How much more of this can we take? How much more is there to take?

Well, I gave it a week for the 50 amazing moments thingy - mildly well received, though I really like that 2 of the comments referred to paintings. That’s nice. I should’ve added almost anything by Jasper Johns to my initial list.

Anyway, am feeling somewhat restless of late. Also, the anxiety of waiting for interview responses is starting to drive me a bit mental. In the last month, almost a dozen have gone out, but to date with no replies. Now, I know I can’t be upset or anything, but still I’m so anxious for responses. Of the eleven out, three are to people who had agreed to do them. We shall see, we shall see.

Couple of strange things this week. First, this fine blog was linked to from a porn site. I admit I’m saucy, but……actually the creepy thing is that whatever droid picked up the link did so because of the story I wrote about my brother. So I was linked on a blog about ‘brothers kissing sisters’, which disturbed me.

Also, in the last two days, people have found this site by searching on, ‘people fucking’, ‘living the dirtbag life’, and ‘time to fuck’. Do I really swear that much? Ugggh.

I had intended to write a story tonight, but do believe that will have to wait until tomorrow. Unless I do one late late late after a few beers. Though, I should say that, like most everthing, I rarely write better when drunk. While drinking, ok, I’ll buy that, but not while drunk.

Ok, that’s all for now. Oh, except I had another interactive idea. What are the songs that you’ve ‘given’ to another person, and which you cannot take back no matter how hard you try. I’ll kick t off. I once put ‘America’ by Simon & Garfunkel on a mix tape for my lady friend in high school. We’d listen to it over and over again. I cannot hear that song without thinking of her. Fondly, it’s true, but examples of songs you can’t listen to out of love, anger, fear, hatred, whatever are perfectly welcome.

Because I Said So.

I had an idea today, while riding the mall shuttle. Well, actually it came to me while listening to ‘Holland 1945′ by Neutral Milk Hotel for the 792nd time in the last 100 hours.

There’s something about this song. It just grabs and rips at me. And it got me thinking, as things often do, that if just once in my life I created something as beautiful and, well, GOOD as that, I could die happy.

So, I got to thinking about making a list of ‘things that are so great I wish I had done them and could die happy’.

I’m opening it up to all of you. I’ve thrown in Holland 1945. What have you got?

I hope this never ends.

Driving with my brother is not easy. First of all, he’s blind in one eye. So there’s that. He’s also terribly easy to distract, usually on accident. He speeds and he tailgates. He likes to smoke pot when he drives because, ‘it mellows him out’.

He’s thirty-seven, an age I will be in five short years, a scary prospect on many levels.

He’s had a million cars, at least in my mind. And all of them are slight variations on what we as children called ‘Madison County Cruisers’. Big heaping rusted pieces of shit that are as comfortable tearing through a bog as they are passing a semi.

When we were young, we’d drive the ‘74 rusted out Toyota truck out to his friend Brian’s place. Brian was a sad-sack in the true sense of the word. Raised in the Bronx, when the Bronx was still scary as shit, Brian moved with his mom and sister upstate when he was twenty. During their first year, his mom and sister were hit by a drunk driver on Christmas Eve and killed.

Brian responded appropriately, drinking Old Milwaukee by the case and re-enrolling in high schoo, which he had failed to complete in the city.

My brother, part of that clique in high school who were true weirdo-outsiders, fell in with Brian, and most nights could be found at his house.

I was in the eight grade, and started driving my brother to Brian’s so he wouldn’t drive home drunk. While I consider my mom a good mother, I’m not quite sure how this was okayed.

Amazingly, Brian taught me the joy of punk rock via the Ramones and the Dead Kennedys, and the importance of politics, via the 1988 presidential election. One night, sitting quietly in the corner I occupied while attending the festivities at  Brian’s, I realized everyone except for me and him had gone to the pond for a swim.

Kicking holes in the wall while watching a Dukakis/Bush debate, he screamed, ‘Danny! You’ve GOT to pay attention to politics or they will FUCK you!’.  I paid attention.

Brian’s house was like none other. An old farmhouse on a dirt road, it was like a crash pad from Repo Man. Spray painting the walls was encouraged, as was swilling warm beer and pissing in the lawn. Posters adorned all the walls, which were pockmarked with holes from boots and fists. Everyone was so angry, and nobody knew at what, which only made them angrier.

