Often the Rapist - "Often the Rapist", from their self titled album "Often the Rapist"
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
President Theodore Daniel Smith
Day 6
Four days into the Rick Springfield & Friends Cruise 2011 we are finally doing something that involves Rick Springfield. That's right. We came on the Rick Springfield cruise and have yet to even try to do something involving this man. Don't ask why. There isn't a real reason. We just... haven't gotten around to it. Maybe I'm trying to disappoint myself. I seem to do that a lot. I set myself up for disaster. Often. There's a lot weighing on my mind right now and for the first time in about a week "Pass the Dutchie" isn't one of them. Well, maybe a little.
Last night I was thinking about all the crazy shit that’s been going on back home and I started to get bummed out a little. My first time out of the country and my beautiful home state of Oklahoma, has 3 earthquakes (and from what I've heard, they weren't totally pussy.), tornadoes, the seriously heavy band, Boris, playing with former Fugazi bassist, Joe Lally, Tommy Stinson, from the rocking ass band The Replacements hanging out at my favorite record store, and I'm not there to be a part of any of it! Damn. But it's cool. This has still been a most non heinous trip and I don't regret coming. At all. I convinced myself that this is still totally worth it and then the clouds open and the sun shined on us. Metaphorically, of course. It was pretty late at night.
Brady and I were kind of itching to do something last night around 11:00 pm. We tidied the cabin up a bit for Natan. You know, so he didn’t think we are the complete slobs that we may or may not be. An inaugural shot and we make our way to the lobby deck to get some more drinks. Slowly walking through, scoping the place out, this thirty-something dark skinned chick, named Allie, yells “Hey, Independents! I know those guys!” She was referring to the shirt Brady was wearing. A band t he had recently stolen from his younger brother Jeremy. They started talking and I started listening. Things were going smooth, it seemed were making a new friend. Then somewhere on down the line she mentions her husband. Who is in a band. That band just so happens to be FUCKING CANNIBAL CORPSE. The fucking Deathmetal band. Half the reason I’m trying to make a big deal out of this is because it is a big deal. This girl Allie just happens to know some small ass band Brady saw in Tulsa in 1996. And then mentions her fucking metal ass husband. And… get this. She is into, I mean like way into Richard Springthorpe (Rick Springfield’s real/Australian name.). What are the odds? Really. What are the odds? After talking about Deathmetal for a bit we grab some more drinks and head to The Onyx room where Rick is supposedly going to perform an intimate solo piano show. We wait for a few hours and becomes apparent Rick isn’t going to play. It became apparent because some cruise official walked up to the mic and made an announcement saying that Rick wouldn’t make it. Disappointed we head back to the dance club where I was a huge hit a few days ago.
I need to interject this. I mentioned “Moving Like Bernie” earlier this week. Why? Well, the other night we went to the dance club. I was drunk, and decided to start cutting rugs. The only dance I can pull off well is the goddamn Bernie dance. And I did it for a really long time. People actually dug it, it was cool. Like I said I was a hit. I was dancing like a fool. Like Frank Zappa, I… was… a… dancing… fool. And I was cracking everyone up too, which was a major plus because that was my original intention. People started moving like Bernie with me and started calling me Bernie. There might have been some chants even, I‘m not sure, I was really drunk. People remembered my face on shore and on various decks they would notice me and yell “Hey Bernie! Remember me?! Yeah!” To top it off, while I was moving like Bernie the dj pulled through like a mother fucker and played the fucking “Moving Like Bernie” song. It truly was magical.
Movin' Like Bernie
Aight, now back to last night. We hang out well into the morning again, had some more awesome talks and passed out.
