Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Falling up

Someone once asked me to come up with a series of anecdotes or a couple paragraphs on what it means to be a celebrity.... i sometimes wonder about that. Not that i lose any fuckin sleep over it, but from time to time i stop to think about it for a second.

The term celebrity is clearly defined as a famous or well-known person basicly, but i think the word takes on alternate meanings to others, for me... it just means pressure. Every now and again i keep having these moments where im sitting back and thinking like i used to think back when i was a teenager, and looking back on it, i was never really under any abnormal pressure from anything other than the obvious "what am i going to do when i get older, how am i going to get through school, when am i going to move out of the house...."  I didnt have some idea glued on my brain that i was going to become a musician, that was just my hobby. So, the pressure wasnt really anything out of the ordinary... still stressful at times nonetheless tho, but everybody gets that.

Things started to get a little scarier when i left my home in Niagara Falls to head up to Toronto and work for an IT company... as it should have anyway. My first apartment, so the pressure was doing well at work and making rent. I kinda blindly went into it really, learning my responsibilities as an "adult" on the fly... we all know they don't offer courses on growing up and becoming independant, so i wasnt any different then the next little noob who left the nest.

Things seemed to be going okay, the dust settled and autopilot kicked in... the pressure was pretty much reduced at that point. I had gotten into the routine. getting up, going to work, eating lunch at bourbon st. grill, and heading back to work, finishing up, heading home at 6 or 7ish and then just milling away on the computer making weird little glitch tunes for a bit. Rinse, repeat, go get retarded on weekends.

fast forward 2 years later. Well, my contracts up... i've gotten a good taste of the grownup world, and im pretty sure i can handle it... so since im a free agent, i went back to niagara falls to live at home again and take a stab at possibly starting my own media design company... pressures back on. Got a few freelance jobs, a couple of regular clients, nothing that could help me drop a mortgage or anything... which started to corncern me a little... i wasn't getting any younger, and alot of my friends more or less had some kind of shit locked down....or at least moved up the broken ladder of awesomeness in the ranking system over at the fuckin parks commision or marineland. *thumbs up*

so yeah, that was kinda scary... and the pressure was back on... so it was time to sit down and write a list of shit i think im good at (or wanted to be). Of course music was in there, as was media design (flash, photoshoop, CSS, php, 3d shit) I wanted to be one of those really hip and trendy New York / SF coder / design gurus...   like Eric Jordan or the badass himself Josh Davis... those were the kinda people i wanted to be, professionally speaking of course. I was practical enough in my desicion i suppose... i am / was too much of a pessimist to state that i wanted to be a mother fuckin rockstar and make millions of dollars just making music and touring the world. I couldn't / wouldn't allow myself dream that big... not because i couldnt imagine how awesome it would have been, but only because i didnt want to see myself being 35 and still sitting at my moms house chasing that dream. The avoidance of failure was probably my biggest motivator at the time.

So, on my quest to develop "sick media design skills" i will say, i've learned alot about everything... design, programming, presentation... all while still whittling away on music to kill the time. Im not exactly sure what the definning moment was for me... but there was a bit of a paradigm shift when i found myself making music... for a company that sells music to TV commercials, website developers, and other dudes who didnt feel like paying $30,000 to liscense "whoop there it is" for their fuckin tampon commercials or whatever. And, even though the money wasnt insane... i was having fun, and i was making music nearly fulltime now.

i'd love to write about the following year, but im still pretty bitter about it... so maybe it will come up in a book somewhere in the future.... so here's the tl;dr on that:

moved back to toronto, worked with someone, Chris Lake found me.

Chris had heard a couple snippets of some house (or whatever my genre is) tracks i've been toying about with, and was really keen on em... (i think it was faxing berlin) ... this opened up a whole new world to me really... i mean, i didnt realize that people at the time were actually making a modest living off dance music alone, never have in fact. I always assumed that they all had day jobs, trust funds, or rich ass wives... i really did... because every musician i ever knew growing up still lived with their fuckin parents or somewhere downtown with their girlfriend who's been trying to unload them.

funny. alright, i figured i'd look into this a little more seriously, and see what pans up... well, talking to Chris got me talking to others, Max Graham was always a big supporter from the very begninning, in fact, he named "Faxing Berlin" over an aim conversation... he just didnt know it at the time ;)  and well, he was going to sign it and put it out on his new label ReBranded (which was a huge fuckin deal for me at the time).... the deal was really insanely simple (as far as recording deals go) yet someone still managed to fuck it up so terribly bad that it just completley put him off the idea alltogether, which i totally understand.

