'Tis Better To Be Regionally Famous Than Internet Famous

One of the things I forgot to mention is that the Reading Eagle followed us around and took copious video and photographs of the production crew. In this instance, "production crew" is meant to include the producer (crucial) and cameraman (crucialer). I did manage to squeeze myself in to a printed picture though and I have diagrammed it for you, the reader, below,



This picture is not mine -- obviously -- credit where it is due, but I couldn't find the credit.

As for the video, you can spot me gracefully gracelessly going "over the boards" to escape the rampaging Yuengling wagon and the panicked team of stallions careening down the street.

All I Know Is "Ball" and "Good"...

I'm in Reading, PA right now. It's 11:30 PM and I've been working all day, though nowhere NEAR as hard as Dan has. One of the things I do when I travel is carry the camera and snap pictures that usually never see the light of day. Most of this is because time is the best editor, and... see previous statement about the light of day.

Seeing as how my last foray into liveblogging a job went to tits, I would consider this my first attempt to deal with a nightly schedule. Let the record show that no great art was made today. No great sights were seen; no great experiences had. Let it be known that downtown Reading is swimming with a sense of unease due to the roaming gangbangers debating (and in some cases not...) whether to flash signs at the camera or not. There are a lot of dudes with teardrop tattoos.

The closest I came to anything amusing was this sighting of what is clearly a rapemobile,



And this sign,




Hung at Jimmy Kramer's The Peanut Bar & Restaurant,



Which can be used to diagram MANY things, not the least of which is the morale of the crew at any given time. For those hard of sight allow me to transcribe, left to right, The Drunkard's Progress,

1. A glass with a friend.

2. A glass to keep the cold out.

3. A glass too much.

4. Drunk and riotous.

5. The summit attained. Jolly companions. A confirmed drunkard.

6. Poverty and disease.

7. Forsaken by friends.

8. Desperation and crime.

9. Death by suicide.

It's kinda neat in a T.G.I.Fridays in Hell kind of way.

I mean, I guess the bookmobile is kind of interesting for the, "WHO BOTHERED TO SPAWN THIS WRETCHED CHARACTER DESIGN?" question.



Tomorrow we are off to Pittsburgh.

Something To Du

I have had a difficult time explaining why I like the Mighty Handful so much. Most of my thoughts are scattershot and age-ist of the "talented enough to be good; not good enough to care" variety and don't do them justice. The pleasure might be in the thrill of discovery -- those precious few months you have where the secret is yours to share with everyone and anyone who will listen.



Most of the seminal bands I've enjoyed in my life were discovered a few years (or more) past their sell date; The Who, The Replacements, all of the NY post-punk bands. There are notable exceptions (including Pavement, Sleater-Kinney, Neko Case, and all the new [bands] out there that sound like them), but my music has historically been acquired a day late and at a bargain price in the resale bin. Some of this was due to (my) date of birth, some due to the inevitable decline that bands go through once they stop having hard-ons for anything that moves and embrace the rapidly advancing twilight of middle age.



The Mighty Handful are nowhere near that place, so they seem fresh and new even as they chatter amongst themselves and realize that Oh Domestic Me! sounds suspiciously like Tangled Up In Blue. Developmentally, they are at the time and place where small steps are giant strides; They are tighter than when I saw them two months ago, and though Aviva keeps slinking off to the side to avoid the carnage (live, they are 5/6ths Keith Moon) they have developed the good common sense to not tack her solo song at the end of the show; the previous result led to a, "...and this is my adopted daughter Margot," sense of unease as the rest of the boys packed themselves away.



They're playing Southpaw on the 15th and I intend to go out of loyalty and curiosity and to take my "adult" drunken friends who look at me like I'm chicken little every time I start muttering about how absurdly great "Uptown Drunks" is. First one on the train gets the best seat.

Like Brett Favre, Richard Gin Is Having Fun!