At one point, while working drunkenly on a ladder thirty feet up, Brian fell and destroyed his face. Looking in the mirror and realizing his nose was not in the center of his face, he punched himself to correct the problem. His plastic surgeon guessed this move saved him close to $20,000.

His father was suing him for the house, after having run out on the family years earlier, so at least Brian had a lot to be bitter about. Eventually, mom figured out what was happening, and took Brian in not unlike an alley cat with chunks missing from his ears.

She cooked him food, and talked to him. She respected him, something my mom does with everyone she meets, a surprisingly disarming tactic that I have learned well from her.

After a period of I’m not sure how long, Brian sold the house and moved back to the Bronx. Everyone felt like he was going to be ok, though I’m not sure what they based this theory on.

I received a call from Brian when he landed at the Port Authority.

‘Danny? Is that you?’

‘Hey Brian. What’s up? How are you?’

‘I’m good. I’m good. Look, Danny, I’ve got to tell you something. It’s very important. Are you listening?’

‘Yes’

‘If you’re EVER riding in the back of the greyhound, and a woman offers to give you head, DO IT. Even if she doesn’t have any teeth.’

‘Ok, I’ll remember that. Thanks.’

‘Sure. Gotta go.’

That was the last time I spoke with Brian. Rumor has it he runs an electrician business in the Bronx, is married and has some kids. Who knows?

I no longer fear driving with my brother. While he is certainly the driver who has no issue crossing a mountain range in a blizzard, or doing sixty in the middle of a city. He never even bothers to keep his one good eye on the road.

But when you’re driving with him and the sound of Journey or Springsteen is blaring out the cracked muffler, and you’re handing him a bowl, holding the wheel while he lights it, a sense of coziness wraps around you keeping you warm as the air blows up through the floorboards.

I am not that guy. I don’t drive without insurance or license. I’ve never driven guns across state lines, and I get my Volvo serviced regularly. But, as the plane lands at JFK or LaGuardia, and I know he may or may not be there to pick me up (on my last trip home, he showed up four hours late with a bunch of Guyanans, in their car)  I find myself grinning ear to ear, ecstatic about where the fuck we’ll possibly end up.

And then that’s it.

I’ve got much much going on today, but wanted to let y’all know I made it into the San Diego Union Tribune today.

The personal side of me is stoked. The professional side wants to know what the fuck anyone’s doing besides writing about mountaintop removal mining.

The personal side is also embarrassed I just described myself as ’stoked’.

For the nineteenth time, yes!

I found a site recently that has revived my rather healthy addiction to television. In the last couple weeks, I’ve watch every episode of ‘The Office’, the entire first season of ‘30 Rock’, and am catching up on 10 missed years of the Simpsons.

Oh, and they’ve got the first three episodes of ‘Northern Exposure’ to boot.

Dangerous territory, it’s true. And, I foresee a day when I’m up until 4am trying to watch the series finale of M*A*S*H that I was deemed ‘too young to stay up for’ in 1982.

And therein lies  my concern. Television, that great energy and time suck, is once again in my life. And yes, it scares me.

That being said, I’ve been successful in getting out three sets of interviews every week for the last three weeks. Not much, but given that it took me five years to get five interviews done, it’s a massive step forward me.

We’re just getting to the time where we may be getting some responses back, so I am checking mail in a tremendously obsessive compulsive way.  Sorry Wes.

This week, I’m still deciding who to write to - I’m leaning towards Owen from CFTPA, Alan Arkin, and Dean Wareham. Let me know what you think though. Who else should I be interviewing? There have been calls for Dan Savage, so he’s on the list, but who else?

Speak, inter-web, and  let me know your thoughts, dreams, and aspirations.

It’s worth it. So terribly worth it.

It’s time. Oh, fuck, it’s so beyond time.

Yah, it’s behind time for a new comic. I’ll do my best, I promise. Last night I had these crazy dreams. One of them involved me getting locked inside of a department store after closing. I think it was supposed to turn into a zombie dream, but didn’t.