So... that kinda just came and went... so did the rest of that fucking year. so, i moved again, just to a different part of Toronto... started up a niche label on beatport called mau5trap! Of course, by this time, Pete Tong had been canning out "faxing berlin, not exactly" so the label was doing pretty allright... so now it was official. I started to accept and get a little more comfortable with the idea that i just might be doing this the rest of my life... but i still had no idea what to expect... and was still as pessimistic as always. But, realisticly it was looking safe, Nic Fanciulli and Zabiella were doing their one+one tour, and rinsing faxing berlin.... then all of a sudden im googling myself... and im seeing this "deadmau5" guy being talked about a little bit here and there... all VERY underground... which is cool to the scenesters no doubt. Then along came satan... who is a ginger, and made me sign a management agreement.

nawwww.... im kidding. It's just Dean, people confuse him for beazelbub all the time... no seriously, it was a cozy little safe deal (for both parties) that was to just help me along the way, book me some shows, help out with the label... nothing insanely heavy... coz im sure for all he knew at the time i was just a flash in the pan... and for all i knew at the time i was just a flash in the pan... so im sure we were all pretty cautious... even though he'd probably spout off some bullshit now like "I KNEW HE'D BE BIG" whatever dean... youre still the same dean i met in a fucking SHED near a horse pen in Kent... so calm down. (hes probably read this and shat himself by now)

So on came not exactly, arguru, the reward is cheese... (which by the way deserves a chapter all on its own, but im not fond of litigation so i'll omit that as well) and well... the bookings just kinda came in... and next thing i know, is that im on flights to england, australia, malta... to be the support acts of some pretty big names at the time in EDM. So i think this is where the pressure started to kick in. It's really a tough thing to be thrown in the same arena as some other people who are doing way better than you... I mean, fuck yeah it's exciting, but the expectations of you that you throw on yourself are bigger than anything you can imagine.

Cue my fear of failure... my first "show" ever... was headlinning the main room at Ministry Of Sound, in London... at the time, it wasnt really clear to me... but closer to the date, i was told that there are alot of producers who have worked / produced for years and years who haven't gotten to that point. This was a royal headfuck for me... and i was a nervous wreck. I remeber getting up there that night, playing after nic fanciulli, shaking like a fuckin leaf... praying my shit worked, laptop didnt crash, or just fuck something up royally... it was really the "this is it" moment for me. baptism by fire no doubt. i will say now, ever since that show, i have never been nervous about performing again.

from that point on to this point, my life could be tracked online... it was just...  more tracks, more recognition, and way more touring... with the odd bit of bullshit and stuff in between. There really was a point in those years where i could have sworn my "celebrity" status was at the perfect level for me.... i could still go to any given nightclub and have a great time with friends, not get bothered by press too much, nothing controversial going on, just chilling making music havin fun.... and on the other side... while still having people turn up to events just to see me. It was amazing, and i really regret not being more relaxed about it.

now my life seems unreal even to myself... im sitting here typing this away, in a fucking gorgeous private villa in ibiza, you know, the usual... just working on some shit for MTV, hanging out with sweedish house mafia....tiesto, guetta... ... like what the fuck is wrong with me? how does anyone just get "used" to this shit...i can't. i won't. the only thing that's keeping my feet on the ground right now is pressure. You know that feeling you get when people are watching you? yeah... well what if the feeling was justified, and you have nearly 1,000,000 followers on facebook alone, and 1.2 BILLION who are going to watch you on TV in 2 weeks time... i dont know how im able to cope with that kind of pressure....fuck, how does anyone else cope with it? what about i dunno... the other guys in my feild... i don't bother to ask.. because i already know it has to be different for everyone. But for me... it's scary as fuck... the scary part isn't the attention youre getting, the scariest part is the instilled fear of failure that i've had my whole life.... and when you can't live up to someones expectations, that classifies as a fail.

the only thing left to do is to try to ignore the fact that people expect things from you at this point.... but again, it's pretty hard to ignore a million people. It's just a big headfuck for me... for the most part, i try not to let the pressure build on me to the point where i fumble around like an idiot... but thats just what happens. Remeber that Brittany shit when she went all fuckin loco and shaved her head? yeah i thought it was fuckin hilarious at the time too... but, thinking about it... i can totally see that as a direct result of just cracking under the stress... not to say everyone who's under huge amounts of pressure and stress are ceceptable to flipping the fuck out and shaving their head... but everyone has a breaking point.... and i dont think i ever want to know mine.

