The French Are Assholes (Except Bourdain)

When I sit to write I have a maddening habit of standing up immediately and pacing around the room, cracking my knuckles, turning down the volume of the music in the background and turning it up again. I fidget endlessly before I can muster a word. It's not particularly easy to get started on something, even when the subject and content have been incubating in my brain for a period of nano seconds.

There, I did it again, I just got up to get a glass of water even though I'm really not thirsty. I think it's called writers block but seeing as I'm neither a writer or blocked, I consider it an idiosyncrasy of my wickedly awesome and highly likeable personality. Boy, ha, if you could be sitting right next to me at this moment you'd be witnessing a spectacular feat of awesomeness that may never be surpassed by anything... ever... in the history and future of the universe.

I also tend to meander aimlessly around the particular subject I want to write about until I can land in a soft cuddly pillow of fluffy verbosity that transports me to an information super highway of genius that flows through my fingers like the salmon of Capistrano.



...another glass of water. Annnnnnd, I'm gonna have to pee soon.

Initially, I wanted to write a concise review about my incredible experience at the 2011 California Brazil Camp in Cazadero, California but I always seem to have a hard time writing about something directly without adding a pinch of bullshit to entertain myself in the exhaustive and frustrating process of doing this for YOU. I know, I know, I'm supposed to write for myself and not my audience but it's difficult when various world leaders and B-List actresses are pounding on my firewall attempting to give me a trojan horse. What the hell does that mean anyway? Is it sexual? Gross... Gorbachev is decidedly not sexy.

Regarding sexiness, in the most heterosexual way possible, I am utterly infatuated with Anthony Bourdain.

The 5th result you get when typing the words "Utterly Infatuated" into Google Image search

Stood up again and walked outside. 5th time in less than 30 minutes.

I recently heard a podcast by Joe Rogan in which he interviewed Bourdain for well over two hours. There are several reasons why this is awesome (3rd time I've used that word or some semblance of if in this blog).

- The podcast is uncensored
- Rogan asks him questions that all of us regular dip-shits would want to ask him
- They are drinking
- If you are a regular viewer of his show, you get the sense that he wants so badly to tell the audience what really happened behind the scenes but he can't.
- He does on the podcast
- What Bourdain says in the first 5 minutes of the podcast is astonishing

Hear for yourself: http://vimeo.com/28919149

To paraphrase:

(In responding to a question that he's an overnight success)

"I was 44 years old, standing by the deep frier in the kitchen... I had no ambition other than to cook and earn the advance back on my book (Kitchen Confidential)."

Fast forward approximately 12 years later and he has (in my estimation) the coolest life/job on the planet. Go ahead, I dare you to listen to the podcast and tell me anything that sucks about what he does.

Of course, I'm biased. This is my blog. I'm allowed. If given the choice to be in the biggest rock band in the world or have the life of Bourdain... no question, I'd choose the latter.

Since I have neither, I'll indulge your rampant curiosity regarding my life.

Approximately three years ago, the dissolution of a relationship that lasted through the majority of my twenties was in it's beginning stages. My ex was a kind, caring, and amazing woman that supported me through all the good and bad of our quarter-life together. I wasn't happy and, I've now realized I was never going to be happy -- there was something that was missing. After hearing Bourdain's story, I'm guessing that he too had an insatiable cultural curiosity and walking home in the wee-hours of a NYC morning smelling of frier grease wasn't exactly filling that crevasse. However, all of his cumulative experience leading up to that impossible moment that he wrote that book and was "discovered" was instrumental in him being "discovered."

It is now October 7th, 2011. As I try to conclude this post that I started editing on 9/27, I came across a video of the recently deceased Steve Jobs. In it, he tells three stories that have had tremendous impact in his brilliant lifetime. I do not possess 1/100th of the eloquence as he, so I will not attempt to summarize. Please watch:



Of particular note to me is something that I was trying to touch on when I started this post -- Jobs speaks of "Connecting The Dots:"

"Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life." -Steve Jobs

Leave it to the most influential artist of our generation to take the words out of my mouth and make sense of it all.

"Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish"

As I continue to try to find whatever I'm searching for in this life, his poignant words touched me in (yet another) time of questioning my chosen direction.

I'll have to postpone (yet again) the Cal Brazil Camp review til another day. For now, pictures will have to suffice.

Winter is almost here!

