LYLE: The story so far..

- The Who, 1978.

I enjoy sitting behind the curtain and watch how many people listen to the music on this page. There is no telling the numerous ways it has been linked, downloaded, passed-on... but it seems as if someone is listening. Then #s continue to grow with each month,.. and yet... I don't know who the fuck you are.

I'd like to know.

If you accidentally found this music and you liked it, or it bothered you somehow, let me know. Leave a review on the Visitors, join the email list or Contact me via email...

...or remain in obscurity...

OOLYAKOO has been going through some transformational musical growth and I'm very proud to be able to share some of the expansion with you. This is our latest improvisational piece recorded at MZZL studios on 6/29/2010. Enjoy MORE OF THE SAME:
http://thatslyle.com/audio/OOLYAKOO_06292010_ZOOM_jam_hifi.mp3

This weekend has proven to be a swirl of poetic energy.  On Friday, my latest poem was published on Terrence Moss Presents.  It was a spontaneous session that bore the work titled "Bird".  Please visit the link below and enjoy:

http://terrencemoss.blogspot.com/2010/04/bird-poem-by-lyle-tharp.html#links

In turn, I got a message from the bassist of BRANDY REPAIRS UTAH.  He had read my poem and it inspired him to revisit the mixing of the original recordings of B.R.U.  Throughout the day, I've been receiving emails from him with the mixes.  Truly subversive and spontaneous windings of bass, rhythm & poetry:

http://urbannerds.bandcamp.com/album/brandy-repairs-utah

As well, I was lucky enough to live near a theater screening the latest film about The Doors.  It doesn't take much to entertain me when it comes to Morrison and the boys.  If you're a fan at all, keep your eyes out for this film.  It was nice to see some footage I haven't seen and to revisit the 54-month long career of this band that changed the landscape of rock and roll:

http://whenyourestrangemovie.com

 

 

OOLYAKOO had a great set at Rusty's Surf Ranch on 2/18 and I've uploaded the entire performance to my YouTube channel:  www.youtube.com/merkusalkus

We made it through the first round of the 9th Annual "Battle of the Bands" and will be returning on April 1 @ 8 PM.  If you live in the area, please come out and have a little fun with us.

I'm also waiting for confirmation, but it is very likely we will be playing at Club Good Hurt on 3/12.  I will post the info when it's written in pen.

"My God... it's full of stars!"  - "2010: The Year We Make Contact."

I’m simply amazed that the first month of this year is already behind us.  There is so much I want to accomplish and even more that I have to do… & if it’s going to continue at this pace, or more quickly for that matter, I don’t know where I’m going to find the time.  OOLYAKOO has been in and out of the studio putting together our upcoming release “GRATES’HITS” and I’m chomping at the bit for a finished product by Spring.  I may be in denial, but it has gotten me this far.  Worse to worse, I’ll put out a teaser track in a couple of months.

We will be returning to RUSTY’S SURF RANCH on February 18^th to participate in their 9^th Annual Battle of the Bands.  Although I don’t consider us to be “competitive” musicians, we would never turn down a 30-minute set… especially at a place we like to play.  It’s a Thursday night at 9:30, so skip work Friday and hang out on Santa Monica Pier for a bit.  There’s no cover, so you only have to pay for parking and food… and beer.

For live music from past performances, check out my YouTube channel: www.youtube.com/merkusalkus

I’ve been editing and uploading performances by various incarnations of SHAFT & MUZZLELOADER… the CLUB GOOD HURT show by OOLYAKOO… and will be adding more OOLYAKOO… acoustic MUZZLELOADER… some BLAUDO…

I am proud of the music and antics in every take.  This is my music career.

LYLE of OOLYAKOO

www.myspace.com/oolyakoo

www.reverbnation.com/oolyakoo

www.thatslyle.com

2/18/2010 @ 9:15 PM at Rusty’s Surf Ranch
256 Santa Monica Pier, Santa Monica, California 90401
Cost: FREE*

http://rustyssurfranch.com/  *Beach Parking Fees still apply.