So am i living a dream? or enduring a nightmare?  I still can't decide... because the last thing i want, or anyone else wants, is to just fade out into obscurity over a period of time and then end up shit on by the people who are near me now. Thats why i have "fail" tatooed on the inside of my wrist... has a very profound meaning to me. Well, this is the short of it...another day approaches, and the pressure is more prevalent then it was the other day... im trying my best.

The Rider

no, its not some fucking marvel comic superhero dude, it's basicly just a list of stupid shit artists like in their dressing rooms... mine used to have some pretty basic shit on it, the usual... coronas, water, maybe a fruit bowl... etc.

but now that im apparently some kinda fuckin rockstar *rolls eyes*, i can get all crazy with the shit... so, a few things have changed, and we sometimes like to fuck with the promoters heads, just to see if they snag em...it's all in good fun really!

if youve been to a few shows in the past 2 years... perhaps some you might have noticed ive almost always had some kind of huge inflatable pool toy... like a whale, sea turtle, or an alligator... know why? coz we put that shit on the rider. dude, its amazing.... every act, it seems, always takes the piss on their rider with at least one item, seems to be the running joke of the entertainment industry really... but also i guess kinda serves as some kind of confirmation that the event organizers "has their shit together" and is on top of the "requirements".... so whenever i show up at a show, we can always tell were in good hands when theres a big fuckin blown up pool toy in the dressing room. (i like the alligator ones the best)

But! we do make a more constructive use of the rider... i also ask for a pair of white socks. Socks are hard to come by if youre constantly on the road.... and i love wearing fresh clean socks... makes me feel like i can run faster or jump higher... yes i still get that feeling.

i was originally going to go with "an illustrated book about giraffes" but even i would struggle to find that one... and besides ... blow up pool toys are way funny... and you know i bring it up there and donate to the fun in the crowd by sacrificing the poor aligator to the masses... sometimes he gets a good crowd surf in... other times some jerk willl just cling onto it for dear life and deflate it.

a lesson in humility

And there we were, somewhere in the Czech Republic... business as usual, watching the opening DJ act play his last few songs before go time... could help but notice that the guy was playing some god awful trance... so, to have somewhat of a laugh amongst ourselves, Paul and i started to flail our arms around to the beat like a couple of fist pumping idiots. If we noticed anything aside from our stupidity, it was that more or less all of the eyes of the promoters and backstage crew were glued on us. If anything, we accepted this as an invitation to step it up a notch and act more... well.. stupid. The looks on their faces soon turned to a form of disgust (which i guess was the point after all) so after enduring some pretty cold stares, one of the promoters approached me... so i had to ask. “WHAT the FUCK is this shit, this tracks terrible..... ? One of ********'s fuckin epic trance-a-thon "drop da bomb xtreme edition REMIX"? ... whatever his answer was going to be, i couldn't prepare myself to be impressed, but “It is Czech Republic National Anthem” was not the answer i was looking for. I have never felt more stupid in my life. And then we hid.

this was the one time experience that taught me a very valuable lesson in life... "just shut your mouth joel."

im still getting the hang of it.

That show in Czech was OFF THE HOOK!!!!! insane production, lovely people, amazing food, and memories that will definatley stay with me for the rest of my days.

hey SLUT!

So i've devised a clever little system to keep the numbers of the you know who's in the you know where when i need the you know what. Unfortunately this system doesnt work so well in Salt Lake, Utah. There was this dancer chick, Jen. Jen the dancer. Was pretty hot actually, figured i'd enrol her into the list... the system ive been using was to use the first name, then abbreviate the city / state as the last name... which i had always thought was pretty fucking clever. Not so much in this case... so, i had put in my phone, Jen SL UT... she asks for my phone, so without thinking i give it to her so i can ring my phone from her phone so she can see if her number shows up... ring ring... caller ID comes up  as Jen / SLUT.  She was not impressed.

