(editors note: there is a lot of reading that follows. photos from the experiences are posted from previous entries after this long rant. so ifd you are more interested in the ‘evidence’, you may want to skip the details, if you enjoy reading, well, you might be on this page for awhile, so bring your hot or cold beverage over. this took five days to compose and post but provided rhythm for the book - thanks az)
The Calm After The Storm
With every end, there is a beginning.. and my most recent began on Aug first, and only ended one week ago this evening.
It was a cool decade ago about the time MK ULTRA was really gathering some steam and building serious hype that a friend began to introduce me as the Concierge to the International Sin Set. He lifted it from a title of a Thrill Kill Kult song that came out just after I had first met them and began to build my reputation as well, just that.
Though over the past 3 years I’ve backed away from that lifestyle for many reasons, the biggest would have to be with the decline of the great entertainment industry which flourished and we all bathed in the luxury of, followed by the death of MK as print and me working in the corporate world for nearly 4 years and that, with the sinking of the economy, also tanked. Thus here we are, somehow, managing to stay afloat in this big sinking ship of life and at times there are tidal waves of excitement and at others big gaps of peace and quiet. And right now I’m enjoying just that, what I call, the calm after the storm.
For me the storm ended on November 18th for a Joe Perry concert at Chicago’s House of Blues in the Foundation Room, a room in which I’ve spent many evenings since August within it’s comfy confines. Perry who hasn’t been on my radar since I first saw Aerosmith back in the early 80’s supporting their “Night In The Ruts” album, was playing with his new Joe Perry Project line up and my great friend and partner in crime Bob bought a ticket for me to go with he and his lady friend Denise as an early birthday present for ol AZ.
Bob who I affectionately more often than not refer to as Newbomb Turk as an homage to one of our collective favorite films, “The Hollywood Knights”, always makes any event we attend together a grand affair. No expenses spared and it’s been that way since we became friends in 1999 when he was my boss at HBO. This night was to be no different and way a fitting close to the stretch of events at HOB that began with he and I at Motorhead back on August 30th which just happened to be my return to the venue for the first time in well over a year or more.
I arrived at 545 exhausted and wearing the same clothes as I had been wearing since 630AM that morning, sans the boots. Why?, you might ask, and the reason was that I was called in for sent a summons for jury selection for that same day. Jury selection which meant I lose a day of work, which are now few and far between in exchange for the $17.50 Cook County shell’s out for my time. 7 hours of that day was divided between sitting in a courtroom, being questioned, hearing about a case, dismissed and returning to the waiting room, to wait in the event I might be called again, for another case.
For the record, I did not want to do this, and I made sure I wouldn’t be selected to serve beyond the date that I was called in for selection. Why would they wanted a biased and cynical reporter and writer such as myself to begin with anyway. So by 4 PM I was excused, took the subway home, changed my boots, unpacked my bag and went back down to the House of Blues. Bob was already there along with Denise who I had just met that evening and my friend Bando joined us in the restaurant for cocktails. The night was young and had just begun.
It was the time after that I had been looking forward to for weeks. Time to myself, where as bored as I might become would not involve event after event after event.Time I could watch movies and work whenever there was work available to me. Time that I could sleep, if possible and eat healthy again, and time I knew I would not have the temptation of entertaining the lifestyle of my concierge to the International Sin Set persona. Which meant no booze. I was long overdue for a break and my body was showing the wear and tear of sodium intake and other tell-tale signs of my not-so-good dietary habits. It was after seeing my photos from Halloween and how puffy I was looking that I decided I needed a severe departure at least extended break form all that contributes to that image. This would be that opportunity.
As I sit with clear mind and slate, and fall into writing mode for this epic chapter in the on-going “Diary of a Damned Man”, it is the eve of Thanksgiving, which for some reason which escapes me has recently been dubbed Black Wednesday. ( I swear people in this day and age are convinced they need to tag or label anything) I mean, after all, Black Friday has been known as Black Friday for the retail association, but Black Wednesday is just another reason for people that had the day cut short at work, to get hammered at the local watering hole. And this is good for a tavern or club but not for me at this particular juncture of my life. I have no plans for tomorrow at all, and not because of the reasons I had no plans a year ago, but because I did not accept the invites which I know I would have enjoyed but would also include foods I do not want to intake to my system at this time, as much as I love them, and I do not wish to consume alcohol. This is my personal decision.
Certainly a far cry from a year ago when I bought my lover a nice top, and was sharing drinks with her and old friends at an Ale Haus only to be ejected into the cold for reasons never made clear to me, to be sent home wearing no coat for the elements this night a year ago. Only to get a call and apology that she didn’t recall doing it, offered no excuse and in her words wondered where I was when she awoke. Fitting start to a Holiday Season for a guy with no place to go or a person to share those days with.
This year couldn’t be any different. And I compose this with clear and open mind, and calloused heart. It feels good. I have created a rough outline to follow the time line of the last month in reverse and re-cap this whole amazing yet exhausting stretch that began with Chris and Julies wedding on August 1st in Indianapolis.
Two nights before the Joe Perry show I was winding down from an insane 2 weeks that began Type O Negative on Oct 30th. Earlier that week my good friend Mark called me from Baton Rouge asking what my Halloween plans were. And I actually didn’t have any for once. I had options and I spent time and money refining my Zorro costume from the previous year but other than that nothing was solid. I mentioned I was seeing Type O Negative the night before Halloween, and he told me to hold on and booked a flight for me to Baton Rouge and back so I could see his band and spend some time with him and his new car, a 2 day old Mercedes Mb clk500 Cabriolet, silver with black leather interior. I happily accepted and began to plot my return to one of my favorite places and in fact the place that more or less started my year off earlier in 09. In fact it was the place where I began to lick my wounds for lack of a better phrase.