ADEUS

Stage 6: Commence

California Brazil Camp
Day 0

I was awoken at 4:27 am by the 100lb rottweiler belonging to one of my roommates. I couldn't go back to sleep. I spent the better part of yesterday preparing for an 12 day trip that will take me from Lakewood (bus to)

DIA (plane to)
see mom in San Francisco (car ride to)
Calistoga (car ride to)
Santa Rosa (shuttle to)
Brazil Camp in Cazadero for a week (car ride to)
Santa Rosa (shuttle to)
San Francisco (plane to)
San Diego (shuttle to)
Carlsbad (shuttle to)
Toxby's wedding in La Jolla (shuttle to)
Carlsbad (train to)
see brother in Oxnard (car ride to)
see Grandparents in Montebello (car ride to)
LAX (plane to)
Denver (bus to)
house sit for 3 weeks.

So... I had to plan accordingly for a week long camping/music trip a 10+ hr day of travel and a wedding immediately following said day of travel. Driving around Denver in a car with no AC when it's 98 degrees is miserable. Having to shop made it worse. I hate shopping. I HATE SHOPPING. I HATE SHOPPING. 60 year old Dude at Wal Mart wearing the green IZOD polo shirt with his collar popped while rocking the socks with sandals was a highlight. The amazingly cold thrift store off of Alameda in Lakewood was as well.

Yes, when I talk about shopping, I am not rolling into Macy's and Banana Republic... I'm popping in wally world and tha A. R. C.

It's now 7:34 am on Saturday, August 20th. I'm sitting at Denver International Airport, where I have been for the last hour and a half. It'll be another hour and a half til I leave. I am on my second night of less that 4 hours of sleep following an awesome gig with Adam Stern and The High Country Gentleman at The Westin Hotel in Avon, Colorado. I'm tired and a little delirious but excited to get to San Francisco to see my mom and eventually head to the 1st day of California Brazil Camp for an intensive week of Brazilian music and culture learnin. To quote my good friend Spanky, "He goin to learn that International music... ain't no Country 'n Western in International music"

View from the office at The Westin

I'm not sure if I have it in me this morning to be witty (not that I ever am witty) or descriptive or interesting. Heading to camp is another step in my journey of my... drum... journey? For the last three months I've been keeping a practice log of various exercises/techniques I've been working on; almost on a daily basis, when time allows. My playing has improved steadily. Obviously, the trip to New Orleans had a tremendous impact on my career and I'm thinking that CBC will do the same.

--Ha... a guy just passed in front of me at the airport wearing a shirt that said "I Love Bacon" People watching at the airport is fun.

I think I might be off the grid for a week or so but I'm going to attempt to document my experience at the camp and I might even try to write a review and submit it to Modern Drummer to be published. How Bout Them Plantains?

Okay, kiddos. Y'all enjoy yourselves and I'll be in touch soon.

Oh, went for a nice hike at Chicago Lakes in between Evergreen and Idaho Springs, close to the base entrance of Mt. Evans. I saws a bear. Here are some pics (not of the bear).

NOLA Jazz Fest

I dream of earthquakes.

A vivid recreation of my familiar environment, complete with details a conscious brain would omit. Stunning and complex, a movie set created by imagination peppered with a dash of real-life trauma experienced a couple of hours prior. Fire and smoke. Helicopters and children rescuing infants. Extended family introductions. Climbing up and up and up only to find zip lines and explosions.

Thanks to the handy interweb, I was able to enter many of the keywords of the previous semi-paragraph into the Google machine. Upon striking the enter key, I found the meaning of life within .07 seconds (approximately 2.9 millions results).

Dreaming about earthquakes apparently means that I'm about to lose control and that my life is on shaky ground. It may or may not indicate that I'm worried about money issues. Whatevs. I'm never worried about money (I can't believe that I just paid $10 for a damn 20oz beer in the airport -- that's an entire six-pack and a big grab and maybe a tornado roller if they are on sale!) Yada, yada, yada... It goes on to say that I'm about to experience some spiritual upheaval and that I might be sexually frustrated (what?!?!)

Regardless of what lord Google tells me, I think I do have a pretty good idea of why that spectacular dream occurred when it did and what the meaning truly is. I think it means that my life is on shaky ground, and I'm about to experience some spiritual upheaval... and it's been a few minutes since I've had a girlfriend. HA! Take that, so-called dream experts with your crystals and incense and crazy cat lady friends.