Pretty Princess Paul in LA LA Land

So i flew into LA once, i had a couple days off. What do?  Sure, head on down to San Diego to meet up with some friends and watch some other friends perform. Good times, let the drinking commence... OH SHIT. Not a good sign... Chopper Dave is here... this wont end well. This guy will haunt me to the end of my days... or at least until the end of his. Either way, i already knew shit was going to get gnarly and would very likely end in an arrest of some sort. Well, im trying not to pay attention to the obvious fact that shit WILL get crazy,  i start going on the beers. Usually a safe route for me, i never know with mix drinks or shots... that shit can get easily retarded with me. But at least going on the beers its a consistent and quantifiable amount of alcohol and a level of inebriation that's easy enough to maintain.

    I remeber managing to get through most of the night unscathed... with the exception of a consensual dog pile, a broken table, and some guy who looked (and acted) exactly like Bernie Lomax. No harm, no foul... so we pile up into the rover and head on back to the hotel to pick up some bags from the hotel, and run on over to another club to watch Chris Lake play. I didnt even realize how drunk i was, at least until 3 of us were sitting precariously on a couch in the lobby singing “just a friend” by Bizmarkie. Since most on-the-spot  sobriety tests can be conducted simply by observing what stupid song the person is singing, you could easily have gathered that we were pretty wasted. Someone did something and im not sure what, but i vividly remeber falling backwards at a high velocity along with 2 others. Next thing i know, is me and Scrillex falling off this couch and railing our heads off an oak table. I still can't belive that it didnt knock me right out... of course the initial pain was immediately drown out by the laughter of others. Groovy. Im still alive. So, i guess the only thing i can talk about all night to anyone is “how hard i hit my head” ... so went and saw chris lake over at Voyeur, i humped his leg, and left.  Its time to go back to the hotel in LA.

I at least remember getting into the hotel, getting into my room, and hitting that bed harder than ever before. Peace at last, time to recover from this, because its going to hurt like hell in the morning...

Oh, this isn't over. 4 am. Im fast asleep. And of course, we cant have that... so theres pounding on my door. Fierce “fuck you” pounding... i slowly crawl out of bed and kinda stumble at it... im pretty sober at this point. Just groggy from a mild concussion and a bit dazed from nearly entering the best sleep i would have had in a long time. So, i crank open the door a tad... and there are 2 police officers standing there looking rather unimpressed... i stood there for a second flying into my memory of the nights events and trying to collect any kind of “what the fuck was i thinking” moments.... but came up with nothing, so i was genuinely confused on the nature of this little visit.

“sir could you please come with us?”  says the one officer...  well... i already knew i didn't have a choice, and i actually was pretty curious... so, i oblidged. Im sitting in the elevator on the way down just trying to figure it all out, i already know the first thing to ask is “what seems to be the problem officer” but i figured that was way to fucking cliche, and i'd rather just get right into it and see whats up. So they usher me out of the lobby and into the front foyer / car park into what looked like a fucking murder scene to me... at least 12 cops and a couple of cruisers. I was actually REALLY concerned at this point... so im starting to freak out a little. Then they asked me if i knew a “Paul Macrae” ... of course i did, he's my tour manager. They werent really fucking around with some long exciting story, but just came out and said “yup, we saw him walking around sunset blvd, naked, no id... and he said he's staying here with you?” im usually pretty courteous and helpful towards the police for obvious reasons, but i really had nothing else to say other than “what.... the... fuck?”

I just cant believe this shit, but i looked over at the car, and there's a naked Paul sitting in the back of the cruiser looking quite sad. Some words were exchanged between myself and the officer.... mainly me asking “what the ff....?” but the most i got from anyone was ... “look, we just found him walking around naked on sunset....” For reasons i will never understand... they just let him out of the car, and told me to take him up to his room and put his ass to bed... really. It was that simple. So, paul walks up to me and just says “lets just get out of the public” gets in the elevator, and goes into his room. I was so amused and bewildered by this whole fucking scenario i couldnt even muster up a “what the fuck dude???” so i just went into my room and passed out.

To this day, neither myself, nor Paul knows exactly what happened. I blame Dave.

Dave Dave Dave

heres a little story for you guys, probably one of my most memorable days ever... so far! It's kinda funny how everyone at any event probably has some kind of crazy and twisted day... and at every event where hundreds of thousands of people show up... there are like over 100,000 stories about some insane day.... here was my day!