Aight, now back to earlier today. We finally go to a Rick show and no surprise, there are a lot middle-aged women patiently waiting in line to see their hero. The show started with some give-aways, and a quick Rick video montage and the ladies went ape shit. This man can make the most legit of 40 something year old woman act like they did when they were seeing their pop prince for the first time. But that’s no surprise either, really. Who does this not happen to (Too cool for school Johnny Shen, maybe…)? The band started playing, the curtain went up, and Rick sounded a little shaky. Nerves perhaps? This was the last show of the last cruise, as far as I know, that he’s doing. Hmm. Whatever the cause for the shaky voice, this situation was a little too intense. This whole trip has been a little too intense. But in a good way. We ended up leaving the show about three songs in and made our way to the Lido Deck for some chicken nuggets and more life discussions (common theme of the week).
About 4 hours later we finally hit up the fine dinning that we had been signed up for but never attended, for reasons unknown to us, and it was very pleasant. I had the Veal Parmesan with a side of scalloped potatoes and a glass of Castle Rock Cabernet Sauvignon. Brady had the meat loaf… We ended dinner with a short discussion over Ghostbusters 1 & 2. I caught up with an Australian lady named Sandy that I had met a few nights before, snapped a picture, said goodbye, and started to leave The Universe (that‘s the name of the dinning room). Just before we turned around a song which seemed to be called “Reggae Nights” started blaring from the overhead speakers and people just got up and started dancing. It was very strange. Brady, noticing how strange it was, got out his phone to start documenting. We’d had enough of the weird and turned to the elevators to go back to the cabin. Just then the man himself, Rick Sprungsteenfeld, walked past us. I convinced Brades to ask him about the 7 inch record he made and presented to Mr. Springfield the first time he saw him in concert, and seconds into the conversation Rick’s stoic look turned to a smile as he replied with what seemed to be a head nod. It was… sweet, to say the least.
I had no idea, at the time, this song was Jimmy Cliff
So here I am in the cabin on the last night of our voyage to the Caribbean, our decent into madness, our magical once in a lifetime Rick Springfield & Friends 2011 Cruise, and instead of continuing my binge drinking and trying to find the next club Rick will be for the night, I’m writing. Both Brady and I have learned a lot about each other and ourselves. From going to almost not being able to even board the boat, to having a shit time, to having an amazing time, to becoming shamen(?), it’s almost over. We did it. We climbed the fucking mountain and shat on it. We made the mountain our bitch, and met a lot of really cool people along the way.
I know, from being around people all of my life, that our trip was way different from any other person on this boat’s trip. I mean for fucks sake, I know I’ve probably mentioned this a million times by now, but we went on a Rick Springfield cruise and didn’t even finish a single Rick Springfield thing. But that’s ok, he wasn’t my only motivation for tagging along with Brady on this adventure. The overall experience was. This is something that I will remember for the rest of my life and something that I can never do again. So, there. There it is. I’m pretty sure I covered most of what I wanted to say. I’m sorry if the continuity seems a little off, but I’ve been writing this piece all day. Fuck. This took a long time.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
It's Only Rock'n Roll
Day 5
Last night was calm. Tonight's even more calm, but last night was calm. Brady and I spent some time apart to collect ourselves and I feel it was necessary. We got back together and decided to hit up the late night Mexican buffet. I keep tricking myself into thinking that the food isn't awful. It is. Back to the cabin to call it a night. Sleeping was just not in the cards at that time. Restless and lower backs in inconceivable pain Brady and I decided to stay up a do what our friendship is based on... talking about Rock'n Roll well into the morning. Dokken, Rick Springfield (sort of), Kurt Cobain (as usual), but mainly The Rolling Stones. I had no idea The Rolling Stones meant so much to Brady until this trip happened. Which, to me, is very surprising. We end up talking about music almost every time we hang out with each other (which is not a bad thing, nor does it get old). We also touched on a few other subjects, LSD, conspiracy theories (I can't get away from this subject, it follows me like a Jamaican peddler.), and shamanism. I never thought I'd leave Jamaica a shaman, but here we are. I don't really believe myself to be a shaman, but, what Brady described to me as to what a shaman is, or how to become a shaman, rather, is almost exactly what we have been doing to ourselves with the song "Pass the dutchie". It was a weird conclusion to come to, but we're weird people.