I've made a few decisions in my life as of late. In no particular order:

DO STUFF THAT MAKES ME HAPPY.

What, pray tell?

1) Go to New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival
2) Spend the summer in Colorado, gigging, recording, being creative and saving coin. Maybe a camping trip here or there and a well deserved seat at Red Rocks for Soundgarden and The Mars Volta.
3) ROAD TRIP---->

4) To California. First stop, Carlsbad for 10 days of surfing, eating incredible Mexican food and spending time with one of my best bros and his soon to be bride.

5) Northward toward San Francisco. Detour to Napa Valley to hang with mom and consume massive quantities of salumi, sour-dough and vino. All al fresco, of course.
6) California Brazil Camp
7.1) Finally learn to read music well enough for a:
7.2) Cruise Ship Gig
8) South America (Peru, Ecuador, Brazil)
8.1) Carnival in Rio De Janeiro
9) KoSA Cuba
10) Resume the pursuit of learning a second language
10.67) Fail miserably
11) File bankruptcy and take a job in a tool and die shop tooling and dying
11.1127) Get mini-van

Ambitious? Yes. Impossible? No. I'm left to my own facilities with this grand plan. All that keeps me from accomplishing my self-made dream drum trip of a lifetime is, well, me. If I had a trust fund or $100,000 sitting in the bank, this all would be relatively easy. Of course I don't and what would be the fun and adventure in that anyway** I think I've figured out how to come across the money to fund my trip. It's simply a matter of winning the lottery and milking a lot of kittens.

I'll post blogs and pics and I'll provide running commentary along the way. I'll make fun of people but never as much as myself and I'll ALWAYS be talking about food -- even though I'm endeavoring to drop some 10-year old lbs before surf camp. Anybody that would like to join me along the way is welcome -- particularly if you are of the female persuasion. I'm not scary but I'm really, really, really uncomfortably creepy and I smell pretty bad most of the time because I think farting is funny.

No pics due to my slow internet connection at Louis Armstrong Airport in New Orleans, LA. Step 1, accomplished.

**If anybody to sponsor Damon's drum trip around the world, please feel free to contact me via pigeon courier. I'll accept cash and cash.

Orevwa

My tour is cooler than yours!

I think I have some masochistic part of me that enjoys waiting a month to write about some lame experience I/we/The Congress had, uh, a month ago. The fun part is filling the blanks with complete BS to provide some sort of comic relief to the losers (yes YOU!) who actually waste their time reading my blog.

Not BS:

Google The Congress. We're #2. That's pretty awesome.

BS:

The Denver scene LOVES The Congress

Not BS:

We will be playing a super awesome show on September 11th at The Walnut Room with a great new band called The David James Band

BS: We will be covering Weezers "The Blue Album" on Halloween.

Well, this little exercise of what's BS or not has bored me to tears. It was neither funny nor satisfying. Time for pictures:

Parachute surfin, Hood River, OR

Look very closely at the license plate...

Portland Bridge

Random lake, somewhere around middle Oregon, where we came very close to running out of gas

Pointy mountain, around the same area of middle Oregon.

Middle Oregon was pretty cool, well, except for Medford. That was awful. Everyone we came in contact with in Oregon - from Portland to Bend warned us about Medford. "Go to Ashland" they said. Well, it's not that easy Mr. black rimmed glasses wearin, ironic moustache (I like spelling it that way), knit cap in the middle of summer rockin, skinny jeans-balls crampin, thrift store wardrobe havin Portland hipster guy. Shhheeesh.

Bend was fun. We met some weird people who spoke passionately of cities needing to build better relationships amongst each other. You know, like giving gifts, or exchanging cultural ideas. Said weirdo used, as an example, the two cities from The Simpsons that are always fighting with each other. He seemed to have a very real problem with this and was trying to figure out a solution -- all while apparently completely whacked out on psychedelics. At one point, this fella raised beer for a toast, "Cheers to giraffe tongues!"


