, so I drove back over to Mid-Wilshire, where I met Ilya, Steve and Lyz for lunch at a Thai noodle place. They sure looked stupid in their work clothes; paid for with money they earned by working. What a foreign concept! Steve asked what I was doing this afternoon, to which I responded, “Well, Ilya told me I should go to the art park and get drunk.” This unnerved Steve, because, as he said, although the opportunity to drink alone in an art park sounds appealing, having an entire metropolis at your disposal usually provides more stimulating opportunities. He first recommended I drink alone on a particular star on the Walk-Of-Fame, then recommended going to the Museum of Jurassic Technology. Unfortunately for me, once he learned that neither Lyz nor Ilya had been to the museum, he commanded me to hold off until my return to LA, at which point we will all go together. After several of my resultant inquiries about what else I could do went unnoticed, I realized I wasn’t actually going to get a better idea than drinking alone at the art park. So, I stopped off at Silversun Liquors, bought a 22-ounce Fat Tire, and headed for the art park, where I remained for the next three-or-so hours. I was shocked to catch a glimpse of a humming bird as I passed beneath a tree, since I’d never witnessed one outside of captivity. It just kind of hung suspended in the air above a nearby branch, but my encroaching inevitably scared it away. At a large construction site atop the art park, I found a hollowed-out window frame that provided an amazing view of the sun disappearing behind a row of tall buildings just before it set.
[pictures pending]
I picked up Ilya from work and we headed back to the apartment, where we spent the next several hours recording music. The first piece, which we’re calling “Musique Concret” is seventeen minutes of “prepared” guitar & drum music. I fit all sorts of weird objects in the space between the strings and neck of the guitar, wrapped the strings in bubble wrap, and found a series of wild sounds. The next piece was a half-hour series of random alternate-tuning slow jams. A late dinner at In-N-Out, then we recorded a commentary track atop the slow jams. Lots of deadpan jokes were cracked.
[recordings pending]
