LYLE: The story so far..

“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…

I’ve added a couple of songs to the EARS section. I’ve been wanting to upload MOOD E for quite some time and I finally got all my memories aligned in the computer, so I was able to put it up this week. MOOD E was recorded by SHAFT in 1996. It was a very productive time for the band and we were experimenting with different sounds and styles. I had played trumpet in school band for a few years and never found it to be an interesting instrument in such a regimented environment… of course, I’m not really a fan of those environments. It was in the band room when we were writing this song and I decided to include it. I heard a melody that went with the song and the only logical instrument was the trumpet. The lyrics are a tribute to a collection of musicians that have struggled with heroin over the years and to the grandfathers and people that have encountered the ravages of racism in United States history.

I also put up SOME DAY SWEAR from the OOLYAKOO debut EP, FOUR SHEETS TO THE WIND. I’ve had the tracks available for listening on several sites, but decided to add this as a download on this site only. The occasion being that OOLYAKOO has begun recording new tracks for upcoming release and it felt appropriate to give some of the EP music away. I’ll be putting up some more of the FSTTW tracks soon.

Huey of EDITBLOCK* brought his mobile studio with him to ROOM 114 a few Friday nights ago on May 2, 2008 and OOLYAKOO began work on our second recording endeavor. We got the equipment set up just as the mariachi band across the hall called it a night. It was quiet for the next few hours and we were able to track 8 new recordings. Kentaro and I went into the studio to clean up some of the guitar and bass last night and again we were able to make great progress in a short time. We got 4 of them tidied up and we’re looking forward to upcoming sessions. It’s really refreshing how tight the band has become, and the ways the sound has developed, since our first recording experience as OOLYAKOO. I’m excited by this recording and already proud of it.

The quality of my life that I have most appreciated is surrealism. I don’t know if it was the proper amount of drugs at various points in my life that altered my chemistry in such a way as to cause my perception to be a bit dreamy, or if perhaps it’s just natural and everyone experiences life this way, but much of my life has had a dreamlike vibe. Perhaps it has something to do with the way my memory is wired and it’s only in retrospect that situations have that romantic effect. Maybe it is a result of being filled with the spirit at such an early age. Regardless of the correct theory, or combination thereof, I enjoy it for the most part. Probably the worst part of it has been when the darkness used to creep around the edges and I would disappear,.. but after years of practice, I even learned to enjoy that. It seems as if that experience is behind me.
A writer of some notoriety was going to be doing a reading at a legendary rock and roll room on the strip. It used to be legendary, but commercialism and greed has sucked most of the spirit right out of the room. I’ve been there many times and sought Jim’s ghost only to realize that he doesn’t haunt there anymore. Jimi used to get his dick sucked under the tables here. I think Jimmy did, too. Hell, I think everyone did back in its heyday. But there’s not dick-sucking going on these days. I can’t even stand against the stairs without getting hassled by security. Freedom was chased out by fire codes. Beer comes in plastic cups because no one can be trusted with bottles. Thirty years ago, they’d probably have hugged me at the door,.. now they frisk me. But I’ve been here many times before and I know the drill. We’re allowed in after they go through her purse and before I can adjust to the room, I’m told not to stand in the walkway. We go over by the bar to stand as all of the rude people with drinks talk loudly while the guy on stage tries to read. I walk over by the stairs to get away from the noise and try to listen. That’s when I’m told not to stand by the stairs, so I step up to the crowd surrounding the stage. I don’t like my back exposed like that, so decide to scout out upstairs. There’s a table, so I wave her up. We sit against the back wall as the band starts to take the stage. I’m not sure why there’s a band tonight. It’s a bunch of kids and it’s too loud before they even get started. I get a napkin and fashion some earplugs for us. I’m not about to go deaf for this. I guess I’m too old. I didn’t like this kind of music when it came out in the eighties and I can’t imagine anyone will these days. But again I’m surprised and the kids are eating it up. How many generations after metal is this? I want to run home and spin my vinyl of “Hell Bent for Leather” to cleanse my soul. The set ends and before the band leaves the stage, on walks the writer we’ve come to see. He asks if someone in the audience has a book. It’s handed to him and he begins to read. It’s very measured and monotone. The band plays some mellow metal in the background and images flip on the screen behind them. His subject seems to be gun control out of control, rape and thoughts of vengeance. The photos behind are of guns and gang images. He finishes the read and the band goes away. He asks if anyone has any questions and he’s asked why people are fucked up in L.A… if he’s influenced by poetry… who his favorite writer is… I wanted to ask if he was okay? If he’s still sober. She wanted me to ask how Oprah is. There are times I’ll shout out, but I decided to stay quiet. It was over. He was done. The band was coming back and we needed to leave. We felt a little gypped, but it was free and fun to get out. He was making his way from the stage over to the booths where the TV star from Dallas was sitting earlier. People were mobbing him, wanting him to sign their books. I had a CD and decided to give it to him. He had said earlier that he liked music, so I said “James, it’s for you” and sat it on the table. He looked at me and we walked off. His assistant was taking it off the table and putting it with his souvenirs. We walked up the strip and browsed the mainstream sex shop. I had encountered two famous writers that evening…

