Hello again!
Don't know who will see this, as "out of sight, out of mind" is as true an adage as any. But here I am nonetheless, for a quickie. Call it a blog nooner, if you will.
I'm in Buffalo tonight. Right now as a matter of fact. Got in last night, my bud Leslie came into town. She's also friends with the other pit chick of Copa, and the three of us went bar hopping. We started at the Anchor for wings, went to Nietzsche's and played darts, then hopped over to Roxy's. After Roxy's it was a quick meal at Pano's, then back to the hotel. Everything was dead, as you can imagine. Probably going to Roxy's again tonight after the show for a while. This is it, kids. The last three shows! I can't wait to get back home, see my kitties, get back to my CD, and figure out what I'm doing with my life. I guess I need angst. It inspires the muses.
I have soooooo many stories, I'll have to blog them in chapters. I miss everyone terribly. I needs me buds - Cancer moon needs her circle of loving goodness. And I need to get away from Divas. Really, they haven't been that bad. But that's because I've shut down my receptors, just to survive on that bus in such close proximity to so many people. So they've been bearable, but my spiritual mojo is crying for feeding and release. These people wouldn't know their third eye from their butthole. But to be fair, they could be on shutdown, too. Who knows.
Anyhoo, I'll be passing through Rochester tomorrow. Stand on the thruway and wave as we pass, okay????
Will write soon!
Friday, May 02, 2003
Another day, another blog...
I'm still in Brunswick, NJ. We have a show tonight, but I've been holed up in my hotel room for the last 2.5 days enjoying my solitude. Practiced 5 hours yesterday. All work and no play makes Leah a dull girl, but I prefer it that way. I think EVERYONE in the cast and band went to NYC to see shows last night. But I didn't want to spend a gazillion hours on a bus there and back, and walking walking walking, and spending a fortune on tickets, food, and cabs. So I was here by my lonesome, practicing, watching TV, blogging, sneaking food to the ferile kitties in the back, sewing my coat, and thinking dirty thoughts about you know who (*dreamy sigh*)...
My buddy Shawn called from Rochester yesterday. We talked for awhile. I knew her back in Buffalo as early as 1985, when we were all fresh, young, hot baby dykes hanging out at Comptons. I ran into her a couple of years ago and we both found at that we each had moved to Rochester! Anyway, when I get back into town, she's a'coming with us goils to an ice cream social, 'cause I am JONESING for some Abbotts. Anyway, we had a nice talk, and she's a Capricorn too, and you know how much we Capy's love each other.
I wish I had some fun stories to tell you, but I'm saving those for a live telling. But also, with using so many public and borrowed computers, I don't want the "wrong" people to find this blog and read it, since most of my stories will involve my ever-colorful character representations of these people. And we all know that I tell it like it is. As Olympia Dukakis said in Steel Magnolias, "If you can't say anything nice, come sit next to me!"
I will tell you I got the raw tracks of my CD from the producer. I think this is gonna be a really really really good CD, folks. Not like that last disappointment, which was going to be a really really really good CD until the mixing engineer got his hands on it and butchered it. Yes, still bitter. But it's my first name.
We head out to Massachusetts tomorrow, then back to NYC (Bayside). Then we head South, where the hopefully unbearably sweltering hot weather awaits me, because that's how I like it. I wonder if the Klan awaits this busfull of prancing homos and freaks, as well? Gotta love theater!
See ya!
I'm still in Brunswick, NJ. We have a show tonight, but I've been holed up in my hotel room for the last 2.5 days enjoying my solitude. Practiced 5 hours yesterday. All work and no play makes Leah a dull girl, but I prefer it that way. I think EVERYONE in the cast and band went to NYC to see shows last night. But I didn't want to spend a gazillion hours on a bus there and back, and walking walking walking, and spending a fortune on tickets, food, and cabs. So I was here by my lonesome, practicing, watching TV, blogging, sneaking food to the ferile kitties in the back, sewing my coat, and thinking dirty thoughts about you know who (*dreamy sigh*)...
My buddy Shawn called from Rochester yesterday. We talked for awhile. I knew her back in Buffalo as early as 1985, when we were all fresh, young, hot baby dykes hanging out at Comptons. I ran into her a couple of years ago and we both found at that we each had moved to Rochester! Anyway, when I get back into town, she's a'coming with us goils to an ice cream social, 'cause I am JONESING for some Abbotts. Anyway, we had a nice talk, and she's a Capricorn too, and you know how much we Capy's love each other.
I wish I had some fun stories to tell you, but I'm saving those for a live telling. But also, with using so many public and borrowed computers, I don't want the "wrong" people to find this blog and read it, since most of my stories will involve my ever-colorful character representations of these people. And we all know that I tell it like it is. As Olympia Dukakis said in Steel Magnolias, "If you can't say anything nice, come sit next to me!"
I will tell you I got the raw tracks of my CD from the producer. I think this is gonna be a really really really good CD, folks. Not like that last disappointment, which was going to be a really really really good CD until the mixing engineer got his hands on it and butchered it. Yes, still bitter. But it's my first name.
We head out to Massachusetts tomorrow, then back to NYC (Bayside). Then we head South, where the hopefully unbearably sweltering hot weather awaits me, because that's how I like it. I wonder if the Klan awaits this busfull of prancing homos and freaks, as well? Gotta love theater!