Sidebar: Okay, I'm not much of a Simpsons watcher. I just had to do a google search for "the simpsons cities" to attempt to find out the adjacent city that Springfield is always feuding with. No luck on my first attempt. However, I did find that there is a wikipedia page about "the fictional town of Springfield." Within this wiki entry, I discovered that somebody has actually taken the time to describe the Geography, climate, and environment... OF A FICTIONAL CITY:

Geography, climate, and environment

Springfield's geography is varied, including forests, meadows, mountain ranges, a desert, a gorge, a glacier, beaches, badlands, canyons, swamps, a harbor, waterholes, and waterways. Major named geographical features include Springfield Gorge, Springfield National Forest, the volcanic Mt. Springfield, the West Springfield desert ("three times the size of Texas!"),^[11] the Springfield Badlands (also known as the Alkali Flats),^[12] the gigantic Murderhorn mountain, Springfield Glacier, Mt. Useful National Park, Springfield Mesa, and Springfield National Park.

The town's skies are usually blue and sunny. It has been subject to many natural disasters, however, including heat waves, blizzards, avalanches, earthquakes, acid rain, floods, hurricanes, lightning strikes, tornadoes, volcanic eruptions, and a comet impact.

Springfield's environment is unusually polluted. Overflowing garbage forced the whole city—both population and structures—to move five miles (8 km) away from the massive dump that the old town had become.^[13] Springfield is home to the state's largest self-sustaining tire fire, which has been burning continuously for decades.^[14] Lake Springfield's pollution almost led to the city's destruction by an Environmental Protection Agency bomb,^[15] and pollution from the nuclear power plant has mutated the fish in the river.

The Bendonites also had a trampoline:

And a painting of Bob Ross that I will not soon forget:

On the way from Bend to Me***rd, we camped at a sweet spot called Diamond Lake.

Witness:

I wish I had video of us trying to cook hamburgers over that fire... on that grate... Fire 2.5 burgers, The Congress 1.5 Burgers and a grilled cheeze.

Post middle Oregon, we headed south to Top of California. Top of California is a very magical and cosmic place. The trees grow tall and spooky layer of misty clouds makes for a visually satisfying crunch that is only matched by eating a french onion Sun Chip and crinkling the new compostable bag simultaneously.

Sun Chip Crunchy Trees

P.L.A.D.*

Rockness Monster

Northwest Top of California, particularly the counties known as Humboldt and Mendocino is know for agriculture. They have a lot of it. It's generally green and smells good. People give it away like it's going out of style, which, according to various laws that are being passed all over this county -- it won't be going out of style anytime soon. Snoop Dog and Dr. Dre preached about this agriculture way back in tha day. Yours truly skipped Algebra class my junior year of high-school to pick up the much anticipated agricultural bible, Dr. Dre's "The Chronic" It's about chronic growth of fresh peaches and apples and salad mix in the fields of Compton. It's also about killin n*****

Continuing along our southerly route to upper-middle-top of western coastal California, we happened along the ultra-conservative enclaves of San Francisco and Berkley. I'll call it Berklacisco from now on.

We found out that you can do anything that you desire in Berklacisco. Anything.

Like party with Rock Stars:

4th from the left (in yellow P.L.A.D by the way) is Rock Star Daniel Clarke

The long-hair with k.d. Lang

The short-hair with The Chrongress. He's much better looking in our band

After a few extensive meetings, The Congress decided that we would allow Mr. Clarke to tickle the keys for us -- only after tickling me until I cried + a warm, long embrace. Daniel joined us for our shows in Berkley (with Great American Taxi) and San Fran at a cool joint called The Boom Boom Room which was opened by blues legend, John Lee Hooker. Both shows were wildly successful for our first time in Berklacisco, culminating with a chance meeting with a gentleman named Dennis Cook who is an editor for jambase.com. Mr. Cook published a nice article about the band that you can see here.

Prior to bidding adieu to Berklacisco, we all gathered for a great breakfast of dungeness crab cake benedict and zucchini fries at a place called The Fat Lady in Oakland. Once again, Dwight reminded us why he shall never be trusted with sharp objects...

I think my favorite part of this is the green bush in front of the house

4 DAYS OFF IN TAHOE!!!


P.L.A.D. Camouflage

That's it for me. I'm tired of this post. We have a couple of days in Tahoe and a drive back home to discuss. Add a few almost-all night gambling binges and I'll have a one last post coming soon to wrap up our 2010 northwest tour. I'm motivated to get this done because we'll be heading back to the southeast in a little less than a month and I'll have all sorts of new picture words for my upcoming TV stories to share with the tens of people who read this blog.

Stay tuned as I'll be announcing our tour dates for October...

Pirkano paye yan