On our way over earlier this evening, we were stopping for coffee. I had to make a left off of Wilshire onto a side-street in order to avoid traffic and this guy seemed a bit confused about crossing the street. He stopped on the corner and then when I began to turn he entered the crosswalk, taking his time, looking at the car beside him and then he stops and looks at me. I’m waiting for him to go and trying to keep an eye on traffic coming towards me. “Fucking idiot”, I say and he finally gets out of the street. “Do you know who that was”, I ask her? I tell her who it looked like to me and she was asking why he would be walking around here. She often forgets where we live. Those people have houses around here. We walked into the back door and got in line as he walked in the front. I took a good look at him and was pretty damn sure he was who I thought he was. This guy has written extensively about metaphysics and spirituality, health… he is certainly considered a guru by many. He sits down with his cup as they prepare our drinks. She asks me if I’m going to ask him. Normally I wouldn’t, but I wanted to know if it was him or just someone who looked similar. “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you, but you look extremely familiar to me. Do I know you?” “I’m a writer.” I say his name and he says “yes”. I introduce myself and tell him it’s a pleasure to meet him. I get my drink and we walk by him on our way out. “Have a nice evening”, I say. Diamond encrusted glasses and Seven jeans. I didn’t give him a CD… I only had one with me and had planned on giving it to the to the writer that was reading later…

So all of the water activity reminded me of one rainy Saturday morning when I was living in Orange. I was in the habit of going to bed in the early morning hours and sleeping until after noon. I don’t remember hearing the knocks on my door, but I did wake up after that. At the time, the bass player and his girlfriend, the guitarist and I were all living in a 3-bedroom condo. The couple had gotten up for work that morning to find that our greenhouse window box in the kitchen had filled with water and had flooded the kitchen and dining room. I got up and Trey was already downstairs. We accessed the situation and it turns out the gutters above the window had filled up due to there not being much rain and not being cleaned out, so a continual heavy flow of water was pouring down on the window box and pouring into the seam between the window and the wall. The others went to work and we were left to clean up the situation on our own. We decided to make it a party. I was into having cheap California champagne every day and it was time for mimosas. So we opened a few bottles and got started. Trey’s girlfriend had stayed the night and came down to enjoy the festivities. We turned on some music and got down to business. The rain was still coming down heavy and first we needed to drain the water out of the box. I punched a couple of holes in the metal bottom and it started to drain out onto the patio. That stopped the water from coming in, so next was to get as much of the water up as we could. We had to move the table and chairs from the dining room and pull back the carpet. I don’t remember all the details of the work that was involved. All I remember is that we took a potential pain-in-the-ass and turned it into a good time. By the time we got it cleaned up to our satisfaction, we all had a good buzz on and it turned into a rainy day with an underlying artistic vibe.

The cat in question was lying on my legs shortly after I had gone to bed last night and the night before. I’ve been having extra energy due to the cleanse and all the tea I’m drinking, so it takes a little work to ease myself into sleep. As I lay there, I feel the cat in question get up off my legs and jump down to the carpet to walk out the door and I hear it’s paws hit the ground. The only thing is that the cats are behind a shut door sleeping in the front room. This building was built around fifty years ago. Certainly there has been a cat that lived in this apartment. Perhaps a few. We’re all just energy sharing common space. So now I’m wondering how many times that I’ve been sleeping and thought that our cats were absorbing the warmth from my legs has it actually been the cat in question? I never look. I’m sleeping.

