Dawn's "Young Girl" video premiered today. Sassy. For the line dancing I nudged myself to the third row so Pascal and Hunter had more room to swing. And because I sucked.



Dawn Landes and The Hounds start our tour NEXT WEEK!!!

January 19-Cambridge, MA-Club Passim
January 21-Fairfield, CT-StageOne*
January 22-New York, NY-Mercury Lounge (presented by Brooklyn Vegan)
January 23-Arlington, VA-Iota Club and Cafe
January 25-Louisville, KY-Zanzabar
January 26-Indianapolis, IN-Radio Radio*
January 27-Nashville, TN-Mercy Lounge*
January 28-Knoxville, TN-Barley’s Taproom*
January 29-Asheville, NC-The Grey Eagle*
January 30-Carrboro, NC-The Arts Center*
January 31-Atlanta, GA-Eddies Attic*
February 1-Mobile, AL-Callahan’s*
February 3-San Antonio, TX-Sam’s Burger Joint*
February 4-Austin, TX-Stubb’s*
February 5-Houston, TX-McGonigel’s Mucky Duck*
February 6-Dallas, TX-Granada Theatre**
February 9-Chicago, IL-Beat Kitchen

*Supporting Justin Townes Earle
**Supporting Justin Townes Earle and Chris Knight

Here's a new web missive featuring Ray Rizzo. He is one of two Ray Rizzos I have found within 100mi. (That's not him pictured - he shows up after the pit bull.) This Ray is a Crip and raps and lives in Newark. The other Ray is a poet and musician who travels in new age/yoga type circles. I want to have a Ray Rizzo show where we all jam. (Okay, I'm more interested in playing with this Ray). I think we could unleash some universal Mayan-scale what-have-you into the earth's atmosphere. But I'd have to ask that we agree to either check firearms at the door or have a firing range set up somewhere at the venue. Is that lame? I just can't do my Fred Sanford moves with guns on the dance floor.

I got home last night at almost 3 a.m., feeling pretty beat up. The Corporal record is ready to mix. 9 days of work over a year and a half. Traci woke up and we had burnt cookies and rye in bed. No matter how bad I was feeling, I did not stray from the satisfying pull of absolute gravity. Beneath any bruises and overworked nerves, there is the satisfaction of knowing.

Further on down the road...

We spent last night in Bigos where Jorge, Josh and I ate traditional country cooking and talked about our favorite concerts ever. Josh saw a big Bob Dylan anniversary concert at Madison Sqaure Garden in the early 90s where everyone in rock music played Dylan songs and then Dylan himself came out, only it was after the house lights had come up and people were starting to leave. But Bob didn't care and played 4 songs including "Song For Woody" (which I thought was a poem and did not know was a song.) Then I gave context and personal anecdotes for a powerful account of seeing Prince on the Lovesexy Tour in Cincinnatti. In the middle of my telling, Josh bit his tongue so bad he thought he might have swallowed some of it with his pork. But he didn't flinch once. I must have been mezmerizing!

Tonight we play a Women's Festival in Ourense. There's a story to tell later about this but for now I will recount the time just after 4pm when we were pulled over by police on the highway. They said they had a picture of our van traveling at 145km and the limit for vehicles like ours is 100km. The police told us to wait because they had to leave for an emergency. When they left they took the van's registration and Jorge's license with them. While we waited Dawn read to us stories from Dean Wareham's rock biography. The police came back in 15 minutes with a ticket for Jorge: 300Euros and a loss of 3 points on his license. Jorge had extra points added last year because he's never had a violation before. And the fine, which is a lot, isn't as bad as he expected.

"I'll still be able to pay my rent," he said, forcing a smile. Then when we got to Oursense, Jorge took us out for a glass of local white wine that was so crisp, I am still puckering. As he paid the old man behind the counter, he said, "Today I have near disaster, and the only thing to do is greet it with enjoyment." Salut, Jorge!

"Wow you're getting stripped in many ways on this tour," Dawn said. I had just learned that the bag with all my clothes was not found at the hotel in Madrid. "How does it feel not to carry around a big bag," she asked.

My back answered first, followed by my brain, and both were in total agreement.

"It feels great," I said.

