Archive for April, 2015

Billy Corgan: Wrestling Mind?

April 30th, 2015

Billy Corgan has recently hinted at the demise of the Smashing Pumpkins, and if the Siamese Dream really┬áis winding down, the frontman has already found a new line of work: Senior Producer, Creative and Talent Development for TNA Wrestling. Corgan will begin his new role effective immediately. As part of his job, Corgan will “develop characters and create story lines” for TNA’s flagship program Impact Wrestling, which airs Friday nights on Destination America, according to a press release.

RollingStone.com, April 27th 2015

 

Billy Corgan has some experience in the world of professional wrestling, having formerly been a writer for a wrestling promotion in Chicago. Some of his ideas were very controversial even in the colorful over-the-top world of pro wrestling.

 

The very first wrestling show that Billy wrote opened up with him standing in an empty ring, lecturing the audience on the history of wrestling. He interrupted himself at various points to play unaccompanied keyboard solos. The main event was a tag-team match between a pair of evil clowns fighting against a clown with a bad past and uncertain future accompanied by his partner, a non-clown who doesn’t trust him entirely.

 

All the villains were forced to make their entrances to songs from Love’s album “Celebrity Skin”.

 

A show titled “Operation: Konflikt” started with a wedding storyline where two opponents got married in the ring, then faced off against each other later in what Billy titled a “Hardcore Honeymoon” match.

 

A tag team named “James & D’Arcy”, an intergender tag team portrayed as ineffectual, lost every match they were in.

 

Another show titled “Steel Cage Heartbreak By Telescopa” featured an in-ring solo performance by Billy of a song written about the Chris Benoit tragedy. This song, which featured no choruses but at least three guitar solos, ran for eleven minutes. Main event of the show was a steel cage match featuring a double-amputee gay pirate against a sheep farmer with cerebral palsy.

 

Other characters created by Billy Corgan: Keith and his friend Fire (a tag team of a man and his pet torch); One-Arm Pete, The Two-Armed One-Armed Man; Los Trios Gaycistz (a trio of Mexican luchador gays/racists); Machina (a dominatrix).

 

Billy’s wrestling company held a “Titty Tuesday” promotion. It was held on Easter Sunday.

Truth: Billy Corgan did not come up with the ideas I have listed. But would you be surprised if he did?

Healthy Paranoia

April 27th, 2015

I am afraid of cops. I am as afraid of the cops as I am afraid of pitbulls.

A few weeks ago, I was performing at a gig when I got in a bad argument with the owner. This has sort of happened to me before, but not like this. This is the first time I had an owner threaten me with his gun then threaten to call the cops on me.

I think when you tell me you have a gun and threaten to use it on me, you forfeit the right to call the cops like I’m the bad guy. This was not a home invasion. This was a gig I was booked to play. Had I broken into his house, he would have been in the right.

When the guy threatened to call the cops on me, I left because even though I was in the right (or less wrong than the other guy) I could not be sure that the cops would not arrest me. I’m a large man with a booming voice when I yell at people who tell me they have guns in a threatening manner.

 

I don’t go out and look for trouble. When I’m driving I see a cop car, I feel like I’ve got a dead body stuffed with cocaine in my trunk. Which is ridiculous. Everybody knows I don’t do drugs.

 

I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in Ferguson, Missouri or Baltimore, especially now. Not knowing how the police will treat you even though you haven’t done anything wrong. Being treated as a criminal because you’re in front of them. Going limp in confusion and fear because you’ve been told you are under arrest. . . for resisting arrest.

 

Paranoia makes sense sometimes.

Bodhishatva (sp?)

April 23rd, 2015

I feel whole again sitting here and writing for you.

 

I have been active and inactive, relaxed and agitated, surrounded by friends and alone, and there has been so much to write about. So much to say about a Kickstarter video, a dormant amusement park in Cave City, a Kentucky Prophet show in Louisville, among other things. Some things I don’t talk about because it’s not time yet. I’ve been down and out, in spite of all my activity.