See ya!
Thursday, May 01, 2003
I'll have a Scotch and Scotch, please...
Can someone please remind me the next time we're all boozing that ONE Rusty Nail is PLENTY!!!! Holy cow, I've never seen a room spin so wildly. But the Rusty Nail is now my new fave drink.
I'm in New Brunswick, NJ. We had our Weds and Thurs shows cancel, so we're here with a couple days off until our show Friday. I'm at the Four Points Sheraton in Plainfield, if you feel like visiting....
SO GET THIS! We're on the Thruway heading east and we stop in Syracuse at the mall for lunch. When we get back on the bus to continue, the bus driver, whom we all call "Wrong-Way Coleman" drives through these back roads to get back to the thruway. And I'm looking and noticing the familiarity of said roads. My heart leaps, with fear I think, and I look to the left. There it is! DOC'S LITTLE GERM DINER!!!! AAAAHHHHHHH!!! Having told the boys in the band the story, I shout to them, guys, here's the porn diner where they spit in your food! Lordy.
Later we get into the hotel. Mind you, it's the FOUR POINTS SHERATON, and it's fancy and expensive. And they have ONE elevator on each side of the hotel, making for a total of two elevators in the whole damn place. And the elevator is big enough to hold one Lesbian and her huge suitcase and guitar. Whafuck up wit dat? Later I go to the bar and Angie is sitting there talking to an older gentlemen. I go and join them. I'm bitching because the guys in the band and I made plans to walk to the liquor store to stock up for those long bus rides (12 hours, yesterday), and I've discovered they all left without me, and I'm talking it personally now. And I'm bitching, and Bob, this nice older gentleman, tells Miguel the bartender to hold his sandwich for 15 minutes. He gets his keys and says, C'mon. I'll drive you to the liquor store. Can ya stand that? And he did! And we pass the band on the way and I flip them all the finger. Later, he and Angie and I chatted for hours at the bar, while I got snockered on Rusty Nails, which is what Bob was drinking. I gave him a CD for being so nice. He's Italian and he designs boxes. He designed the Cabbage Patch doll box. So in the world of box design, he is famous! Wow.
So we're talking and somehow astrology comes around, and Angie says to me, guess my sign. I'm thinking..thinking....and Bob goes "Aquarius". AND HE WAS RIGHT! 61 year old man, talking astro! Well, he's an Aquarius too, and they can smell each other, those Aquarians. And Angie's hubby is a Capy, making Four Capy's in the band. So there's five of us there now: Bob, me, Angie, a dude named Tim who was just there eating, and Ben, Angie's hubby. And thru conversation I start seeing a synchronicity among us. Here's how it goes. Bob and Angie are Aquarians. Bob and I are italian, and also both twins. Ben and I are Capys. Tim and Angie are from Wisconsin. Bob and Tim both do business with the same company down the road (which is why they're in town). It was so cool!
Later, Bob has to go to bed and be up really early, so the party kind of breaks up, and I go to my room. Across the hall is the band, drinking their booze and I'm all pissed at them. Brian comes out and sees me and says hey! And I'm like fuck you, and everyone in that room. Y'all took off without me like I ain't good enough, because you all got distracted by the sweet little pretty very young assistant stage manager (who they went to the store with who's too young to drink anyway). And Brian says, fuck you, get in here. So I go in and flop on the bed and I'm trying to talk and my words are slurring, and I can't even see straight. And I keep saying, I'm so fucking drunk. Not sure what anyone talked about or even what I said, but I'm very aware that I can't form words. And the costume designer is looking at me sideways, almost disgusted. Apparently she's a recovering alky. And the sight of me was probably a little too much for her buttons.
We in the band have a motto: "I'm not an alcoholic, I'm a drunk. Alcoholics go to meetings".
So I finally realized I just had to go to bed and left. Okay, so remind me. One rusty nail.
Can someone please remind me the next time we're all boozing that ONE Rusty Nail is PLENTY!!!! Holy cow, I've never seen a room spin so wildly. But the Rusty Nail is now my new fave drink.
I'm in New Brunswick, NJ. We had our Weds and Thurs shows cancel, so we're here with a couple days off until our show Friday. I'm at the Four Points Sheraton in Plainfield, if you feel like visiting....
SO GET THIS! We're on the Thruway heading east and we stop in Syracuse at the mall for lunch. When we get back on the bus to continue, the bus driver, whom we all call "Wrong-Way Coleman" drives through these back roads to get back to the thruway. And I'm looking and noticing the familiarity of said roads. My heart leaps, with fear I think, and I look to the left. There it is! DOC'S LITTLE GERM DINER!!!! AAAAHHHHHHH!!! Having told the boys in the band the story, I shout to them, guys, here's the porn diner where they spit in your food! Lordy.