On the way to Castellon I had spent some of my perdiem on toothbrushes and deodorant. This was when I knew I had no toiletries (left 'em in Birmingham), but had not yet learned that my bag was not in the van. Now the toothbrushes (a 2 brush value pack!) and the deodorant were all I had.

"That's kind of all you need," said Dawn. She knows a thing or two about living out of bags. Her blue ASCAP shoulder bag has been her most reliable band member, making more tours and carrying more stuff than anybody. In the early days, Dawn's blue bag would house her guitar pedals, her toothbrush, and all of her clothes.

There's a book by Maya Angelou that we used to keep in our bathroom called "Wouldn't Take Nothing For My Journey Now." I love that title and thought of it on my last night in Bushwick when Traci and I were packing my bag. It had been years since I packed so specific and thoroughly, meditating on the need, mood, and weight of each piece of clothing. I was excited for every stitch. I have not been sad to see them go. Whoever possesses them next will enjoy themselves.

Besides, before we left Barcelona, our new friend Maria brought by some old shirts for me that belonged to her roommate. One of them (seen in the above picture along with Dawn's blue bag) says "Granada" and has a drawing of the Alhambra. That it is a little small in no way diminishes the warm reminder that I am, at all times, provided for.

When we arrived in Madrid on Saturday Jorge was there to greet us. (He's the one on the left greeting Josh.) We met Jorge last September when we toured with Elvis Perkins in Dearland. Jorge was driving EPnDL around Spain and playing bass with them on a song called "Stop, Drop, Rock and Roll." At the time Simon (our UK tour manager of late) pointed out that next time we came to Spain, we should call Jorge and not waste Simon's time with our pithy Spanish excursions. (Kidding, Simon! Ahhhh! Get fucked! HAh! )

Okay but seriously, Simon's advice was taken and we have been looking forward to seeing Jorge this week. Jorge's been looking forward to seeing us, too. And he says he's glad for the work. Ain't we all.

Jorge made music to a film he made of his girlfriend underwater. He's made others filmsongs, too, and he has a show coming up. (He's passing out cards about it but I don't have one yet so I can't tell you more.) Jorge can play many instruments and will sit in with us this week on Kids In A Play and maybe anything else we can rope him into. He is a gentleman and a good driver. And Bonus: Jorge knows how to ask for toast and coffee with milk in Spanish. He's good at ordering lots of food and drink, actually.

D L and the Hounds are loving every meal in Espania. Dawn says Spain is giving France a run for it's money food-wise. Today Jesus and Coche treated us to a great lunch in Madrid. Tonight the promoter in Castellon took us out for another amazing meal. In each city, warm hands wagged forks across the table for little bites of joy. Both meals ended with yellow Herbal Liquor I can't spell properly, especially after drinking it.

Which makes for a funny segue to another event of the day.

My bag with all my clothing was left in Madrid. When we had come back from lunch to collect our bags and leave, the hotel attendant had given me cause to think it had already been taken from the storage room and put in the van by one of my party. Argh. I should have double checked.

When I told this to Jorge he smiled and said, "Okay, so I'm going to watch you." Yes, Jorge. Watch me so I don't leave anything else behind. I might start losing track of band members or what's left of my sanity. Keep singing "Where Is My Mind" to me Jorge. I'll keep smiling. Watch me and please help me get toast and coffee. I need help, Jorge. And I'm not too proud to admit it.

(sigh)

The only shirt I have right now is the one on my back from last night. It still says, "Very Modern, Very Italian, & Very Good."

DL&Hounds Tour Day 7, pt. 2 (or Day 8?)

Amazing what a few hours of sleep and some nice wallpaper can do. I woke up looking at this bird on my wall with "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree" playing over and over in my head. It wasn't Brenda Lee's version I was hearing, but the rendition that we played last night for Spanish Television. We had a fine fine time singing and shaking some jingle bells while Dawn sang and Josh and I "Ooohh"d and "Ahhh"d. We did it just before we played our set at Clamores Club. My electronic fiasco during the show made it easy to forget the earlier high point, but now things are a bit more in balance. Know what else was great last night? The tapas meal we were served after the show. Water, wine, gazpacho, veggies and tortilla. Coffee, too, which Dawn decided this morning was not such a good idea so late at night.

