For one showing only...

On Saturday April 29th at 1pm...
Inside the 24th Street Theater in Los Angeles...

A stage, 4 players, some puppets, a 7 piece orchestra...
And an audience full of children watching a horrific tale of love and death.

Come feel the magic of "Orpheus Crawling"

An opera for man and puppet by Juli Crockett

Composed by Jeremy Zuckerman

Featuring Shaughn Buchholz, Christine Berry, Lisa Dee, and Christopher Goodson

Scenic Design by Melissa Ficociello
Puppets and Costumes by I-Ching

Orchestra: Jeremy Zuckerman, Brett Lyda, Juli Crockett - Electric Guitars, Mike Ibarra - Concert Bass, Jeff Jones - Electric Bass, Mike Starr - Drums, Paloma Uldrova - Violin

The show is just $5. Limited seating, so please RSVP.

The 24th Street Theater is located at:
1117 West 24th Street
Los Angeles, CA 90007
213 745 6516

See you on the other side.

- Juli

I am the lagging blogger. Lisa and Brettsy have both updated their blogs, and I, alas, have not. I've been busy. I'm in rehearsal every night. The play is coming together, the Evangenitals are about to throw down the best show yet, the new EP is taking shape, I'm memorizing poetry for the Dead Poet's Slam on Sunday night, and Evangina is going to step into the warm glow for a night of girl-music post-Slam. It's going to be one hell of a weekend.

My boyfriend and I broke up on Friday night. That's okay. Don't be sad. It's for the best. The situation shows every indication of being utterly civil, and actually kind of wonderful. We're staying friends. Hell, we're still living together, at least for a while. We have our child (read: dog) to think of. Actually, I think there's a good chance we may even "date". The bottom line is, I'm a busy girl, and I'm in love with my life (read: artistic pursuits) and I want to be AVAILABLE to it. In other words, I'm not a very good girlfriend right now. So be it. I am, however, a very good friend.

I may be out of line making such bold statements, but I truly feel the Genitals are approaching the proverbial tippinig point. I feel so much love coming from people... the buzz is intense. Our rehearsal are getting SERIOUS... not in the solemn, moody sense, but in the sense that we are pushing ourselves. Moving beyond the comfortable into new terrain. We are expanding and growing. We've got a new drummer, Salad is back on board and shining with that proud papa glow. It feels good.

It is my great hope that folks turn out in droves for the Highland Grounds gig. I think it's going to be a historical moment. Some very important demarcation of something. A line drawn in the sand, which announces, from this point forward.... or, simply, WE ARE HERE.

After this, everything is different. We've never been here before, and I'll be a whole different person tomorrow. Nice knowing you! I'll meet you again. Ever-changing. Ever-rebirthing. Ever-wonderous. Something like that.

Ahhh... LIFE!

Full to bursting. Ain't it grand?

My horoscope keeps telling me to make time for my sweetheart, yet I cannot! LIFE! FULL TO BURSTING!

When I am awoken in the middle of the night, I am one of the angriest people on earth. It is surprising even to myself. First response, RAGE! My dentist tells me that I grind my teeth. I wake up sore from tensed muscles. Aching shoulders pulled up into my ears, fists clenched, and the first sound I hear is that SCRAPE of my teeth separating, on a sideward slide. This is my restful state.

What is going on in that unconscious time? Why so tense and angry? My dreams do not seem to provide too much insight into the underlying causes of my absolute irritability. My answers lay elsewhere, these days.

I haven't been meditating. That is a great cause of tension and buzzing static brain syndrom. There is nothing worse that the impotent buzzing of a brain on the fuzz. Alright, that's an overstatement. That Holocaust was worse than me having unproductive brain activity. I retract my previous statement.

Ahh.... the Holocaust! That eternal trump card! #1 on the most ungrateful bitches gratitude list. This is not that. I am not there. All is relatively well.

I will shut my mouth and thank God for the life I have. Two sharp floggings with the horse-hair whip, walk a mile on my knees, and all is forgiven. Amen.

I haven't been writing.

Lack of writing leads to physical pain in my body.

My throat gets dry and scratchy with unexpressed speeches. My upper back gets sore, non-utterances building up in my chest cavity. My stomach aches, my skin breaks out, I get irritable, I'm tired all the time, I gain weight. It's a fucking nightmare.