Most of the week was spent working and on Friday I wrapped up the work week and prepared for an early show which Johnny, Type O’s drummer put me on the guest list for. Johnny’s side project w/ longtime bandmate Kenny was opening the show, their band Seventh Void had not yet played Chicago and I was looking forward to the show very eagerly. In fact when I last saw the guys as Type O Negative, back in June 2008, I didn’t know if I’d ever see them live as a band again. Being they are my favorite band along w/ The Doors, this was going to be special.
This was to be the opening of the final scream from the mouth of madness of 2009.
The doors opened at 530 PM and Seventh Void were to go on an hour later. I signed in for my passes and took a seat in the VIP section. It was finally nice to see Seventh Void do their thing live. They did a set between 35-40 minutes and I went down to their merch table to chat with them and meet the two members that I had not before. Johnny and I chatted for awhile and then I returned to watch the next band and wait for Type O Negative. In between I chatted with old friends and made a few new. I had an extra ticket but nobody to give it to but later saw Morgan and she sat w/ me through Type O and left afterward. For myself the Red Bull and Vodka had taken effect and I was a little more than left of center when I went downstairs to hang with the bands in their dressing rooms. It was when I walked in that my mood went from happy Alex to disgusted Alex. I don’t care to go into detail about what I saw but I will sketch out for you. A local “groupie gal” (yes kids, they do still exist) was stripping down into a teddy complete with net stockings and garters heels and well, I think you get the picture. Normally this wouldn’t even provoke a spark of any sorts, except this particular person, well known within my circles, was “supposedly” engaged to a guy that I know who is a friend of two people I actually really give a damn about. Thus, I was caught off guard. In my altered state I listened to her weave a web of deceit that really turned me off. I tried my best but was unable to ignore it. My backstage visit this time, was under 30 minutes. And that was fine, I had sleep to take and a plan to catch in less than 10 hours.
On the cold and bleak Halloween morning of 2009 I was torn between calling a limo or catching a cab. I wasn’t hungover but still feeling the blood finding it’s way back into my alcohol system. I woke up 90 min prior to what my alarm had been set for. So I dressed and being my bags were packed and I was feeling hungry opted to take a cab to O’Hare earlier than I had planned. We had beat rush hour and check in was a breeze and in no time I was at Chili’s at the airport ordering from their very limited breakfast menu and sipping my morning margarita at 715 AM.
My flight DELTA 934 to Atlanta was scheduled to depart at 1012 AM and then I was to wait in Atlanta for 5 hours for my connecting flight. Till about 930 everything was fine but as I got comfortable at the gate the flight was delayed, over and over and over. The flight didn’t leave till 5 hours later and by the time I had arrived in Atlanta, I missed my connecting flight to baton Rouge by 5 minutes. I was not happy. The next fight to Baton Rouge wasn’t scheduled to depart for 4 more hours.
I arrived at my destination at a lil after 8 PM and was met by Paul and Kayla outside of the baggage terminal where they would take me to Marks home after spending 13 hours in airports. And I have no love for airports whatsoever, as a matter of fact my feelings for airports are the extreme opposite of affection. My mood upon arrival reflected just that.
Within 30 minutes I arrived at Marks gated compound, home of his home and ALAB Media Recording Studio which is where they would be performing. I carried my bags in through a fog machine fed pathway under a giant cloaked skull with glowing red eyes and the call of industrial music machine gun drum beats. People were already starting to get onto party mode, drinking and dressed in holiday attire. It was dark and I found my way to the back door where I was greeted by Mark, and he made me the first of several vodka infused cocktails as I changed into my Zorro costume.
I began to make new acquaintances and caught up with some past acquaintances. It seemed no matter who I came into contact with they all had one thing in common, they all seemed to be familiar with my work. And this was something I had learned a year prior in New Orleans, MK left a scar there the same way it has in the southwest and that makes me feel fulfilled with the satisfaction that I had indeed succeeded in doing my job, no matter how twisted the work may have been. I continued to mix and chat it up with Mark and his ever growing guest list of friends and fans as the hour grew nearer for a performance that I did not know would end up leaving such an impact on me. I’m not exactly sure abut this but I think that judging by the feeling swimming through my shell that the time elapsed after my entrance to the event the band Nadjia must have kicked off their performance around midnight. See review here: http://www.mkblog.mk-magazine.com/news_7-08/?p=1556
It was at some point in the hours before and after the show that I met a few ladies and took it upon myself, as usual, to pose for gonzo crazy photos and lift them for whatever reason I do. One particular individual was pretty 30 year old part time DJ who shares the same connection to Skinny Puppy as I do. her name is Jennifer and she came off as polite, well mannered and well spoken, attractive of course and a love of laughter. So it was around 3 AM that we went with Mark and another friend to eat an early breakfast at Louie’s Cafe 209 W State St in Baton Rouge. This was my first exposure to the place and though the food was good the place was packed with loud college people drunk and rowdy. Not exactly my scene as far as patrons but I enjoyed my grub and had fun laughing it up with the company in tow. And I do need to stress as all southern cuisine, it was tasty!
As well it was my first ride as a passenger in Too Darks new car. It was a fun time had by all even though he shut the window closed on my elbow. THAT FUCKING HURT!
We certainly had a better time than the group at the table behind us that got up and walked out after we all arrived at the diner together. But that’s a whole other drama that I won’t even touch base on out of respect for the Fearsome Foursome. It is fucking funny though. Humorous to me how an attractive woman can turn grown men into envious childish teenage girls.
The next thing I knew it was 10 AM and Mark asked me if I were ready. And I was in disbelief as he was actually up, showered and dressed before myself. So I felt more than obligated to follow his lead thus I showered and threw on my boots jacket and hat and was aboard his newly purchased Mercedes Mb clk500 Cabriolet, as he took the top down pulled onto the asphalt and cranked a cd by Jace Everett.