I have performed a lot of shows in my life. Several of those shows exist on video. Though often there were not many people in attendance, I'm happy to be able to share these shows with anybody on the internet that cares to watch them. Welcome to my LIVE shows, from past to present, with the bands SHAFT, MUZZLELOADER, BLAUDO, OOLYAKOO... possibly even some CAST OF SHADOWS (the early '90's OK version)...

www.youtube.com/user/merkusalkus

Taking a moment to remember the:

 

affluent

atheist

bird

black

brother

brown

bum

cat

christian

clerk

cop

conservative

daughter

democrat

dishwasher

dog

dumb

father

fireman

homosexual

husband

intellect

jew

liberal

mother

muslim

paramedic

republican

sister

son

stockbroker

tan

white

wife

 

man

woman

child

 

We all died together.  It’s a shame we can’t get along.

We just made the OOLYAKOO E.P. "Four Sheets To The wind" available for download, free of charge. I'm traveling next week & don't want to have to carry a suitcase of CDs,.. so take advantage of the digital age & download the damn thing while it's available. It will cost .99 a song before you know it (click the "down arrow")(& no, I don't make typos)

www.reverbnation.com/oolyakoo

Without question our society has become more narcissistic. I don’t believe that it’s merely that I notice it more that I’m older. Granted, I live in an area of the country known for cultivating self-centered arrogance as a status symbol, but the trend is pervasive. Though the current technologies appear to connect more people with one another, the current infancy of their evolution has plugged directly into the co-dependent nature of our culture. Years ago I said that cell phones would create a level of co-dependence in a way that history has never seen. It’s somehow okay to let one’s car drift into my lane so that you can speak at whomever you’re holding on the line. Your conversation has become my responsibility to deal with the resulting safety concern. How self-centered you are. And God knows I’m guilty. Guilty but aware. This last week has seen a media blitz concerning the latest online experience and something that has been used as a mighty communication tool has been run through the celebrity mill. I’m not so naïve to believe that this is not a multi-media advertisement for the self-interest of a larger machine. So again, instead of the more noble possibilities of an emerging tool being exposed, it’s exploitation as another celeb-cause advertisement has been spotlighted. Until we as humans learn to truly relate to one another on an empathic compassionate level, no technology will save us from the cold cave of our isolationist existence. I know who my friend’s are, in as much as I can claim to truly know another human. Everyone is capable of surprising behavior, but I feel I have a deep understanding of those with whom I share love. There are those that I know are truly concerned with my best interests and those that I know I would do truly anything in my power for. Though these numbers are relatively small, I will take quality over quantity any day.

I can’t honestly say that when I first picked up a guitar that I felt it would shape my life. Didn’t even really take them seriously at all. It was just play. My friends were learning technique and chords and studying the shit. To me it was just something to get my hands on and it was many years of fucking around with one that I realized my life had changed and something was different. I bought my first guitar when I was in 9th grade. For $100 I got a Lotus strat copy and a tiny Gorilla amp. Prior to that, I had possession of a bass that had been stolen from a local school and has legendary status to this day. The last it was seen it had been given to a custom shop in Tulsa to have a steel diamond plate pick-guard put on. A few months later the guy had disappeared. That crazy bass is still floating around, I have no doubt. So I started playing guitar the way I played the bass and certainly drove my mom to Xanax with the opening line to “Iron Man” over and over.

Tonight when I downloaded the web design software, I felt somewhat like I did when I bought that first guitar… but as someone who had played around with guitars and music for over 20 years… and as someone who goes on stage on a fairly regular basis and plays hours worth of songs I’ve written over the years… and continue to write. I feel like I’m picking up a new instrument, but this time I have the knowledge of what can happen when one picks up a new instrument… and the future is tangible.

It’s the end of February & I’ve been neglecting my site… with one major exception: I have added a streaming media player that has a load of the tunes that is currently housed in my “EARS”. There’s been some changes to the site format and all of these damn question marks in diamonds have appeared on all of my text. I’ll have to figure all that out, but for the moment I’m just happy to have music playing anytime anyone clicks on my site. So open up an extra tab and let the music play while you skate around on other websites. I have always been extremely proud of my musical contribution to this existence and hope this allows it to be shared in a more accessible format. Although a lot of my time as of late has been devoted to mixing the new OOLYAKOO recordings and transferring my multitude of vinyl LPs to digital format, I’m going to make it a point to add some more audio selections to THATSLYLE & add some depth to my available musical history. Thanks for stopping by. Stick around and enjoy some of it…