I think I ended up sleeping for about for about 10 hours. Not too out of the ordinary for me, but I needed it. My body was sooooooooo sore. I could barely get out of bed. It was about 2:30 pm, island time, and we had about an hour to see what Grand Cayman was all about. We didn't find out what it's ALL about, but we did meet some nice ass people. Unlike Jamaica, the people don't hassle you until you angrily hand them a few bucks. They present what they are selling and if you say "no thanks" they kindly leave you be. A coconut man explained to us that the Cayman Islands don't have the poverty issues that Jamaica does. Which you can easily tell if you aren't blind. Literally blind. Grand Cayman is very pretty and seems to be constantly expanding. Construction cranes and the like. That being said, people from Grand Cayman don't need to hassle you for money like the Jamaicans do. I'm not trying to be harsh on Jamaica and it's people, but it is completely different from the story book version and "Cool Runnings."
We walked around for a few blocks in search of some righteous food and drink, and of course... a record store. We found the food. Roti. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wrap_roti The lady selling it was probably the most pleasant person, other than Natan, that we've met thus far. Brady made small talk with her while we ate, mainly about peppers. Gettin' some points with the locals. We finished eating and asked the nice Roti lady if there were any record stores around. We were in luck! A record store by the name of "Funky Tangs" was just around the block. With the Caribbean accent, it sounded like she was saying "Funky Town". Much to our chagrin, that was not the case. And even more so, it wasn't a record store. It looked to be a pawn shop with a section full of cds. Meh. We made the best of the situation and our time left on the island and quickly grabbed a bunch of dub, which turned out to be really awesome (stand out dub: the album "Dread Beat An'Blood" by Linton Kwesi Johnson. If you can find, get it.) and because of last nights convo, I decided to get an album I hadn't heard in forever. The Rolling Stones' "It's Only Rock'n Roll". It just ended in fact, and because I haven't gotten "my rocks off" I'm continuing the Stones train with "Exile On Main Street" while I finish this blog entry.
After Funky Tangs, we had about 15 minutes and 10 blocks to get back to the ferry to get back to the boat and on our way back to America. We made it. Awesome. While in line for the ferry, we made small talk with about 7 middle-aged women who referenced the musical "Grease". Grease reference count on the trip so far: 3. They were nice ladies. Back to the cabin. I slept for a couple more hours. Woke up just before Brady walked in from eating on the Lido Deck. By the way, As Brady said, "The Lido Deck is where IT goes on". That's where the shit goes down. Food, movies, documentaries about Rick, air guitar contests, you name it they've got it. Anyway, he told me they had some not so bad food, leg of lamb, mint jelly, beer battered fish. It was the best food the boat had to offer. Like I mentioned, the food on this boat has been... not good, and this was the best they've given us. I scarfed it down, grabbed a cup of coffee to take back to the room to enjoy with a cigarette and an ocean view. Watching the ocean from the balcony is still my favorite thing to do on the boat. Well maybe drinking is. They're both pretty rad and when you do them at the same time it's like a ménage à trois for the senses.
So, I think it's about nine o'clock. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I haven't ingested any alcohol today. That needs to change. One more cup of coffee and one more cigarette, then some kind of alcohol.
Cheers!