Jace Everett formerly signd to Epic Records, released his first single, “That’s The Kind of Love I’m In”, in June 2005. This song charted at #51 on the country charts, and was followed in early 2006 by the release of his self-titled debut album.Also in 2006, Josh Turner charted at Number One on the country charts with the song “Your Man”, which Everett co-wrote, and for which Everett received a Broadcast Music Incorporated award. The album’s other singles — “Bad Things,” “Nowhere in the Neighborhood” and “Everything I Want” — did not chart in the United States, although “Bad Things” reached #49 on the UK Singles Chart in November 2009. “Bad Things” is the theme song for the HBO TV series True Blood. It won a 2009 Broadcast Music Incorporated award in the cable television category and was nominated for a 2009 Scream Award for “Best Scream Song of the Year.” His most recent album, entitled Red Revelations, was released in June 2009.
Incidentally Marks band covered the song “Bad Things” in the previous evenings performance.
On our adventure which was just the two of us racing through the Louisiana backwash, which is pretty much Gator Country to us Yankee’s, the air was warm, the wind felt good and the Sunday afternoon was perfect. On one country road Mark pointed out the fence that lined the creekbed/roadside. he said don’t go near there. I asked if was to keep the gators off the road and he corrected me that it was to keep people like me, out. My friend knows me all too well as well as much as my affection for alligators which I find more beautiful than frightening.
During the journey our first stop was at Chimes West 3357 Highland Road Baton Rouge, LA where we started off w/ Bloody Mary’s followed blackened gator, cheese grits and crawfish omelets for breakfast. I think we must have sat there ea couple of hours and both us of single took in the lovely Cajun atmosphere. I ordered a gimlet from the waitress and she was quite surprised at my request. She claimed, I might be bringing the gimlet back to which I assured her, I had already begun to revive the trend back north in Chicago. With regret it was time to give up our table and mosey out. And we then drove downtown to the state Capitol took pix and went to the Shaw center but Tsunami was closed. We had a drink at Schlitz and Giggles where I lifted the pretty lil waitress which Mark now even more cautious than ever warned me not to because she wouldn’t. Well, sorry to prove you wrong my dear friend but she obliged, happily. And it’s not necessarily about the request as it is the manner in which you present the query, and the smile on your mug while you perform it. We followed the downtown adventure by cruising down Highland Road under the live oaks to Alligator Bayou.
Alligator Bayou, is a primitive wilderness of swamps, bayous and lakes, teems with alligators, birds, cultural history and the Cajun joie de vivre for which Louisiana is famous.
We then cruised bluff road and took Airline Highway back to Chimes East for a lunch and a cocktail.
On the way home we stopped at Wal Mart where in Louisiana they actually sell liquor and picked up supplies for dinner and drinkage. I sacked out a couple of hours later in one of Mark’s roomies bedroom floor and sometime around midnight was woken up not knowing where I was and wondered about without any pants on before I came awake and realized where I was and who was there. Mark and Alicia were in the living room and where joined by Jennifer and it was another long night of me babbling endlessly and certainly incoherently. If the people in the vicinity were amused at the least, that is all that matters.
I woke up in strange surroundings the next morning and laid out on the hammock for awhile in the sun wearing my shorts and a tank sipping the last of my supplies before having to leave that afternoon. When I woke up the last thing I remembered was Jennifer and her face would remain imbedded in my head for as long as it would take me to get home and get to sleep. Her image and voice in my minds eye I recalled how the two previous nights I was so intoxicated with her accent that I asked that she read a page from Craig Ferguson autobiography “American On Purpose”. It was two moments that made good fodder for many a joke after my flight out of Baton Rouge over the week that followed. Instinctively that mild infatuation faded after returning to the cold and gloomy city of my abode but it was nice at least for a minute. (made things fade as alcohol fades out of ones body)
My escape ended much too soon as before I knew it Mark was home for lunch to drive me to the airport and in my stagger made it into the terminal for another connecting flight home. And I really did not want to leave more than ever.
By 930 PM my flight landed at O’Hare and I searched for an hour for my luggage took a cab home. I was exhausted but too wound up to sleep, so I got online and chatted with some Baton Rouge peoples for a couple hours. I had to work the next morning.
And it was the next morning that I looked at my calendar realizing that my old friend Stephanie was coming in from San Francisco for a long stretch, she was in a movie that was premiering at a local festival and also slated to perform her burlesque act. She was to arrive the next afternoon and would be here till the following Sunday.
Oh, the adventure was far from over…………..but getting closer to the end.
It was a short week before my escape to Baton Rouge that I had a couple unforgettable nights w/ my good friend Bando. It was a Friday night and we had good intentions of taking the bus over to the west side to catch the Big Lebowski Burlesque, sort of a follow up to the night before when I first introduced him to the art form through the Vaudezilla (www.vaudezilla.com) group at Blue Bayou. I’m sure all regular visitors to this Diary have seen the photographic evidence posted weeks ago. I was hungry and craving BBQ so I called my friend who is also an experienced and well traveled chef, and woke him from his nap and suggested he come by now so we can grab bite to eat. I mentioned BBQ and one of my favorite joints that I hadn’t been to in a couple years, Horseshoe 4115 N Lincoln Ave Chicago, IL which just happens to be near my home. www.myspace.com/horseshoechicago I called ahead and asked if they still served BBQ and after being assured they do I waited for Bando and we took a cab over to the restaurant. After we ordered a couple tantalizing looking plates I had a drink and Bando opted not to drink as he was still feeling the previous night. This was not going to last long I knew.
Keeping in mind that my friend is a chef and being so they are a bit more discriminating when it comes to food. Well after all was said and done, let it be known that he claimed it was indeed some of the best BBQ he had ever tasted. And I felt relieved after hearing so resting assured that it wasn’t just myself and my personal tastes.
After dinner we took another cab over to the theatre and were an hour early so we decided to take a walk for a drink. That was when we discovered Angels and Mariachi’s, 1721 W Division Street, Chicago, IL (www.angelschicago.com) and we were both totally taken in by everything about this particular place. And we agreed that if either one of us ever opened such an establishment, we would design it to look exactly like this place. It’s that impressive folks. see my review here: http://www.mkblog.mk-magazine.com/news_7-08/?p=1531
After an hour we returned to the theatre and the line was out the door, and though we were on the list, seats were not reserved, and the crowd of disgusting hipster bike messenger hippie types all smelly badly and talking in their coffee shop/PBR slang made the thought of the show even more unappealing. And we returned to Angels for another flight of tequila. Or Two? I think it was two.
