It's getting really hot here, it's a heatwave, and there's no crossbreeze and it never lets up and I've been sort of sick or something for ages now and it might be the heat. And it's humid too.
It feels like India.
I've been to India.
And I have no A/C.
My show on Tuesday was awesome, though I felt like I was sick and dying, it went really awesome cuz Lena's friend brought an awesome keyboard, and there was a big crowd, and it was taped, and a bunch of people were there I didn't expect...
1. Naima was being really weird I was stopping at her house to pick up my stuff and trying to explain to her why she was being weird, and wrap all these packages into one box...
2. Her house was atop these weird hills like a video game, I was driving around it.
3. Some reality show and it was about these three golddigger girls that just wanted to be rich and Naima was complaining to me she'd been having a hard time because one of them moved into the rich kid's apartment next to her and was having the whole thing expanded and there was construction all the time.
4. We were at a pool party and they thought I was going to be at my old friend from grade school's birthday instead.
5. We went to see a concert, and the band was this guy and girl who always dressed in like, Louis XIV style full royal court clothes....
P.S. This blog title is the original French title of one of my favorite movies, Betty Blue, which is also the name of the potential love interest of the ever captivating and heartthrobbed Tuesday Kid.
So, today is the fourth of July, and I was invited up to Mal-au-booboo, but I am not going... Cuz I really gotta go to work.
Vinnie called me again Friday night as I was on my way to my show and actually sounded kinda pissed, even though I'd left him a buncha messages last week saying I had this show, etc... and I really, really need to make some dough. I was gonna go last night but I woke up yesterday feeling a little sick, so I texted him and he said it was fine... But I gotta go tonight. If we're open that is, which I assume we are...
Also it's my friend Sunny's birthday. Sunny, as I said, is an angel, who came to my show Friday and also gave me a ticket to this play yesterday that was really awesome. So she's having a get together Im gonna go to for a couple hours before work... Sigh, work. I'm so overit right now.
Friday's show actually went awesome, N and C and Emmy and an old friend from an acting class I took, Christine, was there with her boyfriend, and Sunny and a guy I was gonna work on some music with and his boyfriend, and a friend E who came to my last show that I met at the club... there was an audience there too, but other than that, none of my "friends" who CONFIRMED they'd be there for the second time.
So I was just in a hideous mood. Just hideous.
When I saw how late it was running, and how many FRIENDZ didn't show up, I was just like, to the sound guy, just cancel it, you might as well shut down, and he was like, well Leo's coming to see you (the club guy/booker), and he never leaves his house.
But I went up, and they let me play a way longer set, and people were actually singing along to some of my covers, and I got a bunch of cards after... and Leo talked to me after, and said he wanted to talk to me about my music. I just assumed, he was hitting me, cuz that's the way of this goddamn world. But then I talked to him, and he wrote me this really eloquent straight-up e-mail in response saying Yeah I thought you were attractive, I'm not gonna lie, but when I heard you I was seriously impressed. I've started the careers of a lot of well known artists. You should ask around about me. I wouldn't do that because it would hurt my reputation musically, and my integrity, more importantly. But I respect you for throwing it out there... Sure I'd like to hang out and get to know you but music comes first.
And I did ask around about him. And it's good.
He wants to play a show together at a couple really popular here, like his band and mine (or me rather, band lackthereof), and he can get anyone to come... So... we'll see... He also told me I need a band, strings and drums (and he described the kind of drumming -"textures"- my word!) and I am totally stoked.
But we'll see.
Right now I'm in a shit mood cuz my throat still hurts and I have so much to do.
I have a show at a venue this Friday that can only be aptly described as "mad swank, yo."
Because it is. Mad swank. Yo.
But, ughhh, wrong crowd again? You know I think my music here in Lost Angels is like, USUALLY, falling on deaf ears. The old menz come to every performance and sit in the front and say things like, yeah, baby, and laugh at my little ironic musical nods to times gone by-- the only real IRONY I use musically, because god save the QUEEN is the scene just buttsore with irony these days, dizzie gillespie-glasses-wearin' hipsters, privileged and in $2000 worth of kit to look like they rolled out of the dumpster, had it so damn good they eschew even healthy REBELLION- the disdain of yesteryear, and appreciate everything, LIKE IT-- because they can play six degrees of masturbation by naming that white rapper on Def Juxx's sound engineer whose hi-hat hit influenced the chorus, and all kindsa other esoterica, et.al-- or just appreciate it IRONICALLY. Derisive sneermugged at all times.