And why am I not writing? Because I'm tired, I'm busy, my throat hurts, my skin is breaking out, I have a stomach ache, wha wha wha. Catch-22.

My boyfriend asked me yesterday if it is possible to become stupider. I said, "Yes, and it is happening to MEEEEEEEE!"

Before my boyfriend "happened" I didn't have cable television, I read more books, I spent more time with my band, I went hiking and did pilates.

Before my stint in the sex industry turned into a "real job" I used to wander in and out on my own freakish schedule.

It's easy to blame anything other than myself for my shortcomings. What I'm not doing. Wow, it feels weird to whine. Kinda good, and seriously pathetic. I dig it.

Why am I not writing? Well, I work full time, I'm in this band, I'm directing this play that I wrote (back when I used to write) and I have this dog and this boyfriend and I just moved into an apartment and I'm having this viewing party for the Sierra Club tonight and I'm a Jack of All Trades and a Master of None and I need new tires for my car and I've still got another load of shit to bring over from the old house to the new apartment and I haven't unloaded my trunk from the last haul and it has been a week of lugging a trunk full of stuff around. I bet that's wasting gas. Did I mention I'm behind on homework? Got to get ready to go back to Switzerland this summer and study with Jean Baudrillard, that nostalgic old poot. God bless his cold, hard stare.

I wanted to quit my job the sex toy company the other day, so I could stay home and read and write all day. Not realistic. I've got bills! After all, money doesn't grow on trees.

I am unwilling. Unwilling to "cut down" and "focus"... I just can't do it. ADHD? Not at all. The Void! Lack! Desire's drive to explode into infinity! More! More!

I miss this. I miss the sound of my mind translated into clicks and clacks and words in front of my eyes. I miss the fearlessness and lack of editing.

I miss you. All of you.

Welcome back, Crockett.

Call for Musicians:

Juli Crockett (libretto/direction) and Jeremy Zuckerman (composer) are seeking a group of talented, committed musicians for a workshop production of a new experimental opera “Orpheus Crawling” which will be showing at the 24th Street Theater on April 29th.

Open seats: violin 1, violin 2, viola, cello, harp, drums, keyboards. If you are passionate about being involved and play an instrument other than the aforementioned, please feel free to contact us and let us know about you and your instrument.

Ideal Skills: should be familiar with traditional and extended playing techniques. must be able to read standard notation. Performers must be open-minded and willing to commit to 2-3 rehearsals a week for the month of April.

This will not be a traditional ensemble -- think Sigur Ros, Sonic Youth, Beth Gibbons, Mort Subotnick, Trevor Wishart, Gorecki, Pink Floyd, Ween and Brian Eno. (If you can think all of those at the same time, you’re probably the right player for us!)

If interested, please email your resume and an introduction to Jeremy Zuckerman (jz@sonicartist.com) or Juli Crockett (juli@evangenitals.com). We will provide you with more information and set up an audition.

About Us:

Jeremy Zuckerman – Bio

Jeremy grew up in the rural New York town of Slate Hill, where his musical leanings surfaced early. Like many kids, his first instrument was piano--he began taking lessons at age 5. Guitar and cello followed, and in his early teens, rock guitar (with the long hair and metal t-shirts to match) became his main focus.

After high school, Jeremy packed his guitars (including one hand-made by a friend and affectionately referred to as "Zarf"), and left for the Berklee College of Music in Boston. At Berklee, he was introduced to the new compositional possibilities of music technology and sonic art through his professor, Richard Boulanger. Widening his scope beyond traditional instruments, Jeremy earned a BFA in music with an emphasis in Production and Engineering and Synthesis.

After graduating from Berklee, Jeremy once again packed his guitars, along with a burgeoning collection of electronic equipment, and headed West, to Southern California, where he received an MFA in Composition/New Media from the California Institute of the Arts. At CalArts he studied composition privately with Morton Subotnick and Mark Trayle.

Jeremy and fellow Track Team founder Ben Wynn , compose the music and sound design for Nickelodeon's hit animated series, Avatar, the Last Airbender. Jeremy's compositions and sound design have been used in dance, theater, film, television, installations and many award-winning commercials. Other projects include instrumental, programming and production work for David Lee Roth, Cellophane Babies, Mileece, cSounds and Endless Noise. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, two cats and a formerly stray dog.