Chopper dave. AKA Dave Dave Dave. I would have loved to leave dave out of this, but this man has single handedly fucked up so many programs, i think he deserves a medal of sorts. Don't get me wrong, Daves a cool guy... really he is. But everything about this guy is basicly, trouble. Im not the only person in the world who's had the privilege of dealing with dave, trust me. The man is of legendary stature. However, our scenario begins in an empty bus lot at a festival that shall remain nameless.

    Myself and Tommy Lee were walking back towards our camp, aptly named “Camp Suckit” when we hear the distant whirr of a chopper... naturally, i don't flinch nearly as much as tommy when i hear a chopper, so i didnt really think much of it. Tommy however, had to look up and see what the deal was (yes, its a helicopter).. “I Know that Helicopter” Tommy says,  “Of course you do...” i moaned, my eyes couldnt have rolled back in my head any more. “Dude, that's chopper dave!” ... when tommy lights up like that, and that silly shit eating grin smears across his face, you just KNOW some stupid shit is about to go down. So... he flicks out his blackberry and hammers away on it, as it goes, he's messaging this chopper pilot. Im sorry, but if i was flying a chopper, i don't think i'd have the capacity, or courage to text back... but this is Chopper Dave we're talking about. Lo and behold... Turns out, it is Chopper Dave circling us in the parking lot from miles about. So tommy gets real damn excited now, which scares me more. Now, i couldnt make this up if i tried, but some distance across the empty parking lot / feild... a couple of people can be seen running out of and away from a VW van, which is in flames. Great.

    Now what.... so theres this van on fire, out of fuckin nowhere, and Chopper Dave comes in to the fucking resuce or something... who knows. Chopper lands maybe about 100 feet from this near exploding flame engulfed shaggin wagon... and of course, out pops dave from the chopper, fire extinguisher in hand. Perfect, a selfless act of compassion and heroism. We're actually more awestruck at the fact Dave landed the chopper in our parking lot then some fuckin van about to explode... so we did what came naturally and asked Dave to take us up for a boot around the festival for teh luls. So up we go... this poor vans burning to shit, and were flying around in circles having a fuckin laugh at it from above. Good Times, for now.

    Well, we figure we have to land this shit sometime this year... so, time to set it down there Dave... and preferrably not somewhere where we have to get a cab back to our tourbus. So, hell, let's just land it back beside the now well-taosty van where we took off from. Only difference this time, theres a couple of firetrucks, police cars, about 15 cops, and a whole shitload of festival security swarming around. Im pretty sure it was safe to say that the outlook on this one was not good. So the chopper lands and we slowly climb out... to our surprise, most of the action was focused on the burning van and we've somehow gotten away unnoticed. Well, this wasn't entirely true... a handful of quads with your typical festival security peoples en route soon surrounded us.

    Have you ever seen someone so pissed off that when they shouted, it almost sounded like they were going to cry? I mean really cry, shaking, all red in the face... it wasn't even an intimidating “pissed off” it was more of ... wow, someone catch this guy if he passes out “pissed off”. This was the head of security of this festival. Very professional. In fact, im not even sure what the fuck he was screaming, but at some point during his fit, the message was clear-ish “yyyyyyouuuu cant lllalalala land a helicopter at mumumu-my festival!!!!”. Ah, gotcha... I figure I'm in the clear because, fuck, i didn't land it. Right?  Okay. Awesome, keep walking Joel, get on the bus and just let them figure it out. Of course were again intercepted by the security goon squad with “OKAY!!!! were cutting your bands, you're ejected from the festival” ... seeing as i was kinda headlining the dance tent at the festival that night, i figured they couldn't have been too informed as to what the deal was there.. but hey whatever... I figured it would be best to just play along with it for now and let the powers that be sort it all out later, there's a long night ahead of us no doubt.

    So off come the wristbands, i volunteer first. Security goon whips out a hunting knife probably bigger than his dick and proceeds to flick the band off my wrist. This was an epic moment for me... at that exact moment i was BANISHED! Clear and vivid thoughts of video game prologues from the past flashed before my eyes... i was so... banished. And so was Tommy and his entourage, and more or less everyone else within a vicinity of 40 feet from a helicopter. So, dave pulls a prancealot, hops in his chopper, and off he goes. No harm, no foul. To this day, ill never know why 15 cops and 10 fireman had absolutley no interest in a helicopter that landed mere yards from a scene of a fuckin burning van and all this other crazy shit.