The last year was a 1 (2 + 0 + 0 + 8 = 1 + 0 = 1)… new beginnings which likewise involve the death of that which was before. Without question we have reached the end of an era… some would say none too soon. We have seen institutions that many have unwittingly considered to be mountains in society dwindle to the mole-hills of their actuality. The entire world economy is an elaborate Ponzi scheme that requires individual faith to keep it afloat. For too damn long, the minstrels have sung about revolution,.. never really knowing it’s just a trip around the sun,.. but now we are on the cusp of a changing age. Being an Aquarian, I have stood on the sidelines whetting my lips in anticipation and rubbing my hands together waiting for my time to come. It is a pivotal time in human evolution and many of us are standing ready to begin the shift into a new way of thinking that is as old as mankind. This is not a political change I’m referring to, but literally an elevation in human consciousness. It has been understood by many that the next transformation to occur in evolution would be of a spiritual nature. People have stood by waiting for the UFOs to land and for the Messiah to arrive or return, not realizing that perhaps ascension may be necessary on our part to meet them. This is the ascension. I’ve written about it for years and only now am feeling that it hasn’t been merely a dream… a vision for a prosperous future… but an actual reality taking place. Consider 2008 to be the funeral for a dinosaur and the birth of the divine. Buildings shook and establishments crumbled. Like any good birth and death there was plenty of blood and mess. This is going to be a good one. Happy New Year.

A week ago Thursday, I received an e-mail concerning the station I buy bio-diesel from. It turns out that via mathematical equation they decided it was a better business move for them to switch the bio-diesel tank to diesel. BD costs around a dollar more than diesel… now anyway. I know that gas has been at a dollar a gallon forever, but just wait until the economy rebounds. You think prices were high a few months ago… you do remember a few months ago, right? So they figured out that it makes sense to sell more diesel at a lower price than less BD at a higher price… of course, the majority of us go there for the BD. So this was going to be my first leap into activism and I was going to join my brothers and sisters in bio-fuels in protest and wage an e-mail campaign to the owners. Sunday we borrowed the neighbor’s club card and bought a 5-gallon cube of soybean oil. Since I bought the Mercedes in late August I have been running straight BD 99% (B99), but the pending cut-off of fuel had inspired me out of my complacency. I originally intended to run the car on WVO, but having a clean source of B99 in nearby Brentwood had given me the false sense of security that any fuel is accessible. There was going to be a sister station in the Palisades that would continue selling B99, but that’s further out of my bubble and it started to feel like an inconvenience before I even drove over. I’ve been running on 5 gallons of soybeans all week. The engine actually feels a little “tighter”, if you know what I mean. So I have proven the myth to my own mind: a car can run on vegetable oil. To some of you, this concept is old-hat. To others, it is as slightly mind-boggling to you as it was to me. So I had planned on sending out an e-mail to the OOLYAKOO distribution list mentioning the e-mail campaign to the fuel company at the first part of the week. OOLYAKOO had a show Sunday night and the after-party went until 3 AM, so by the time I sat down to think it was Wednesday and there was another e-mail in my box. It turns out that the company had decided to correct its mistake and begin selling B99 ASAP due to the overwhelming reaction from its customers. I hadn’t even written mine and the movement had already made the move. Who says bio-diesels don’t move fast? So I missed the opportunity to be one of those e-mails, but I can still participate in the victory. The ultimate goal is WVO (waste vegetable oil). I haven’t been as aggressive as I should be in securing my source, but this situation has renewed my efforts. Having run this week on soybean oil has expanded my belief in the possibility. I was reading earlier tonight that B99 is now available again at the station in Brentwood. Enough voices were heard and a corporation changed its position. Power to the people...

FYI – I had read a disturbing article about how the need for bio-diesel was causing an expansion of the acreage devoted to the production of palm oil that was encroaching on the land of orangutans and could cause extinction to many species. It was a small comfort to learn that B99 provided in this area is produced in the mid-West of the U.S. Some would argue that these crops could go to food production and I won’t argue the point. We could all lay off the fried foods a bit, don’t you think? Regardless, there is an abundantly renewable resource that could help ease the burden. Farmers that are thinking ahead are pushing for changes in legislation. Many states in the union and the Nation as a whole could benefit from the repeal of hemp prohibition. Boycott palm oil from other countries. Vote hemp*.

