Photos and podcast

I’ve been taking a crap ton of film lately. Have I mentioned that? I think I have. But I think I have enough decent shots to start making it a regular occurrence here on the site. I have to figure out how to properly present them here though. Figure out what kind of Gallery options there are to incorporate, what’s user friendly and aesthetically pleasing enough. So that’ll be a thing.

I’ve solicited my first podcast guests, have not picked a day, but I finally pulled trigger and threw myself in the pool when i group that had disbanded a few months back, have re-banded. Primarily as one member had left across the country, but has returned. I reached out as I figured they were only in the area for a brief amount of time, but it turns out they’ll be here longer. So I reached out and they seem to be up for it. I mentioned it was on the D.L. and I want a few interviews in the can before I announce it. So I’m doing that.

The only thing really stopping me now truly is nothing, but I do want a few more housecleaning items finished before hand, some literally. 1. My room, cleaned and perhaps rearranged to accommodate more than 2 people at a time. 2. I need 4 properly working headphones. i thought I was on track for having an extra pair. But it turns out it’s input is faulty, The right side cuts out. UNACCEPTABLE. I need 3 pairs of cheap studio cans. Easily done I imagine, I just need to spend the money and get them shipped. 3. I need to do a test run with my 2 mics. I only have 2 condensers, but have a few other dynamic mics that could be used for backups. I’m considering that as an option for bands with more than 1 representative talking or when more than one person shows up. OR, do I simply use 1 mic to share? OR, do I invest in 2 more mic setups?

3. I need more chairs. Shit, I just though about this. More than a few chairs at once will be crowded with my current setup. But I enjoy my current setup. This will be difficult. I have two semi comfy rolling chairs, and a fold up chair. Hmm. They are however a 3 piece, so I could just snag a 3rd somewhere. Good thinking Pat!

4. Did I mention a test run? I’m running it through my AW16G to start, which is ancient 2002 technology, will surely shit the bed soon, but my only viable option right now. So there’s that, but exciting nonetheless. Through that onto it’s ancient HDD, and doubled up live to a Tascam DR-40’s SD card, which is also on its last legs.

After a few interviews that do not go to hell, I’ll start putting them out. Simple as that, the theory and thoughts and planning that I’ve been working on these past 2 years will finally come to some kind of fruition, whatever that may be. But I shouldn’t dwell on the first few times being perfect. They’ll be a shit show and I’ll never start if I dwell to much on the fine details. I’ll work out the kinks eventually. it’s all about starting. My primary focus is quality of content, and longevity. We live in the age of podcasts. Everyone is making a fucking podcast now. 2019 is the year it jumped the shark and was the point of saturation. If I had only 2 years ago I wouldn’t feel like such a follower. So many people I know in the last few months have created and started stupid fucking useless podcasts. But they won’t last. I need to focus on lasting.

The only way I will is by backlogging, planning interviews, planning content, having backup plans. Putting myself out there and out of my comfort zone to reach out to people I don’t particularly know and just get them on. Starting is a great fear of mine with most projects that primarily require advertising in some capacity, but continuing and not failing week after week is a bigger one. I have a lot in mind in terms of filler content, things to fill with for segments and intros/outros. How long and how the show will flow. But it scares the living hell out of me more if I were to start, and do 4, and just fade. The regularity needs to be there, the consistency. Which is why I’m so hell bent on backlogging a few prior to release, rather than putting out the first one right away.

Trip

Ireland was amazing, beautiful, gorgeous. What can I say?

Well, to everyone else, apparently much more. People wish to vicariously live through me. They need to leach off your experience. I don’t care to have the typical monotonous conversation about my “vacation.”

“What was your favorite part?” How many times will I be asked this exact question. I desperately wanted to say, “not being here.” or “Honestly, I was so overwhelmed, even before I left I said that just living in castles and being in a new place will be so amazing that it wouldn’t matter if I stayed in my room all day, I’d be content.” But that’s not acceptable. That’s not adequate for their standards. You need to provide THEM more for THEIR sake. people get aggravated and annoyed when I say, “It was good, great. Beautiful, gorgeous actually. Thanks for asking.” Which is what I do. Also, they get pissed that I didn’t bring anything back. They want you to play the game. Fuck the game. Go live your life. Go. Be gone. Don’t leach off me fuckers. Let me HAVE my vacation. I would like to feel refreshed and renewed and rejuvenated when I return. Not rehash the whole experience every 20 minutes someone new comes up to me for 2 weeks straight, asking about my trip for the sole purpose of setting themselves up to revel in their own hopes and yearning wishes to also, go to (insert anywhere) someday. As if they couldn’t just take the time and go NOW. I’m in this to live man, not to be here as if I’m passionate about sitting here in this lifeless environment and stare at spreadsheets all day. For those that are, good, great. I am not.