Later we get into the hotel. Mind you, it's the FOUR POINTS SHERATON, and it's fancy and expensive. And they have ONE elevator on each side of the hotel, making for a total of two elevators in the whole damn place. And the elevator is big enough to hold one Lesbian and her huge suitcase and guitar. Whafuck up wit dat? Later I go to the bar and Angie is sitting there talking to an older gentlemen. I go and join them. I'm bitching because the guys in the band and I made plans to walk to the liquor store to stock up for those long bus rides (12 hours, yesterday), and I've discovered they all left without me, and I'm talking it personally now. And I'm bitching, and Bob, this nice older gentleman, tells Miguel the bartender to hold his sandwich for 15 minutes. He gets his keys and says, C'mon. I'll drive you to the liquor store. Can ya stand that? And he did! And we pass the band on the way and I flip them all the finger. Later, he and Angie and I chatted for hours at the bar, while I got snockered on Rusty Nails, which is what Bob was drinking. I gave him a CD for being so nice. He's Italian and he designs boxes. He designed the Cabbage Patch doll box. So in the world of box design, he is famous! Wow.
So we're talking and somehow astrology comes around, and Angie says to me, guess my sign. I'm thinking..thinking....and Bob goes "Aquarius". AND HE WAS RIGHT! 61 year old man, talking astro! Well, he's an Aquarius too, and they can smell each other, those Aquarians. And Angie's hubby is a Capy, making Four Capy's in the band. So there's five of us there now: Bob, me, Angie, a dude named Tim who was just there eating, and Ben, Angie's hubby. And thru conversation I start seeing a synchronicity among us. Here's how it goes. Bob and Angie are Aquarians. Bob and I are italian, and also both twins. Ben and I are Capys. Tim and Angie are from Wisconsin. Bob and Tim both do business with the same company down the road (which is why they're in town). It was so cool!
Later, Bob has to go to bed and be up really early, so the party kind of breaks up, and I go to my room. Across the hall is the band, drinking their booze and I'm all pissed at them. Brian comes out and sees me and says hey! And I'm like fuck you, and everyone in that room. Y'all took off without me like I ain't good enough, because you all got distracted by the sweet little pretty very young assistant stage manager (who they went to the store with who's too young to drink anyway). And Brian says, fuck you, get in here. So I go in and flop on the bed and I'm trying to talk and my words are slurring, and I can't even see straight. And I keep saying, I'm so fucking drunk. Not sure what anyone talked about or even what I said, but I'm very aware that I can't form words. And the costume designer is looking at me sideways, almost disgusted. Apparently she's a recovering alky. And the sight of me was probably a little too much for her buttons.
We in the band have a motto: "I'm not an alcoholic, I'm a drunk. Alcoholics go to meetings".
So I finally realized I just had to go to bed and left. Okay, so remind me. One rusty nail.
Sunday, April 27, 2003
Easing in....
Hello there! Borrowing a computer and getting to blog. Love that! Things are going better here. I think I gave a really bad impression with my last post, being in such a hurry about it, but the last few days have been better because I'm finally accepted in the fold, so to speak. I wanted to really take my time easing in with these people, and feel everything out. Glad I did, too. But I've been able to chat more with people one on one little by little, and they've all finally taken to the idea of a newbie. So I can relaz a little bit, and also be more of myself - no, not the satan-worshipping pederast! The freak with the agressive speech! I've gotten a better sense of these people, too, and have figured out that they really don't say Hi to anyone. It's weird. They'll all walk past each other and ignore each other, unless you're in their little clique. So all this time I thought people were ignoring me, I finally noticed that it's not JUST me being ignored. I always say hi to everyone when I see them, or at least smile and acknowledge them. Maybe because they're all New Yorkers, and they're used to looking at the ground and not saying hi to anyone? I don't know. But I'm having more fun now. And I'm playing better, although this show has made me realize that my chops totally suck and I need to learn some new shit.
I'll be in Buffalo tomorrow night, overnight. Aahhh! HOME! I'll get to go to Dee's house and do laundry, and drop off one of my guitars that I'm not using. Pick up a couple more concert clothes and all that. Then we go to Kitchener for a show. That's where I'm recording my new CD, by the way, and my producer is coming to the show. He's bringing a CD of the raw tracks of all the songs for me to work with, so I can compose vocal harmonies and whatever else. And just keep close to the songs. Can't wait to hear it!
Right now I'm in New London, CT, and we're at this beautiful mansion-esqe, swanky Inn on the Long Island Sound. And do I care? NO! Wanna know why???? BECAUSE YOU CAN'T BUY ANY BEER HERE! We're in the middle of nowhere, not even walking distance to anything. The one day we have time, and there's nothing to do. And the food at the restaurant costs of fortune. Not for the musician's wallet. Speaking of beer...
Remember the NINE FUCKING DOLLAR Coronas at the casino? Well we were in.... uh....hmmmm...OH! New Jersey. Rutherford. And the lounge there had these 32 Oz. beer mugs! Woo hoo! And the band was hanging at the bar, as usual, ordering these mammoth beers. The boys are getting their beers and paying 6.50. So I'm ording up a Bass Ale, because I hate American beer, and she brings me my humongo beer and a bill for ELEVEN FUCKING DOLLARS!!!!! I'm like, what??? She says Bass Ale costs more. I'M SUPPOSED TO BE PENALIZED FOR HAVING BETTER TASTE??? Jebus! So there I was with my ELEVIN FUCKING DOLLAR beer, thinking I couldn't possibly be a bigger loser than when I overpaid for the Coronas, but apparently so! At least I can deduct it!
