save me from myself

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daily, just life

We went for sushi on Sunday with a few of our favorite people, and lingered over it for a while, talking and watching some spectacular lightning out the window.

When we left, I ended up in front of our little train of people, and upon opening the door, I was hit full on by a wall of water driven by a 90-mile-an-hour wind, and … I kind of lost my head. I screeched in panic, and then pelted at a full run for the car, followed by everyone else. There may have been laughing and screaming.

Once safely in the truck, I couldn’t stop laughing, because it was so absurd, but my sweetie, also laughing, asked why I hadn’t just stepped back into the restaurant to exchange hugs and say our goodbyes and maybe send someone out to the car to get an umbrella. And, well. I don’t know. I have certainly been known to panic, or make illogical decisions, or pick the wrong thing, or get the math wrong, but here’s the important bit:

No one ever stops me.

No one ever says “Wait! Let’s do it this way.” Because, presented with a sane choice, I will nearly always go “Oh. Right. That makes much more sense.” I totally know how to say “I stand corrected,” and have done when the occasion presents itself.

So why don’t people do that more often? Am I really so formidable? So fragile? So commanding? So fast? (OK, I was pretty fast last Sunday in the rainstorm, but really, it was a wall of water and a 90-mile-an-hour wind, and I defy you to simply stroll, umbrella-less, through an unexpected monsoon.)

In this case it end without tragedy: we’re all pretty waterproof, we exchanged text-hugs later and no one died, but seriously, someone say something in future. I promise I won’t yell or cry or get all offended. I promise!

excellent Reliquary show in May

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cool stuff, reliquary, shows

We are thrilled to announce we’re playing a great show in May! We’ll be opening for Faith and the Muse on their : ankoku butoh : tour!

Faith and the Muse
with special guests Reliquary and Bella Lune
plus DJ Scary Lady Sarah
Thursday, May 13
@ Mardi Gras in Scottsdale
8040 E McDowell Rd., Scottsdale, AZ 85257 [map]
8pm : doors
9ish: first band on
$15 / 21+

We’ll have some lovely flyers soon; let us know if you can give us a hand distributing them.

Also, we’ve got a lovely video trailer. Pass it around!

Hope to see you there!

waiting for the other shoe to drop

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daily, just life

Last week sucked.

On Thursday, we got a nastygram from our HOA, telling us, basically, “Paint your house or we’ll cut you”. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, since the last monsoon powerwashed a couple chunks of stucco off the front of the house, but I’d not budgeted for probably-two-or-three-grand-worth of paint job, and it’s going to hurt.

(I’m in favor of our HOA in general; our dues are pretty low, our common areas are nicely kept, and our neighborhood is generally pretty cool[1]. But still … bleh.)

Then we got our taxes done on Friday, and holy crap, did we not need that just now. How can we claim married and zero exemptions, and still be on the hook? We didn’t have a lot of Reliquary expenses, but since we also didn’t make any profit, it’s only a matter of time before the IRS gets all “this is a hobby!” on our asses.

Then we tried to have Reliquary practice, but Cubase was all “Yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about” every time we tried to get it to, y’know, play the music. (We’d gotten a new studio computer a few months ago to replace the dying, 7-year-old one we’d been using, and had just gotten it up and running. Except that the 6-year-old copy of Cubase wasn’t playing nice with the new OS.) So we’ll have to upgrade. And there go several hundred more dollars.

(I mean, I know we’ll be able to claim the expense next year on our taxes, but see above re: hobby. Unless Reliquary starts making money [on which we will have to pay taxes, argh vicious circle argh], it’s going to look more and more like a hobby to the IRS and it could get ugly. We could just eat the cost, but if Reliquary does make any money, we’ll have to claim it, so it makes sense to claim expenses as well. Gah, this sucks.)

And in the face of Loki’s demotion and ridiculous pay cut, it’s all just too hard. We’ve slashed our budget and I though we were economizing fairly well, but we’ve not been able to build our emergency fund back up, and I’m just terrified of the future. My spreadsheet is predicting, if not doom, then certainly stress and worry.

We’re going to have to make some unpleasant choices fairly soon. I’m just hoping nothing else falls out of the sky to smash our fragile little financial ecosystem.