And don’t for one second act as if you couldn’t take 5 days of 8 hours each (really 6 or less here) off like the whole building would crumble to dust if you weren’t here, at your desk every waking hour. You, are not that important, or special. This place will live on, or crumble on it’s own volition. The work will continue with our without you. The department will continue to fail or succeed as it has been, and life as we know it will continue. You, are not god.

Day 1....?

Day 1, or is it two? I’m not quite sure. I’ve now been up for 24 hours, 48? 6:30 am Friday, it’s now 12:30 the next day. However there’s a 4 hour time difference. Our day began finishing packing and running to the airport. We ate and had quite a good time as we arrived very early by bus, and drank our faces off before boarding. The flight went well, I cannot complain other than my ears being in immense pain and discomfort. Our flight lasted roughly 5.5 hours. I watched a film about Freddie Mercury and attempted sleep to Classic Irish Melodies performed solo on piano. It almost worked.

This is when things get a bit tense. At this point it was my bed time, or beyond now. When we arrived it was 5 a.m. Dublin time, 1 a.m. Manchester, NH time. I was, am. Hell, very much still am extremely exhausted. The only reason I’m writing is because I can’t even focus to read, let alone drive a damn car, which is exactly what I had to do all over Dublin following our arrival. After appropriated bathroom breaks and gathering our checked baggage, we sat in the dredged Enterprise line just like in the U.S. Just like in Salem, just like in Manchester, just like in Methuen, just like in Boston, and just like West Warwick Rhode Island where I worked for a solid month.

But this go around was not just any rental experience, this was an international one. I’m on the right side of the car! And if you’ve forgotten, absolutely tapped. Oh, the cherry on top is she’s the driver on the rental, but I’m driving. An insurance field day. Driving

But to now, where we arrive at a castle. A damn enormous, majestic honking thing in the middle of absolute nowhere. We were not able to check-in as we arrived much too early. WHich is fine, we’re now sitting in a common area not eating or drinking much but water and ice cubes and I am fine with that, because I’m so exhausted. But now to my griping.

Here we sit, nearly 3 thousand miles from home, in this regal, majestic, magnificent ancient, beautiful castle, and I’m surrounded by yobos in jeans, oversized overcoats, Carona, a wedding party and it’s guests that has pounced on the scene like lunchtime was announced free and “Rumors” playing over the overhead speakers giving me the epiphany that it was actually mixed and produced for the exact, singular purpose of playing here, at this remote complex in the most unlikely location, in the most distasteful way.

We decide to grab our respective books and read in the many common rooms surrounding the entrance to the castle. It’s a small restaurant and bar. When we arrive about noon, it was quiet but one kind and knowledgeable receptionist, and a few couples scattered in alcoves, nooks and crannies scattered throughout. We shacked up near a window with two cozy chairs and a table and got our books out. It was quickly evident I would not be able to read I am now so tired. I can’t focus on the words on the page more so than I already have trouble with. All I wish to do is close my eyes. So I try, and decide to bust this thing out and write, because at least stream of consciousness will work out no matter how crap or good it may be.

But then, they showed up, others. OTHER vacationers. They spoke english with that lazy American accent that’s all too common where I come from. Perhaps it’s not lazy, I don’t know. But the GAL of these people. To travel such a distance to Ireland, THEN, to simply get here, you must take your life into your own hands to drive or be driven here, each of which holds it’s own horrors. All to show up and treat it as a Holiday Inn outside of Randolph Vermont where you’re visiting some Maple tap museum. Jeans, loose-fitting loafers, demanding this or that as if it’s simply lost on them the enormity of the location they’re in. It’s so. damn. ugly. There should be a dress code for these things. Hell, there should be a dress code depending on the city you’re flying into, and most definitely if you’re on an international flight. Look nice, you are privileged. This is not the country club. Act the part, respect this place. Respect this country. Respect yourself. Put on a button up for once in your life you dumb twit.