So, what else? OH! The bass player is from Rhode Island, so he has that New England accent, where they flatten out their "R's". So bar is "bah". Beer is "be-uh". So yesterday the bass player was talking to the lighting dude, and mentions a car crash. But is sounds like Cah Crash. And the lighting dude says What??? And the bass player says Cah Crash! And the lighting dude is thinking that he is saying "Cock rash"! HAHAHAHA!! Cah crash, cock rash! And light dude says did you say cock rash? and bass dude is saying, yeah, cah crash! We were pissing our pants laughing so hard. It was like "who's on first".
So I don't know what else to say. I could tell you all about the people - who's nice, who's a snotty bee-atch. Politics, nepotism. But that's boring. I'll tell you this: One guy has two sets of teeth, one behind the other. Freaky. One girl I don't trust. Underhanded and sneaky is the feeling I get. One girl has been so extremely nice to me. It's her computer I'm using. She's not the typical diva. Well, she ain't a diva. The company manager is married to the dance captain. She can barely hide her contempt for me, but I don't know what up with that. Maybe she doesn't like lesbians. Or maybe I made a bad first impression? Dunno. The lead male spits alot. The lead female thinks she's Britney Spears. Except she at least has talent. I can't say a whole lot. Who know's who'll do a search and find this blog, and I might piss people off if I say the wrong thing, or express an honest opinion. I'll save the dish for the next ice cream social. Until then, miss youse!
Hello there! Borrowing a computer and getting to blog. Love that! Things are going better here. I think I gave a really bad impression with my last post, being in such a hurry about it, but the last few days have been better because I'm finally accepted in the fold, so to speak. I wanted to really take my time easing in with these people, and feel everything out. Glad I did, too. But I've been able to chat more with people one on one little by little, and they've all finally taken to the idea of a newbie. So I can relaz a little bit, and also be more of myself - no, not the satan-worshipping pederast! The freak with the agressive speech! I've gotten a better sense of these people, too, and have figured out that they really don't say Hi to anyone. It's weird. They'll all walk past each other and ignore each other, unless you're in their little clique. So all this time I thought people were ignoring me, I finally noticed that it's not JUST me being ignored. I always say hi to everyone when I see them, or at least smile and acknowledge them. Maybe because they're all New Yorkers, and they're used to looking at the ground and not saying hi to anyone? I don't know. But I'm having more fun now. And I'm playing better, although this show has made me realize that my chops totally suck and I need to learn some new shit.
I'll be in Buffalo tomorrow night, overnight. Aahhh! HOME! I'll get to go to Dee's house and do laundry, and drop off one of my guitars that I'm not using. Pick up a couple more concert clothes and all that. Then we go to Kitchener for a show. That's where I'm recording my new CD, by the way, and my producer is coming to the show. He's bringing a CD of the raw tracks of all the songs for me to work with, so I can compose vocal harmonies and whatever else. And just keep close to the songs. Can't wait to hear it!
Right now I'm in New London, CT, and we're at this beautiful mansion-esqe, swanky Inn on the Long Island Sound. And do I care? NO! Wanna know why???? BECAUSE YOU CAN'T BUY ANY BEER HERE! We're in the middle of nowhere, not even walking distance to anything. The one day we have time, and there's nothing to do. And the food at the restaurant costs of fortune. Not for the musician's wallet. Speaking of beer...
Remember the NINE FUCKING DOLLAR Coronas at the casino? Well we were in.... uh....hmmmm...OH! New Jersey. Rutherford. And the lounge there had these 32 Oz. beer mugs! Woo hoo! And the band was hanging at the bar, as usual, ordering these mammoth beers. The boys are getting their beers and paying 6.50. So I'm ording up a Bass Ale, because I hate American beer, and she brings me my humongo beer and a bill for ELEVEN FUCKING DOLLARS!!!!! I'm like, what??? She says Bass Ale costs more. I'M SUPPOSED TO BE PENALIZED FOR HAVING BETTER TASTE??? Jebus! So there I was with my ELEVIN FUCKING DOLLAR beer, thinking I couldn't possibly be a bigger loser than when I overpaid for the Coronas, but apparently so! At least I can deduct it!
So, what else? OH! The bass player is from Rhode Island, so he has that New England accent, where they flatten out their "R's". So bar is "bah". Beer is "be-uh". So yesterday the bass player was talking to the lighting dude, and mentions a car crash. But is sounds like Cah Crash. And the lighting dude says What??? And the bass player says Cah Crash! And the lighting dude is thinking that he is saying "Cock rash"! HAHAHAHA!! Cah crash, cock rash! And light dude says did you say cock rash? and bass dude is saying, yeah, cah crash! We were pissing our pants laughing so hard. It was like "who's on first".
So I don't know what else to say. I could tell you all about the people - who's nice, who's a snotty bee-atch. Politics, nepotism. But that's boring. I'll tell you this: One guy has two sets of teeth, one behind the other. Freaky. One girl I don't trust. Underhanded and sneaky is the feeling I get. One girl has been so extremely nice to me. It's her computer I'm using. She's not the typical diva. Well, she ain't a diva. The company manager is married to the dance captain. She can barely hide her contempt for me, but I don't know what up with that. Maybe she doesn't like lesbians. Or maybe I made a bad first impression? Dunno. The lead male spits alot. The lead female thinks she's Britney Spears. Except she at least has talent. I can't say a whole lot. Who know's who'll do a search and find this blog, and I might piss people off if I say the wrong thing, or express an honest opinion. I'll save the dish for the next ice cream social. Until then, miss youse!
