"Hey Mr. DJ, Put these Handcuffs On..."

I finally seized those reins of terror and yanked and pulled until I steered them back in the right direction. The direction that leads to the land of peace and quiet. Serenity City, sweetheart, let me move back in and let's get reacquainted.

Let's take a look at Serenity City's landscape shall we?

You will immediately notice there is no hint of DJs in either sight or in sound. They have all been exiled to the land of Disrespect and Inconsideration, keeping the Jackhammers At Dawn company. The official newspaper of this land is called "The Daily Asshole", and trust me, in a place like this they never, ever run out of stories.

But in Serenity City, news of the world is carried by a whisper, by a flutter of butterfly wings or by a gentle sound source of one's own choosing.

A slow-leak sigh of sheer heaven.

While my guitar gently sleeps...so now can I.

This all may not make much sense to y'all.

So in plain English:

The fucking DJ down the hall was shut down. Put the needle on the record. Put the pen on the $300 noise disturbance ticket.

Last nite a DJ left my life...YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Currently listening to: a slow-leak sigh of sheer heaven

In Space No One Can Hear You (Ibanez) Tube Scream(er)

--And you'll believe you're loving the alien
(Believing the strangest things, loving the alien)
--Bowie, "Loving the Alien", from "Tonight", released 1984

Yes David. I'm loving the Alien. Perhaps not the one you had in mind, but one definitely worthy of the modern love. I love, have loved, and will love until the end of my days and daze, this Ridley Scott masterpiece. Flawless. Gimme gimme a nasty, beastly, acid spewing xenomorph and a reason to say the name Yaphet Kotto out loud a few times.

Yaphet Kotto, as "Parker". Yaphet Kotto. Yaphet Kotto. Say it! It's fun! Yaphet is hard-rockin' the Mike Reno of Loverboy headband action!

Thanks to Alien, I like many other sci-fi geeks, became fascinated with H.R. Giger, the dude who designed the nasty beast. I think folk who count themselves as fans of the great man should be called "GigerCounters".

Gigercounters come from all walks of life, but I have discovered that a great many of them of are guitar players. A particular sort of guitar player. The precious sort. The hammer ons and pull offs and practicing scales for three hours type of guitar player. A bachelor type of dude who lives in a basement apartment, listens to technical players like Malmsteen, and has framed Giger prints on his wall. Maybe an Escher print. Definitely a print of a Patrick Nagel lady.


Patrick Nagel, Rio album cover for Duran Duran, 1982

Poor Patrick Nagel. Brother did a 15 minute celebrity aerobic workout for charity, went to his car, got in, and had a heart attack. He was 38.

But back to Giger. It came as no surprise that the famous "Giger Aesthetic" would inevitably find itself expressed in the world of things six-string.

Thanks Ibanez, for bringing that to task.



currently listening to: Roller Boogie, Original Sdtk

New Post This Weekend...Stand by

man...so much for resolutions...will write this weekend...

My New Year's Resolution...Evolution

I am slowly evolving back into a physically healthy individual. Balancing a full time gig and full time physio has taken me away from the blogsphere for what now seems an eternity!

Gonna try to blog at least once a week from now on. Thanks again to all who have left gorgeous comments, will try to get caught up with you all soon! Sending good vibes to ya and if hugs were chords, know that all the ones I am sending you are MAJORS!

Happy New Year, everyone!


Currently listening to: Into the Wild Soundtrack, RIP Christopher McCandless

The Ultimate Workout for Workin' it Out

"To Air is human, to Air Guitar...divine."
----Bjorn Turoque, Air Guitarist Extraordinaire

Fuckin' A.

On the Mend, Thanks Dear Friends!

It's been a bumpy bumpy coupla months...thanks to all who have left messages and beautiful words of support and encouragement...I've had to take a step back from the blog sphere for a bit and concentrate on gettin' back to the feel good. Not quite there yet, but hopefully someday soon I'll be rockin' the blog hardcore once again! Being hit by a car sucks. Being taken out by a VW Golf sucks even more. I would have preferred being propelled up up and away by one of those SA-WEET '70's muscle cars that handle like a dream and are driven by dudes with handlebar pornstaches.


Somewhere out there, right now, this shirt...exists.


But no...I was treated to a nice road rash facial courtesy of some lady singing along with Celine's Titanic torture theme, who when makin' the high note O-face, didn't see me in the crosswalk. Cross hairs more like it...

But c'est la vie as Robbie Neville once said, and continues to say in song, as the rest of him idles away with Terence Trent D'Arby in the files of, ya, you know..."where are they now". Hot damn, those files just keep gettin' bigger and bigger as music sees less and less of bands with real staying power. Those "where are they now files" are gonna need housing much like the airplane hangar size storage bunker seen at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

So thank, thank you to all who have left truly beautiful comments...you are so key in the recovery process...thanks for all your positive medicine!

Be back soon. With bells and muscle cars on.

currently listening to: The Thrills, Let's Bottle Bohemia

HAPPY BIRTHDAY STEWART COPELAND!!!

HAPPY 55TH STEWART!!!

I hear Klark Kent turns 55 today too! (hardcore Police fans laugh now)

currently listening to: The Police, Regatta de Blanc