I suppose we could just choose to live in a world where no one goes without and we all get what we desire. There is no donation point for this story. The letters have to be picked up from the particular Post Office. I love that you are sensitive to the tribulations of others. Empathy is ultimately the solution to most of this world's social problems. Make this planet a more prosperous place and you'll serve as a proper Santa Claus.

I know these are supposed to be hard times, but I’m not sure I could feel any more that the future is promising. Since I saw a copy of “Pink Floyd: LIVE AT POMPEII” many years ago, there has been a secret yearning in me for the great economic collapse. Many people believe there will come a day when meekness will inherit this earth and want will be met with prosperity. There are many that live in fear that the next great hope is the anti-Christ ringing in the next great persecution.

Look. There’s heavy shit going on in this world. Some of you have lost jobs, had wages cut and don’t know what’s next. Some of you have forgotten that you were getting rolled for your gas money a few short months ago like having some bully take your milk money. The ultimate resilience is the resilience of the human spirit. I used to drink a lot. For a long time, I drank a lot. I grew up in Oklahoma years ago and used to drink a lot with Native Americans. One night one of them drew me close and told me that I was his spirit brother. He drew me closer and told me: “If you fear, you are dead.”

I hope this finds you in good health and spirits. These are hard times for a lot of people and yet there is an underlying spirit of hope that I have never felt in my lifetime. Somehow this zodiac wheel has spun around again and we are on the cusp of this cosmic odometer turning over another year. It’s always a time of reflection and projection and general holiday madness. As heavily as the air is filled with a foreboding fear is it also filled with a lightness of hope. The lightning spark most brilliant in the darkest of clouds.

In my life, I've met one guy named Lyle. He was a few years younger than me and was a recent hire at a company I worked for. There was a girl named Tharp that went to my high school. She was a couple years younger and we weren't related. Tharp isn't my biological last name. It would have been okay for me to touch her, but I didn't. I always thought I had a unique name, but the internet has enlightened me to the fact that I am not the only Lyle Tharp on the planet... and that scares me:

On Oct. 1 the Mercer County Sheriff's Department received a complaint of a reckless driver on State Hwy 94 north of Aledo. Deputies intercepted the vehicle just north of Aledo on State Hwy 94. The driver Lyle Tharp, 53, of Aledo was arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol. Tharp was transported to the Mercer County Jail where he later posted bond and was released: www.aledotimesrecord.com/news/police_and_fire/x811434913/Mercer-County-Sheriffs
And in BMX news:
36-40 CRUISER Total Riders = 3
1 KC COLE, ROCKET RACING -GORDY'S
2 CHRIS FIEDLER, BIKE DOCTOR
3 LYLE THARP
(www.gcsg.org/results/result/2003/summer/bmx.htm)

There's even a guy working cattle. I should try to get him to switch to hemp feed:
www.manta.com/coms2/dnbcompany_9bf7rl
There's some guy up in OR that's 91 years old. I think I'll drop him a line... get us all together for a party...

I wrote this for a proposal to a major company, but ultimately feel that my best poetry is wasted by being hidden away. The revolutionary articles of this country were written on sheepskin. The next revolution is written in electricity:

Repeal Industrial Hemp Prohibition

A primary step to reversing the damage caused by petroleum abuse is the repeal of the current prohibition of industrial hemp farming in the U.S.A.