Next, the wedding. Oh yes. As I sit here writing, not only have the old-hag retirement checkers showed up, but a whole damn wedding party and guest list has shown in the last hour. A large yellow work van sits just outside the window as guys on scaffolding cut and drill and hammer and nail and screw and buzz the shit out of something out there, (I had to walk around a 5 gallon bucket of paint on the way to the bathroom, THE MAIN BATHROOM) and at the same time, the groom and groomsmen took photos out there doing the whole to-do, and now our quiet reading space for the foreseeable next 3 hours, (3pm is earliest check in apparently, but we’ve been upgraded as well so I’ve been told) has turned into a hustle and bustle of wedding guests and groomsmen and bridesmaids and groom and (no bride yet to be seen) photographers and videographers and assistants of the photographers and videographers and second shooters and the DJ and the DJ’s assistant (full disclosure; I have not seen a DJ, nor have I seen their assistant or perhaps none all together and/or a band) and waiters and waitresses and people coming out from “New Jersey” and down the coast and coordinators and more buzzing and sawing and hammering outside and I’m as serious as a heart attack that someone in the wedding party has a Carona in his hand while he has full access to some of the greatest beer known to man on a tap less than 10 feet away that I can actually see right now with my very eyes and their very poor eyesight and dirty lenses.

Now a man sits a window table down from me with a cane, or is it a walker? Staring at me as I look up, clearly peering at me with disdain and filth wondering if I should even be here because I’ve got a laptop out and however respectable one looks reading, or two people reading, no one will ever look respectable on a laptop, anywhere, especially sitting next to someone who happens to be more beautiful than you, much more, and they are reading. Perhaps I am projecting my insecurities of the situation I am in on to this man. BUT I do have reason and context. I have been in the wedding business a long time and I know that although you or your sister or someone else decides to get married in a very public place? Be it a gazebo in a park or beach or waterfront or castle ruin-turned-dog park or whatever, the city or state or town can not shut that location down to the public while you get married. But as I’ve stated, I’ve been around long enough to know that no matter what the location, the wedding party, and ironically, more so the guests of the wedding, act like they deserve to have the venue all to themselves and if anyone were to encroach it’d be as if the heavens and hells both opened up at the same time after eons and eternities begging the powers that be to open the portal just ONCE, just ONCE to let them have at it. Just once let me take a swing and I swear I’ll tear the whole lot down. As if a horde of cats whose bowl hasn’t been filled in over a day finally hear that cat food bag shaking. Like that.

Since the beginning of my writing, the room attendance has tripled in size. I hold my post, rock and roll baby. This is it. Or as rock and roll as I tell my little pee-brained head I can be without actually causing any scenes or troubles. Although I’m debating on telling anyone who may ask (and I pray to the heavens they do) that the couple has hired me to “write about the wedding” as it wouldn’t be out of the question these days. I once attended a wedding where the couple hired someone to pain the reception. Yes, paint. He hasn’t even finished by the time it was done. Although, I know they take time. But what he left that night with, I could’ve done and I don’t paint a lick. What??? A Painter. Not of the couple, but just the room and “atmosphere” of the party. Good grief.

My point is this: I have no point I do believe. But I am tired. I know most of this bitterness and ill-will is attributed to my exhaustion, but all I would like is a shower, to lie down, and for the life of me would like to relax and finally be able to grasp one minute and bask in the glory that I am in Ireland in a massively gorgeous castle with the love of my life. Instead I still seek to escape, and I cannot so very far and remotely away, I beg to escape. Escape New England, Escape New Hampshire, Escape Manchester, Escape work, Escape my troubles and annoyances, Escape my life and world as I know it and immerse myself in a totally different one. Instead, I was greeted with Fleetwood Mac, Americans, and a god, damn, wedding. Go figure.

On the bright side,

we’ve been upgraded.

Land of Ire

That’s what I keep calling it. It hasn’t hit me yet, but that’s alright. We leave Friday afternoon. I still don’t even know how we’re getting back from the airport. That’s alright. We have to be back in NH and eventually VT for a gig that night. Is it odd I’m excited more about the travel in general more than being where I’ll be? Being at the airport, in cars, having a place to be. Yes of course, the sights. I’m not sure why I’m not excited yet.