...oh, Wow. Dawn just got a song sent to her from her friend Joan. A few years ago, Dawn wrote a song about Joan, singing about how she wanted to be Joan. Joan's brother created a techno-trash-electro-crash song called, "Don't Envy Me Dawn". Hard to dance to, but it's distorted nastiness mixes naturally with the X-mas tree rocking in my head. Oh wait....is this a hangover I'm starting to feel?

Off to have breakfast and then play a radio station before driving to tonight's show in Castellon.

DL&Hounds Tour Day 7

Okay, seriously? You want the truth about tour? Can you handle the truth? I woke up today in Madrid having dreamed about Louisville being visited by a foreign and beguiling brown fruit that grew from every plant in the city. These dreams were interrupted by the muscles in my lower back freaking out because the bed was so hard. A bed like the one I slept in should be a beautiful thing, with powers to will a spine into proper alignment, but my twisted muscles were having none of it. I woke up at least 5 times in pain and tried to roll into a position of comfort. What could have wrecked my body so, you ask? Packing and transporting my equipment from New York to tour.

Then, tonight I plugged my equipment into the power strips at Clamores Club in Madrid and half of the electronic trash I broke my back to bring over here fuzzed out. I didn't even get the satisfaction of electric fireworks or the smell of melted circuitry. Nothing. Kaput. During our set, I tried in vain to plug my mic and sampler in and out of the remaining working components to approximate the music I have been making. Vain vain. It was all in vain.

For years I put off exploring electronics in my performance because i didn't want to suffer from being dependent on them if ever they turned on me. Tonight was the incarnation of the worst case imaginable.

Everyone else on stage and in the room were genuinely pleased with the show, and while this should have made me feel better, it only added insult to injury ...do the things I do even matter? What the hell am I doing?

But this is where the story takes a turn.... I'm in Spain. I don't know anybody, and it's not necessary with Dawn and Josh to put on like I'm pleased when I'm not. I can sulk all up and down this city and no one will give a fuck. These are passionate people, after all. They can appreciate a sulking douchebag like me.

So I sulk. And a little sulking relaxes me. I go to the bar for a Jameson on the rocks and don't care when the bartender charges me most of my per diem. I can't remember the last time I said out loud to no one "I need a fucking drink goddammit!". In a few sips, things start to turn around.

So there's a little slice of tour: the occasional opportunity to do and feel your absolute worst, but with a cool shirt on, no one will notice. In fact, chances are good that while you're in a miserable sulking state, you might radiate some kind of broken honesty that will make you glow in someone's eyes. (I had great conversations while I sulked!)

...and my shirt, by the way, is by far one of the coolest shirts in Madrid. It was my Dad's and it says, "Very Modern, Very italian, & Very Good". It was THE coolest shirt in the city until Josh turned his "Fun Is First" shirt inside out.

DL&Hounds Tour Day 6

Dawn lost her wedding ring in Brooklyn and Josh found it by the toilet at Ronnie's in Birmingham. Josh found a book he was reading on last tour just before starting this run, and picked up where he left off. Josh watched Madonna's Truth Or Dare last night in Madrid. In it, there's a scene where Madonna is on tour in Madrid and has dinner with Amaldovar and Antonio Banderas. Josh is mixing his new Rocketship Park record while traveling in a van playing rock shows. Josh can sniff out the great places to eat in a town or city you've never been to. Josh has superpowers.

DL&Hounds Tour Day 4

You have to have the wide eyes of a visiting alien to keep up with the world passing before our eyes. Liverpool was cold and grey, but the people were warm and the hotel by the Mersey felt just like we were staying in our building in Dumbo (except it was clean and had no rats.) Josh and Simon were troopers in Manchester, taking the brunt of the load in and load out at Dry Bar to let my aching back have a rest. Dawn has had a hard time swallowing but no problem singing, and today's drive to Birmingham included Lucinda William's Car Wheels On A Gravel Road, which we all agree is one of the greatest albums ever. I ate some curried kidneys today and threw up a little in my hands, but there are no ills while we stay for the night with Ronnie and Adam on Rotton Park Road. Tonight we sipped cognac and learned "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree" for a performance on Spanish television in a few days.