As Man battles Mother Nature, destroys, makes laws against her, will he suffer. We have destroyed untold billions of trees unnecessarily for paper. Trees are the lungs of our planet. In order to heal and reverse pervasive depletion of oxygen in our atmosphere there must be an agrarian movement towards crops that will not only filter carbon dioxide out of and expel luscious oxygen into our air but will do so readily while offering alternatives to current activities that pollute our environment further. In the late 1930s, a petro-chemical company persuasively had the laws changed in the United States of America to prohibit the cultivation of hemp. The plant was the only competition of a patented synthetic fiber called nylon. Prior to that hemp was used as the raw material for paper, rope and clothing. Around 1937, a machine was perfected that would have revolutionized the hemp industry much in the same way the gin did for cotton. That revolution was put on hold in order to fund the dreams of the Petroleum Age. Instead of manufacturing newspaper on hemp the major companies paid for petro-chemicals to process wood pulp. No longer would paint be processed with hemp-seed oil. The yearly harvest of a strong, sustainable crop was exchanged for the desolation of acre-upon-acre of trees expanding across the globe and reaching into the Earth’s ancient rainforests. Undiscovered species have been eradicated in order to graze cattle for our fast food… cattle that could easily have been fed with high protein food stuffs generated from hemp. Everything in the room you are sitting in that is made from petroleum-based plastic could be made from hemp. My automobile could be fueled by bio-diesel processed from hemp.
The revitalization of the national agricultural economy. Decrease of air pollution. An alternative to petroleum dependence. A step back to nature to begin our healing.
Ultimately we all benefit. We would be shifting our consciousness back in tune with the planet we live on. Every gallon of bio-diesel is not derived from petroleum. Every page printed on hemp is another tree that’s still breathing. High in Omega-3 oils, hemp will become a viable food source to contend with future needs. There is optimum benefit from this natural renewable, resource.

15 minute deadline:

We are a nation at battle with our very nature. Until we align our thinking to be in harmony with our environment we will suffer. We have the opportunity to be champions in our current climate struggles and begin the healing that will be necessary for us to survive the next fifty years. This is the pivot point. I will measure our success in my ability to take a deep breath of clean air in five years.

Certain states have begun to test the federal laws concerning this crop and must be supported in their efforts. Small parcels of land can be rented in the states that are beginning to allow the cultivation of hemp and be alternated with soy crops. The best example is a successful example. Small hemp farms turning a profit are the only way to change public perception. Farming can be viewed in the same light as franchise and in a relatively short span of time I foresee these sustainable farms cropping up on every corner of our agricultural nation. Capital for land, seed and water, and public relations is necessary. The movement has begun but needs to be promoted.

I’m listening to “Nick’s Boogie” from a live performance by Pink Floyd in ’66 or ’67. Yesterday I read news that Richard Wright had died. Earlier in the day I had some new-age station on in the background and there was a portion of the soundscape that I knew would not have existed without him. Later I was flipping through the pages on the internet and came across the news. I didn’t realize he had been sick. I told Tracy that I felt like I should drop a hit of acid and listen to all the albums. Of course I don’t have access to acid and the albums are all across town at the rehearsal studio, but I thought back across the many, many hours that I have spent under the influence of Pink Floyd and the journeys that this guy’s bed of clouds and lightning tracers across the sky while riding a dragon had taken me on. I had turned on to PF with an old “Relics” tape and a taped copy of “The Wall”. I was really into concept albums at the time and wanted to be transported to different mindscapes. Trip. I think I know now why Roger agreed to do Live 8 with the guys a few years ago. It was a magical performance to watch on the TV and it’s become more magical now… knowing it will never happen again…

Two weekends ago, we welcomed a new addition to our household: A 1985 Mercedes-Benz 300D Turbo Diesel. She has 154,500 original miles and a single tank vegetable oil conversion installed by Lovecraft Bio-Fuels. She can run on diesel, bio-diesel, WVO, or vegetable oil. We were celebrating Tracy’s birthday weekend and we drove over to Michael’s in Santa Monica for a wonderful dinner. On Sunday, I filled up with my first tank of bio-diesel. We were promptly pulled over by the police. I knew the tags were expired, so I showed them a copy of the title signed the day before and my license and insurance documents. They promptly waved us away.