Shout out to Mary Ann. She got busted for weed in the Mid-West. Never a great place for that kinda nonsense. Her friend’s really should have made sure she got home okay. It was a surprise birthday party, for Pete’s sake. Whoever Pete is. Does that refer to Saint Pete? Probably. It’s always some higher-ups sake that we’re all swearing on. I will make a declaration that I have made before, but as long as man makes plants illegal we will for that time be at odds with Nature, who will in turn continue to punish us for our idiocy. So hail to Mary Ann, Mother Mary and Mary Jane. Sorry you got in trouble, but that was a pretty picture for pushing 70. Just like my boyhood dreams would have imagined. I’d love to hang out with you and Willie sometime. I could learn a lesson or two from my elders.

It is the season of change. My green energy is increasing. The household has been avoiding refined sugars, animal products, synthetics, fake fats, and have been concentrating on eating fruits and vegetables. We have been at it for a week and a half. We’ve also been going to yoga once a week for the last few. It had been way to long for regular practice and it’s nice getting back into the flow. OOLYAKOO has been playing regularly and we have 5 gigs set up at 4 different venues in the next couple of months. There’s link to our space in Links* with dates and places. We’re also discussing starting the next rounds of recording in mid-April. I’ve been increasing my practice of yogic singing, which was taught to me by my djembe master years ago. The practice involves holding a low frequency until your energy and body begin to vibrate at that frequency. In time a new voice should be heard,.. not the one out of your mouth or the one you hear in your head, but one from a deeper place within you.. your core. This voice is your true voice. When it is present you experience the alignment of your vibration (frequency) and the voice begins to sing as you let go control of your vocals chords and emits out of you. Many can see their voice emanating from within with practice. It has to do with settling brain sand and the tuning of your cells. It’s what those monks do.

It always has to be something profound.
The trees had all been broken. A week or so ago it rained ice and the branches couldn’t bare the weight of it all. When we were landing you could see the miles of snapped wood. (I’m wondering now if that’s what could’ve happened to land of dead trees that I drove by in my youth.) When I lived here years ago, I spent much of my time among trees. (I had always wanted to place a desk in the middle of the field of the trees all broken with an old fashioned typewriter and a bottle of scotch to do a photo shoot.) I say that I had communication with trees in an Ich-Du fashion. When I told them that I see Christ in everything, they considered me a pagan. ‘Tis the season. (I had speculated years ago that the cemetery of trees may had been caused by a fire decades back and just stood untouched all this time.) So the trees had all been broken and there is literally debris everywhere. I had discussed with a few people how with a tornado there is a clear cut path of destruction. With this, it was everywhere. There is a definite shift in the energy here. A change in history. It wasn’t that many years ago in this state that the topsoil blew away. People forget.

I climbed on the broken branches as the snow fell. There was a thin layer of ice forming on them and I was slipping as I crawled over. I found little infestations of mistletoe and collected a handful. When I had looked out the window there were several cardinals jumping about on the downed tree. I went back inside and kissed everyone in the room. I participate in ritualistic magic. Today is a holy day and there are as many interpretations of its meaning as there are minds to conceive them. The true message is the acceptance of and communion with mankind. Each person you meet is Santa Claus. Every one of you is Baby Jesus. We’re all the Grinch, too. Enjoy your day off, if you’re not working. May it go by quickly if you are. I will be looking down on a cemetery of trees as I take to the sky in my sleigh… headed towards my home by the ocean…

There’s a spider in the room with me.
I was starting to write and she lowered
herself down from the ceiling to directly in front of my face.
I turned on the light and decided to grab the strand of web
in order to take her out the back door
but I was moving slow and stumbled against the door.
I could see her crawling towards my hand
and I panicked.
She fell to the floor
as I ran to the kitchen for a glass.
When I came back
she was gone.

I looked around on the floor
but she was not to be found.
It struck me that the visit
was a symbol of the experience.
A fear in front of your face.

I consider spiders to be a sign of luck
an omen visitor
but that does not mean
that they don’t make my skin crawl.

I rolled up my pajama bottoms and am sitting cross-legged on chair.