[1] Notwithstanding the delinquent fuck who smashed into Loki’s truck last week & stole my black bass, the one he’s been playing with The Low Men. Yeah, there went another $500.

broken

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daily, just life

Two very long, early-starting, long-running days on a construction site, shooting videos of the construction, equals a broken me. You wouldn’t think that’d be so bad, would you? I certainly didn’t.

And yet, everything hurts, I can barely move and I’ve got a headache that’s off the charts.

It wasn’t so much the standing around for hours, or the trying-to-hold-very-very-still while videoing without a tripod, or the high-stepping through the debris, or the long (high-stepping) walks required to get to anywhere, or the unaccustomed weight of a hard hat on my head, but all of that, combined, two days in a row. Oh, and I wasn’t exactly fit to begin with, bleh.

On the plus side, it was interesting to watch, if somewhat dangerous at times. But I didn’t die, so well done me!

The plan now is plenty of stretching and hot soaks, and hopefully I will be human again soon.

mishmash

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daily, dog, just life, music

I kinda feel like I wanted a longer weekend, but that would probably mean we’d've tried to cram in more stuff, and I had quite enough stuff to be going on with, thanks.

We helped with the easiest move ever on Saturday, shuttling KT’s stuff to her new townhouse, then took the dogs to the park. It was Freya’s first time, and it was comical how quickly she realized that flipping her Fierce switch in the company of strange dogs might not be the best plan.

She still has way too much energy, though — I woke up Sunday (too early, far too early) to a swathe of destruction that is becoming only too familiar. So far she’s eaten or destroyed: a bible, a PS3 controller, a tube of superglue, some slippers, a 100-year-old first edition, a book of dirty jokes, and an 80-year-old Don Juan. You fuck with my Byron at your peril, Little Miss.

Oh, and she peed on the library rug.

Cue several hours of cleaning and crankiness, that was only alleviated by the arrival of my birthday masseuse. Oh, gods, y’all. That massage was so very, very good. Loki does a mean shoulder pummel, but having someone work all the bad muscles at once was heavenly. I’m going to do a few weekly sessions at her health-institute-place, because I am just that broken.

I took my newly-relaxed self to the Low Men show, turning up at 5 with Loki, because that’s when all the bands were told to turn up. Why? We don’t know. It certainly wasn’t to load in & soundcheck, because there wasn’t enough room for one band’s equipment, much less that of all 9 bands on the bill.

Plus there was some confusion as to the Low Men’s set time. Their set kept getting moved around until settling at 10pm, and wonder of wonders, it actually happened on time — a little early, in fact, a feat I consider a minor miracle. Of course, this meant we were hanging out at the Rhythm Room for five hours, sitting through several bands I’d rather have missed. Dreadful, dreadful stuff.

My camera batteries having died, I actually watched the entire Low Men set, and I’m glad I did. They all left a pint of blood on that stage, I tell you what: it was one of their best shows ever, tight and fast and good, and you’re now bummed you missed it.

They’re playing this Friday at Crabby Don’s in Gilbert, and you should totally come see them. It’s going to be good. No clue when their set time is, but somewhere in the vicinity of 11, I should think.

And now to plow through the rest of the week. Yay!

friday five

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daily

Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve done one of these.

  1. If you had a jar of peanut butter, what would you do with it?
    Put it in kongs for the dogs.
  2. If you were to be cremated, where would you want your ashes to go and why?
    Well, if no one wanted to life-gem me, probably near the Buddha on Avery Island, because that’s where he first told me he loved me.
  3. If you could invent a flavor of jelly beans, what would it be?
    Really? Are there flavors Jelly Belly hasn’t done yet? Then in that case, Sesame Tofu from Red Dragon.
  4. What would your perfect paradise be like?
    I used to think the Hebrides, but maybe somewhere more like mainland Scotland, on account of the more trees. Alternately, a place that doesn’t get much above 75 or 80°r;F in the summer, or get much snow in the winter, and plenty of trees. Also, not a lot of people, but close to a good city, and high speed internet. Do you know where that might be? Let me know.
  5. If you could fly, where would you go?
    Like, fly without a plane, all Superman-stylee? I would go everywhere.

life’s like that

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daily, family, just life

So I had a pretty good birthday on Saturday: tons of good food (dips! empanadas! chicken-on-a-stick! cheeses! homemade ice cream!), nearly all my favorite people (Shawn & Peter came up from Tucson! I’ve missed them), plenty of Campari, etc. I’d done a lot of the food prep well in advance, so I was able to spend less time in the kitchen, yay.