Juli Crockett – Bio

Juli's life and career of provides certain proof that, in creative matters, the shortest distance between two points isn't necessarily a straight line, but that the crooked one is fascinating.

Alabama-born with a Canadian mother, raised through her teenage years in Central Florida, Juli attended the Pinellas County Center for the Arts. She transplanted briefly for her junior year in Bermuda and was featured in performances at the Bermuda Musical and Dramatic Society. Juli moved to New York to continue her studies where she earned a BFA in theater at NYU's Tisch School.

While in New York, Juli directed several plays, including Brecht's Jungle of Cities at the Red Room and adaptations of the radio drama The Shadow and Dylan Thomas' Doctor in the Devils at Tisch. After a short stop in Guatemala where Juli did voluntary theater workshops at a rural public school, she moved to Los Angeles to pursue an MFA in Directing at California Institute of the Arts. At CalArts, her production of Strindberg's Easter was called "transportational" by Butoh master Dawn Saito, and her thesis project [or, the whale], an adaptation of Melville's Moby Dick, written and directed by Juli, was a landmark production at the school.

The text of [or, the whale] was later presented in the Moby Dick 2001 conference at Hofstra University, and was also used as the foundation for the inaugural production of the TENT performance group in Portland, Maine.

Simultaneous with her entry into Graduate school, Juli began competing as an amateur boxer, winning the Los Angeles District title two years in a row, followed by the Blue & Gold National title. After graduation, she turned pro, enjoying a short but impressive undefeated boxing career of 3-0, two KOs in the 135 lb. lightweight division. In 2003, after an injury during training, she reluctantly retired from boxing and started a county-funk-folk band, The Evangenitals, for which she is lead vocalist and principal songwriter.

Today Juli’s exhaustive performing schedule is interwoven with her equally passionate attention to ongoing vocations as playwright and stage director; she continues her education pursuing an advanced degree in philosophy; and at the same time she earns her living as a webmaster within one of the world's largest independent distributors of sex toys and related erotic paraphernalia.

Juli's last work, The Dawn of Quixote: Chapter the First, inspired by the writings of philosopher Unamuno y Jugo, has been featured two years in a row in Los Angeles' cutting edge theater festival "Edgefest" and was the grand opener for the Explorer Series at the 24th Street Theater in Los Angeles.

Juli’s writing is the central theme of her varied interests. The band keeps her creating continuously, many of the lyrics derived from her poetry and stories. She is a columnist for several online e-zines and her writings have been republished in various print magazines. Currently, Juli is working on a collection of short stories, a screenplay based on the Book of Job, the outline of a novel, and theatrical adaptations of Kierkegaard’s Either/Or, the Fausts, the Orpheus myth, and the life and sufferings of Saint Simone Weil.

Here we go!

I'm gettin' all activist, and you're invited!

With the help of the Sierra Club, I'm throwing a viewing party on Friday, March 24th at 8pm, offering up my abode and my boyfriend's 42 inch plasma television to screen some short documentary films about Exxon and ye olde Valdez oil spill that they've yet to pay the tab for.

I hope you can join me -- it's a fun way to make a difference.

Not sure yet if you can come? Go ahead and click on the link below and choose "maybe" on the RSVP page. That will help me with planning, while you check your schedule.
Also, if you're interested in lending a hand planning this event, I could use all the help I can get!

For more details about this invitation and to RSVP online, go to: http://www.partylaunch.com/sierraclubtv/parties?e=evangenitals&userid=x

Come on down! It's a great way to fight the good fight, and this night can serve as a quasi-housewarming for my new apartment at the same time.

Cheers,
Julio

Hey guys.

I can't make it to this show tonight, but it sounds absolutely awesome
so I thought I'd tip of the rest of y'all --

The man's name is Phillip Roebuck, and he's a ONE MAN BAND. Aww yeah!
And he's playing tonight at Pennylane Records in Pasadena FOR FREE.

I love it.

Represent, represent.

Here's a link to his Myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/philliproebuck

Spread the love.

Support the man with a drum on his back.

xoxo
julio

Masuimi Max. Grabbing my bum.

*sigh*

Holymotherfuck!

Tenacious D just threw me a fansign. Somebody pinch me.

That's right. I'm braggin'...

Weeeeeeeeeeeee!



That's my Evangenital guitarist Brettsky hookin' it up with his girl. God bless this land. I love LA.