Tomorrow we play here in Birmingham and then leave at 6 a.m. on Saturday to catch our flight to Madrid. Simon is looking at his ad in the paper for "Tour Manager available for bands cooler than Dawn Landes and The Hounds" as he sadly anticipates dropping us off at the airport.

2 for U

2 people I know recently sent me e-mails. They both had tags at the bottom of their e-mails.

One said

"The information contained in this transmission may contain privileged and confidential information. It is intended only for the use of the person(s) named above. If you are not the intended recipient, you are hereby notified than any review, dissemination, distribution, or duplication of this communication is strictly prohibited. If you are not the intended recipient, please contact the sender by reply email, or fax and destroy all copies of the original message. Thank you.

The other said

" ...the thought has come to me that the old world in which our people
lived by the work of their hands, close to weather and earth, plants
and animals, was the true world; and that the new world of cheap
energy and even cheaper money, honored greed, and dreams of liberation
from every restraint, is mostly theatre. this new world seems a jumble
of scenery and props never quite believable, an economy of fantasies
and moods, in which it is hard to remember either the timely world of
nature or the eternal world of the prophets and poets. and i fear, i
believe i know, that the doom of the older world i knew as a boy will
finally afflict the new one that replaced it."

-wendell berry

Scam on. Y'knowit.

PROLOGUE: on an evening on July 16th (I think) I went online to sign up for unemployment. Googling unemployment, I clicked the first site I saw, a clean looking site called File For Unemployment. I recognized the site was a "step to the desired step" type of operation which always costs money, and soon figured out that it was a publishers sweepstakes type of scam. But when I saw I could get a gift card for Whole Foods if I walked through their maze of signups and questions, I did what every broke and curious soul would at least consider doing, if not do.

ONE

I tried for the third time in a week to complete my unemployment application. I was using the phone this time, but riding on the train was making it difficult to hear. The processing was not going well. My other line rang and with not a thought I flashed over. I was offered a free trial for selling stuff online for kids and pets. I told the woman I didn't want to waste her time, that I had a use for the EBay kit I signed for, but this pet thing was too much.

"You're contacting me though the unemployment scam I went through to get free food," I told the woman. "Now you're calling me with free offers and I haven't even filled out my unemployment application yet. I don't have time for your free trial. I would get it, not use it, forget to send it back, and you'll charge me for it."

"But Raymond," said the woman. "I thought the point was that you needed to make money."

Can telemarketers be penalized for psychological harassment? Even, swift, and clean as a blade I replied to the woman and said, "I have designs for the EBay kit - and the colon cleanse I signed up for. But there is no place in my life for pet supplies and kids toys."

I thought of Traci hearing those words, laughing, and then getting a little sad. A few nights earlier she had sat and watched me do the online questionnaire.

"You will get to the end and they'll tell you you don't qualify and then they'll have your information," she'd said.

I didn't care. I was scared for our needs. also but playing around with Dimitri, Brian's scam buddy had given me a shot of fearlessness. I was out of body like a Camus character. I'd been worried since I lost my passport that someone was already playing around with my identity. Thinking back on it all, I'd say that at that point, I was ready to give it all back and start over.

Sometimes I think about people who would steal an identity only to make constructive changes for the people who's name they borrow. Fix their credit report, make a donation to a local cause the original person doesn't have time to do. Answer e-mails from O.P.'s family, register for more free stuff on the internet...

I stand on my head upon a thin thread these days. If Traci and I had action taken against us for non-payment or poor scam choices, there are places we could land securely. There have been many a great moment lately when we realize life could maybe be better, but that the present is a great place to be. The financial losses we face now are mostly healthy ones that wrere taken with the risks firmly noted. We have our tails between our legs about a few things, and wish our credit wasn't a mess, but we pay as we can. I'm doing the best work of my life.

PART TWO

Traci sat on the bed and I at my t.v. tray desk and we went over bills. in the course of things the phone rang. It was Macy's. We made a plan to pay in the store on August 12th. The next call was the Student Loan Servicing Center. This is not my favorite bill to be late on, especially after missing our first payment post-forbearance. The third caller said he was with publishing something, or EBay publishing. Another result of my participation with fileforunemployment.net

"Will you be using the E Bay professionally," he asked.