Thursday, April 24, 2003
Save me from the Divas!
Actually, it ain't so bad, but I've been on the bus for a week with these people now, and let me say, they all tour-shocked. They've been on this bus since January, and they have a totally myopic view of the world, now. The bus is cramped and filled to the brim with shit, and each person has their own seat staked out. One person per a two-seat row. And that is basically their home. Except for me. Since I'm new and therefore low-dyke on the totem pole, I am a floater: meaning I have no seat. So far I've been able to sit in my own seat because every day someone hasn't been on the bus for one reason or the other. But sooner or later, I'll have to share a seat with someone, and I'm sure they won't be too happy about it. And it might make them pissy, not because they don't like me, but because they're all, well, tour-shocked. You don't get any space or privacy on this tour. And as for whether they like me or not, I haven't got a clue. Nobody has said much to me one way or the other about anything: Not even the music director had given me any notes until I finally asked him last night. I don't get the feeling I've made a good impression on these people because they haven't said anything one way of the other: you suck or you play great. Usually if you play well, people will tell you. If you suck they won't say a word. So I'm a little paranoid about it.
But nobody cares if I'm a singer or a guitarist, or where I'm from, or if I'm a satan-worshipping pederast. Nobody has really shown any interest at all. All these people do is congregate in their little survivor-esque alliances and talk about this show or about upcoming auditions, or everything theater. I figured I would have charmed all these people by now, but they are way beyond that. They've all lost their sense of humor, too. I know I've joined the tour late and have to figure out how to fit it. If I'd been with them from the start, I'd be just like them. But basically I don't fit it at all. They don't really know me, so they don't get my weird sense of humor or my agressive style of speech.
I gotta go, my time is up on the computer!
Bye!
Actually, it ain't so bad, but I've been on the bus for a week with these people now, and let me say, they all tour-shocked. They've been on this bus since January, and they have a totally myopic view of the world, now. The bus is cramped and filled to the brim with shit, and each person has their own seat staked out. One person per a two-seat row. And that is basically their home. Except for me. Since I'm new and therefore low-dyke on the totem pole, I am a floater: meaning I have no seat. So far I've been able to sit in my own seat because every day someone hasn't been on the bus for one reason or the other. But sooner or later, I'll have to share a seat with someone, and I'm sure they won't be too happy about it. And it might make them pissy, not because they don't like me, but because they're all, well, tour-shocked. You don't get any space or privacy on this tour. And as for whether they like me or not, I haven't got a clue. Nobody has said much to me one way or the other about anything: Not even the music director had given me any notes until I finally asked him last night. I don't get the feeling I've made a good impression on these people because they haven't said anything one way of the other: you suck or you play great. Usually if you play well, people will tell you. If you suck they won't say a word. So I'm a little paranoid about it.
But nobody cares if I'm a singer or a guitarist, or where I'm from, or if I'm a satan-worshipping pederast. Nobody has really shown any interest at all. All these people do is congregate in their little survivor-esque alliances and talk about this show or about upcoming auditions, or everything theater. I figured I would have charmed all these people by now, but they are way beyond that. They've all lost their sense of humor, too. I know I've joined the tour late and have to figure out how to fit it. If I'd been with them from the start, I'd be just like them. But basically I don't fit it at all. They don't really know me, so they don't get my weird sense of humor or my agressive style of speech.
I gotta go, my time is up on the computer!
Bye!
Sunday, April 13, 2003
My last blog post for a while...
So I'm home again overnight, then I head to Canada again to record on Tuesday and Wednesday, spend Thursday doing whatever last minute things I have to do, then I ship out on Friday! I finally got the score to Copacabana on Saturday, like I have much time to practice...I practiced after Chorus Line on Friday night, from 10:30 pm til 12:30 am. Then I woke up and practiced some more.
And can I just say that Chorus Line was one of the worst pits I ever played in? The Musical Director hired some bad musicians, including this 16-year-old idiot boy drummer who couldn't keep time. He was cocky and arrogant, with nothing to back it up, and had no business having that attitude. He weighs about 350 pounds, and put his full weight behind each drum hit, even in the quiet sections. We never knew who the hell to follow. Then the bass player sucked, too. And he was ALSO an arrogant dickhead. He played upright, and a fretless electric bass, and HAD SHITTY INTONATION! He got all on his high horse about how fretted instruments suck and why the tempered scale sucks, and I wanted to say, well, you could use a fret or two, because YOU'RE NEVER IN TUNE! And your tone sucks, too. Another jerk who had nothing to back up his ego.
And I had to sit in between them. And I wanted to kill myself.
My drummer, Nicky, played percussion, and he rocks, as always. He was playing about 20 different instruments, PLUS cueing little drummer jerk the whole time. AND Nick brought in his drum set for this kid to use. So today we're striking, and Nick says to Baby Huey "So, you're going to stay and help me tear down, right?" And thank god I wasn't there to hear him say this because I would have torn him a new big asshole...he said to Nick, "Nope. That's why you're getting paid more!"