Anyway. I dunno. I'm not totally NOT one of those people. I mean I'm not. But, not totally not. But I'm not into fey twee meaningless girlboy singers, whose every note is some kind of ironic homage. And. I dunno. The one comment I get most often (besides you sound like Regina Spektor, who, luckily, doesn't sound like Regina Spektor anymore, but I only get this comment anyway because I'm a girl, who plays a piano, and is kinda classically trained, and sings), is that my stuff sounds honest. It is honest. I don't do irony, it gives me the screamin' meemies to tell you the truth, I mean personally, I'm just not comfortable with it.
But. I love the West Coast music scene, way more, but, I dunno, I get booked at these CLUBS where the guy from S.Dak in the straw hat and Inspector Clousseau 'stache is nowhere to be found. I WANT that guy there... cuz like, I'm an Appalachian hayseed myself, let's be real, and at these places they have me play it's like, Hellay Posers who listen to-- I dunno what tf they listen to... but it's not the Pixies or Andrew Bird or Regina or even the Silversun Pickups and it's damn-sure not the Cranberries (which is my second most common comparison) and I see them there and I'm just like, Ugh. Ok. Lets just get through this So'D.
But for the love of Allah I am NICHT bringing my kangaroo dink keyboard again. Last time I heard it through the monitor it made my ears bleed. I'm gonna rent something. I'm gonna rent a f'n Korg. Yeah.
I really should NAE be blogging. I should close my eyes, like they were on their own an hour ago, and f#$*ing go to sleep for once. But. In brief. (My idea of brief.)
Slept about four hours. Had to call in a radio show in the morning ("morning") to yap about myself since they were playing my stuff.
Ran six miles, to the hooker store, to buy my new shoes (CHOICE) and some outfits for work.
Took the bus back. Had a show at a hipster club, thought I had to be there at quarter to eight, in fact had to be there a half hour before that, thought they had a piano, in fact I had to bring my KK, don't have a case... Had to leave the second I got home, unshowered (two days, after a six mile run) or dressed or made-up, unpracticed, unprepared to drag KK and its accoutrements ANYWHERE... I had, for some reason, kept the cardboard Yamaha box he came in, so I stuff him and his stand in there, and the sustain pedal and a/c cables, and dumped my new shoes and clothes in to my huge stripper sack, and lugged the lot of it downstairs toward my car. The thing is like a 2x4 and everything probably weighed 100 pounds together, and a dude stopped up near me and offered me a ride to my car, thank god, he was a keyboardist too... So I got to my car, sped like a maniac to the Strip, couldn't find a spot to save my life, ran in, the weight of the world under my arm and probably my eyes, and- BLOODY HELL. My adapter and pedal were no.where. NO.WHERE. BLOODYBLOODYBLOODYMARYHELL. I even drove back and looked between my front door and where the guy stopped, not there, I only pray it fell out of the cardboard contraption in his car... If not it means they were picked up off the ground within like a half an hour... which seems unlikely... and if anyone is like, This girl is STUPID, letting strange men pick her up, etc, well, yeah, it might sound that way but I've always been trusting in that regard and it's never (knock on wood) failed me. He wouldn'tve stolen the stuff, it's pretty much worthless, except to me, on a night of a show, when no one else had a piano. We hadn't exchanged numbers but I gave him my card and prayed he'd call or e-mail at some point while I sat there, having found them, and bring them by. But alas. But I ended up talking to this guitarist and taught him the chords to one, one and a half-ish songs, and he was awesome... And... I was kind of nervous about this place, or would have been if I weren't so harebrained, and it ended up being REEEEALLY unimpressive. All the shows I've played here have been... to tell the truth... I dunno... Haven't done that many.
Anyway. I drove right to work from there though Carlos (the guitar player) invited me to come play another club, but I need the damn money so I can buy another ac and sustain tomorrow (ugh) and after the clothes today, and I realized, I can come in at 11 if I want. Really. I won't, cuz that's a jerky move, but I truly could. And I actually was really in the mood to, with all my new gear. And it was so fun dancing and actually being able to dance now that my shoes aren't hanging on my feet by a millimeter of clear plastic, and totally treadworn threatening to flip me on my ass every step... And I made a ton of money. Stupid ton. I've made a ton every night I've gone in this month. I just haven't gone in that many... I think that's part of it...
And I probably drank 6 vodkas in 2 hour, and then went to the diner with a fancy namedropping dude who invited me, and ate like a pig, and my eyes started to close. Here I am. Going to sleep. NOW.