"I'm not sure I understand the question."

"You want to use it to make money, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Will you be using it for your primary source of income?"

"I am hoping it can suppliment my income if that's what you mean."

"Will you be selling your own stuff or other people's things?"

"My own stuff. I don't really know EBay," I said. "I am sure once I understand how to use it I may get some ideas."

"Thank you for your honesty," said the man, who wished me a good day and got off the phone.

These people already got my credit card purchases (under 10.00 for E Bay package and 30 day colon cleanse!). But the payment is not the half of it. They are after information. The more this unemployment scam goes on, I realize that The Royal Scam in the Obama age is a strong one, utilizing the dream of goodwill in the lower income class. A strong front in the war of the soul which came in full technicolor to me on 9-11.

I always wanted to try a colon cleanse. And learn how to sell on EBay. I still have not been able to finish my unemployment application.

THREE

I finished my unemployment application yesterday on the phone. My attempts to file the claim had a few glitches. Apparently I said I was handicapped.

"You must have been filling it out quickly and made a mistake," the kind woman said.

FOUR

Macy's has started calling again. I answer today for the first time and tell the caller no. No I will not pay today because I already made arrangements. We get off the phone. The next time it rings a woman answers. I take the offensive. "Hello, Macy's," I say before she can introduce herself. I already feel bad for her.

"Your business is terrible, " I say. "I already made arrangements with your company and you are still calling which means your records or something is not consistent with my last conversation. What do I need to do to get this straight? My credit is bad enough as it is." I go on.

I am told again that it is being recorded in the computer that I will make an in-store payment on the 12th. " can hold off the calls until the 9th," she tells me.

"Then you will call to remind me about the 12th," I confirm.

"Yes," she says. While we'd been on the phone I had logged into our bank account to see if there might be 15 dollars to squeeze out for Macy's prior to Aug. 12th. I see that our account was 85 dollars over drawn. A purchase had been made of 79.00. For a colon cleanse.

"Anything else I can help you with today,' the Macy's woman asked.

"No."

Brian Checks In

This morning I listened to Jerry Reed, Pat Metheny's 80/81, and Stevie Wonder's The Secret Life Of Plants" on vinyl. The joy was brought to me by Brian Vinson, Louisville friend and fellow Days of The New player, who brought his stereo into the apartment last night. Since arriving in New York last Thursday , Brian has attended the 12th Night closing party, partied with lesbian German ladies at a gay bar, taught a bass lesson to a gifted young musician, and been frisked by cops on our street (learning in the process that the word "dope" means something different in New York than Kentucky.)

Brian makes a great pasta dish with tomatoes and basil and is putting Traci and I to shame hustling work: he rounded up 340.00 in jobs in his first week in the city.

A few minutes ago he was working on his resume when I pointed to the UPS letter package that had come for him this morning. In the package was a check made out to Brian for $2975.00.

Immediately I had a flashback to the bogus Tool ticket I bought outside the Hammerstien Ballroom a few years back, but the way Brian's luck was going, I had to pause and wonder the odds. "This sounds just like a scam my neighbor told me about," Brian said. "They send you a check then tell you the money needs to be delivered immediately. So you deposit the check, deliver money to someone, and before you know the check has bounced, they have made off with your money."

This didn't stop the instantaneous daydreams of where the money would go.

"How much do you owe on rent, Ray? Let's go pay it!"

There were no watermarks.

"That weed dealer got anything bigger than an 8th?"

The check appeared to be from an account belonging to The New York Foundling at 590 Avenue Of The Americas. A search online revealed that there was indeed a New York Foundling Hospital at that location. A 140-year old non-profit New York institution dedicated to the children of the community. Their motto is "Abandon No One".

The signature on the check was a bloated pixilated computer signature from somebody named Hayes. The participating bank was Commerce Bank at 90 Fifth Ave. Another search and a few phone calls and we learned that 90 Fifth Avenue is the bulding by Union Square that houses Guitar Center and they have space available. We also learned Commerce Bank was now TD Bank, and the validity of the check was, according to a bank employee "supect".

The UPS package was from an unnamed person residing in White Plains, New York.