Perhaps it’s because I can’t fathom going on a lavish vacation where I’ll be living briefly in castles turned tourist hotels. It might be raining along a lot of the trip. It’s still going to be fun. We’ll be drinking most likely the whole time, I hope so. So I might keep it light until then. It’ll start on the plane I assume. I have to get my shit together for this thing. She’s paying for everything so what is wrong with me? More focused on getting my everyday together than any kind of trip I guess.

Needless to say, my only bucket lists are as follows: 1. Buy rolls and rolls and rolls of film to shoot. 2. See the Phil Lynott statue in Dublin among any other historically musical sites. Boom. Anything else is going to be so amazing to me, I would be enjoying myself in a castle bedroom for 6 nights and be content. So it’s all gravy.

Or in this case, Guiness.

my ears

Do you really need to be walking around the office with earbuds in? Is that really fucking necessary? IS IT?!? Are you that uppity you need to be constantly entertained on your 24 second walk to the printer? Is your life that mundane?

Get off your non-existent high horse you pretentious shits.

the hustle

I scored a side hustle. Well, it was my old old side hustle, before the last one. It started as one, became my primary, then went back to a side-hustle. I’m editing again, with the guy I used to do weddings with.

In preparation, I bought a giant monitor, a new mouse and a handle. It’s taken me 2 nights to get my desktop back in working order, go figure. But it’s working. This place is shaping back up and becoming my fortress. My sanctuary as it was always intended to be. Soon she’ll be mad I’m here all the time instead of there.

I’m doing alright though. Except my fat slot roommate. It’s no judgement: She’s enormous, and a slob, just facts. She doesn’t clean up after herself, she believes she’s a cook. No one told her because she can follow a recipe and add a pound of garlic powder that she’s no chef. She’s creeping into my cabinet space… with Crisco. I’m dead serious. There is no room in the freezer because she’s filled it with meat and trash. On the freezer door, there’s two boxes of butter. That’s 8 sticks of butter. Did I mention there’s more in the fridge? There’s 2 dozen eggs, and god knows what else she won’t use. She keeps a mini-fridge in her room. Yet, the refrigerator is empty. Chill out, I’m not going to eat your fat-fuck heart attack food. Jesus Christ.

Well, on the bright side, I can climb out my window to the porch. There’s a brewery across the street and I can feasibly walk to a a packy and a few convenient stores. The grocery and liquor store are less than a mile away, so is work. my room is covered in my shit and the walls are covered in colors by me and the shelves are filled with shit by me or for me. My bed has two broken slats, but works. I keep a handle in here and mixers in the fridge. (all that space)

Life is okay.

Book 3

I’ve had this idea swimming in my head now for a few months and it’s been doing so long enough that I think I’m going to take a swing at it. I’ve started the outline today. I’m excited as it’s more detailed and comprehensive than the last 2. As time passes I’m under no illusions the first two were anything but starters, to see if I could, practice runs.

This one has a through-line, intense story, climax etc. It’s much more unique and expansive in scope and style than the other two. Really the other one. As, “Excuse Me, Forgive Me, Fuck You” Was the only other true story driven book. The formatting of both books are also trash. I have to work on those too. Tighten them up perhaps if only in formatting. The line spacing is too big. As well as the margins all around. But the current formats of both books are better than their original proofs. I’m glad no one’s discovered them yet. I have to pet-project them again to fix them to a respectable display. But at the moment I’m done with them.

I advertised little as my separate worlds are a bit too close together. I’d rather not have my work colleagues know my deepest darkest thoughts nor do I wish for anyone to be offended by them, or the story in “Excuse Me…” It’s not intended to offend, it’s simply what came out at the time. I was reading a lot of Bukowski at the time. In hindsight it’s a regurgitation of a Bukowski story and a poor one at that. I’m actually proud of it aside from the outrageous event I put the character in about halfway through. I cringe at it. It’s silly. It reaches a bit too far. I think I cringe because it was simply a series of serialized relationship instances, some based in truth. But perhaps I cringe because it was my first recent public foray back into my imagination, and that is what came of it. But who really knows. It’s silly.

This new one is going to be eons above anything I’ve done to date. Perhaps my first real true attempt at a true novel. It’s got a complex story line. In comparison, if you dare to, it’s just going to be much better. I don’t know what else to say. And I’m certainly not going to explain any of the story here. Except that it’s going to be better. It just will. I don’t have a name for it either.

My point is, this is what I’ll be working on for the next year or so, perhaps among a few other projects I’ve been wanting to for a while now.

Until next time.

V D!!!

No, not VD, Vitamin D.