Later, after I escaped the department store, with the help of an umbrella (not sure how), I wa scaling a wall with my brother. At first, the wall was about six feet high, but as I got higher, so did the wall, and the bottom move inward, so eventually, I was hanging on to the top of the cliff by my fingertips, and there was nothing beneath me. The top of the cliff was covered in the slush that invades Boston every December, and I kept slipping. I remember being terrified of falling, because at this point the wall was 30 or more feet high.

My brother, who had successfully climbed was yelling at me that I could do it, that I could swing my leg up and over, but he refused to help me.

Somehow, I made it up. And into a giant beyond life-size game of risk. But, instead of winning continents, you had to win bands. So you could win Built to Spill, or The Who, or whatever. And there was a giant statue of Animal from The Muppets. Crazy tall, on a riser, and on slightly smaller risers to the left and right were Scooter and Kermit. It was pretty fucking fantastic.

And then Will woke me up to ask if there was a fire in the house, and I was sad to leave this crazy ass world and go to one where I just communicate with people via the information super highway.

Oh well. If I have a mid-life crisis at 32, does that mean I have to die at 64? Honestly I can’t imagine living much beyond that. How much life can one person take? Sheesh.

And this won’t be the last time, either.

Busy little while. Had the pleasure of seeing Rilo Kiley a couple days ago, and shot this lovely video:

Then, last night, had the great fortune to hear Garrison Keillor speak. I met him, and asked about him doing a hand-written interview. He seemed into the idea, and gave me his email address, irony notwithstanding.

I took some video of that event, which should go up this weekend.

Then, to my surprise, I got a comment from Joe Matt asking, ‘how on earth I got Crumb to do a drawing of me’, and demanding I tell the story.

I’ve been meaning to also write the history of Dirtbag, so the next couple posts are likely to be innerworkings on the world of Dirt.

From 1996 until 2004, I worked as a paid political canvasser. Eight whole years of my life! Yes indeedy. I worked primarily on environmental campaigns, some ballot initiative stuff, some gay-rights stuff, etc. etc. All in the do-gooder camp.

By 2004, I was working as the regional director for the state of California, overseeing seven or eight offices, dozens of canvassers, and running the citizen outreach for a handful of different campaigns or issues.

Eight years of door-knocking, fundraising, training, management, and just overall living the campaigns seven days a week felt good, but also felt like a good point to move on - of course, I ended up working harder than ever on the 2004 presidential election, but that’s another story.

My girlfriend at the time was very into underground comix, and knew of my fanboyness for Crumb. By this point, I had already done the interview with Crumb, and maybe a couple others, and she was really into the project.

So, she wrote Crumb, and told him about the campaigns I had worked on, and that I was a good guy, and she wanted to give me a ‘thanks for your good work present’ and would he do a drawing of me.

And he did.

Now, I want to clarify a wicked important request. Don’t do this. Robert Crumb was extremely generous in both doing the interview with me, and in agreeing to draw the picture. The last thing I would want is to have him getting inundated with dozens or hundreds of requests from people wanting a Crumb portrait. I’ve actually hesitated telling this story, because of that very fear. Not to mention, he thought my gf was cute as hell. And that I did good work. We’ll never know which swayed him more.

On to other news - last week’s interviews went out (today, sadly) and I’m getting ready for this week’s. Planning on

Garrison Keillor
Michael Chabon
Dave Eggers

Though, after having watched every episode of The Office this week, I’m dying to do an interview with Jenna Fischer, who plays Pam. And, evidently is going to the Emmies this weekend. And might win! Good luck Jenna!

We will find a way, even if it kills us

Two quick notes. Some may have noticed that the ‘contest’ is changing. Frankly, I’ve gotten tired of posting song lyrics as the titles to each post. I will come up with something new soon though. I promise I will.

Also, finished writing out the questions for Ian MacKaye, Mirah, and Leia Bell today.  Two weeks in a row of completing three interview packets a week.

Ok, off to finish dinner and watch Zodiac. Hell yah.

I believe it’s, yes it is, starting to happen.

Just threw up an interview with the excellent writer Dan Fante. I also put up a bunch of hand-written setlists, which I think will be a cool feature.

The interview is courtesy of Mr. Luke Janes. Excellent work Luke. Gonna write up some more questions today.

xoxo