Post script: This is Brady's blog. Read it. It's too good not to. http://heyhomieyourdicksonfire.blogspot.com/
Last night was calm. Tonight's even more calm, but last night was calm. Brady and I spent some time apart to collect ourselves and I feel it was necessary. We got back together and decided to hit up the late night Mexican buffet. I keep tricking myself into thinking that the food isn't awful. It is. Back to the cabin to call it a night. Sleeping was just not in the cards at that time. Restless and lower backs in inconceivable pain Brady and I decided to stay up a do what our friendship is based on... talking about Rock'n Roll well into the morning. Dokken, Rick Springfield (sort of), Kurt Cobain (as usual), but mainly The Rolling Stones. I had no idea The Rolling Stones meant so much to Brady until this trip happened. Which, to me, is very surprising. We end up talking about music almost every time we hang out with each other (which is not a bad thing, nor does it get old). We also touched on a few other subjects, LSD, conspiracy theories (I can't get away from this subject, it follows me like a Jamaican peddler.), and shamanism. I never thought I'd leave Jamaica a shaman, but here we are. I don't really believe myself to be a shaman, but, what Brady described to me as to what a shaman is, or how to become a shaman, rather, is almost exactly what we have been doing to ourselves with the song "Pass the dutchie". It was a weird conclusion to come to, but we're weird people.
I think I ended up sleeping for about for about 10 hours. Not too out of the ordinary for me, but I needed it. My body was sooooooooo sore. I could barely get out of bed. It was about 2:30 pm, island time, and we had about an hour to see what Grand Cayman was all about. We didn't find out what it's ALL about, but we did meet some nice ass people. Unlike Jamaica, the people don't hassle you until you angrily hand them a few bucks. They present what they are selling and if you say "no thanks" they kindly leave you be. A coconut man explained to us that the Cayman Islands don't have the poverty issues that Jamaica does. Which you can easily tell if you aren't blind. Literally blind. Grand Cayman is very pretty and seems to be constantly expanding. Construction cranes and the like. That being said, people from Grand Cayman don't need to hassle you for money like the Jamaicans do. I'm not trying to be harsh on Jamaica and it's people, but it is completely different from the story book version and "Cool Runnings."
After Funky Tangs, we had about 15 minutes and 10 blocks to get back to the ferry to get back to the boat and on our way back to America. We made it. Awesome. While in line for the ferry, we made small talk with about 7 middle-aged women who referenced the musical "Grease". Grease reference count on the trip so far: 3. They were nice ladies. Back to the cabin. I slept for a couple more hours. Woke up just before Brady walked in from eating on the Lido Deck. By the way, As Brady said, "The Lido Deck is where IT goes on". That's where the shit goes down. Food, movies, documentaries about Rick, air guitar contests, you name it they've got it. Anyway, he told me they had some not so bad food, leg of lamb, mint jelly, beer battered fish. It was the best food the boat had to offer. Like I mentioned, the food on this boat has been... not good, and this was the best they've given us. I scarfed it down, grabbed a cup of coffee to take back to the room to enjoy with a cigarette and an ocean view. Watching the ocean from the balcony is still my favorite thing to do on the boat. Well maybe drinking is. They're both pretty rad and when you do them at the same time it's like a ménage à trois for the senses.
So, I think it's about nine o'clock. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I haven't ingested any alcohol today. That needs to change. One more cup of coffee and one more cigarette, then some kind of alcohol.
Cheers!
Post script: This is Brady's blog. Read it. It's too good not to. http://heyhomieyourdicksonfire.blogspot.com/
Monday, November 7, 2011
Moving Like Bernie
Days 3/4
Let me just start off by saying that cruises are fucking insane. The people on cruises are fucking insane. Jamaica is insane.
Brades and I spent the first day on the boat drinking ourselves into submission. Not gonna lie, blackout drunk happened. Surprise. Somehow, though, we made it back to the cabin.
The beginning of the next day the unthinkable happened. "Pass the Dutchie" by Musical Youth played on repeat for what seemed like an eternity. Listening to any "music" other than said song doesn't even make sense anymore. All sense is slowly going the way of the buffalo. Listening to this song the way we listen to it is driving me crazy. Binge drinking for the past 3 days is taking it's toll on my mind and body.