We felt satisfied and walked around the corner to visit my old hangout Club Foot another place I hadn’t been to in a couple years, and we had a drink there before taking a cab back to the north side and had a few at Holiday Club and then over to the country bar till last call. It was 2 AM and we were wound up and decided to hit an after-hours place north of where we were called Carol’s 4659 N Clark St, Chicago a local and very popular Honkey Tonk and a place where I’ve been taking friends for the last 3-4 years.
A comfortable sleaze mingles at Carol’s Pub. It’s a dive, for sure, but it doesn’t have a biker-fraternity prone-to-fighting atmosphere. It’s a honky tonk, but it’s also a simple drinking hole that’s not solely for fans of country music. Cowboys & derelicts alike live it up in this delightfully rank house of booze.
With $1 Busch bottles, it’s a poor drinker’s paradise with a lively and friendly clientele that ensures a good time. People have fun drinking here, which is a huge departure from most dives where misery and violence are the preeminent forces in the air. Carol’s is certainly not for everybody. Rush Street patrons couldn’t find a less agreeable place for their night out. An older crowd, many of whom are life drop-outs, is not likely to care too much about passing stangers, especially young rich ones. They do, however, share their happiness with anyone willing to adapt to the bar.
Carol’s is a bar for rowdy drinking and good country music. It’s not party to the new pop-country Grammy-oriented songs. The music you’ll hear at Carol’s is authentic, genuine country and honky tonk. As are the staff and crowd. And this is where we’d end the night and both of us were meeting ladies and in fact as I was off two stepping with a younger dark skinned lass, Bando was getting a hand job from an attractive blonde from Iowa under the bar. As a matter of fact, when I was finished dancing I walked up and interrupted the act in progress. No wonder this guy loves tagging along with me at night.
For whatever reason after last call at 4 AM Bando opted to take a cab downtown to his home as opposed to using the guest room at my place. It was actually a waste of money since the next day we were just going to go book shopping in the morning, and that we did and Bando was certainly showing the wear and tear for sure.
It was now Saturday afternoon and we made several rounds at bookstores before going to Cornelia’s a martini bar late the next afternoon where we would wait for our mutual friend Steve to show up. I had my first of two martini’s my first drinks of the night which would eventually turn out to be quite a ladies night for AZ. I hadn’t been to Cornelia’s sicne August on a hot summer afternoon that Mark and I spent at the beach during. And when I walked in they rememebred me and asked where my boyfriend was. Oh, it should be noted here that Cornelia’s is in Boystown, Chicago’s gay neighborhood. This was a fact that I hadn’t informed Steve of when I told him that is where he’d be meeting us. After I assured the gents at the bar that too Dark wasn’t my “partner” in that way, I had finished my martini’s and Steve had the grand idea that the 3 of us go to Hopeleaf, a local place known for their incredible collection of beer.
The Hopleaf Bar is located at 5148 N. Clark St Boasting the most Belgian beers on draft anywhere in the city, the bar offers everything from trappist ales to fruity lambics. Presentation is nearly as important as the beer itself; the amber-colored Kwak, for example, arrives in a round-bottomed glass set in a wooden holder. For more variety, sample Austrian/Swiss brew Samichlaus, “the world’s strongest beer” at 14 percent alcohol, or the Philosopher’s Stone, a black Saison from DuPage County’s Two Brothers brewery. Don’t even consider ordering a Miller Lite here—you might get a dirty look from the knowledgeable, if businesslike, staff if you do. Drafts are $5-$8, depending on glass size, and bottles (there’s a 13-page menu featuring brews from Belgium, North America and Europe) can run up to $20 for 750 milliliters. see www.hopleaf.com for further info
Bando had his first drink here and we had I think 3 rounds before heading back to my hood and checking into the country bar 3900 N Sheridan Rd Chicago, IL this dark country & western-style bar is a ball’s out mixed crowd, replete with third-shifters and Harley riders, with a bit of Uptown artist thrown in for “good location” purposes only.
Rather large and spacious, the hole-in-the-wall tends to get packed on Friday and Saturday nights, when country music fans come in droves to check out the live C & W bands that play here on a regular cycle (Remember: These are the only nights where the $1.50 draft special doesn’t apply).
The rest of the week, neighborhood locals file in for the cheap beer, loaded jukebox, lone pool table and brash, take-no-prisoners attitude by the elderly female barkeep (clearly, you must really impress this one before she cracks a smile; she could really give a hells-bell if you ever come back). Twinkling with X-mas lights and with a television blaring in the background, the diveyness of the place brings to mind a roadside hellhole on a back country road, deep in the back hills of Kentucky (some folks are really into this type of joint, for good reason, I’m sure).
This is when my evening took an interesting turn. it was now just Steve and I and Bando decided it would be in his best interest to head home at this point. Steve and I had just poured our first Millers Lite when in walked a group of lovely ladies,who certainly didn’t look like they fit into the norm. Blonde, blonde and blonde when the tiniest and by far most attractive of the pack shot me a look that I don’t recall in many many moons. I looked at Steve and asked if he caught that, he smiled, said yes, tipped his glass and as always commented, “only you Alex, only you, every time.” And it wasn’t even 5 minutes later that she was over at my table and in my face and dancing with me to the country music they and treated us to. And then played Coe’s “You Never Even Called Me By My Name” dedicating it to me to which I gladly sang along and to my new friend as we continued dancing cheek to cheek. We did some photos and as the hours passed I decided to take her to Holiday Club where it was a little more my scene and we excused her from her friends said goodbye to Steve and walked over together for last call.
What a night. What a weekend, and I surely did not have Baton Rouge on my calendar at this point but two days later I would. And we all know that part at this particular time.