There will be sweet dreams tonight!

Holy craps, am I ever sick.

on Sunday the scourge was cast upon me.

after a week of profound - yet jolly - overextension, I crashed hard on Saturday night, opting to stay in for the evening and watch a couple of Orpheus-themed films, by Robert Wilson and Cocteau. In the morning, all was lost. The first time I threw up was the worst, as I had nothing in my stomach, so it was all dry heaving and bile.

I had a mild fever, kept puking periodically throughout the day, terrible cough, and could only find respite when under the coma-inducing effects of NyQuil.

there were so many things I had intended to blog about last week, and alas, the week was too busy, and then the season of the sickness was back upon me.

some of the past weeks events included:
- seeing the midnight movie of King Kong with Brettsky and Sunny Jim.
- Sunny Jim getting his Toyota Prius Hybrid
- attending the Trainwreck show at the Scene in Glendale and getting the official introduction to Kyle Gass, of Tenacious D fame.... Which reminds me, I need to inform KevSlider of this.

however, I am sick, and it is difficult to relay any of this information with anything resembling enthusiasm.

jimmy's christmas present finally got here, right after myself and amazon.com became convinced it was lost and they gave me a refund. Now I am in the moral quandary... Do I tell them it came? OF COURSE I DO!

don't be silly.

What in the world? WHAT in the WORLD? What in the WORLD is THAT?

I don't know. I'm tired.

I am so tired I feel all prickly and blue. My voice is crackling (I like that part)... I sound all smokey and seductive. Or sick. I suppose it's all in how you feel about crackly voices.

Even though I'm very tired, work is very insane, and I have a rehearsal tonight and work early in the morning, I am STILL going to see the midnight showing debut edition of the CHRONICLES OF NARNIA tonight with my main man of the moment, Jimmy Big Toes Supreme.

All sorts of shit is shaking loose in the life of J. Crockett, my friends. I've been in a weird, weird rinse cycle for a few seasons, and now I'm finally coming through the cleaners. Something like that. I don't really know what in the heck is going on anymore, and somehow I choose to think that is a good thing.

I know that I play in this band, I live with this man, I'm directing a play, I'll write books some day, I like to eat peaches, I give great speeches, I'm staying in school, I think skateboarding is cool, in the winter I get cold, and my old cheese grows mold.

My back is very sore. My shoulder still hurts. Computers are everywhere. I thought that I might be radiating myself when I rested my weary head against the microwave oven whilst making my pre-packaged lunch from the fine folks at Tasty Bite nice and warm.

It is late. I'm still at work. It's time to go.

There is so much love in my heart, and so much good going on right now. Tranny's are skateboarding on Sunset Boulevard, my friends. All is well! All is WELL!

Hi there everybody, whomever you may be.

How are you? How are you feeling?

Are you feeling free and breezy, or stuffed up and stuck?

Do you believe in a world of infinite possibilities, or is the daily grind tethering your mind to a limited vision of "good enough"?

Let's fly away together. Actually, fuck flying away... let's fly right here. Let's fly through the aisles of the grocery stores. Through the traffic. Through our days at work.

Let's smile big smiles and cry big tears. Let's point at the people who hurt our feelings and yell "OUCH!" in the moment, rather than when we get home or 10 weeks later.

Let us dance through our days. Let us move, feel, speak, and look around with ease. With ease!

Let us play, motherfuckers. Let us play.

Whatever happened to play?

My momma told me, "there is absolutely nothing frivolous about play."

God bless that wise woman.

Let us no longer sit in uncomfortable rooms filled with worry, suspicion, and fear. Let us smile in the teeth of the lie. Move forward through the mulch of decay.

As that fabulous bastard Unamuno said:

If you come across a liar shout in his face: Liar! And forward!
If you meet a thief shout at him: Thief! And forward!
And if you come across someone who talks nonsense, someone everybody listens to speechless, shout at them: Fools! And forward!
Always forward!

The time has come for action and more action. No longer must we crumple under the weight of a thought that does not serve us. No longer must we see the world which is put before our eyes. There is something above, beyond, through, inside, in front of, permeating, sublimating, transubstantiating all of this. All of me. All of you.

Happy, joyous and free.
Anything else is the lie.
Choose.

Marvin Gaye said it and I'll say it again... What's going on?

