I don’t know if these two things are related or not, but they seem to be.
I’ve been cruising around the local musician websites and forums lately looking for an opportunity to play with someone else. I’m not looking to be in a full-time band, I’m just looking for a couple of people that want to play music on a semi-regular basis. Playing my drums to my headphones just has no love in it. I want to play live music again.
I have no illusions about myself. There are has-beens and there are never-was’. I’m neither, I’m a never-tried. But I still like to play and if I may say so myself, I’m still decent enough to put on a good show. But the local on-line scene seems to be full of people looking for instant stardom or nasty people looking to start flame wars and piss on others dreams. So I’m still looking but I’m kind of giving up hope.
I’ve also been looking at a lot of pictures and reading comments on Facebook groups dedicated to the “good old days” when we were just out of high school and I spent more time out at Jax Beach than I did at home. Everyone was in a band or between bands or helping their friend’s band. Poor Teresa, she spent many a weekend on Peeler’s deck and at John’s Garage just because she wanted to be with me and I wanted to be around the music scene… So a lot of those old memories are coming back to me now.
And then last night I had a dream.
We stopped in to a small convenience store to buy some drinks. I had Becca with me and in the dream she was still about six or seven years old. She picked out her soda bottle and I let her carry it to the register. She could barely see over the counter top. About that time I heard music coming from the back room of the convenience store. The door opened and I saw a recording studio in the back. I was about to ask the cashier about it when the front door jingled and in walked a dozen rock-n-roll idols from my childhood. They were older but still recognizable. As they walked past us they were rough and loud, sometimes brushing me and Becca hard up against the counter. I was getting angry and one of them recognized me as if I used to be one of them. They asked what I was doing now and all of them turned and laughed at me. They pointed at Becca and yelled, “Ha! Look what you’ve become. A fat, corporate, family man!” I told them that I was happy with who I was and they laughed louder.
I paid for the drinks and we walked out of the store hearing the laughter fade as we closed the doors. Becca asked, “Who were they Daddy?” I said, “Ghosts baby. Just ghosts.” I locked the door from the outside and put a railroad tie across the doors (these things just make sense in dreams). Then I leaned down and produced a box of old fashioned stick matches. I pulled one out and taught Becca how to light it. She got it lit on the third try and we brought it over to the locked doors. The whole interior of the store instantly went up in flames.
Becca and I sat down on the curb with our backs to the door. We smiled and drank our soda pop through bendy straws while everyone inside screamed and banged on the doors trying to get out.
Two thoughts went through my mind;
1: I love my family and I wouldn’t trade a minute with them for any amount of stardom.
2: This image would make a great album cover.
All the Oscar talk (BTW, I cheated and looked up the winners after yesterday’s post, I was almost right. ‘Inglorious Basterds’ is not exactly an emotional movie but I got the rest of them right…) got me thinking about what makes someone famous. I’ve bitched about that before so I won’t go into that right here. But then I listened to a podcast that mentioned how Johnny Depp can’t go to Disneyland with his kids because he gets mobbed. That must suck. I’m sure it’s great to be Johnny Depp, except for shit like that…
If you were famous, how much interaction would you want with your fans?
I’ve met a few famous people and I always downplay it so I don’t bother the person. Sometimes I won’t even go over to the person (which is not technically meeting them then is it?) At a meet/greet I’m there shaking hands, whatever. But if no one else is bothering them, I’ll just nod and smile. Acknowledging that I recognize them and that I appreciate their work. If I do actually “meet” them, I keep it calm and brief. If it’s a lesser known celebrity and they don’t appear busy, I might talk for a few seconds but then I get out of there. These people have lives too. Many of them have things to do. And honestly, what are the odds you say something they don’t always hear? It has to suck being uber-famous.
I mean really, which of these scenarios is more reasonable behavior?
- “Holy shit! It’s Ron Jeremy!” [runs over to him, panting and gasping] “Golly Mr. Jeremy I sure do love your work. The first porno I remember seeing is an old VHS copy of ‘The Devil in Miss Jones 3′ that my friends all passed around. You sure looked terrific in that movie Mr. Jeremy, all dressed up in that diaper and baby doll bib. Will you autograph my cast?”
- A simple “Mr. Jeremy” and a nod/wink in his direction as he walks on by.
The second choice says all the above without causing a scene. BUT, what if you are the celebrity and suddenly no one mobbed you when you went down to the local Starbucks? Would you feel unappreciated? Would you feel like your time is over, your star is sinking and maybe it’s time to retire? I don’t know. I just gotta think we should leave these people alone man. Let them live their lives.
And really, that baby doll scene in TDIMJ3 is fucking disturbing…
How is it that I love movies but I hate the Oscars?
I haven’t watched the award ceremony in years and even then only minutes at a time. I couldn’t give a flying rat turd which movie wins which award. I don’t care who wins best actors and I’m amazed that people are still interested in who wins for things like editing and costumes. If there was a period piece that year, it wins for best costume, big surprise… Why should I give a shit? Oh sure, if I were in the costume making business I’d care but most of us are not in the movie industry. It’s the same thing as watching the credits after a movie. Do you care who the key grip was? Do you know what a key grip does? I’m sure his mother cares a great deal. She’s the one who watches the credits more attentivly than the actual feature and cries, “That’s my boy!” but the rest of us don’t fucking care.
As for the main categories, I still don’t care. Here it is, the day after the big show and I still have no idea who won what. Don’t care. If it wins an award it won’t make the movie any better. But you know what it will do? It can take a crappy/mediocre movie and if they have enough friends among the reviewing judges and they give it an award, that crappy movie will be instantly transformed to a prestigious “film”. Of course it could work the other way around as well. There are some good movies out there that are overlooked throughout the year and they could get a second glance if they win an award. But that almost never happens! Schlock wins out over art.
It’s predictable. Here you go. I swear to you that I have not looked up who won but I’ll bet this is how it went down: Some “important and serious” movie wins overall, Avatar wins for the “pretty” and the actor awards will be from emotional response movies. Same shit every year. I only specified Avatar because it’s a no-brainer this year. Avatar was as bland as 3-day old dishwater but it was very, VERY pretty… The rest; documentary, shorts, foreign… I can’t even be bothered to waste a thought about them. I just don’t fucking care.
Oh and the fucking pageantry of the red carpet. Fuck these people. I wish someone had the guts to show up in jeans and a t-shirt and tell the cameras they’re not here to impress anybody… Actually that might be a bad and classless move, it is a formal affair… But who are these people that care who made the dress? Is it pretty, did you like it? Why isn’t that good enough? Okay, forget the jeans/T-shirt move, I want to see an A-list actress show up in the perfect dress and when they go on and on about it, tell the cameras she found it in a Goodwill bin for $7. Or if they hate the dress tell them her grandmother (who was one of the costumers on Gone With the Wind) fought her debilitating arthritis and hand-sewed it over three years, finishing just a week before she died of a horribly painful disease, sob into the camera for a three count and just as the person who didn’t like the dress is feeling guilty, look up, smile and walk away. I’d also like to see one of the other actresses break a heel and tumble down the carpet, knocking down a few other actors. Maybe give someone a big fat black eye and a torn shirt just in time for the acceptance speech. As you can tell, I’m not much for the “who’s who” gig…
I haven’t watched it in years. I didn’t watch it last night. I’ll probably never watch it in the future. Yet, I love talking about movies. I’m just fucked in the head…
Just because you can does not always mean you should.