And with Baton Rouge less than 24 hours behind me at this point I had one day to unpack, do laundry, get a few hours of work out of the way and relax. Tomorrow evening Stephanie would arrive. Her stay here would last till Sunday morning. My friend of over 20 years, yikes, was here for several reasons. First of all she was in a movie debuting at a film festival this weekend along w/ the Go Go’s guitarist Jane Wieldlin and Mink Stole, She is perhaps best known for her work in the films of close friend John Waters. Because of her work with Waters, she is considered one of the Dreamlanders, Waters’ ensemble of regular cast and crew members. Along with Mary Vivian Pearce, she is one of only two actors to appear in all of his films to date.
STUCK! is director Steve Baldersons homage to film noir women-in-prison films. Faithfully re-producing the genre with a modern, tongue-in-cheek twist, expect all the hallmarks of a classic prison movie complete with a wrongly accused heroine, hard boiled dames, diabolical alliances, forbidden love, cat-fighting cuties, a sadistic warden, and corrupt prison guards.
Stephanie would also be performing that Saturday night along with the Vaudezilla Troupe at Reggie’s on the south side. She is a San Fran based burlesque performer who is known as Lady Monster and her latest that involves setting her tassels on fire and spinning them.
But Stephanie is much more than that. She is a dear old friend that I met as a young 20 year old gal in a club when I was DJing in Columbus Ohio 21 years ago, and she was one of my fans as I was a young up and coming but still unknown music personality. And that was all about to change and Stephanie has been strangely part of that circle ever since. We quickly discovered that other than music we also enjoyed writers. It was her that turned me onto Henry Miller and Anais Nin. And I read to her from my many books, many volumes of poetry at a time that I wrote every single day. I taught her about the ongoing censorship problem in America at a time when the PMRC were still a household name and the names Susan Baker and Tipper Gore made anyone that worked in the music industry whether it be the artist or a clerk at a record store shiver and curse. And I spoke to her about Jello Biafra of the Dead Kennedy’s and his ongoing Frankenchrist Trial which dealt with censorship and suppression of the freedom of expression. (my personal motto at te time was, “A truly free society would nether fear nor suppress the freedom of speech”.) And it was in these times that I helped her craft her talents and writing into what would later become her career as a spoken word performance artist and writer of women’s erotica. And I am proud of that. And if it were not for Stephanie I may not have gotten into Peter Murphy, Bauhaus and become as obsessed with Love and Rockets as I was in those days.
Over the years no matter how far away as far as miles as our lives and careers would take us, we always swam in the same circles. She later became involved with Jello, and would be responsible for my introduction to Michelle L’amour which took me down the road to my fascination with Burlesque. Stephanie had a CD released and one of the songs had a lyric used in the revolting Cocks song Revolting Cock Au Lait which thus far has appeared on two RevCo CD’s and she also perform live with the band. Oh indeed she was also within the Ministry circles with her old friend AZ.
Stephanie met Jello in person through me at the Vic Theatre in 1999, and a few years later he came to pick her up at my old apartment which was a thrill just having him browse my music and literary collection. That year on my birthday she have overnighted to me a photo of Jello and I that she had blown up and she signed. Year later at his home in SF I saw a pic of he and I on his fridge. yes, my only visit to San Fran so far some years back and thanks to Stephanie I was actually able to enjoy some of it. Oh was that fun.
Since then she has been a very near and dear friend. We shared good times and bad time and ups and downs together even it had to be over the phone or email. And we’ve had many many laughs together. Much of which nobody but the two of us would ever understand. We’ve seen each others careers grow from central Ohio to having a worldwide presence, each in our own right. Not many people from our part of the world can lay claim to that.
When my friend arrived I dragged her heavy suitcase up my 3 flights of stairs and within minutes we were off to the liquor store. I did not have any in the house being I wasn’t sure if she still drank. We had a few and then went to the Mexican place El Palmar for a late dinner and margaritas. This lead us to Holiday Club and eventually the country bar.
Intoxicated again.
The next day we had a whole day, of course 3734 N Southport Ave after I made breakfast we watched and laughed along w/ Gran Torino. I think I’ve watched this movie now more than Bad Santa. Alter that night I treated her to a burlesque show at Blue Bayou to witness the Vaudezilla girls do their thing. We arrived early so she could enjoy some food and Bando later joined us. She got to meet Annie and all of the other ladies and I got some great photos. Of course we ended back at Holiday Club for a series of nightcaps.
Friday morning Steph had to be somewhere and I was geared up for a dinner with Jane Wiedlin and Mink Stole. I was more than geared up, I was stoked, excited and who wouldn’t be. Jane Wiedlin is adorable. But as I worked through the day I began to feel not very good. There was to be dinner, the movie premier, and a party afterwards. But the following Monday was Skinny Puppy and last year when Ogre came through Chicago, I was too ill to attend and felt terrible about it ever since. And I wasn’t going to let that happen this time around.
An hour before dinner I reluctantly had to cancel. And I knew what I was missing was a once in a lifetime opportunity. But my relationship w/ SP go back almost as far as my friendship with Stephanie and this took precedence.
Stephanie returned late that night to tell me the tales of all that I missed. I went back to sleep worrying more about my falling under the weather resulting from exhaustion. But I had Skinny Puppy that Monday, Devo the following Friday and 9 days after my last show of the year, so I thought, Joe Perry, and I couldn’t risk being less than 100% AZ.
The Saturday night that followed which was a cold one, Stephanie as Lady Monster got to perform with the ladies from Vaudzilla, and they took very good care of her, she was paid that night and was even taken back to my place. I woke up, we chatted and the next morning I bid her farewell. I am truly honored to have her as a friend and a trusting one at that for so many years and I couldn’t be more proud of her continuing body of achievements. She is appearing in AVN Magazine I believe either in December or January. ironically another circle as myself and my work has also been in their publications.
Stepahine departed my home that morning, and Dale arrived later that day. But in between, I had a birthday party to attend.