YOU STUPID FAT FUCKING IDIOT MORON! YOU DUMBASS 16 YEAR-OLD RUDE LITTLE SHIT!!!!!!!! Nick is being paid MORE because he's a PROFESSIONAL with a MUSIC DEGREE who has played professionally for TWENTY YEARS AND HAS PAID HIS DUES (literally and figuratively), and YOU are a pipsqeak little high-school kid who should be THANKFUL for the opportunity to play with the musicians you lucked into working with, AND INSTEAD YOU MADE US ALL LOOK BAD!
This little schmuck doesn't realize that people have long memories, and even if he does go to music school and learn to play well, we'll all remember his lack of character, his arrogance, his impoliteness, his failure to know his place, and his refusal to simply be a decent person and help out.
So Nick and I tore down his whole two rigs - took us almost two hours. BUT ON THE BRIGHT SIDE...
While we were tearing down, who's in the concert hall for a gig that night? Bela Fleck and the Flecktones! So I hung out with Victor Wooten, Bela himself, and the horn player, Jeff and chatted with them for awhile! And me without my CD's. Dumbass. And the night before, I got to meet Jay Leno, also there for a gig, and I gave him a CD, which I autographed for him! HAHAHAHAHA! So I'm feeling pretty important, right now.
Don't think I have much more to say. Didn't I say enough? Jesus.
Will miss all your blogs! Be cool and be warm! I know I'll be warm, in the South! Ciao, bellas!
So I'm home again overnight, then I head to Canada again to record on Tuesday and Wednesday, spend Thursday doing whatever last minute things I have to do, then I ship out on Friday! I finally got the score to Copacabana on Saturday, like I have much time to practice...I practiced after Chorus Line on Friday night, from 10:30 pm til 12:30 am. Then I woke up and practiced some more.
And can I just say that Chorus Line was one of the worst pits I ever played in? The Musical Director hired some bad musicians, including this 16-year-old idiot boy drummer who couldn't keep time. He was cocky and arrogant, with nothing to back it up, and had no business having that attitude. He weighs about 350 pounds, and put his full weight behind each drum hit, even in the quiet sections. We never knew who the hell to follow. Then the bass player sucked, too. And he was ALSO an arrogant dickhead. He played upright, and a fretless electric bass, and HAD SHITTY INTONATION! He got all on his high horse about how fretted instruments suck and why the tempered scale sucks, and I wanted to say, well, you could use a fret or two, because YOU'RE NEVER IN TUNE! And your tone sucks, too. Another jerk who had nothing to back up his ego.
And I had to sit in between them. And I wanted to kill myself.
My drummer, Nicky, played percussion, and he rocks, as always. He was playing about 20 different instruments, PLUS cueing little drummer jerk the whole time. AND Nick brought in his drum set for this kid to use. So today we're striking, and Nick says to Baby Huey "So, you're going to stay and help me tear down, right?" And thank god I wasn't there to hear him say this because I would have torn him a new big asshole...he said to Nick, "Nope. That's why you're getting paid more!"
YOU STUPID FAT FUCKING IDIOT MORON! YOU DUMBASS 16 YEAR-OLD RUDE LITTLE SHIT!!!!!!!! Nick is being paid MORE because he's a PROFESSIONAL with a MUSIC DEGREE who has played professionally for TWENTY YEARS AND HAS PAID HIS DUES (literally and figuratively), and YOU are a pipsqeak little high-school kid who should be THANKFUL for the opportunity to play with the musicians you lucked into working with, AND INSTEAD YOU MADE US ALL LOOK BAD!
This little schmuck doesn't realize that people have long memories, and even if he does go to music school and learn to play well, we'll all remember his lack of character, his arrogance, his impoliteness, his failure to know his place, and his refusal to simply be a decent person and help out.
So Nick and I tore down his whole two rigs - took us almost two hours. BUT ON THE BRIGHT SIDE...
While we were tearing down, who's in the concert hall for a gig that night? Bela Fleck and the Flecktones! So I hung out with Victor Wooten, Bela himself, and the horn player, Jeff and chatted with them for awhile! And me without my CD's. Dumbass. And the night before, I got to meet Jay Leno, also there for a gig, and I gave him a CD, which I autographed for him! HAHAHAHAHA! So I'm feeling pretty important, right now.
Don't think I have much more to say. Didn't I say enough? Jesus.
Will miss all your blogs! Be cool and be warm! I know I'll be warm, in the South! Ciao, bellas!
Sunday, April 06, 2003
In town overnight...
Hi there! Came into town to do a million things and to teach lessons tomorrow. Then I go to Canada to record for two days, and back to Buffalo for the closing weekend of A Chorus Line which is going well for the cast, and sucky for the orchestra. What can ya do? Aside from me, the percussionist, and a couple of horn players, he got hacks to play for free. Ya get whatcha pay fer.
So Maria was in town on Wednesday, but we went so late with dress rehearsal that I didn't get to Roxy's until almost midnight, and she and her buddies already left. So I just headed home, but realized that I didn't remember what I did with my score! It wasn't in my car and I truly couldn't remember, and had the feeling that I'd put it on the roof of my car to unlock the door, and drove off leaving it there. I didn't know! So I drove AAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL the way back to the theater to see if they were open still, and they weren't. I looked all over the parking lot and retraced my route home, but didn't find it. So I headed back home praying to the goodlordjesus.