When the Acura was stolen, my first thought was to try to use the experience to make a positive change that leaned more towards my environmental sensibilities. When she was located without her engine and transmission, I considered the concept of buying her from the insurance company and converting her to an entirely electric system,.. but the logistics and economics prevented that. We looked into hybrid alternatives, but again economics was an issue and I didn’t have a desire to go further into debt and incur a car note. I’ve lived too long without a car payment to get involved with that again. I was feeling like there was not going to be an economical way to accommodate my desire for change when I recalled hearing about diesel cars being converted to run on vegetable oil. It sounded crazy. It still sounds crazy. I began doing research on the topic and after a lot of digging, I found out that a prime candidate for this type of conversion is Mercedes-Benz diesels. Particularly, models between 1976 and 1985. These cars were built with the legendary W123 chassis. 20 years after the production of these vehicles there were as many as 75% of the originally registered cars on the road and they routinely reach over 500,000 miles in a lifetime. This concept blew my mind. Being one that has always enjoyed testing the bounds of my understanding, I started looking for a car. I actually found quite a few in the Los Angeles area,.. both those that had been converted and those that hadn’t. I had my mechanic look at a couple of them, but there were issues that would have added costs on top of the buying price and I quickly became discouraged. It wasn’t going to be easy to find the car I was looking for with the specifications and quality I desired in the price range I had set, so I started looking at more “practical” choices,.. but I kept finding myself looking at these 300D & 300CD Mercedes. One evening while poking around the internet, I found an ad for a car that was located just down the street in Venice. After several back-and-forth e-mails, I set up a date to look at the car on Friday night. By Saturday afternoon, I had it checked out by a reputable mechanic and was driving home in my new-old Mercedes.

I got my title in the mail today. Last night Kentaro told me that about 5 years ago he had seen a show on Japanese television about a monk that was going from house to house collecting their used cooking oil. He was then putting it in his car and would drive around. He said he didn’t understand it at the time, but that now he does because it’s what I’m doing.

The car came with a bonus: a cassette tape of Cat Steven’s Tea for the Tillerman.

Complete decriminalization, retroactively. A responsible distribution system, for casual users and definitely for those with any medical needs. Cannabis and hemp should be allowed to be the major cash crops that they once were. I'd like to run my car on hemp oil. It would save a lot of lives, current and future, slow the depletion of our trees and begin healing our environment, and provide major economic stimulus for our country.

Daren Burns* asked me to be involved with an art event by Improvising Composers United last weekend at the Pasadena Library. He was going to be performing a piece he had composed, with the help of a group of musicians and a dancer,.. and he wanted me to lend my voice by reading some of my material. It had been several years since I had read in public. In fact it’s probably been about 5 years, so I was excited to get the opportunity. The title of his piece is “How Many Deaths Are Enough?” I had written a late-night rant a couple of weeks prior that I thought might fit with the theme, but I also wanted to scour through some of my past works. I ended up staying awake very late the evening before the performance,… not only looking through my stack of printed out pages and computer files, but also continuing the rant I had written the other week. It turns out that the new work would fit his piece perfectly and I finished reading when they hit the last note. I’ve added the written work to my MIND section and invite you to have a read of my most recent work…

“Something’s strange
between the two of us
Somehow the stars &
the darkness swirl
the universe”
-OOLYAKOO, “Change”

There are many levels of emotion associated with it. Anger is merely one of the reactions. Transcendence and sorrow are others. Denial. Depression. The insane laughter of the absurdity of it all.

She was a peach. 1996 Acura Integra. Under 65,000 miles. Serviced at dealerships since initial purchase. Garaged most of its life. My brother-in-law was the original owner. I was the second owner. My father took the car on a cross-country road-trip from D.C. to L.A and delivered it to me. This was in early March. Last Saturday night the phone rang. 3 A.M. She had been located by L.A.P.D. I asked what condition she was in. He said he wasn’t going to soften it: the engine was gone. I asked him how the body was. He said it was surprisingly left in good condition. Ain’t that a bitch. I got all the information and tried to process it. At least I knew where she was… we wouldn’t be looking down every fucking street for her anymore. It had only been 4 days, but I took a look at every Acura I encountered for those 4 days. I could tell you where at least 20 of them are parked right now. So for a minute there, I understood what those people feel that have had a family member disappear… and then they get that call. They always seem satisfied, on a level, just to know where she is. I didn’t feel so good about it in the morning.
I had to release the car from the impound yard to my insurance company. They took her over to a mechanic on my side of town. Tracy and I decided to visit. From the street, it was just like seeing my car parked in a lot. Inside the car was in disarray. The steering wheel had been cut. My club was laying on the floor with various parts of the dashboard. There were no gauges in the dash any longer. The air filtering system was sitting in the backseat, which had been pulled up from the base of the car. I couldn’t understand why they would do that (after contemplation, Tracy CSI’d that it’s probably where they place LoJack). I pop the trunk and there are two barrels of waste oil with one of my blankets shoved in the lid to keep it from spilling. Thanks for that. When I had opened the car, Tracy mentioned the smell and I told her that they drain the car when they take the engine. I didn’t realize they had put it in the trunk. They had also thrown the front suspension back there. I open the hood and an amazing void stared back at me. It was like looking somebody in the face, but there’s no face there. It was shocking. I had looked at that engine with pride a couple of times and it was just not there anymore. On the drive home, Tracy was angry. I was exhausted. Last night, I went back to the mechanic’s shop and met with the insurance rep. We went over everything and I gave him my paperwork. I took a few pictures…