My very good and very beautiful friend Marcia’s lil girl Zoe just turned two. You may know Marcia as Sinderella Pussie, the platinum sex pot from Thrill Kill Kult. At this point you as a reader are well aware that her and I go back years, more like a decade and a half at this point. It is more than a business friendship within the walls of the music industry, it is a true friendship more like a sibling relationship and we know one another in and out and there is much trust there between us.
Last year I was ill and I miss Zoë’s party as well as other events we’ve already touched on previously. There was no way I was missing it this time. Besides, I knew there would be good food, good booze and beautiful women, you know how they prefer to run in packs. So I got myself ready and as I was preparing to walk out Marcia called to insure I would be there, and I affirmed indeed I would. I took 3 busses to her neighborhood only stopping to pick up a gift or the birthday girl and walked in the door to a house that was already filling up with friends. Many I’ve met and many more I hadn’t and it was very nice mixing and playing with the kids in the room. I had previously made plans for Dale to stop by and pick me up there and come I and meet everyone so it all worked out well.
We took a lot of pictures and I had a really good time, as I really enjoy all of Marcia’s friends. The ladies, Marcia, Erin and Katie made me care packages of food to take home. Geez I felt like I was leaving Grandma’s house all over again. It was a very sweet and appreciated gesture. As we all said goodbye I was a bit saddened as I miss Marcia so much but that comes with motherhood. Also comes with not hanging out in bars everynight. Dale was overjoyed when he walked in and saw the food. The words out of his mouth were, “This is good.” I laughed, Dale is a great guy, really nice, but doesn’t drink at all, he never has, but the man loves to eat.
Dale could not resist stopping at Popeye’s on the way home and together we wiped out an entire buckets of spicy chicken late at night. Needless to say, I had no problem sleeping that night.
Monday morning of the Skinny Puppy concert Dale and I started out with breakfast at El Palmar, which is where every visit from a friend begins. We enjoyed our food and the surroundings of course. If nobody has caught on by now the daylight wait staff at El Palmar are all very beautiful Latina Ladies with incredible accents so it’s always been a joy to be taken care of by them. And the food is just incredible. Atfterwartds we took a walk and went to a few places, a bakery and some other stores. Dale stopped at a Head Shop to haggle the shop owner over some items he wanted to purchase.
hag·gle (hgl)
v. hag·gled, hag·gling, hag·gles
v.intr.
1. To bargain, as over the price of something; dicker: “He preferred to be overcharged than to haggle” (W. Somerset Maugham).
2. To argue in an attempt to come to terms.
It’s funny when Dales does this as he’s quite tall and broad. To me it looks as if he’s harassing them as opposed to bargaining. We stopped at the country bar for a minute where I had a beer and then on the way back Dale wanted to try a couple appetizers at the Thai place on the corner so we popped in there for a quick bite and then walked back to get ourselves ready for the Skinny Puppy show. Steve and Bohn were supposed to meet us early but they got caught up in traffic and didn’t arrive at Casa Diablo till right as Dale and I were ready to head to the Red Line, But they made it and we all took the train downtown to the House of Blues. Dale had everyone in our group laughing all the way with some of his tales of hilarity about growing up and living in Iowa and some of the rabble rousing he was notorious for. Any place with Dale is usually quite an adventure. Steve and Bohn just shook their heads in disbelief. As we walked out and rode the escalator up to street level Dales tales continued and continued to offend people within ear range. If you were with us it was amusing, if not then certainly appalling. We all had some time to kill in the downstairs restaurant before our passes came available and the Foundation Room would open so we met up w/ Bando and had a nice time chatting and sharing a few pre show cocktails. Mike and his friend Erica also joined us and I was struck by how much she reminded me of Sasha Grey. Mike didn’t see it but after a few others commented he realized it must be true. And the crowd coming was a virtual who’s who of the Chicago music industry, and I don’t mean scene, this is two separate things. After I secure our tickets, photo pass and aftershow passes I escorted my posse up to the cozy confines of the Foundation Room. Once inside I touched base with so many old friends and business associates I had not seen in one place since Dave Jean’s wedding last June. And it was nice. very much so.
Jamie Duffy who I’ve known for what seems like forever was the stage manager that night and gave me 16 opera box passes for the best box in the house and I escorted my group in about 10 min before the band took stage. In the box next to us was everyone and anyone for the Chicago industry that I hadn’t seen thus far. It was a very nice night. Dale took his place down in the pit to shoot the show and we were off into Puppy Land!
As I key in this entry, Sunday afternoon, 444 PM on Nov 29 my friends from Baton Rouge our on their way to the Skinny Puppy show at the House of Blues in New Orleans. I got Mark 2 tickets and 2 backstage passes and I did the same for Jennifer who I mentioned earlier that I met in Baton Rouge last Halloween. She is such a fan, she also has their logo tattooed on her body. I contacted Ogres girlfriend Ashley earlier this morning w/ some photos from the Chicago show and she replied that she really enjoyed them. I’ve just had a nice lunch w/ Morgan, came home put up the Xmas Tree in the guest room and am working with an associate on getting the damned viXXXens.com site back up online. We’re having password issues and cannot seem to access the server to get the site up. It’s actually very frustrating. In the meantime I am hoping to finish this whole long update and am on standby for the peeps in NOLA in the event they have any problems getting into the show or to the backstage area.
In Chicago11/9/09 the night of the show we had the most excellent view and the place was packed, sold out and the crowd erupted in a roar when the lights dimmed and the theatrics began.
Despite little mainstream airplay, several Skinny Puppy releases have charted in North America and Europe, and their influence on industrial and electronic music is considerable. Widely considered originators of a unique sound and live performance style, Skinny Puppy are also known as pioneers of industrial rock and electro-industrial, genres in which they may be seen to have spawned “a litter of like-minded bands”. They are noted for theatrical and controversial live performances that blended performance art with music, especially in an ambitious period that spanned their Head Trauma (1988), VIVIsectVI (1988), Too Dark Park (1990), and Last Rights (1992) tours.
