I don't want to write. I'm tired I'm burned out and I just wanna eat popcorn, dream of a better day, watch an old movie, go to perezhilton.com, any thing but write. But here I am.
I had a great time last night. I had one of those, no need for alcohol-having too much fun anyway-stay up 'til 4am, don't have time for dinner, kind of evenings. Of course I'm talking about going to the Fiftieth Birthday party of my old friend and musical buddy, San Diego's own, Steve Poltz.
If you've never seen a Steve show, here's what I can tell you. You don't want to follow his act. He's the kind of entertainer that makes folks like John Doe say (as he did to me a few years back), "I never want to go on after Poltz again, the audience was completely done for the night." Even wild man Mojo Nixon, another San Diegan, with a radio show on Sirius called The Loon In The Afternoon, looked nervous last night performing his newly penned song called Steve Poltz Is An Old Motherfucker. And offered the audience this warning, "I'm 53, and look at me, Steve Poltz is gonna look just like this in a few years. Of course the women all love Steve now. Just wait 'til he looks like this," and his hand fans the air around his extended sweating torso.
And things went off from there. With cameo performances by many of San Diego's musical Illuminati, including a bit of harmony from me on one Steve's new songs. The list of hangout friends last night was enormous...I haven't seen some of these folks for ages. Which bespeaks volumes on how out of the zone my life became in the last 10 years. I'm just a local ol timer kid, but I had my dey in Rolling Stone and MTV. Whatever.
Old and new friends in attendance...Stevie P, Gregory Page, Lisa Sanders, Marcia Claire, Dr. Paula, The Rugburns, Berkeley-Hart, AJ Croce, Anya Marina, Mojo, Java Joe, Frank Drennen, Mike Halloran, .....etc etc etc
* * *
Paul is getting his new hearing aids this week. The nursing home has taken responsibility for their loss and ponied up for the bill. Or at least, they say they'll pay.
A few weeks ago the Hearing Aid place called me and said: "We checked Paul's hearing and made molds for his new hearing aids but his ears are enormously clogged." I had asked the nursing staff at the home to clean his ears 3 months ago when he got his brand new hearing aids, you know, the ones that the home just lost, and they said "yes, we put the drops in".
Well hell, I can put the damn drops in. Don't they know how to wash them out with the water pump thingy? No, they don't know that way. So I take him to Kaiser and have the real nurses clean his ears. It takes a whole hour, with me helping hold his head straight, to get the gunk out. It's not surprising then that, now even without his hearing aids, he actually kind of hears normal pitched speaking. A minor miracle.
I'd like to go off on a screed now about Health Care, and the plus' and minus' of human corporeality, and the virtues of sharing a bill last week with the legendary Jim Kweskin. But I'm 'completely done for the night'. x's and o's, clb
(photo credit: Tori N. Porter)
Rag, mama, rag . . . .
ReplyDeleteSorry I missed Kweskin and Poltzie and you and Anya and Joe Daly and a lot of other friends I've made there in SD; I'm saving my energy and my pennies and my time for your living room show this weekend.
You still hold the candle. I still applaud you with respect, admiration and unconditional love.
-=-Larry--
I liked the song below you posted. I haven't heard your voice, except recordings, in a couple of decades. I enjoyed times you were in the Strand. I admire your strength and music. I still hack away at the language, still carve out my little poems. Hope to see you and hear you sometime soon.
ReplyDeleteIk herinner me de liefde die ik niet kon uitdrukken in mijn jeugd. Het geheugen is een glimlach
Dear S.S.S. Wow! So surprising and great to hear from you my friend. It has been such a long time. I LOVED those days working at the Strand, well not so much the work but the comaraderie between various artists and bohemians. I also loved playing softball and no one cared that I was the worse catcher in history, what really mattered was that my cousin was a major league catcher.....Where can I find some of your writings these days? xo, cindy lee b
ReplyDeleteHere is one of my public e-mail addresses; it is the one in my Google/blogspot profile. E mail me and I will answer with my private e mail.
ReplyDeleteeliyahuman@nyc.rr.com
I miss those days too, but I enjoy these days too. I’ve learned to go on; happiness is my state not the world’s. I moved to Alabama to care for my mother. Those
last years of her life were lovely between us.
There is a Strand group on Facebook for folk who survived the Strand.