I dreamed that I had left the stack of cash that I’ve carried around with me for years in the backyard at my parents house just sitting out in the elements for the last year or so and by the time I remember and get back to it the money is all over the yard and weathered. I always loved the money because of how clean it was and now it’s dirty and there are bundles of it in the mud. I unfold wads of it and it’s filthy and I get a really sad feeling that I had left my beautiful money out in the backyard. I grab as much of it as I can and go into the basement door. There is a new cat in the house and it has that weird genetic defect where it has extra toes… but this cat also has extra appendages. It has like six or eight legs and walks across the floor like a caterpillar. It’s also very fluffy. I pet the kitty and notice that it has very dark eyes like black marbles… only darker. Like crystal ball dark.

It took me two days to notice you had signed the guest-list
I wonder how long it took before you noticed I wrote about it
Eh. Me with my damn press releases, you probably knew before I did.

So I’m up late listening to Misplaced Childhood
This was the anthem of my desperation in late teens
This and Clutching was where I learned to write
Now I’m up late dropping names and listening to The Pixies
Next is me…

We set the alarm for 3 A.M. It was the night of the eclipse.
We were supposed to be able to see it clearly
So we woke up and went outside
I had to put my pants on
We got the camera and I took a picture of the moon in our shadow
It was red and I knew a flash would cause light pollution
I held it as still as I could
We stood outside and took more pictures
And after we got our fill, we went back to bed and crashed to sleep

Tonight I had a beer with Indian food and other herbal medicines
It was time for me to edit some recent photos and I uploaded everything
Started my regular cropping regime from the last show
(photography by Tracy Camparone)
and I came across the picture I took of the eclipse
I cropped it and crossed my eyes and I swear there’s someone looking down at me from the sky
I’ve seen faces in walls since I was a kid
There’s always someone standing just on the other side
But rarely does the man in the sky just look down at you
And let you take his picture

Take a look and see if you see someone looking back at you…
It’s the first picture in the EYES gallery…

So much has been going on... OOLYAKOO has played several shows since that Rainbow gig... in fact, we've played the Rainbow again (gave a disc to the "Take Home Chef"...), we've played Air Conditioned, Santino's a few times, Synergy Cafe with Java With Javelyn... and in the next week and a half, we're set to play 14 Below, Air Conditioned (round two) and the Rainbow (love me three times, baby). We've distributed over 150 copies of the new EP.

The other night, Patti Smith played at the pier in Santa Monica. I was intent on getting a disc to her, but there were so many people I wasn't sure it was going to happen. I spoke to a couple of people in the back and they were of no help,.. until some guy mentioned to me that she would be signing autographs after the show in one of the tents. Now, I don't do autographs. I've met many famous people over the years and I have never asked one for an autograph... but then, I'm not a big fan of applause after every song either. The way I say it is: "I met Allen Ginsberg, shook his hand and handed him my poetry with the other..." The only three autographs that I own, signed to me, are by three people I've never met: Axl Rose, Weird Al Yankovic and Liz Phair. I figured Patti would have to walk to the tent, so I decided I'd just hand it to her when she walked by... but there was a swirl and I was left in it's dust. I hung around back for a bit to see if Flea (he had been playing at the show) would sneak out and I'd pass him a copy. No luck,.. so we decided to head over to the signing tent. I was standing next to a barrier and the autograph line was going by... and I just wanted to hand it to her,.. but I didn't want to interupt, so I asked the next guy in line. His response: "I think you should just wait like everyone else". I thought I was, but took heed and decided to check this line. It was my understanding that you had to buy something to get in line, but I didn't want anything... but we were at the end and decided to just blend in. It took a bit of time, but we had already been there all evening and I was this close. I said, "I just wanted to say thank you. Can I give you a CD?" She accepts, "I like the art." "Thanks." "You gave me two." I had Flea's copy in my hand and just gave them both to her. "You might wear one of them out." Tracy and I walked over by the backstage, but we were sure he'd blown this place by then. It was a nice walk home... (shameless self promotion)

Last night at IZZY’s I was telling Tracy about the death of my grandfather.
I remembered playing ATARI at my buddy Scott’s house… late.
My brother was inside the store getting a gallon of milk and seemed to be taking too long.
He was tossing it in the air and catching it and it slipped and spilled all over the aisle.

Tonight we were in Joe’s and this little kid was carrying a gallon of milk and his dad tells him to set it by their basket and “splash” the jug splits and milk is pouring onto the floor.
I told the guy I’d go find someone. It was funny as hell. When I came back by the boy was crying a bit. I told him: “Don’t cry over spilt milk.” I’ve always wanted to say that in proper context.

