fuck those bullshit ads in the lj sidebar. god damn son of a bitch fuck you ass lickers. not that i fault your effort to get a piece o dat pie in da sky, but damnit why can't i get some tasteful ads like St. George Absinthe, or Lockport Wines i mean fucking hell who in the hell cares about dumb shit like micro-derm abrasion? As if myspace wasn't retarded enough already it had to be contagious.

fyuckQ!

"More crimes or just more of certain crimes?

Seems to me, a bunch of white guys went to jail for Enron, Worldcomm, then there's our politicians, 3 governors, the hired truck scandal, that was white guys....their crimes affected a whole lot more people. Their crimes caused hundreds to lose their retirement benefits, but I guess you don't see that as a "crime?"

Crime is crime pal. This mafia hit man who just died who was on the run, but never left the US. How much sooner would he have been caught had the police stopped white people more often and searched their cars.

You are pretty much guaranteed to be able to traffic drugs if you are white - and have a reasonable belief that as long as all your lights work and you are not driving like a lunatic....you will NEVER get caught....and that, my friend, is the problem with the fantasy that only minorities commit crimes or that they commit most of them...you aren't a criminal until you are convicted of a crime, until then...you're just lucky.

...you aren't a criminal until you are convicted of a crime, until then...you're just lucky."

Ask me if i believe in Ghosts.

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty one two three four five six seven eight nine thirty one two three four five six seven eight nine forty one two three four five six seven eight nine fifty one two three four five six seven eight nine sixty one two three four five six seven eight nine seventy one two three four five six seven eight nine eighty one two three four five six seven eight nine ninety one two three four five six seven eight nine one hundred two hundred three hundred four hundred five hundred six hundred seven hundred eight hundred nine hundred one thousand two thousand three thousand four thousand five thousand six thousand seven thousand eight thousand nine thousand ten thousand eleven thousand twelve thousand thirteen thousand fourteen thousand fifteen thousand sixteen thousand seventeen thousand eighteen thousand nineteen thousand twenty thousand thirty thousand forty thousand fifty thousand sixty thousand seventy thousand eighty thousand ninety thousand one hundred thousand two hundred thousand three hundred thousand four hundred thousand five hundred thousand six hundred thousand seven hundred thousand eight hundred thousand nine hundred thousand one million two million three million four million five million six million seven million eight million nine million ten million eleven million twelve million thirteen million fourteen million fifteen million sixteen million seventeen million eighteen million nineteen million twenty million thirty million forty million fifty million sixty million seventy million eighty million ninety million one hundred million two hundred million three hundred million four hundred million five hundred million six hundred million seven hundred million eight hundred million nine hundred million one billion two billion three billion four billion five billion six billion seven billion eight billion nine billion ten billion eleven billion twelve billion thirteen billion fourteen billion fifteen billion sixteen billion seventeen billion eighteen billion nineteen billion twenty billion thirty billion forty billion fifty billion sixty billion seventy billion eighty billion ninety billion one hundred billion two hundred billion three hundred billion four hundred billion five hundred billion six hundred billion seven hundred billion eight hundred billion nine hundred billion one trillion two trillion three trillion four trillion five trillion six trillion seven trillion eight trillion nine trillion ten trillion eleven trillion twelve trillion thirteen trillion fourteen trillion fifteen trillion sixteen trillion seventeen trillion eighteen trillion nineteen trillion twenty trillion thirty trillion forty trillion fifty trillion sixty trillion seventy trillion eighty trillion ninety trillion one hundred trillion two hundred trillion biscuits three hundred trillion four hundred trillion five hundred trillion six hundred trillion seven hundred trillion eight hundred trillion nine hundred trillion one gazillion trillion billion million hundred thousand twenty nine

I love to smoke. The thing is I hate the nicotine buzz and morning confessional and marijuana disrupts linear thought in a most undesirable fashion and salvia is a whole other creature entirely. I've experimented with herbal smoke blends but most dried herbs don't lend themselves very well to rolling. I'm a sucker for aesthetics, and I love the craft and care involved with creating a beautiful and imperfect hand-rolled cigarette.

