Sleeve aquired a never released documentary of The Rolling Stones' Exile on Main St. tour, called "Cocksucker Blues". It is very clear why the movie was never released. It is an arty film. Where most documentaries revolve around either building a character sketch, or giving historical information, "Cocksucker Blues" portrays environment. There were many confusing moments in the film, where you could audiablly hear what was going on in two rooms, but you couldn't tell who was talking. Was I looking at the person talking or was this a voice over? There were long scenes, taken at various angles of the band dressing, or someone on the phone where you couldn't really understand what was being said at all, and so the experience was a visual one of body language. Camera shots were sometimes too close up, while there were other ones where the person in the shot only filled a corner of the screen, while most of the shot is background. Yet most of the live footage is absolutelly incredible. It is dead on professional, and catches the intensity of their performance, which appears very drug enhanced, then you go back stage for dull mumbling, then to the hotel rooms for scenes and scenes of people who are not in the band... who are these people? They never let on, although some of the women are in it more than other people. These other people are lounging in beds, naked or scoring drugs, or shooting up. "the Cocksuckers Blues" concentrates on the times inbetween the times that most documentaries concentrate on. We wait endlessly between performances for nothing to happen. Our attention is tossed between multiple conversations all happening in one room, rarely catching what any of them are really about. In short, I realize as I write this, the people who made the film were one of those random people hanging around doing mass quantities of drugs. It was from this view point that the movie was made. A sort of visual diary of a groupie on tour with the Rolling Stones. Highly recommended, if you can stand it.

Watching a Bob Dylan documentary and then the docu-drama "Ray" has started me on a musical documentary kick. Today it was "Dig" available at your local Filcks & Picks. This one is a curious comparision between good friends, the Dandy Warhols, and the Brian Jonestown Massacre. The movie follows the bands through 7 years of gigging and recording and trying to get signed with a big label. The Dandy Warhols rise into rock stardom, while the Brian Jonestown Massacre spiral in and out of emotional debauchery. I was suppose to be convinced that this guy, Anton, was a genius with ego-manical issues that kept him back, and had he only had a well balanced childhood, the way the Dandys did, then he too could have made it big and even be along John Lennon status... which is funny because I don't remember John Lennon ever punching his band members on stage... but what I did begin to slowly remember was that I knew these guys, these struggling musicians from San Francisco. I've always remembered the name "the Brian Jonestown Massacre" from my SF days, but I never realized that I use to hang out with them. My best memories are from the loveable Joel, who from the movie's view was the brightest, most fun member of BJM. He and I use to work at Blondie's Pizza together and did quite a bit of drinking after work. And that Anton guy who they are trying to portray as a genius... I remember him. He was that scruffy guy at parties who I always found rather annoying. Now they've got a movie about them... wow... where's MY movie. And which side will I be on? Emotional debauchery or rock stardom? I guess that's what I'm working out right now.

I am so grateful.
I am grateful for this body. Grateful for this clear mind. Grateful to four walls and a fire in a fire place. Grateful for food cooking and people gathering. Grateful for caring, giving, open family. Grateful for sincere, loving friends. Grateful for The Ovulators. Grateful for a band space in the basement. Grateful for Three music projects. Grateful to little children who make me laugh and push my limits. Grateful for broccoli growing in the back yard. Grateful for the Big Orange Boy Cat who is the cuddeliest of all.

I've kicked my holiday season off just a couple days early this year with "the Festival of Trees", a Eugene tradition that involves mascarading a fake tree (I assumed they were fake, I never did check) in brilliant baubles and ribbons, and I must say, I particularly enjoyed the ones doused in fake snow.
"The Festival of Trees" is one of those odd environments, it takes place at the Valley River Inn, that feeds a part of myself that loves ribbons and baubles and decorating trees, while the festival also hits me in an eerie, uncomfortable place that feels guilty for so much priviledge, and so much misuse of resources.
The Randoms and I discussed how many of the trees will just be put on the curb for the trash truck instead of reusing the artifacts, or at least giving them to Goodwill. But all the money is for charity. And there really were some beautiful trees. And most fascinating and satisfying of all... a fountain of chocolate for covering skewered pineapple slices.
Now I'm off to search for a good thanksgiving squash soup... know of one?

The Pink Party, at the Blue Room, was a lovely little event. I liked the warehouse space. Being a warehouse, I expected it to be bigger, but it was broken into rooms, so the performance space wasn't all that big. Visit Me in the Frozen Torso Heap played precisely at 9:00, and were breaking down when I arrived... damn, I've heard so many good things about them. Oh well, next time.
Simpleman blew me away. I knew a little time would gel this trio into something powerful. The most dramatic part of their set was when they moved around from instrument to instrument, ending up with the keyboards and drums building an epic sonic sound and Jayme belting out emotional Bjork sounding vocals. Whew- it was astonishing.
Then, us, The Ovulators. Sweet. It felt right. The room was filled at this point with fabulous outfits of pink feathers, pink wigs, pink satin, pink plaid, pink frills, mmm mmm delicious. It felt so yummy in there. I can't wait for future shows at the Blue Room.

Mr. Random's art showing has inspired me to paint... well, not that I've started, but inspiration has hit. I've got several canvases with beginnings that I'm wanting to finish. And it feels like perfect timing with the giving season just around the corner. Although, its not really painting that I've been thinking of, it's glue and tissue paper. This is one of my favorite mediums.

Bye bye
car keys
hello
sparkles and flies,
I keep them they're mine...

I am entranced.

I'm excited about some gigs that The Ovulators are going to be playing. This weekend we're playing with Touch Force and the Ol' Howl & Smash, two bands that we have never played with before and that I've heard rave reviews about. It's happening on Sat Nov 12th at Luckey's.

No matter how many times one practices a conversation in their head, when the time comes to really have the conversation, emotion takes over, and the practiced script disappears.

Disrespect seems to be the name of the game for me right now. I feel like i'm being hit with it at all directions. What does one do? Draw strong boundry lines? An always difficult thing for someone who loves to run on a concept of "unity" and dissolving boundry lines...
oh well...
I've got a power house of a woman, Dionne, to humble me as she goes under the knife to have both breasts removed due to cancerous tumors. How can I complain about any petty dramas when others face true struggles with humor and strength? The goodbye party for her tits included lots of air guitar playing to Journey and toasts to what life will be like with out boobs.

wow, I just discovered the fun feature of instant messaging on "myspace"... I encourage you all to check it on out. Being on line just got a whole lot more personal, although, I do get creeped out by what the air is filled with these days. A whole lotta information floating around waiting to be grasped at, distracting our brain waves from peace and tranquility. Although, sometimes I think its just our way of having a tangible view of the collective conciousness. There has always been a bunch of information floating around waiting to be grasped at, its just that now, finally, it is being explained to me in a way that I can actually grasp...

ooo, my brain is over loading on in loading...

instant message me some valium, would you? Or maybe just some smooth down beat house music.