 

Way back in ’96 when I began college, I always had visions of myself alone on campus grounds after a snowstorm. Waiting out the time until the next class, snowflakes melting in my hair. Utterly alone in the white calm of a heavy winter, far from home. Did the university buildings have people in them still? I don’t know. I guessed they did. And they would be a fair bit warmer than being outside. Yet I stayed out in the cold. A boy with nowhere to go until his next appointment.

 

I had that vision again just now. Except now I’m not in an empty campus quad. Now the whole world around me has turned to white. Large snowy mounds covering the turf around me. I am older now and still alone. My beard is thick in this dream, more so than in reality. I am a borderline Inuit in this terrain except I am trapped. Paralyzed in thought. Gloved up and insulated from hypothermia as the flurries fall around me. But everything is pulled afar and I can see how far from civilization I am. Far from anything resembling human interaction. A living Ozymandias destined to bury himself in snow.

 

I felt powerless. I sat in front of the computer and began writing to regain power, belief, something. I am still here. I still have to be here.

Life Without Medication

April 14th, 2015

PRO TIP: When you get your medicine refilled, make sure to check the label to see if the pharmacist gave you what you were prescribed.

 

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever been given the wrong prescription? Have you ever not noticed immediately? Like two weeks? Let me explain.

 

I called in for a refill of some depression medication. The cashier told me that my script had two different shapes of meds but it’s the same thing. Okay, I understand that. BUT they didn’t give me my depression meds. They gave me a thyroid medicine prescribed to a relative. Long story short: I’ve been without the depression meds for two weeks but on the thyroid meds instead.

 

Have you ever stopped taking an SSRI cold turkey? I don’t recommend it. Cold turkey leads to a physical and psychological crash that causes people to attempt suicide in some cases. They should have given me the medicine I asked for. My safeguard was to actually check the label, but I didn’t. The drugstore had never steered me wrong before.

 

Two weeks of torment. I’ve been screaming and crying hysterically. This is terrible. I’ve been crying listening to music. Songs that have never caused me to break down are doing that. Damn you “Bananaphone” and “Girlfriend” by Avril Lavigne.

I’m A Fool To Do Your Dirty Work (c)

April 10th, 2015

I’m so miserable, listening to Steely Dan seems like a good plan of action.

 

Nobody explained to me why Steely Dan were supposedly so creepy. Why? Because they wrote songs about cousin fucking and old hipsters trying to pick up teenage girls and do drugs and shit?

 

True story: when the guy from Slint tweeted that stuff about his marriage failing and taking his own life I actually called 911. I’m not patting myself on the back. No doubt other people did the same. I know of at least one other person who called and that one’s in my circle of friends. So if us two called 911 (even though I wasn’t sure whether the guy was in Kentucky, Philly or New Jersey or wherever), then no doubt others did the same.

 

He has two small kids, which is enough reason to keep living even if you’re so miserable you voluntarily listen to Steely Dan.

 

Writing songs about fucked up situations and people is more interesting than what normal song subjects are about (love, loss of love, desire for love, etc.) Steely Dan know it, Frank Zappa knew it (“Montana” for example) and I know it.

 

True story: I was thiiiiisss close to performing a solo piano version of “Deacon Blues”. It was going to be played like something from the early Residents albums, discordant and shrill. That goes double for the vocals which I was going to sing like one of the Residents (either Charlie or Ron, can’t remember which one). The final verse of “Deacon Blues” is so perfect it should be murdered in public on stage. “I cried when I wrote this song/Sue me if I play too long/This something is something/I’ll be what I. . .” You know how the thing goes, I don’t need to tell you. And it wasn’t like I wanted to take down the mighty Steely Dan a notch. I like that song and them because they are the perfect band for nursing oneself out of an emotional coma. Beats the Sweet ‘N Low of listening to Kiss, I’ll say.

 

If you want to die, you don’t cry out for help. Even at one in the morning on social media. A month later the guy is palling around with his old buddies Karen O and Lance Bangs. I’m sitting around with no shirt on in my trailer listening to Steely Dan and he’s the one who is suicidal?

Untitled

April 6th, 2015

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