Catnip is almost the perfect consistency to roll a cigarette out of, and with the help of a little bit of tobacco shag, will induce a pleasant state of low key relaxation. The minty flavor balances tobacco's overly cured taste and cuts that kick-in-the-lungs effect that we all know and love/hate about cigarettes.

After just one blended cigarette I noticed that my vision started to lag a bit, a similar visual sensation to a slight alcohol buzz, but not to the extent that it impaired my ability to walk or speak clearly. I suffer from a mild case of asthma and usually live my daily life with minor difficulty breathing (but not really enough to warrant an emergency inhaler). A few puffs into the smoke and I noticed that my breathing slowed down and I felt able to absorb more oxygen through my lungs. I'm not sure if the smoke burned away excess mucus or the catnip simply slowed my heart rate and allowed me to breathe more naturally but I felt more at ease with the simple action of inhaling air.

I suspect the tobacco played its role in stimulating my body enough to prevent the catnip's sedative properties from completely overtaking the experience.

It's been probably twenty minutes since I finished the smoke and the after-glow continues. No negative side effects whatsoever. It's the kind of chill that you could enjoy while you're at work without worrying about losing your focus. I think I'd even go so far as to say that it would help you refocus yourself if you're in dire need of ten or twenty minutes of solid relaxation. So if you don't have hours or days to devote to zonking out on some chronic drugs, give it a try.

http://www.myspace.com/marioezekiel

Why not?

For those of you my dear friends whose sense of humour and curiosity is not devoid of its musical element, I bring you nut two but three new balls of aural delight:

50 Gooeys - Guess the sample, win a cookie. respect to the players. and it still grooves.

Pink Improv - No, not the beach boys and that kokomo ass shit, but inspired by them? Sure, why not? And also every other musician who touches their ax without mental irons.

The Invasion - formerly title Hot Potato Titties and maybe also called Aliens or something, but you understand the topical metaphor, just turn on CNN.

And FX OVerload, man that shit is legendary. It's a bit hard on the ears given the recording quality but you can't suck the produce clerk's dick for fresher beets.

The end.

John Brown - Civil War Abolitionist; Terrorist/Freedom Fighter

U.S.S. Sultana - Civil War; Boat-Burners; Courtenay Coal Bombs; Robert Louden

Sun Ra - Jazz composer; Philosopher; Cosmic Revolutionist

Charles Mingus - Jazz Composer; Improvisational Vanguard

Sergei Rachmanninov - Russian Composer; virtuoso pianist

J.S. Bach - Baroque Composer; Organ and Harpsichord works

It's snowing in the streets of this city.
Young man found refuge in the scarlet cloth draped across her waist. [door; stairs; bodies] Among contemporaries they sprawl out on the floor and wait. [eleven epidural syringes from the old man; between thumb and index].

I. Ionian/major (master key): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 1
ii. Dorian: b3 b7
iii. Phyrigian: b2 b3 b6 b7
IV. Lydian: #4
V. Mixolydian: b7
vi. Aeolian/natural minor: b3 b6 b7
.....harmonic minor: b3 b6
.....melodic minor: b3
viio. Locrian: b2 b3 b5 b6 b7

(sharps to raise the scale degree by a half step, flats to lower the scale degree by a half step)

The best way I remember the other modes is comparing it to the Ionian or Aeolian modes, because they just happen to be the most common and familiar ones. For example, you could say the Phrygian mode is really, Aeolian flat-2. The Lydian mode is really Ionian sharp-4. The Locrian mode is really Aeolian flat-2 & flat-5. etc, etc.

"P.S. I'm considering moving to Buffalo. I don't care if my property is worth anything. I'll either open a business to help stimulate the community I live in, or go get my PhD in urban sociology and set the stage for change with whatever innovative research I can offer to help Buffalo right it's course."

The Project Studio Handbook

"The web's most complete directory of recording-related articles and links."

http://theprojectstudiohandbook.com/directory.htm

[SYNTHESIS: Gordon Reid's "Synth Secrets"]

Jonas Taxidermy
his bones is waxy-wormy

I'd like to thank my family, goD, tha ladies, feline benefactors at the Human Society, funk-soul sonic conspirators, and caffeine for every single little thing that's come to form the very essence of my being.