    Ah, what a great story, i thought. But it didnt end here im afraid... as we piled back into our tourbus, lols were had... right up until about the time Paul came back with some grim news. “Youve been pulled from the bill.” He says... Naturally my immediate response was “what the fuck you on about?” but i knew exactly what he was on about... and then i had a bad feeling about the whole ordeal. As it turns out, this guy who works for the event, apparently, and unbeknownst to me, has a SERIOUS problem with Tommy Lee and company. So, Pauls off to calm this promoter down / have a disccusion... and then comes back with even worse news. “I think the only way you're going to be able to play tonight is if Tommy comes off the bus and apologizes to the head promoter.” He says.

    This shit is unreal. If i know one thing about Tommy, it's that Tommy is not a fucking deligate. If anythings going to happen, were going to ask him to do it for my sake, then he'll go out there with the guy... things will get heated, and then without much delay after that, this promoters teeth will very likely end up in the back of his head and we'll all get 20 minutes on TMZ and a free cruiser ride to jail. But, after much on-the-spot training and dicksucking 101, we finally convince tommy to get out there and apologize (or whatever?) So he gets out there, and were eagerly watching from the bus praying for some monumental shit to get thrown down...

    Some hands waived around, everyones looking a little pissed and bothered, all while were giggling like little bitches on the bus... Lo and behold tommy returns with the news. Seems he's managed to talk his way around whatever the fuck the problem was back in the 80's and my agents scrambling around like a retard looking to get us some bands to get us back into the festival. In the end, i did end up playing my set, and it was amazing fun for all of of, and there wasnt a single bad vibe after that..... Im pretty sure this could all have been avoided, in fact, the whole thing COULD have EASILY been avoided.... but i mostly blame dave, who will very likely show up again in my life at some point.

kids today.

Im not a major in statistics, but i can understand the internets to some degree... looks like people who are into whatever it is i do for a living seem to be around the ages of 18-25 .... of course there's alot of groups who are completely outside that bracket, and thats fine... but the one that troubles me most are the little ones. god bless em.

I know you're not going to believe me for a second, but i love kids. well maybe not the whole package that encompassas all thats "a kid" ... but i really admire their inexperience in life. And it really make me feel guilty when i read an email or a comment likie "my 5 year old niece loves your mouse ears" or "my 10 year old kid loves your music"  those are the kind of comments that actually make me feel valid in this world really...

Having said that, here come's the rub... i have no problem connecting to anyone in my age group. I know im a sarcastic stupid fuck, maybe a bit arrogant... okay, alot. probably kind of a dick, i say and do stupid things, and im just a terrible model of what a good natured human beeing is supposed to be. But when i read comments about how kids love the mouse image, the music, etc... it kinda breaks my heart a little. hahah! im serious! im like..... "awwwwww shit! cute little fuckers"... but then pause for a second and think... fuck... but im such a terrible human being really.. and i really dont want kids to... i dunno, read my facebook, or check my blog, or really know anything about me.  SUCKS!

but do know, for those of you with little ones, theyre my favorite fans. Dude! kids are fuckin crazy. really.... i mean, they ask the most AWESOME questions ever. In fact, ill do you one better...  the BEST interview i have EVER done was for an 11 year old kid in Boston. i shit you not.... so all you other "professional journalists" can fuckin SUCK IT,  the kid was so rad... i mean, im sure it made his day and all that... but the questions were so fuckin awesome that i WANTED to do it... and it was fun (and his mom brought me cookies too, which certainly helps smooth things over with me)

The questions werent completely out there... they just were NOT stupid questions, and it was everything what i would love my life to be... fun. Like... whats your favorite vegetable? instead of "HOW DID YOU COME UP WITH THE NAME DEADMAU5".... god im so sick of that one... it's not insightful... and i have no problem telling an interviewer "do i really need to be asked this every fucking interview?" of course they just reply with "yes.. people want to know!" dude.... they dont. I DONT. this is not insightful at all.

anways, back to the kids... one kid i came across, was DAMN ADAMANT on the fact that there were speakers in my big mouse ears and thats where all the music came from.... dude, its hilarious. and you just can't hate on something like that.

seriously... i once performed in front of 190,000 people in argentina.... didnt even bat an eye.... i just walked up there, did my thing, had an amazing time and walked off... nothin to it!   But if you want to KNOW the definition of nervousness and fear, stand up with a microphone in front of 30 8th graders in an LA County middleschool while they barrel the questions at you faster than you can think while youre struggling to come up with appropriate, educational or insightful answers. not easy.

so yeah, i love seeing the kid comments, or parental comments from the weird things kids say and think in terms of the mouse...having said that, i regret not being a more positive role model as a person. Like mostly everything else happening around me, it's just not something i ever expected to be expected of me in this life.

