Cap It Again

Overall the European tour was pretty disappointing. Sike. It was a completely righteous and memorable experience. The Lebanese festival was canceled due to "political instability" or something like that.

Word Association:

Amsterdam : bikes, elegant, antithesis of suburban sprawl
Belgium: friendly, rainy, beer, quaint
France: beautiful, ancient, enthusiastic, hospitality
London: expensive, rainy, overhwhelming, history, rock and roll
Wales: green, muddy, happy, lord of the rings, sweater
Dublin: football, rainy, beer
UK at large: tabloids, rainy, music-love, polite, wit, historic

It rained every day we were there, but it never dampened our spirits even slightly. I think we expected it, and everyone else seemed to as well. The appetites of continental Europeans are so appropriate to the human condition. It made me realize how outsized the American dream has become--we have been raised inside an unrealistic and unsustainable bubble. Elegance and moderation seem fundamental to the people I encountered--people speak more quietly and express more with fewer words, everything seems smaller and designed for utility as opposed to flash. Of course no generalization can fully encapsulate an unspeakably complex culture, but there is nothing quite like stepping out of the motherland and taking a gulp of objectivity. America, ditch the 'tude--there is plenty to learn from our bretheren across the pond (and elsewhere).

Here is the News

The War on Drugs is going to Holland, Belgium, the UK, France and and Lebanon. Tomorrow. I'll let you know how that goes.

Dream Documentation PART 1

In an attempt to capture (or at least render concretely) ethereal and quickly-dissolving dream images, I've started an experiment: immediately upon waking from a dream, speak into a tape recorder. A word, a melody, a phrase, a sound, whatever comes out of my mouth--not every night, but most.

Sometimes these thoughts and images are fairly conscious-sounding ideas. Other times, when played back, they sound like the voice of another person--I don't remember the source whatsoever. This has been a very interesting process, I plan on using lots of these subconscious nuggets for some upcoming musical projects. *All rights reserved, these may become lyrics.* The following is a verbatim transcription of the past 2 months or so of dreams (note: the ellipses '...' indicate a stop in the tape):



" ... an ant is screaming at a buffalo stampede ... wow, can i try that? ... (sung) grenadine grenadine grenadine grenadine grenadine... ... rabbi putro says, hi frankie ... cinematographer for a film about a super-hero baby, taking photos of babies and butterflies and hipsters in this film ... i forgot my recording gear at the farm, T.G.I.Fridays, roller coaster, a crazy hair salon, yep ... i'm not a murderer. i'm not a murderer. ... licorice cigarette lighter. the licorice lighters are called 'honky', and are being distributed by Dave Wayne Daniels ... Melissa shows up at work with about a six foot tall Great Dane, which is very frightening ... burger with rose petals ... high up on a cliff with the Newman brothers, crying, discussing retirement, throwing beard spears down onto the plain below. little darts made of beard. ... rincon sheely and the jebidiah tomatillo facade ... fixing an old wound with a needle and thread while cleaning out my refrigerator of mash potatoes and liver, and the like ... hanging backstage with the Jonas brothers, and telling one of 'em to go F himself because he didn't like my t-shirt ... (sung) forget the mantra, forget the mantra, forget the mantra, forget the mantra, forget the mantra, forget the mantra ... scrubbing floors at Zach's with Adam Arcuragi and Pat, eating black beans and tofu, discussing summer growing projects and Mount Saint Helens ... beneath light poles the breakers go forth and testify ... laid out on the parapet was the disassemblage of the orphans and the accidental holograms ... it's a bit like announcing your departure from the department of blasphemers in front of the clockwise foundation ... basketball players harvested like plants, looking like dandelions, large human dandelions, harvested in a verdant jungle, filled with such dandelions, specifically Otis Thorpe ... succubus the hunchback ... tracking down beer for an NPR affiliate ... (sung) dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-another one down guy (repeated 3 times) ... micromentary, micromentary ... (atonal singing)... i don't know ... every step you take is forever ... driving down route 40 in Frederick, Chris Briggs screaming 'Marmany Duke!' at me from the Red Horse Inn ... we're no more allowed to feel our blood than the rotation of the earth .... a luggage mix up on the Youngtown express. someone took my bag. i had jon bon jovi written on it, on the return addres for it. inside there were books about Will Ferrell .... (sung) been in now, the vaycays comin... feel up now, the vaycays comin.... (repeated, hummed) ... nothing makes us simple ... a vending machine that dispenses pregnant cats ... water-lemon and cinnamon. water-lemon and cinnamon. ... the only way for the beautiful heroin to save the day and be the beautiful heroin was to turnover apartments with their good looks and charm, much to the chagrin of the bad guys ... just give me a call if you want to go where the nightmares are ... (sung) da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da .... (sung) la la la la la lieeeee plastic rainbows in the sky. ahhhhhhh IIIIIIIIIII plastic rainbows in the sky ... Mike Tyson's white and short. in the mourning he says 'I'm like Shaquille O'Neal because i'm going bald" ... struggles with condition always lead to self-augmentation ... "



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"The blackness he woke to on those nights was sightless and impenetrable. A blackness to hurt your ears with listening. Often he had to get up. No sound but the wind in the bare and blackened trees. He rose and stood tottering in that cold autistic dark with his arms outheld for balance while the vestibular calculations in his skull cranked out their reckonings. An old chronicle. To seek out the upright. No fall but preceded by a declination. He took great marching steps into the nothingness, counting them against his return. Eyes closed, arms oaring. Upright to what? Something nameless in the night, lode or matrix. To which he and the stars were common satellite. Like the great pendulum in its rotunda scribing through the long day movements of the universe of which you may say it knows nothing and yet know it must."

-- C. McCarthy

Cave Paintings

"As we trailed the artists deeper and deeper, noting where they'd broken off stalagmites to mark their path, we found signs that seemed to say, 'We're sanctifying a finite space in an infinite universe.' ... The acoustics magnify every sound, and it takes the brain a few minutes to accept the totality of the darkness--your sight keeps grasping for a hold. Whatever the art means, you understand, at that moment, that its vessel is both a womb and a sepulchre."

--J. Thurman, First Impressions