Shots, beer, more beer, another shot, another beer, cigar, martinis, white russians, dirty bananas, "fun ships", shots, beer, dance club, professional baseball, beer, stand up comedians, what the fuck, moving like bernie, old people who are into Rick Springfield and not Black Metal, more beer, pizza, talking about Rick Springfield, Black Metal, and politics to Rick Springfield fans until eight in the morning. Arriving to Jamaica. WHAT... THE... FUCK... Pass the dutchie pon the left hand side. How does it feel when you've got no food? Dr. Peter Venkman.
Everyone in Jamaica tries to make money by pestering the fuck out of you. "Yes, I would like to smoke weed with your dreads." "Thank you, Jamaican man, for the free bracelet that says 'IRIE'." "One of the "highest" murder rates in the world, you say."
The food was pretty good.
I swam in the ocean for the first time in my life. The water is salty. The beach was sandy. Just like everyone says.
The food was pretty good.
I feel like dog shit.
Did I mention the food?
No luck on finding a Jamaican record store, nor on smoking the dope.
Let me just start off by saying that cruises are fucking insane. The people on cruises are fucking insane. Jamaica is insane.
Brades and I spent the first day on the boat drinking ourselves into submission. Not gonna lie, blackout drunk happened. Surprise. Somehow, though, we made it back to the cabin.
The beginning of the next day the unthinkable happened. "Pass the Dutchie" by Musical Youth played on repeat for what seemed like an eternity. Listening to any "music" other than said song doesn't even make sense anymore. All sense is slowly going the way of the buffalo. Listening to this song the way we listen to it is driving me crazy. Binge drinking for the past 3 days is taking it's toll on my mind and body.
Shots, beer, more beer, another shot, another beer, cigar, martinis, white russians, dirty bananas, "fun ships", shots, beer, dance club, professional baseball, beer, stand up comedians, what the fuck, moving like bernie, old people who are into Rick Springfield and not Black Metal, more beer, pizza, talking about Rick Springfield, Black Metal, and politics to Rick Springfield fans until eight in the morning. Arriving to Jamaica. WHAT... THE... FUCK... Pass the dutchie pon the left hand side. How does it feel when you've got no food? Dr. Peter Venkman.
Everyone in Jamaica tries to make money by pestering the fuck out of you. "Yes, I would like to smoke weed with your dreads." "Thank you, Jamaican man, for the free bracelet that says 'IRIE'." "One of the "highest" murder rates in the world, you say."
The food was pretty good.
I swam in the ocean for the first time in my life. The water is salty. The beach was sandy. Just like everyone says.
The food was pretty good.
I feel like dog shit.
Did I mention the food?
No luck on finding a Jamaican record store, nor on smoking the dope.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
"How does it feel when you've got no food?"
Day 2
I started the day with a hangover, and ended it with copious amounts of booze. The hotel in Ft. Lauderdale, The Hyatt Pier 66, was probably the nicest I've ever slept in. Designed in the 60s by Brady's Grandfather, it looked like a stack of dominoes that had been twisted from top to bottom (That's actually how he got the idea). After a quick trip to the Oasis Cafe for a grilled chicken burrito and a handful of taxi's, we were off to Miami to set sail aboard the Carnival Destiny (that's the name of the boat). Upon arrival we were told we needed passports or birth certificates to verify we were American citizens. Or something. Surprisingly, we did not have those things on hand. One day into the trip and we almost fucked it all. Luckily, fax machines were invented for such purposes, and we made it. We got on the boat, found our cabin, and immediately started pounding... various alcohols. I was shit-face wasted by 7 p.m. eastern time.
Mingling on a Rick Springfield cruise is pretty easy, bee tee dub. It seemed past a certain time everyone is drinking and eager to talk to other people that are drinking. We met some pretty interesting people from all over the world. Minnesota, Canada, the Philippines, Lithuania, Serbia, Mexico, Turkey. And soon I will have met Jamaicans. And hopefully smoke their dope.