It's been real, Austin. I'll see y'all.

And I know I'm not the only hungry monkey in this banana tree.

...

Date: 2007-12-26, 9:41AM CST

A lot of posting related to music and money, or lack thereof. So, I offer my story.

Title:

"Age 48 and Still Chasing The Dream or How Do I Play Fine Music In My Nineties, And Still Respect Myself?"

The beginning: Age 9, started studying my instrument in grade school. Elementary, then Jr. High, then High School band life, including "jazz" band... After high school, one semester studying music at a local community college. Then out into the world... found 420 for the first time... began to drink... jam band life, a little couch surfing, called myself a musician... and I was, sort of.

Next phase: Age 19, Entered the service and played in the basic training band, practiced a lot, and marched... Got to my state side station and found other musicians on base... again: stoned, drunk and playing in garage/jam bands... I called myself a musician, and I was, sort of.

Next phase: Age 22, exited the service and joined a community college jazz band. With the rhythm section of this group, formed a "jazz" quintet and performed for money at bars. Also, got a gig playing a musical at a local community theater, again, for cash, but not much... I called myself a musician, and I was, sort of....

Next phase: Age 23, hoped a bus and ended up in Denton, TX. Saw and heard the music being played locally. Put my instrument in the closet and forgot about it. I stopped calling myself a musician, but I still was one, sort of.

Next phase: Age 24, Got the hell out of Denton and went home. Worked as a laborer, got stoned, drunk, and jammed with buddies in the evenings... had a couple of bar band gigs... took another semester at a local community college, with a full load of music... called myself a musician again, began to understand that I was one, sort of.

Next phase: Age 25, Back to Denton, entered UNT. Practiced 3 hours per day, played in several college groups, took lessons for the first time in my life...Earned a bachelor's degree in music. Left TX and returned home. Got married, got stoned and drunk and played in local bar bands. Earned little or no money. Got some write ups in local papers. Called myself a musician, but knew I could be better as player/performer. Continued to practice irregularly, but knew I should do more...

Next phase: Age 27, returned to TX and entered a graduate program in music. Practiced 4-5 hours a day, performed in several college groups, continued taking lessons, and began teaching lessons to others. Stopped getting stoned and drunk... called myself a musician, and I was, sort of...

Next phase: Age 30, earned a masters in music, saw my first child born, immediately joined band, toured east coast, recorded a CD, garnered good critical acclaim in national press, earned little money, but tried to earn SOMETHING every time I played for the public. Practiced, listened, supported my fellow local bands.

Next phase: Age 33, saw my second child born. Gave up music. Went to work as a laborer to support my family. Forgot about my instrument. Fell backwards into a good paying job 50-hours per week. Began to climb out of debt. Watch my kids grow. Began to be a very angry, resentful man. Stopped calling myself a musician, but I still was one, sort of... the sort that doesn't practice or rehearse or play out, the very rusty sort of musician who has the burn, but doesn't act on it.

Next phase: Aged 40, pulled my instrument out of the closet and began to practice. Realized that I had lost almost all facility, became very depressed. Practiced in secret. Started visiting clubs to hear music. Ran into a buddy who invited me out to sit-in. Sat in and did OK. Eventually, became a regular with my buddy's band, earned tips at clubs, with a few private parties mixed in for $100 or more per musician.

Next phase: Aged 41, decided to call myself a musician again, sat in with several bands who asked me to join. Performed in public on average of 3-7 times a month, at clubs and private events, with some festivals, each time for SOME money, but the amount varied between $3 and $400 buck a hit. Practiced irregularly, but mainly had "road" chops. Recorded some CDs for local outfits. Got some radio play. Got some high profile gigs nationally and internationally...