I went to see a Doctor for the first time in nearly 10 years last month. I had blood work done and figured good! I hope it comes back with all kinds of bad. Not what most people would wish for, but in my case, I’ve felt like crap for years now, let’s get this figured out. But instead my cholesterol was a bit a high, and my Vitamin D was insanely low.

For perspective, Anything above a 30/100 is good. Most people my age are 25/100 give or take. I was a 9. So I got prescribed some insane calcium and D2 for the next 3 months. We’ll see what happens. Here’s hoping!

Drinking again

I never stopped, but my drinking tendencies have increased in amount and tendency. I think the reasons to drink have increased in my life, the wheel of existence. Things have been better in some ways, but I feel less fulfilled then ever. The imminent doom aspect has wavered and the existential dread and depression has crept in. I have time to assess my life now that I don’t have to worry about when I’m eating next. Drinking exacerbates and amplifies that line of thinking.

I don’t even want to be here wallowing in it, bitching about it. It pains me to even know I’m being a whiny about it. I don’t even know what to do next, how, where, what. Does this even make sense? A year ago it was chivalrous to get drunk and write. Lately nothing has come of it that I feel is of any worth or longevity. I feel it’s just bitchy. I’m not fighting any direct and simple battle or enemy anymore, it’s a longer journey and it’s a total war I don’t see any tactic or end in sight to see it out on top. It makes it difficult to really do anything creative and feel as though I’m not diluting the airwaves and avenues with trash. The feeling that you’re just putting more crap out and filling people’s eyes and ears and minds with yet another thing. Putting out music in a world where anyone can put out a shitty song. A world where anyone can take a picture, paint a picture or write a piece of music and call it art. We live in a time where anyone can write a fire-starter of a book and mass produce it. These content mills are ruining the world. But on the flip side, I’ve been able to create by it. My point is that I’m starting to realize I’m one of them. How can I not begin to accept I’m simply part of the trash? Part of the problem? Part of the over-saturation? I am part of it. I’m not doing anything new. Everything I’m capable of has been done. Perhaps that’s fatalistic.

Perhaps I’m drunk.

Astrocat

Hi there,

I’ll get right to it. I’m going to start a podcast. I believe the one phrase said most over the last 4 years has been “I’m going to start a podcast.” I think if I started a year ago when I wanted to, I’d feel better about it. Now I feel everyone is doing it. So there’s that. However I know most drop off. Kind of like how gyms get crowded in January, dead in February. Saturation is very much a concern. Second, and connecting to that is what. I need to carve out a niche. How will I make it interesting to listen to? Where is there a gap in content? What isn’t being thrown out there? Well, I only have one idea, and it’s truly not unique unfortunately, it’s simply more accessible.

What I want to do is create an avenue in which local artists and key players within that world to get their stories and purpose down on audio. First and foremost to get their stories on record, second to use the podcast to advertise whatever it is, for others to learn and/or enjoy. I’d have conversations loosely directed (to nurture a natural conversation) with a few points and questions to cover, but for the most part just let it take the conversation wherever it may lead. This format of course, may change but for now, that’s the base of the foundation. To pepper some other things in, I’d have segments I’ll try out. I’ve got a few ideas in mind, but we’ll see where it all leads. At it’s core, I want to record key figure’s history, interesting stories, and the work they’re doing to further the local music community, which in my opinion does not have much of a proper avenue for getting their work in the history books. Does that make sense? I’m sure it does.

It’s going to be called the Astrocat Podcast, and I’ve already ordered a headphone amp to accommodate.

Film

I’ve started shooting film more. No not video, I mean photos, 35mm

Why? Well, a few things. One is that I rid myself of my coveted DSLR. I think I’ve documented that incident a few years back. So there’s that fact. Another reason being I’ve lost patience for the digital image right now, or more the lack of personality and the lack of care. You can shoot 100 images in 30 seconds of the same thing and never pick the best. It loses all intrigue. But with film, you need to really pay attention to capture that image. Or even better, think and snap quickly to capture it. Film looks beautiful, it is beautiful. There are different TYPES of film. Plenty. Oddly enough, it’s coming back around, and new films are being developed and old defunct films are being resurrected, imagine that. Ektachrome which died in 2012, was brought back last year to much excitement and fanfare. I’ve yet to get my hands on a roll.

Cupcake

Is a cupcake good for you if it’s Gluten Free?

NO.