"that guy"

i hate that guy.

seriously, he is the downfall of a normal society as we know it... or knew it before we wrote a couple of catchy tracks anyway. That guy is fucking everywhere, and he always makes himself known by saying "i don't want to be that guy...but..."  but!   WHAT? dude, YOU'RE THAT GUY!.  fuck that guy...   shit, too many people are watching, i guess i have to deal with that guy for a minute. ...<sarcasm> i wonder what that guy wants now.</sarcasm>

Usually that guy is harmless and just wants a quick photo. i can deal with that most times. That guy always wants me to sign something, but he never has a pen. That guy doesn't have his shit together, and doesnt know how to work his camera either.... i'd bet you my left nut that there are over 300 video's of me posing for a photo for 3 seconds until some drunk chick screams into the camera "ITS TAKING A VIDEO".

That guy doesnt know how to highfive either... (protip: look at the other persons elbow and you'll nail it everytime.) And when he's not trying to dosh out high fives, he's got his sweaty arm around your neck, practically putting you in a headlock and screaming a phrase in your ear that always starts with "I KNOW YOU GET THIS ALL THE TIME BUT..." maybe some other people don't get tired of that.

That guy is coincedently the same guy who saw you at a show 3 years ago and said the exact same shit, and if you didnt remeber, he'll remind you, and expect you to remeber. Just smile and nod, otherwise he'll say "you dont have to be an asshole" ... ive tried this once in Los Angeles.... you know... being honest. "i honestly dont remeber you dude, but i have a terrible memory" ...  WELL FUCK YOU MAN! I THOUGHT WE WERE TIGHT.... hmmm.. don't worry that guy, were tight, i know you well.

sometimes that guy teams up with those other guys and they take turns doing that guy things.... which is okay too i guess, because at least you can see what you're about to walk into.

That guy's girlfriend is always hot too...  how the fuck did that guy do that? is she like... that chick or something?  where do those chicks hang out? it's crazy. But im happy for that guy, that guy is at least having a great time and 2 out of 5 has a hot that girl with em... so life can't be at all bad for that guy.

here's to that guy.


discontentment and spellchecking

Having considered seeking psychotheraputical help, and even having explored a few options, i think im going to have ago at being my own psychotherapist. Why not? I think im qualified... im certainly opinionated enough to be anyway... and thats good enough for me.

I've also been considering writting a book. Of course, nothing along the lines of some amazingly well-versed, spellchecked fluid publication that's going to be some NY Times bestseller.... but at least some kind of literal manisfestation of sorts. But then i thought, maybe ill just start some kind of "fuckit, ill just say it how it is" blog. Maybe keep it away from the facebook and the twatter, just to avoid any confusion or illusion of control from "the powers that be" ...  plus theres something to be said about writting a few paragraphs rather than keeping a whole day of bullshit wrapped up in a neat little package no more than 140 characters.

If anything, im hoping this will serve as a decent spot to post my thoughts and opinions on whatever for now, and hopefully let it culminate into something worthy of reflection and research later so i can hopefully compile this into some kind of book.

If you've been following me for the past 5 years, im sure we'll all get a huge fucking kick out of this... myself included.... god knows i get enough weirdos running into my anecdotes or statements and reposting them on their cool little message boards... and i certainly cant be fucked to jump in over there to defend any given idiots claim or rant... so... this is going to work pretty good for me.

i can't exactly tell you what to expect here... but im definatley going to keep it as "matter of fact" as i can... i've locked this space of the internet down from management, my label, and my cat... so it's highly unlikely anything on here is going to come from "The powers that be" (who will likely be making numerous appearances on this blog)

So, enjoy... or don't enjoy. I'm doing this for my own sanity.