At 2:00 a.m. on the way home I was just about to turn onto my street when I saw this thing in the road. It was dark and it looked like roadkill, so I avoided it, but as I passed it, it moved! Flapping a wing up at me saying "Leah! You'll take pity on me! You're famous for all your animal rescues! Here I am!" It was a pigeon, all discombobulated because he couldn't fly. He'd just flap a wing and fall backwards and twirl in a circle. Poor thing. So I got out of my car and put him on the floor and drove around the corner home. I took him in the basement and set him up in a box with a rag on the bottom and gave him water and bread. Maria called while I was doing this to say "YO, sorry we had to leave early". So poor scared birdie finally calmed down a little and I gave him a little blessing that basically said "I hope you live through the night". I didn't know if he had internal injuries, but what could I do at that point? Leave it up to god and nature, that's what. I turned off the light and went to bed.
The next morning I went down to check on him and he was sleeping. I didn't know that pigeons sleep standing up, and they curl their head down. So he woke up and got all scared again, and I took him to the SPCA wildlife rehab center. They said it was a good sign that he lived through the night, and that his injuries were probably not internal.
While I was there, there were three people surrendering cats. One found a cat left on his porch in a crate that morning. The other was this young dude surrendering...oh hell, why don't I use the proper word? ...abandoning his two adult cats, a male and female. The female was beyond pissed. She was growling and hissing and spitting. He told the SPCA clerk that she's kind of always like that, not too friendly. And he says to the cat "Yeah I know I did this to you", and I wanted to throttle this idiot! It took all my strength not to say to him "You do realize that they are going to kill this cat, as she is unadoptable with this attitude? Do you REALIZE THAT? And why are you dumping them? Your girlfriend doesn't like them? You're moving to a place that doesn't take animals? Will YOU DO THIS TO YOUR CHILDREN SOMEDAY???"
And then some old man was dumping his beautiful tortoise-shell kitten, about 7 months old. The kitty had a collar and name tag on her, and definitely belonged to the old man. I don't get it. I just don't get how people can take responsibility for a life and then just dump that responsibility when it becomes difficult for whatever reason.
So I left there all happy and sad at the same time. Happy that I save a smelly, common, overpopulated bird, and sad that these kitties were getting their hearts broken. The tortoise-shell kitty stands a chance of adoption, since she's still little and very sweet. But I don't know about the other three. I know I'll be a cat lady someday, a house with 137 abandoned cats, and it'll be my life mission to get them over their abandonment issues.
Well, I left the SPCA and headed to the theater since I was nearby. And sure enough, I'd left my music on my chair. WHEW! It was opening night that evening, and if I lost that music I was fucked. It's not the kind of score you memorize very easily. It's one of the trickier shows I've done.
So that's my story. Maybe I'll get a chance to write another one next week, before I go for good. Oh, and that day, I found a feather in my car, left behind as a thank you from the pigeon. Pray for the birdy and the kitties.
Hi there! Came into town to do a million things and to teach lessons tomorrow. Then I go to Canada to record for two days, and back to Buffalo for the closing weekend of A Chorus Line which is going well for the cast, and sucky for the orchestra. What can ya do? Aside from me, the percussionist, and a couple of horn players, he got hacks to play for free. Ya get whatcha pay fer.
So Maria was in town on Wednesday, but we went so late with dress rehearsal that I didn't get to Roxy's until almost midnight, and she and her buddies already left. So I just headed home, but realized that I didn't remember what I did with my score! It wasn't in my car and I truly couldn't remember, and had the feeling that I'd put it on the roof of my car to unlock the door, and drove off leaving it there. I didn't know! So I drove AAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL the way back to the theater to see if they were open still, and they weren't. I looked all over the parking lot and retraced my route home, but didn't find it. So I headed back home praying to the goodlordjesus.
At 2:00 a.m. on the way home I was just about to turn onto my street when I saw this thing in the road. It was dark and it looked like roadkill, so I avoided it, but as I passed it, it moved! Flapping a wing up at me saying "Leah! You'll take pity on me! You're famous for all your animal rescues! Here I am!" It was a pigeon, all discombobulated because he couldn't fly. He'd just flap a wing and fall backwards and twirl in a circle. Poor thing. So I got out of my car and put him on the floor and drove around the corner home. I took him in the basement and set him up in a box with a rag on the bottom and gave him water and bread. Maria called while I was doing this to say "YO, sorry we had to leave early". So poor scared birdie finally calmed down a little and I gave him a little blessing that basically said "I hope you live through the night". I didn't know if he had internal injuries, but what could I do at that point? Leave it up to god and nature, that's what. I turned off the light and went to bed.
The next morning I went down to check on him and he was sleeping. I didn't know that pigeons sleep standing up, and they curl their head down. So he woke up and got all scared again, and I took him to the SPCA wildlife rehab center. They said it was a good sign that he lived through the night, and that his injuries were probably not internal.
While I was there, there were three people surrendering cats. One found a cat left on his porch in a crate that morning. The other was this young dude surrendering...oh hell, why don't I use the proper word? ...abandoning his two adult cats, a male and female. The female was beyond pissed. She was growling and hissing and spitting. He told the SPCA clerk that she's kind of always like that, not too friendly. And he says to the cat "Yeah I know I did this to you", and I wanted to throttle this idiot! It took all my strength not to say to him "You do realize that they are going to kill this cat, as she is unadoptable with this attitude? Do you REALIZE THAT? And why are you dumping them? Your girlfriend doesn't like them? You're moving to a place that doesn't take animals? Will YOU DO THIS TO YOUR CHILDREN SOMEDAY???"