What's going on?

I don't know. I've been a bit o the mess lately. Just hurting. Not just sissy hurting, either. Bones hurting, muscles hurting, head hurting, hands hurting, chest hurting. Aches and pangs.

Pain is the touchstone of growth and change gives me the willies, both ways: good and bad. I'm very excited about all the new developments, but I'm all tired and sore so I can necessarily show it, or feel it half the time.

I talked to my sister on the phone this morning and I rarely do that. She's out in North Carolina living in a Yert with her 40+ year old boyfriend who has no job, fears people, and smokes pot all the time. He's an artist. So is she, however, she has been working double shifts as a waitress for the past 5 years to support the both of them. The whole relationship started out on a bad karmic note, in my opinion, as part of his "wooing package" was the lofty promise of a very, very rich grandfather of his dying soon and leaving them buckets of ducets.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your moral fiber, the Grandfather is still going strong and steady, showing no signs of kicking the proverbial bucket anytime soon. My sister, in the meantime, is spot in the center of a mini mid-life crisis, wondering just what the hell she's gotten herself into.

Now is the time to pray for the salvation of her soul, my friends, for she is right smack in the middle of the fence as far as what sort of soul she may turn out to be after all. Part of her is filled with idealistic cravings to save some thing that she calls "the world" from a grave peril that she sees going down all around. The other part of her, perverted by years of serving the extremely rich and incredibly rude of North Carolina, feels that if they can not be beaten, they must be joined.

She's considering starting law school. Anything to get the money. She said something about Donald Rumsfeld being the major stockholder for the company producing the cure to the bird flu, and how he wasn't born a monster. She spoke of Hitler being an environmentalist and a vegetarian. The best of intentions. She was very angry and hurting in all the ways, sissy and non.

I, for my part, have been working hard to neither damn nor deify what the O'Jays so smoothly called the Almighty Dollar.

In other news, I'm working on new methods of communication and new planes of intimacy with the Significant Other, considering going to hypnotherapy (expect a full report on that one!), and will be doing my first session with a "prayer therapist" and "metaphysical counselor" this weekend. I suspect that it may be either a)an incredible and spiritually enlightened experience, or b)totally give me the jeebs.

Whatever way the cookie crumbles, I shall be back here soon enough, pouring out my soul excavations for you to mine for the nuggets of sweet somethings that can be applicable to your own search and experience mission.

That is my aim, and my aim is true.*

*actually, to be perfectly honest and more forthcoming than I ought, my AIM is actually "juliachrista" ;-)

Till then, I return to working on my Evangenitals' style cover of Kelly Clarkson's Since U Been Gone.

Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm not the first, of course. Who cares? It was a special request from Steve Diet Goedde (a big fan of the Genitals), and how the heck am I supposed to turn down a friggin' legend?

why don't you come out to the lava lounge tonight at midnight and let me make sweet love to you with my vocal chords?

all the info is here: www.evangenitals.com/calendar.html

i love you.
juli

The more I think about it, or don't think about it, the more I am convinced that we are all dragged down our particular paths, one way or another.

Back in the days of my youth, I lived in a place called St. Petersburg, Florida for a spell. Nearby in Tampa, Florida, USA there was a water park called Adventure Island. In this water park, there was a waterway that went round the whole thingamajig. All you had to do was get in, at any of the many available entry points, with or without a flotation device, and the current created by the multiple water jets would take you round the whole park. Swimming in the opposite direction was possible, albeit a pain in the arse. Especially for one so small as I was then.

Unlike the Adventure Island waterway, I don't know if it is actually possible to swim opposite the drag of life, as sometimes I think that even the supposed opposition we often feel, when willing our lives opposite the supposed flow, is part of the almighty drag. I doubt it is possible to know. I don't think I'm talking about destiny. I think I am talking about the amazing human ability of interpretation.

I know a guy who attributes meaning to everything. Every single goddamn thing. Every gesture, breath, hesitation, movement, occurrence, speck, fly, happening, newscast, event, non-event, plan, potentiality, and stain. MEANING.

Fascinating? Perhaps. Entertaining/engaging/mind occupying? Perhaps.

Useful? Lord only knows.

Me, I'm growing dumber everyday, I fear. Not sure if this is a good or bad thing. Not really thinking about it. Dumbness? Perhaps. Zen? Buddha only knows.