I can’t say I was looking forward to the day in front of me Wednesday morning. The day before had been pretty frustrating and I knew that I had a couple more days of that in front of me. My lady and I had unwound with a bottle of wine the night before, so I was relaxed and sleepy when I walked out to my car. Or should I say to the place my car had been the night before. My neighbor’s dog was out walking her owner. “Did you forget where you left your car?” I must have had that look on my face. There is a series of years where this question would have been in place, but I had just come off of a six month hiatus from alcohol and had only recently begun to have drinks in moderation. “No. I don’t think I did.” I was pretty sure I had parked it right in front of our building and at the very least was without question positive that I had parked in the first half of the block. My neighbor starts looking around as well and after walking around the corner and back I am sure it’s been taken. Rock star parking. They stole the fucking car. I had been telling her the night before that I could feel that something was stirring in the force and that major things were going take place. I walk out the next morning to grand theft auto. I call her from the street, but she doesn’t pick up. I walk back to the apartment and tell her my car is gone. My father had driven it across the country for me just a few months before. A peach. 1996. Less than 65,000 miles on it. I owe less than a grand on it and it’s gone. I find irony in the fact that I have to go down to the police station to file the report… wondering how people that don’t have access to another car get down to the station to report their car stolen. As I’m driving over in her car, I zip around the neighborhood to see if I see the car anywhere. I come across one that looks very similar a block over and get the delusion that perhaps someone had just repossessed the wrong car… mistaken mine for this one… and that they’d bring it back in one piece. Is there a part of me that still holds on to this delusion? I drive back to the store that I had stopped by on the way home last night… just in case… I had left it there and walked 2 and a half blocks home without remembering to bring the car home. No dice. I get to City Hall and there is no parking. It’s not even 9 a.m. and I can’t find a space. After driving around and doing illegal U-turns in front of the Court House, I start to feel a flip-out coming on. The universe is trying my patience and I am about to exercise some of my power. I turn left again and there’s an opening and in I go. It’s my first visit to the police station. I had never really planned on stopping by. The desk officer took my information and checked the records to see if anyone had reported towing the car. None had so he sent me to the other window. I had been talking to a guy who was coming in to report his window being smashed in. The officer had told him there had been a few of those up on Washington. We wished one another well.
The lady had to go find a pen, so I phoned into work again. It really is an inopportune time for unforeseen circumstances. 3rd quarter starts this coming Monday. I had been off on Monday when they had entered and approved all the buys for the new-to-me account that I’ve taken over for the next few months and everything needs to go out yesterday… and I was there a couple hours extra yesterday trying to get things to go out tomorrow. When it rains, it pours, even in Santa Monica when the sun is out. She has her pen and is filling out my form. I play back the events of parking the car the night before, coming out this morning to it not being there. She asks if I have all my keys, which I do. Was there any broken glass? No. I had put my club on the steering wheel, taken my stereo face off and set the locks and alarm with the remote. Hell, I was tired, but I probably checked the doors… but I don’t remember. She asks if there’s anything else I want to add. “Find my car.” It was the first moment that I felt choked up.

My car hasn’t been found… or at least not that I have heard about. I’ve played a series of scenarios in my head… but I am ultimately dancing with the unknown. I don’t know if there are lessons to be learned in every experience, but I always search to find them. Impermanence has been on my mind for the last few days.