To a point, anyway. Yes! I was in Sweden! Yes! I was only there for forty and one-half (40.5) hours or thereabouts and when you factor in the travel time (about twenty [20]) hours, you begin to figure out how hectic life can be. You understand how painful life can be when you consider that the airplane was showing a mini marathon of late 80's to early 90's TV hits including Wings and Cheers (with Shelly Long, no less).

Now, to be clear, I'd still be in Sweden right now (or perhaps Norway) if it were not for NY Fashion week -- I had to come back on time to pick up my requisite days on the party circuit (seriously) and as much as I need a vacation proper, I'd like to keep the momentum from last month.

Dan's oldest kid said he imagined Sweden to be full of 'dragons and dwarves fighting with axes.' I'm paraphrasing. Some others would have you believe that you can't swing a dead cat in Sweden without braining a six-foot (6') tall amazon with shimmering flaxen tresses and boobs out to here.

(gestures)

Neither of these scenarios are true, sadly. I add "sadly" for obvious reasons.



Another sad thing:

The thrift store clothes in Gothenburg (I will not make assumptions regarding the hipness of the rest of the nation) are all from American institutions, including AYSO, the Y "M's" and "W's" CA and the United States Army. Aside from my disappointment, I don't know what to think of this, though the low quality of the selections suggests that the Swedes dispatch a warm body to Domsey's with one hundred (100) US dollars and a round trip ticket with the order to "bring back what you can."

On the topic of Swedish Monies, the twenty (20) Kroner note has a CHILD RIDING A GOOSE. This is very important and the mere fact that some brilliant person came up with this idea (lifted from Swedish legend or history or not) shows how far our European friends have advanced beyond our simple American understanding.



We had difficulty finding endemic foods at first. It seemed that every restaurant we passed was italian or french or a burger stand of some sort which might have been good eatin', but why bother when the promise of meatballs and herring was so tempting. The concierge at Gothia Towers pointed us in the direction of a swedish soul food joint about one (1) kilometer away, and we ended up pigging out on... meatballs and herring. The fresh ligonberry jam is the hurdle that IKEA can't clear. The warm nordic food sits well in the gut when tromping around ill-paved medieval cobblestone streets stalking locals with a camera in the spirit of adventure and staving off any sort of future jet lag (see paragraph two (2) of this formless essay).



In all, Gothenburg is not a nation of contrasts. It appears to be (in limited experience) to be decidedly Swedish, though the good people speak superb English and are cheerful and willing to help out disabled tourists like ourselves. This has not stopped me from making jokes about their language (see post below) and I will be doing so again once I take formal shots of the hilarious candy bars I packed into the country.

Final Grade: A+, would travel to again.

Retroactive Post to June 22, 2007

Hello from Los Angeles. Westlake, actually, which isn't in the City of L.A. at all, just the County. I'm on the road for a Pharma with Dan, who sees fit to throw me work now and again and sometimes, when the moon is full and the harvest comes, takes me on the occasional trip. This one will take me to Simi Valley and Denver -- the former of the two is closest enough to my ancestral home of Santa Barbara that I will get to have my parents drive down and pay for a dinner that I could just as easily invoice the company for. It will also be nice to see them -- I only get back to the West Coast once a year or so, and I rarely schedule a vacation due to my erratic work schedule.

It's times like this where I debate about whether to purchase a laptop -- I already carry so much shit (between gear for work and my camera-toting) that another breakable object seems like an absurd hassle. Then I remember that I'm traveling with only two memory cards and I'd love to be able to do realtime updates from wherever I am rather than post retroactively [as I'm doing now --RG].

It looks like the schedule will grow in intensity rather than soften as it goes on, and downtime will be scarce after Sunday the 24th when we fly to Denver. I'm definitely looking forward to Colorado, though. I've been twice -- once to Gunnison (which is some beautiful country) for a shoot with Preservation Volunteers and again to Estes Park for Knievel's Wild Ride which was a... different... experience.

Updates to follow. In the meantime, there's some action over at the Flickr Site with more pictures from SoCal.