I had a friend once who called Gandhi "nigga Gandhi". I thought that was funny as hell. That guy got hooked on crystal meth and joined the army after his mom died to help him kick, spurred on by 9-11. He was one of the best musicians and funniest kids I knew. Now he has developed a real love of killing people and carrying a weapon, and refuses to take any job in which he doesn't get to carry a loaded pistol. Destiny? Perhaps. Interesting docu-biopic? To be sure.

In the end, my friend, all good things come round the bend.

The weather is getting me down.

I have a friend who loves this dreary, cold, gray weather. It makes her depressed, just like everybody else, and yet she claims to love this dreary, bland, blah, gray, poop, spittle, dribble, crappola weather. Does she truly love the weather? Perhaps. Does she love all sorts of things that make her sad and miserable? Perhaps. Is this destiny? Only nigga Gandhi knows.

Yesterday was our dear left handed genital Brett P. Lydacus Extremicus' Birthday, day of the natal passing into the reverse-void known as the material world. Welcome, Brett. Welcome some more.

Word on the streets was that he had a fine little joint-b-day shindig in a park in Pasadena, California, USA. EvanJunkie Alan also had a birthing round bout the same day-o-the-month as Brett, so they jointly celebrated and were celebrated, in that delightful reciprocity that comes with all kinds of parties focused around people and their achievements, be they living or doing.

So, I didn't go to the party. This was do to a working agreement that I have with my significant other, in which I record Saturday afternoon College Football whilst he works hard for his money. I then give him no indication of how the games went, and he watches them at night when he gets home. At first I thought this obsession with College Football was simply ridiculous, however, after watching yesterday's USC/Notre Dame game, my conversion to USC football enthusiasm is complete.

Having imbibed two Rockstar Energy Drinks during the game and consumed some spicy chicken wings, I was in a terrible state by the end. On the verge of crying, in shock, overly excited, heart racing, sick to my stomach, and screaming like a frightened monkey. Complete insanity.

If you saw the game, you know what I'm talking on. Whatever side you were rooting for, that was the single-most exciting and insane ending of any football game ever (I put that out there with my incredibly limited knowledge of football games past, of course, but holy crappants... That was intense!)

So here I am today. Feeling emotionally spent (I watched the game AGAIN with the SO when he got home, engaging myself emotionally once more, as if I'd never seen it), feeling kind of like an ass for not going to Brett's party (he did make the day at my Chuck E Cheese birthday celebration by bringing the THING crusher hands), and getting ready to go off to some meetings about all things theatrical, and then reporting to the rehearsal studio at 8 for the Evangenitals practice extra-ordinare.

I paid a guy $100 to take care of my lawn today. He's my neighbor, and has the single most cute and wondrous lawn care skills I have ever seen. Our lawn, on the other hand, was overgrown and hideous, with trash in the yard (from construction, etc) and some strange corn-like plants starting to sprout. Weeds were overtaking the front door. Madness. Though I know there are cheaper ways to conquer the mess, I was willing to pay the price of convenience (split the price of convenience, I should say, with Senor SO).

My dog is sleeping on the bed, and I'm going to leave him in the house even though nobody is home because it is raining and it's too cold and rainy to put him outside. He fell in the pool last night while we were watching the game. 5 minutes left in the fourth quarter, and David's sister starts screaming that the dog is in the pool. There he was, clinging to the side, splashing in the freezing water. Goddamn. What if he falls in when we're not here? Goddamn.

Time to fly. There's my jibba jabba. Mumbo jumbo.

Keep the faith, yo.
julio

i was just instant messaging with a friend of mine who is living in the basement of a house in Missouri, working on his graphic novel that we hope to make a feature film out of some day. he hasn't been getting out in the sunlight too much, and has been celibate for the past 16 months.

from where he's sitting, my life sounds like a shining shining success. what's funny is, a lot of folks think that, and on good days, i myself think that as well. what's also funny, is that i don't have enough money to put gas in my car or buy any food. tomorrow, however, is a new day. everything is going to be different tomorrow. why? because tomorrow is pay day.

i made brownies for my man this evening. i though it would be cool if he came home to brownies. unfortunately, i didn't really know what time he was coming home, and now they've been sitting in the oven "cooling" for almost two hours. i'm afraid they may be kind of hard. hard brownies, still, are better than no brownies, methinks.

