Thanks, I think ...
Thanks to all those who sent kind thoughts and good wishes my way, both before and after I knew whether or not I still had a job. It was much appreciated, and may have swayed the cosmic order of things my way. Lots of my colleagues weren't nearly so lucky, so I'll be tipping my 40 to them tonight.
One soon-to-be-former colleague was kind enough to point out a couple of discrepancies in my account of the company's history: Apparently the head count is officially at 22, and Wednesday's "staff reduction" was actually the eighth round of layoffs I've survived. Shit, I'm even more Teflon that I thought.
Am I a Mullethead or Not?
You be the judge. I got my wig hooked up last night courtesy of the great and wonderful Polly, best damn haircuttrix in the land. You can see her handiwork over in that left bar there. I styled it, though, so if it looks like hell, it's my own damn fault. It looked awesome when I left the shop last night.
No sleep til' ...?
Since I'm not sleeping much anyway, I figure I might at least have fun while not doing it. Hence, I've been going to an unprecedented number of shows and living the rock 'n' roll lifestyle, only without the drugs and sluts. And I've been recounting my adventures on musicrag, so if you can't get enough of me here, go there.
No shows tonight, but there's a very good chance I will attend the One Time Angels/Revolution Smile show at Café du Nord on Saturday, and I will most definitely be in the house for the Mars Volta/Anniversary show on Monday at ye olde Bottom of the Hill. And I'll sleep when I'm dead. ßßß
We Still Here
Some of us, that is. Your humble blawger included.
As predicted in yesterday's entry, half our business was closed, and the staff was "reduced" by about half. (God, I love a good euphemism.) For reasons mostly unknown to me, my job was spared. So here I am. Phew.
Now I know that dot-com-failure sob stories are so 2000, but here are some of the highlights and lowlights of my exactly two years at this here Internet startup.
We're now more or less the old company that hired me, only with a lot less money and a lot fewer people. At the time of the merger, the combined head count of the two companies exceeded 250. We're now at 25. But I'm one of 'em. Seven rounds of layoffs later, I'm still here. Don't know why, and don't much care. As long as the checks keep clearing, I'll keep coming in. ßßß
Plus ça change, plus ça change.
All manner of shit going down here in blawgland. Yes, change is in the air. It's like springtime, only the exact opposite. Autumnlike, more accurately, if that indeed is a word. Things are dying, there's reaping going on, etc. ...
Firstly, in about 10 minutes from now (11 AM PDT, to be specific) there is an all-hands meeting here at my work. I have reason to believe that we will be told that one-half the business has been sold/closed/merged/transformed in some way, and that the folks who worked on that half of the business are no longer needed. I also have reason to believe that my particular job will be spared, although profoundly changed. So keep your fingers crossed for me. Or don't. It won't make a whit of difference either way, so forget I said anything about crossing your fingers. But think about me.
Change begets change.
And The Hills Have Eyes, previously known as the Untitled Ian Miller Post-Hardcore Music Project, has officially gone from a four-piece to a power trio. Yep, that troublesome guitarist — the one who'd show up once every three weeks for rehearsal — was officially asked to leave. Or to not come anymore, anyway. So now we are down one guitar, bass, and drums. Like Nirvana. And Rush.
I'm glad we got rid of the dude, or at least made it official, but I do have concerns about the instrumentation. To me, watching a trio isn't nearly as compelling as watching a bigger band. One cat is inevitably glued to the mic, and there's just one other focal point; me, in this case, as the guitarist will be doing the bulk of the singing. Li'l scary.
Also, a second guitar can do a lot of stuff, including beefing up thin passages, adding texture, and covering up the mistakes of others. But I'm still glad. No-show bro was seriously holding us back, and now we can proceed apace. Oh, and we've booked recording dates: December 1 and 2, when we will attempt to record five songs. Don't fret: They will be posted posthaste. If I still have a job and an Internet connection, that is. ßßß
What a day to be lost in the air.
The new Cave In single is phenomenal. You can read my li'l write-up and even download the two songs by clicking here.
I was planning on spending a quiet evening at home tomorrow night; then I found out Sick of It All is recording a live album tomorrow night at Bottom of the Hill. While I've been underwhelmed with their last coupla albums, Sick of It All is still far and away the best live band I've ever seen. Ever. So I can't miss that. Rest and sleep will have to wait.
Spettro: The Reprise
So we went to Spettro last night, and had a distinctly different experience from that of our last trip. Maybe we looked cool enough this time to actually warrant the attention of our straight-out-of-the-Abercrombie-and-Fitch-catalog model/actor/waiter, or maybe it's because he realized we know the founder/former owner. But whatever the reason, we got awesome service. The food was prepared precisely as requested. Water glasses and bread baskets were refilled right on cue. And an absurdly large tip was left. See how that works? Everybody wins. ...
That Tattoo Thing
I finally got around to making an appointment for my next sitting for my backpiece. November 18th, almost three months to the day from my last appointment. Jeez, I don't know why it took so long. Other than the excruciating pain and the exorbitant expense, getting tattooed is thoroughly enjoyable. Pictures forthcoming. Wish me luck. Over and out. ßßß
Too much good stuff.
Rarely do I have too much stuff to write about. I almost always feel like I'm trying to write something about nothing, not a little about a lot. Umm, but anyway, I had a very full and satisfying weekend. One of those weekends where if I stopped to think about all the things I had planned, I got overwhelmed and paralyzed at all the obligations, even though it was all good stuff.
Friday night was ... And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead and Attack Formation at Bottom of the Hill. The show was mediocre at best; you can read my lengthy and disjointed review here.
Saturday was book and record shopping, where I bought way too much of both. Among the pickups were the new (International) Noise Conspiracy, Dilated Peoples, and the newish Aphex Twin. Quality stuff, all. On the book front, I picked up the new Jim Crace, and finally gave in to both Kavalier and Clay and Infinite Jest. Wish me luck. ...
Then dinner with the nephew, his parents, and his grandparents. Sunday consisted of traipsing aimlessly around the Alameda Antiques Faire all day. I bought only one item, a fine Western shirt, but it got me out of the house and into the sunshine.
Last night were the mighty Cave In and The Icarus Line at Bottom of the Hill. Cave In were godlike; may actually write a real review if the spirits move me. The real news is that I bought their new two-song EP, imaginatively entitled "2 Songs," and it crushes. So freaking good. Cave In will save rock 'n' roll. And you heard it here first.
There was also a hell of a World Series in there somewhere, some band practice, and some other junk. Well, here's to being independently wealthy some day, so every day can be like that. Or something. ßßß
Don't miss last week's brilliant insight.