Live performances involved periods of musical improvisation, film projections, and elaborate stage props and machines. On-stage theatrics included Ogre being suspended from racks and cables, play with a hangman’s noose, Key cutting steel with an angle grinder, and mock executions of Ogre and George H.W. Bush. Currently the band is touring with no record label support as they were also on SPV who went under as a label earlier this year (same label as Motorhead and Type O Negative, both who sold out their Chicago shows without label support) so their show is a little more scaled back. But it still packed the impact and punch of Ogre’s performance art, and the lighting. Props were very limited.
Never once cutting back on the theatrics, Ogre knows how to reel in the crowd until the last goodnight. Complete with splatters of fake blood and Ogre portraying himself as a sort of crippled-undead-pope, the show was as much of a display of Skinny Puppy’s innate ability to cohesively layer sheets of sound atop one another as it was a live action horror show. It’s quite mind-blowing that their show is still this visually elaborate as they’re funding everything themselves on this tour. Tearing through their old-school setlist, SP performed fan-favorites such as ‘Morpheus Laughing,’ ‘Deadlines,’ ‘Rodent,’ and closed out their encore with ‘Far Too Frail’. This was the kind of show Chicago needed – bombastic in all the right places, yet subtly horrific at all the right times and rounded out with a heavy dose of enough distorted basslines and gut-shaking beats to massage our ear drums with. This show (just like every time I’ve seen them) was the summation of a band of seasoned veterans at their peak.
Set list Chicago 11/9/2009 Love In Vein
Hatekill
Addiction
Dogshit
Deadlines
Politikil
Pedafly
Tormentor
Pro-Test
Rodent
Morpheus Laughing
Ugli
Assimilate Encore:
Worlock
Brap
Far Too Frail About 20 minutes after the band left the stage I walked back to the dressing room and introduced myself to Jill the tour manager. I asked her to please come get me when the guys were ready. Ogre needs to shower the goo and faux blood off of himself and get into street clothes. As I walked back the the capacity filled Foundation Room I sent Ogre a text that I was indeed there. Last year as I’ve mentioned I was too ill and our mutual friend Jolene Siana author of “Go Ask Ogre” had flown into town and I couldn’t say hi to either. I continued to mix with my friends and take pictures when Jill came in and grabbed me about 1/2 hour later. I walked back, said hello to Cevin and went to Ogres room where he was finishing an interview. For about the next hour it was just the two of us catching up and cutting up. It was a really nice time and I think we touched on almost everything. I called Jennifer in Baton Rouge and put her on the phone with Ogre and I could practically feel her excitement al the way up here 815 miles away. They chatted for about 5 min and he offered her backstage and I said I’d follow up on it, which as we’ve establish I have. I texted Dale it was okay to join us and he took some pictures and then we all went back to the Foundation Room till last call. Of all the pix of Ogre and I only one came out good enough to use. He looked great, I did not. In between the shows end and the space within being backstage I spent some fun quality time with Tina Castillo, a girl I can’t say I’ve had as much fun with till the RevCo show and after that show and after this Puppy show. She is a hot lil latina ball of fire. Fun and just beautiful and sadly after that weekend she would be moving to NYC. We really did it up and though we’re still in touch it’s not going to be the same. I need more people like her in my life, I really do.
The feeling on the way home was just great. Ogre made me feel really good, but he’s that kind of guy. And it’s hard to believe that this month was the 19 years since I first saw the band live, which was on assignment. An assignment which opened to doors to a world of music to a young and eager and impressionable writer who was seeking anything other than what was being spoon-fed to the masses. They were also the first band to get me really fucked up backstage. But those were different days and the band isn’t into that anymore. But they obviously left a scar on me. Over the years I’ve been involved as a writer in form of interviewer etc on all of their projects ever since and their various solo projects as well.
I also met Ogres girlfriend and assistant Ashley who was very ice and we traded contact information. Hopefully next time we’ll all do dinner. I wonder where that may be?
When we all four got home we collected our thought and had our final laugh. Steve and Bohn drove home to Lockport and Dale stayed up editing photos. I went to bed and slept quite well.
The following day would be another adventure.
As usual when Dale is here, he is a man eager to go out and shop. It’s not Cedar Rapids so he takes advantage of the time he is here and I’ve not ever seen anyone do it w/ the sheer gusto as this man. This time he was a man on a mission and he wanted a PS3 whatever the hell that is, so we went up to Devon which is Chicago’s Indian neighborhood. Indians as in “dot” not “feather”. He wanted to try and make a good deal or “haggle” for more electronics. I was there to witness it last time and for me it wasn’t fun. Dale lets these guys have it BIG TIME.
Devon Avenue was originally known as Church Road, but it was renamed in the 1850s by English immigrants from Devonshire . Since then, the street has been settled by many other immigrant groups, which is perhaps most evident between Kedzie and Ridge Avenues in West Ridge, Chicago. Here, one traveling eastward will encounter, in succession, an Orthodox Jewish neighborhood, a Russian American neighborhood, an Indian American neighborhood, a Pakistani American neighborhood, and a Bangladeshi American neighborhood. Portions of Devon in this area have been renamed in honor of Golda Meir, Mahatma Gandhi, Muhammad Ali Jinnah, and Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.
Once again we went to eat at Viceroy of India and it will be the last time. My first introduction to Indian cuisine was here around 2001 but now I’ve had better and the service at this place no longer justifies us going through it. The place was empty when we arrived and it’s not exactly a small place,. After we were seated a group of four very loud talking women sat at the booth behind us, and the discussion was sickening. The look on our faces when the one woman said to another, “I haven’t cheated on him, yet.” just cannot be described, but our faces exuded the sheer disgust we felt for these loud mouth bimbos. And they were yuppie Trixie types whose husbands I’m sure were at work supporting their shopping spree.
After the verbal abuse we had to listen to during our nice no longer peaceful lunch and the lackluster service, (we were ready to pay and the waiter offered coffee, Dale accepted and after 10 minutes he was to busy talking that he forgot) we were out on the street and Dale was going store to store haggling and not finding his PS3. I found a market where I could buy the spiciest hot pepper powder I could find as well as some ground cinnamon as Dale picked up sweets and the we took a drive which finally landed us back home. I was wiped out. And we just took it easy, ate some dinner later and I called it an early night.