Well, alright... alright... alright...

Summer is heating up and OOLYAKOO is back at The Rainbow Bar & Grill for another round. Everyone had a great time in June and we're looking forward to filling the room with music and folks again. Stop by,.. have a cold one (or few) and look around... you never know who is hanging out at The Rainbow... I myself have met Dio,.. and Steve O... and B. Real... and Lemmy Kil... Lisa L... You!?!?

This is the second in a series of gigs we have set up at the famous Rainbow. Collect them all...

July, 18 2007 - 9:30 PM - Rainbow Bar and Grill
9015 Sunset Boulevard, West Hollywood, California 90069
Cost : $7 (Valet $3)

See you there.
OOLYAKOO
www.myspace.com/oolyakoo

I've had plenty of wine,.. nice fucks,.. lived a life crazy and good... and bad. I have changed faces like clowns and pants like bankers... danced on the stage dressed as a bride. I'm trying to read Lenore by Edgar Allen Poe but this mix CD is distracting me... Cocteau Twins. If this is adulthood, I had a misconception. It was my understanding there would come a day that I would wake up a different person. I had no idea that it was actually evolution and the old man I am across the street is the sum total of my experience... not another's. There has been no breaking point, though the bend at times has been amazing... yogic...

OOLYAKOO played at Santino's restaurant in Santa Monica a few Monday's ago. We had a great group of people and will certainly return. I had to roll out the Twin which I thought would be too big for the room... Yash was on djembe and the vibe was thick. Great night if you're asking me... next is a return to Rainbow...

I spent last weekend playing with computers and trying to get discs to do tricks. I was generally being fucked with by the electronics around me and ended up burning about 35 with a glitch, which will now be placed at random places around the city. After getting into a rhythm of printing and cutting, adhering labels and burning,.. by Tuesday night, I had 45 EP's available for limited release.

We loaded in at 7:45 through the backdoor of the Rainbow. I had never played the room before, though I had been to the bar several times. It had been years and I could see traces of Merkus walking from behind the ROXY after a piss and shaking hands with Lemmy… or giving the devil sign to Dio as he had dinner with his lady.

I was sitting with my lady and Yash in a booth and I saw her walk in. Leaning over I tell Tracy: "Your girlfriend is here." I follow her out of the bar and she's halfway down the stairs: "Excuse me… are you Lisa?"

"Yes,.."

"I'm Lyle from OOLYAKOO,.. I just wanted to give you a CD."

"Are you playing here tonight?"

"Yes,.. we go on at 9:30."

"Oh,.. I'm here to see a friend of mine play at the ROXY,.. but have a good set."

We did. Everything was on and we got caught up in the moment. Before I know it the promoter is shaking me a "two more songs" signal as we ease into "Deal/She Dials 911" and end the show. We grab our shit and down the stairs and out the back door. After load up, I say adieu to some friends and go back in to wrap up with everyone and catch the last act.

Standing out front waiting for the car, I smell familiar incense and remember that this is Sunset Strip. I see a group of people at the corner table on the patio and grab one of our EP's: "Yo, Steve O. Check it out. It's OOLYAKOO. I'll see you in hell. I'll see you in hell." He laughs and takes it and I'm standing out front waiting for the car. I see a familiar face walking from the entrance towards the side door of the ROXY. I head over with a disc: "Yo, Real. Check this shit out." He takes it and my car is ready…

"Drive West on Sunset to the sea… turn that jungle music down…"

OOLYAKOO has been asked back to the Rainbow for three more dates in July and August. Thanks to Mike Rofe for the opportunity. I'm looking forward to a magic summer of 2007.

I'm very pleased to announce that the debut OOLYAKOO EP - FOUR SHEETS TO THE WIND is ready for the world to listen to. Although I've yet to upload the songs to this site they are available for your listening pleasure at the OOLYAKOO myspace page (see LINKS*). I'd like to thank Michael Hughes at Editblock Studios* in Los Angeles for his hard work during recording and mixing. I'd also like to thank Stuart Cohn for his amazing job on the artwork (see the EYES section for a sample). Please stop by the site, have a listen and let us know what you think.

With this phase done, we will now be setting out on the booking process so we can bring this music live to the greater Los Angeles area.