There was much hilarity, too: Tom brought a Hulk pinata he’d got for his own birthday, and after Fenris was done barking at the strange guy hanging from the patio roof, we all took turns punching and whacking it until it finally broke apart. Good times!

Yesterday I woke up with a skull-splitting headache and upset tummy, and spent the morning ignoring the dishes in the sink and watching Top Gear reruns until Loki got out bed, when we switched to Band of Brothers. Also, I can highly recommend the curative powers of Mafia Mike’s toasted veggie sub.

And then this morning, my mom called to say her brother had died from the inoperable brain and esophageal tumors they’d found only a couple months ago. So obviously we’d known this was coming, but that knowledge didn’t make the news any easier to take. You always hope for a miracle, y’know?

So I’m throwing myself into work, hoping the day flies by so I can go home and hug my sweetie and the dogs and the kitties, and make them all promise never to die on me, and I’ll feel better for a little while, even though I’ll know they’re lying.

not the best holiday ever

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daily, just life

I’ve been fighting with my body for a week, and it sucks.

I woke up Christmas Day feeling like I’d been steamrollered. I’ve never had body aches that bad ever in my life. Add in a nose and head clogged with epic amounts of snot and you’ve got a very non-Merry Christmas indeed.

Still managed to crank out two lasagnas (one meat with red sauce, one mushroom with white sauce) (washing my hands so much to avoid contamination that every single finger sprouted hangnails) before collapsing back on the couch. I forgot to roast the asparagus & green beans, making for an all-carbs, all the time sort of meal. Happily, my lack of sense of smell led to really garlicky garlic bread, which was much appreciated.

I managed to stay awake until all our friends had arrived, then passed the hell out. And every day since has been much the same: Get up, stumble about, fight to breath through my 0.024 functioning nostrils, do nothing much constructive, pass out, sleep really badly.

Here’s hoping I recover enough to enjoy New Year’s Eve.

night of strange and painful

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daily, just life, music

So The Low Men played a show last night, and of course I went, but it was … strange. And painful.

I mean, entirely aside from the fact that their set was meant to be at 10:30, then got moved back to 11:30 until finally settling on 12:30, it was strange. And painful.

When we walked in, there was a singer-less metal band rocking the hell out of the place at ear-punishing volume, including a metal version of March of the Sugarplum Fairies, which was just as weird and/or awesome as you might imagine it to be. They were followed by a guy in a Santa hat and brown leather jacket playing all by himself, accompanied by his acoustic and a mostly-decorative neck harmonica.

While he was finishing up his set, KT texted to say she’d set off for the show, but narrowly escaped being hauled off to jail, and wasn’t allowed to drive, so she wasn’t going to be coming. We couldn’t be having with that, so we went and got her.

We made it back to the bar only one or two songs into the Low Men’s set, which was … interesting. It was Mr. M-F.P.’s birthday, so he was nearly legless, and since Loki isn’t the sort to make people drink alone, he was well into his cups as well. And since they hadn’t played together in a month (the show was seriously last-minute), it wasn’t their finest hour. (It was still better than last year’s Black Friday debacle. So they’ve got that going for them.)

Following the show, there was a near-throwdown over some apparent breach of beer-pong ettiquette (no bitches were cut, alas), followed by a very drunken boy who jumped on the stage to tell a terrible joke. We thought that was the end of the entertainment, until the Rhymenocerous (not his real rapping name) took over with his friend boy Steve (his actual real rapping name) to bust out some rhymes. Or something, I don’t really know. I dragged Loki home shortly after that started.

So we got home and let the dogs in, then went back outside to pick up the cushions they’d dragged off the patio furniture. I was carrying a couple cushions back to the patio when I stepped in a hole the dogs had dug, fell into the rocks, cut the hell out of my knee and hit my head on the chairs. Happily, most of me had fallen onto the cushions, so it could have been worse. I did have to pick dead vegetation out of my dreads before I went to bed, though.

And today I feel like people have been beating me with sticks, which they may well have done as I slept. It was that sort of night.

screenwriter’s blues

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daily

I’m thinking about movies I want to see.

Either:

The bastard lovechild of Neil Gaiman and Guillermo del Toro, a sort of MirrorMask meets Pan’s Labyrinth meets Big Fish, all saturated technicolor dreamworld with nightmares in the shadows …

Or:

More cold-war spy thrillers.

I should work up some treatments and then take some meetings.