The next morning Dale was on the road and I was downtown meeting with my work associates regarding projects. It was nice to be downtown and go home and work. And I had 1.5 days of alone time till DEVO that Friday the 13th and Chris and Julie Curry would be coming to town.
The end of the storm was coming, but I was not quite there yet.
All day Thursday and up till 230 PM on Friday I had spent working on a new project I had been assigned. In retrospect I wish I would have stretched it out as I’m only contracted per hour and not per contract. The work ran thin as the next week would begin. However, the timing could not have been more perfect. As I sent out the final spreadsheet of the week, Chris called and they had parked out on the street. My good friends were here. I walked Chris and Julie up and checked them into the guest room which very likely could have been still warm. They had picked up a kitchen mat for me that had chili peppers on it that matched my kitchen towels. I guess I’ll have to get curtains next. As soon as we all hugged we walked over to El Palmar and I had cerviche and split a margarita pitcher w/ CC.
Chris is a very dear friend of mine and has had 2 books published, A Taste of Blood: The Films of Herschell Gordon Lewis ( Creation Cinema Publishers) and Film Alchemy: The Independent Cinema of Ted V. Mikels (McFarland & Company) and last August 1st he married his long time love Julie at what I recall as the best wedding ever.
For years and I had wanted to see DEVO live together, and though I’ve seen the over 1/2 dozen times since my first DEVO show back in 1982, CC had not seen them yet. So this was to be a monumental occasion.
It seemed like the time to take the train up to the venue had arrived but we opted for a cab as it would have ended up costing the same w/ the increase in CTA fares. We got passed the loud, rude and obnoxious security at the door and went upstairs and got excellent seats in the center of the balcony. from there it seemed like we waited for fucking ever. There was a bad video show with a DEVO staffer dressed as a nerdy game show host in a skit that went about 20 minutes too long, and with that behind us, it was still another 1/2 hour till the 3 videos from the “Freedom of Choice” album would pay and then DEVO came on finally, to screams and a standing ovation at the Vic. In true DEVO form they performed the entire “Freedom of Choice” recording followed by 2 encored, “Be Stiff” and “Beautiful World.” And that was it. Show over in under 60 minutes, but it was well worth it.
On the way home we dropped into the country bar and it was impossible to finish one pitcher of beer between the 3 of us. I know, I was just in hopes of running into “her’ again. We were all tired and went back to the flat and made a couple drinks watched Cheap Trick live on DVD and CC assed out. Game over.
Saturday morning/afternoon was fun. I opened the house it was to be 70 that day and it was already warm. I made a pot of coffee I showered and we were off on a walk to N Clark St in search of a place to eat, much to our dismay, too early it seemed. NOTHING opened till 11 AM that would be worth eating from. And we walked and walked and walked and found pubs open but no restaurants. We went to Clarks and couldn’t even get coffee so we went around the block after having coffees at Duncan Donuts and arrived at Leona’s which would have been perfect, but they didn’t open till 1130. this however turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because as we were ready to say fuck it and eat at El Palmar again, we discovered Risqué 3419 N Clark St www.risquechicago.com where not only was the food good but the service was over the top and decor, well can you say, “Alex!”?
Risque is an American smokehouse in the former Improv Kitchen address in Wrigleyville. Chow down on tender, smoked meats such as pulled pork, chicken and brisket, or baby back ribs, turkey legs and duck wings. Side items such as creamed spinach, baked beans, mac and cheese, and jalapeno-cheddar corn bread round out a hearty meal. The robust beer offers 12 American craft brews on tap, plus nearly 300 in bottles and cans.
So what’s so risque about the place? For one, the arty B-movies (like Russ Meyer’s “Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill!”) from Peckat’s personal collection that are screened on 42-inch plasmas when the Cubs aren’t in action. And the walls are graced by 6-foot paintings of modern (read: tattooed) pin-up girl photos. Belly up to the bar for your ‘cue, or park it at one of the stainless steel-clad high-top tables.
I had the brisket and Chris and Julie shared a burger. We must have spent 2.5 hours there and CC had the barkeep play John Waters “Pink Flamingos” which he laughed all the way through. One nice token of appreciation fro our waitress was a free round of drinks since we had been waiting on our food, which we didn’t mind at all. cc and I like to chat and they also had pinball for the loving couple.
On the way home I picked dup the new Playboy which had a Sasha Grey Lolita tribute written by Roger Ebert and then we all just sat and chatted while listening to music. The hour came much too soon for my friends to leave and they did. I was bummed. But they promised to buy me a ticket to come to Indy for Xmas and they have. It’ll be nice to spend the holiday with my friends as opposed to a bottle for good times and bad cable for company. Or is it vice versa.
Now I had one more to go and that was Joe Perry the following Wednesday after Jury Duty and with that my dear reader I can say, I’ve wrapped this bit. WOW was it a long one.
And this is done, and I’m still waiting to get the correct log in info for the server so Hang (new web aide) can get the ultraviXXXens site back up. Everything else is ready we are just missing info. I had hoped to announce it was up tonight, but make take about 24-48 hours. I’m stoked!
In closing I’d like to point out that I know there will be some typo’s and corrections I’ll need to make on this. But overall I think you all get the gist. I’m currently not drinking, haven’t since that last show and have enjoyed peace and quiet as I curse cable for having no movies for me to watch and I’m on a very strict diet that I won’t deviate from till at least the 11th in New Glarus, then after that, dieting till Xmas. And this is going to begin a new trend as far as my dietray habits and alcohol in take. I have a book to deliver and the deadline is 12/31/2010. Yes, I’m finally done and moving onto other adventures. But will still be here enough to keep things interesting.
2010 will be a year of many changes, in additude and latitude. - alex zander 11/30/2009 8:07 PM CST