I'm not quite sure how drunk I officially "was", but a good sign was waking up in the cabin at 3:30 a.m. still unbelievably drunk and even more confused. I don't know how we managed to get back to the cabin, but we didn't make it unscathed. Brady's leg, for some reason, looks as if someone put out a cigar on it and his face, somehow, got covered in ketchup. Really, the only disappointment was how many people aren't walking around the ship at 4 in the morning. Oh, and the lack of awesome drugs. Sure booze is fun and all, but sometimes situations such as Rick Springfield & Friends Cruise 2011 would be better accompanied with strong psychedelics. Oh well...
Here are some pictures...
I started the day with a hangover, and ended it with copious amounts of booze. The hotel in Ft. Lauderdale, The Hyatt Pier 66, was probably the nicest I've ever slept in. Designed in the 60s by Brady's Grandfather, it looked like a stack of dominoes that had been twisted from top to bottom (That's actually how he got the idea). After a quick trip to the Oasis Cafe for a grilled chicken burrito and a handful of taxi's, we were off to Miami to set sail aboard the Carnival Destiny (that's the name of the boat). Upon arrival we were told we needed passports or birth certificates to verify we were American citizens. Or something. Surprisingly, we did not have those things on hand. One day into the trip and we almost fucked it all. Luckily, fax machines were invented for such purposes, and we made it. We got on the boat, found our cabin, and immediately started pounding... various alcohols. I was shit-face wasted by 7 p.m. eastern time.
Mingling on a Rick Springfield cruise is pretty easy, bee tee dub. It seemed past a certain time everyone is drinking and eager to talk to other people that are drinking. We met some pretty interesting people from all over the world. Minnesota, Canada, the Philippines, Lithuania, Serbia, Mexico, Turkey. And soon I will have met Jamaicans. And hopefully smoke their dope.
I'm not quite sure how drunk I officially "was", but a good sign was waking up in the cabin at 3:30 a.m. still unbelievably drunk and even more confused. I don't know how we managed to get back to the cabin, but we didn't make it unscathed. Brady's leg, for some reason, looks as if someone put out a cigar on it and his face, somehow, got covered in ketchup. Really, the only disappointment was how many people aren't walking around the ship at 4 in the morning. Oh, and the lack of awesome drugs. Sure booze is fun and all, but sometimes situations such as Rick Springfield & Friends Cruise 2011 would be better accompanied with strong psychedelics. Oh well...
Here are some pictures...
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Rick Springfield & Friends Cruise: Day 1
Aight, so here's the shit... A really good friend of mine, B. W., was gracious enough to take me with him on a trip to Jamaica. On a cruise. A Rick Springfield cruise. A fucking cruise to Jamaica with Rick Springfield. He will be performing. He will be hanging out.
"What's the big deal?", you might be asking, "Who's Rick Springfield?", you might be asking. Well...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxY7X11ExUI
He's somewhat of a badass... And I never would have known it if it weren't for Mr. B.W.
So, now that that's out of the way. I'm poppin' a lot of cherries this week. I've never been more than 2 states away from Oklahoma, have never flown on a plane, have never seen the ocean, and have never been on a boat (at least a boat the size of a cruise ship).
(going over the Red River... or something)
Anyhoo... I'm drinking a 32 oz. of Old English in a hotel room in Ft. Lauderdale right now and it needs to be finished. I will be updating frequently, so check back tomorrie if you're not an asshole. J/K.
<3
JORDZ
"What's the big deal?", you might be asking, "Who's Rick Springfield?", you might be asking. Well...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxY7X11ExUI
He's somewhat of a badass... And I never would have known it if it weren't for Mr. B.W.
So, now that that's out of the way. I'm poppin' a lot of cherries this week. I've never been more than 2 states away from Oklahoma, have never flown on a plane, have never seen the ocean, and have never been on a boat (at least a boat the size of a cruise ship).
Anyhoo... I'm drinking a 32 oz. of Old English in a hotel room in Ft. Lauderdale right now and it needs to be finished. I will be updating frequently, so check back tomorrie if you're not an asshole. J/K.
<3
JORDZ
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