Current phase: Aged 47, laid off of good paying job. Decided to go freelance and earn-while-I-learn on projects for individuals and small companies. Started practicing a minimum of 3-hours a day, started teaching lessons again to supplement my income. Put minimum limit on performance payment, basically union scale or I'm unavailable. Earned $10K performing, $12K teaching, and $43K doing freelance work in 2007. Called myself a musician, and I am one, sort of...

Next phase: my plan is to continue to practice every day. Listen hard to all sorts of music every day. Support my fellow bands locally. Teach youngsters how to play their instruments, stay off drugs and alcohol, and become good people through good musicianship, and continue to perform for the money that I dictate or not at all, try to wean myself off of my freelance consulting job by increasing gig frequency and number of students.

Nothing special. Just one musician's journey. I never had the fame bug; and never will. For me, it has always been a matter of self development, learning to be better at my music. Lately, though, it has also been about earning what I deserve when I perform. I have a family, and frankly the income is important to us.

I don't play the clubs on 6th street, because none of them pay money for working musicians. I play the nice hotels and restaurants that have a budget for live music. I also play out of town at clubs with budgets, as well as festivals, and private events, all of which pay good money.

The music I have performed as almost always been original, except for the early periods of bar band performances; mainly blues and rock covers. For the most part, however, I've been happy and inspired by the music I've been asked to perform.

My goal is not VH1, or MTV, or even ME (local cable show)... my goal is to be a good player, a good guy, and a respected musician among my peers. I know music theory, both CPE and jazz theory. I know history, and some ethnomusicological items. I sightread, improvise over changes, as well as completely by ear. I practice tone, scales and patterns, etudes, classical literature, "licks", learn tunes, jazz heads and changes, and basically try to keep my technique and my musicality at a high level, ready for any situation from jazz to rock to blues to swing to big band to fusion to funk to R&B to classical to polka to carnival to samba to klezmer to salsa to cumbia to whatever...

Lastly, I am in the camp that believes working musicians should be paid for their performances in commercial venues; it's business. With over 39 years playing my instrument, two degrees, a studio of students, and 20+ years profession performances all across the US, Canada, and parts of Europe, I have put in a good amount of time learning to do what I do. When it comes to schepping gear to a gig, loading in, performing, loading out, then driving home from a COMMERCIAL venue or from a per-pay private event, I believe musicians should be paid for their time and their talent.

If you are a play-for-free musician, my prejudiced opinion is that you are probably pretty young; you may change your attitude in time.

My goal is to be playing high quality music very well in my nineties, in any number of yet to be defined venues, earning while I learn, and enjoying myself, and entertaining my audience.

At the end, I AM a musician, a professional musician, sort of... and always will be.

What sort of musician are you?

Anoche fui a tu casa a verte
y me ladran los perros,
quiso agarrar una piedra
y que me embarro los dedos.

Carlos Taxista Masaguas

This morning dobleEspresso like Moctezuma´s Revenge.

Was it wrong to expect fresh squeezed orange jeez?
Mang! The motherfucker gave me tang.

I've had at least a couple of music dreams starring one or all of you APBs. In of the dreams an african-american revolutionary duo is on stage singing in a warm yellow room. The girl, she is good like Lauryn Hill but the guy's voice brought tears to my eyes and hers also when she saw me. He sounded man just like you actually, but the background instrumentation was more elaborately orchestrated and melancholy but not cluttered. In another dream the four of us were sitting at a table in a restaurant again warm yellow in color but with dimmed lights and more people. We all started making super fresh music together on phantom instruments, the music which had at least four distinctly different parts. I remember vaguely the end of it as we came out of an extended pause on your cue into a motown Pistol Williams type groove underneath half-time vocal melodic parts and harmonically dark but clean guitar sounds. The feeling though was improv all through it, I miss making music man i'm jammin' in my dreams. It might be time i picked up another instrument.

How did opening night go for you kitties? I really wansto know all the nitty gritty dirt. I'm not cold or hot. A little bit tipsy usually. I just bought Crime And Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. The russian charms me. We met a painter named Dima Korepchievsky through Santo Fulgencio Artiste, and acted natural as models in his studio. The language also is so beautiful and i'm inspired to speak it, maybe not so much spell it :/