And then some old man was dumping his beautiful tortoise-shell kitten, about 7 months old. The kitty had a collar and name tag on her, and definitely belonged to the old man. I don't get it. I just don't get how people can take responsibility for a life and then just dump that responsibility when it becomes difficult for whatever reason.
So I left there all happy and sad at the same time. Happy that I save a smelly, common, overpopulated bird, and sad that these kitties were getting their hearts broken. The tortoise-shell kitty stands a chance of adoption, since she's still little and very sweet. But I don't know about the other three. I know I'll be a cat lady someday, a house with 137 abandoned cats, and it'll be my life mission to get them over their abandonment issues.
Well, I left the SPCA and headed to the theater since I was nearby. And sure enough, I'd left my music on my chair. WHEW! It was opening night that evening, and if I lost that music I was fucked. It's not the kind of score you memorize very easily. It's one of the trickier shows I've done.
So that's my story. Maybe I'll get a chance to write another one next week, before I go for good. Oh, and that day, I found a feather in my car, left behind as a thank you from the pigeon. Pray for the birdy and the kitties.
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
Saturday, March 29, 2003
Bye!!!
Tomorrow I leave for Buffalo to do A Chorus Line for two weeks. And in between shows I'm heading to Canada to record some more. (I better practice...) So after tomorrow it'll be like 2 weeks before I can blog again!! Unless I manage to find 1) time, and 2) a high-speed computer.
Maybe I'll be inspired to blog before I leave, but if not, y'all rock on!
Tomorrow I leave for Buffalo to do A Chorus Line for two weeks. And in between shows I'm heading to Canada to record some more. (I better practice...) So after tomorrow it'll be like 2 weeks before I can blog again!! Unless I manage to find 1) time, and 2) a high-speed computer.
Maybe I'll be inspired to blog before I leave, but if not, y'all rock on!
Celine Dion is the Anti-Christ
So I'm doing this show (Joseph and the ATD) and none of us knew about this but the geek emcee who introduces the show says, "Before we get started we want to remember what's going on on the other side of the world. So we ask everyone to stand up". And I'm thinking, what, a moment of silence? Is someone going to sing the Star Spangled Banner? Suddenly a music track is heard over the speakers, and .... it's......Celine Dion's version of God Bless America. Okay, notwithstanding the detail that SHE'S A CANADIAN ("God bless America, my home sweet home?"), there's the issue that she's schlock X10. So we all had to endure that over-produced maudlin version of that tune. This later causes my buddy Maria, who HATES Celine, to have the
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
God is a woman, and she hates me.
So I'm doing this show (Joseph and the ATD) and none of us knew about this but the geek emcee who introduces the show says, "Before we get started we want to remember what's going on on the other side of the world. So we ask everyone to stand up". And I'm thinking, what, a moment of silence? Is someone going to sing the Star Spangled Banner? Suddenly a music track is heard over the speakers, and .... it's......Celine Dion's version of God Bless America. Okay, notwithstanding the detail that SHE'S A CANADIAN ("God bless America, my home sweet home?"), there's the issue that she's schlock X10. So we all had to endure that over-produced maudlin version of that tune. This later causes my buddy Maria, who HATES Celine, to have the
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
God is a woman, and she hates me.
Friday, March 28, 2003
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
Sunday, March 23, 2003
Quote of the Day
Yesterday my mom, aunt and I were at a memorial service, followed by memorial dinner at a cheesy Italian restaurant. Mom and Auntie had to leave right after eating because they had tickets for 36 Views, a play at the Geva Theater here in town. Mom, Auntie and apparently most of the audience thought is was really boring and hard to follow. Which caused my mother to say:
"For this we gave up a funeral?"
Yesterday my mom, aunt and I were at a memorial service, followed by memorial dinner at a cheesy Italian restaurant. Mom and Auntie had to leave right after eating because they had tickets for 36 Views, a play at the Geva Theater here in town. Mom, Auntie and apparently most of the audience thought is was really boring and hard to follow. Which caused my mother to say:
"For this we gave up a funeral?"
There's this commercial....
I heard it on the radio, and it's to raise awareness about the warning signs of a heart attack. And the announcer says, menacingly...
"Do you know what to do if you feel a crushing pressure in your chest?"
Well, sure I do. I lift Puddy up and move her lower!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
I heard it on the radio, and it's to raise awareness about the warning signs of a heart attack. And the announcer says, menacingly...
"Do you know what to do if you feel a crushing pressure in your chest?"
Well, sure I do. I lift Puddy up and move her lower!
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Friday, March 21, 2003
More Annoyance.
When are they going to make the telephone number pad and the calculator pad go in the same direction???
I know they did this purposely in the 30's, when mechanical punch machines were invented and all to cut down on errors, but for heaven's sake, it's a new world now. There ain't no more addressograph machines.
Hey, that was a small rant, wasn't it?
When are they going to make the telephone number pad and the calculator pad go in the same direction???
I know they did this purposely in the 30's, when mechanical punch machines were invented and all to cut down on errors, but for heaven's sake, it's a new world now. There ain't no more addressograph machines.
Hey, that was a small rant, wasn't it?
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