In junior high, I was exposed to a band called MARILLION. Jeff had a copy of FUGAZI and his brother was showing it to me. He had told me there was a passage where the guy is singing about a fuck and I hadn’t heard that word much in music at that point. Maybe a “what the fuck, man” in the background of a VAN HALEN song,.. or WHO “the fuck are you”…, but never so casually. “was it just a fuck, was it just a fuck, just another fuck,..” The lyrics were clear and poignant and I remember that moment to this day. I have spent many hours of my life listening to MARILLION. It is not a stretch to say that they shaped me. The lyricist goes by the name FISH. I began jotting down ideas on “to-go tickets” at work while I was washing dishes… going home and emptying my pockets of the paper pieces… and putting on my headphones living out teenage disaffection. The words of FISH were in heavy rotation in my thought patterns. I listened to a lot of music during that time and it has all affected me and my artistic style. FISH affected me as a writer. I indirectly was introduced to KEROUAC through FISH… these are the two that inspired me to take my words seriously… in the way that I take things seriously. Tuesday night, FISH had a show in L.A. He was going to hang out with fans before the show at a bar down the street. Tracy and I parked the car on the street and decided to walk up to look at some clothes. Towards me is walking FISH with a couple of guys. I smile and give a little salute and he nods. We walk back down to the bar and run into my drummer’s wife and I walk out on the back patio. FISH is having a Guiness and talking to some guy. I stand there for a few minutes and he wraps up signing some things. He looks over at me and I tell him that he’s been a major inspiration and I hand him a couple of my CDs. He’s looking over them and tells me he likes the MUZZLELOADER title THE NOT SO SECRET LIES OF BOBBY SCORPIO… I tell him OOLYAKOO is a tribute to Jack… he’s wearing a shirt with Jack and Neil on it… I’m wearing a gorilla in a marijuana field… He starts talking about his rhythm guitarist not getting his visa in enough time and is missing tonight’s show. I tell him I’m looking forward to the show and to knock ‘em dead. He shakes my hand and Tracy and I go to get cash and coffee. After a while we come back by the bar and sit to talk with the drummer’s wife and her friend for a bit. They offer to take my picture with him and I tell them I don’t really do that kind of thing… I like to hand artwork to people in the industry, but I don’t like to ask them for anything… I feel like it puts them above me and I believe we are all on the same level… we decide to leave and I completely change my mind. I think I was nervous. I’m not used to feeling like a fan. I’ve met a lot of famous people, but I was never really a fan… I said I was… “big fan, big fan”… I’ve told a lot of people that, but it was never really true… and here I am, feeling like a fan. Some other people are taking pictures with him and after a minute I change my mind again… but they won’t let me… “Look, man, can I bother you again… do you mind if I get a picture?” “That’s what I’m here for…” after a sip of tequila and he towers over me with his arm over my shoulder… like Neil and Jack. He shakes my hand again and I tell him to have a great show… I haven’t seen the pictures yet… I hope I don’t look like a dork… I felt like a dork… but I finally met my mentor…

(picture courtesy of Shawn Philips)

There were visitors from out-of-town and we decided to take them to see the stars and handprints in the sidewalk. Leaving the theatre, I looked down and was standing over THE DOORS star. I took a picture with my camera. We ended up at the record store and her uncle bought a JIMI recording of a live show that turned out to have JIM drunk and saying “fuck her in her ass” and I somehow thought it was serendipity. I remembered not remembering a show I had done when I told the crowd to eat my asshole. I haven’t talked to a couple of those guys since. So when we were driving on Hollywood Boulevard, I pointed out Gazzari’s, Rainbow, Roxy, The Whisky… In-N-Out… Hollywood High School… I decided to try for street parking over by M.I. There was an open space next to Highland and I pulled in. We got out to put some money in the meter, but it was flashing the word FAIL. As far as I was concerned, it was legal to park there. I put a quarter in, but it didn’t affect the flashing. It wasn’t due to lack of funds that I didn’t put more into the machine… it was due to the machine being broken. I took a picture of it with my phone and took another. There was no telling if either picture had come out, but they had already started to walk and I was an idiot taking pictures of a parking meter in Hollywood. Her aunt mentioned Bette Davis and we looked around until we found her by the box office. We walked to see where the awards are given out, but couldn’t see inside. We returned to the car and there was a ticket on the window. We drove around and took pictures of the HOLLYWOOD sign… spent a little time and money at AMOEBA… One of my meter pictures turned out… FAIL… I’m contesting the ticket…