i'm very excited about some upcoming theatrical ventures. it looks like i'm going to be collaborating with christine from smartgals.org on her christmas project, and in turn she's going to be the furies in my upcoming orpheus and eurydice piece at the 24th street theater.

i'm very excited about a lot of things, these days.

these days.

sometimes it feels like every other blog is an apology for not blogging enough. what a vicious circle!

how is life today? life is good. i am tired and broke and have a slight cough, however, my dog sleeps soundly by my feet, so how bad could it be?

i have a dog. doggie dog dog dog. i think i could pass most of the day at the dog park if there weren't the needs/desires to make money, eat, create. it is highly entertaining, very satisfying stuff.

my dog has a good temperament, which was a score, considering we rescued him from the Baldwin Park animal control, and he had been there for quite some time. he is big and energetic and super playful, which could irritate a lot of folks. fortunately, i am big and energetic and super playful as well.

he has not yet tried to hump me whilst playing, and for that i am grateful. for i have a pretty well known phobia about dogs with penises and their sexual advances. it's a long story, which i summarized in a series of very short stories that i will try to locate. they deserve another run of publication.

as far as the band goes, our rhythm seems to be kinda off lately. ever since i got back from school, things have been going at an awkward tempo. first brett left the sex emporium, then lisa, then brett started school, now lisa is in school. sean sullivan died, jeff jones broke his hand... and now we're playing a show without him. weird. just odd.

i was thinking this morning that if the band weren't so magical and special and meant to be, it could really just drift into memory. luckily, brett, lisa, jones, and myself have the philosophy of keeping coming back. back to the source. return. yes yes yes. sometimes a week goes by and we don't get together. sometimes somebody is not in the mood. our rhythm is off. we don't feel the magic. yet, we abide. we come back and try it again. we accept each others oddness and awkwardness. and somehow, we play.

it's important that it's called PLAYING in a band. that should always be the case.

my house is a mess. well, hell... it's not really my house. my boyfriend's sisters house is a mess. there's been renovations going on since June... white chalk dust everywhere, no kitchen, the fridge is in the living room, and the pool is green because the pump got turned off for over a week. it's finally back on, and today is cleaning day. i cleaned the pool and put chemicals in it, but the magic hasn't happened yet and it's still green. i stepped in dog poop taking out the garbage. it wasn't my dog's poop. my shoes are drying outside. i need to clean... REALLY clean, yet it's hard to get it up to do it, considering that everything will be dirty again, with a thick layer of chalky dust, by tomorrow morning. but still, i need to clean. i promised david i would do it.

i got a promotion at work, but no word of a raise yet. can it really be called a "promotion" if there is no raise? wouldn't that just be a lateral move if the pay is the same? when oh when will the capitalist regime end?

i want a hybrid car. my inner hippie is about to leap out of my bowels with a tommy gun. the world is freaking me out. apathy makes me furious. all the people who think it's too late to save the world and stop the madness can eat my ass. better yet, they can eat the dog poo out of my front yard.

i wish noam chomsky and the dude that wrote "cradle-to-cradle" would get together and make a to-do list. which reminds me, i gotta buy that book "plan b". david promised me he'd read it.

wow. that was a ramble.
ramble on ramble on.

Haiku for Mindi Chiu

what in the shitfuck
is going on with the world?
(that is the question)

Our good friend Sean Michael Sullivan, man-about-town and sunshine spirit, creator of Ben the Canary (www.benthecanary.com) and other amazing spectacles, was taken from this earth by a couple of really beautiful angels on August 20th 2005, while playing with friends on the Kern River in Kern County, California.

Before he left us, we wrote a song for him.
It's called "The Sun is Shining in My Eyes"

It goes:

I can't tell left from right
I can't find the same place twice
I don't hear what they say
But I know it doesn't matter anyway

Because the Sun is Shining in My Eyes...

I don't know what's in front of me
I open up my eyes but all that I can see
Everything is light
And anything that happens, baby, it's alright

Because the Sun is Shining in My Eyes...

Sean will be greatly missed, many more songs shall surely be inspired by his smile and singular gait, and The Evangenitals have decided to release an EP of all of the songs we were writing for Sean's Ben the Canary project, that we had the honor of playing for him before he was sublimated into 100% pure golden soul.

Thank you, Sean.

We
Fall
Down