Brian continues working on his resume and I play Joao Gilberto. Brian's phone rings. "What? Who?"

A man on the other end identifies himself as Dimitri.

Brian: "Oh, yes sir, I did get the check in the mail, But its for 29-uh, but our arrangement was for eight hundred. Not twenty-nine hundred - "

Brian turns down Gilberto. "I was expecting a phone call from you before I got the check. I just got it an hour ago... you would like me to do what with the 2100.00? How, uh... I said, how would I go about doing that without putting this check in my account?...[long pause]... if I can get it cashed at the Commerce Bank then sure - I'll get the money to your landlord. What's your landlords number? ....[longer pause] What's not possible?"

"Well, if its in New York, I can get it cashed and run it by him."

"If this check will cash at the bank, then yes."

"Alright, well, what's your landlord's name and number?"

"Yeah, but you didn't send the landlord's name and number did you?"

"How do you spell your name?... D D or just D? Okay, go ahead....(writes) okay...okay...uh huh. Okay...okay...access to a computer, yes. I'm on it right now. Want me to check my e-mail? Okay, so...have the realtors name and address of what the apartment is..."

"...well the banks are probably closed now - its 4:30 so I'll have to do it first thing in the morning. Uh, it's 4:30 here in New York and the banks are already closed..."

"Sir." Brian's voice is sharper and deeper. "Well, if I can go by the bank and cash it, we can get the money to your landlord. Yeah. That'd be great. Send me the e-mail. Thanks."

Dimitri. I ask Brian what nationality he seemed to be. "Who knows it wasn't no English." Brian cops an accent that could have been African or Egyptian and tones Dimitri's reply when Brian told him he hadn't cashed the money yet. "Oh, I thought you were going to do that already."

Brian leans into the laptop in front of him. "Yeh. Dimitri here. He said he would send me an e-mail. Let's see if he's sent it yet."

I remind Brian that he'd already talked to TD bank and the check is "suspect".

"Yeah," he says. "But they didn't really look it up."

We're gonna go to the bank tomorrow.

12th Night: Meet The Illyriacs!

Our band for 12th Night affectionately named ourselves The Illyriacs. Chris on pipes and flutes, myself on bodhran, Steve and Jon Patrick on guitars, Andrew on violin and guitar, and Leslie on flute. We have to admit to ourselves every so often that we are a pretty good band. Over the past 5 weeks, we have made as much of a tradition as we can of meeting behind the Delacorte stage before the show begins to warm up. Herb Foster (who plays Valentine) is always there ahead of everyone, settled upon a folding chair, gazing out at the evening's Turtle Pond activity. Leslie is quick, too, usually sitting next to Herb playing her flute. Steve will arrive, have a quick bout of tuning with his funky guitar, and then we play our opening song and anything else we have time for. By time Stage Manager Kaus calls places, our pulses are usually settled into a collected tempo.

12th Night: Layerian Pipes in Illyria

It's an hour before we'll be called to places and Christopher Layer sits next to me in the dressing room, tuning, warming up his Uilleann pipes. I have discovered that there is no greater instrument to make my tennitus pop off with a chorus of Ode to Joy than Chris' pipes. The ringing in my ear mixes with the otherworldy sound of Chris' instrument in ways intoxicating and excruciating. Some nights I cannot take it and have to leave the room and get some aspirin. Other nights I succumb to the sounds, jump to the center of the dressing room and do my Fred Sanford jig-dance.

The other night before our pre-show warm up, Steve Curtis commented that he and Chris were not in tune.

"These pipes," Chris said smiling." You play them in tune."

I like Chris' use of the word play.

Steve said that when Hem got a list of recommended musicians be a part of 12th Night, he was handed 2 pages of pipe players. Chris was nowhere on the list. This doesn't surprise me in the least. In the words of the madly used Malvolio, I don't think Chris is of the element of the musicians who get on lists. He is his own walking list, a superstar in some circles, the only instrumentalist in the western hemisphere licensed to play a number of compositions written for the uilleann pipes. Christopher Layer hails from Lafayette, Indiana, an internationally regarded flute and pipes player. Chris exudes a personal journey every bit as musical, specific, and idiosyncratic as the pipes he plays. He is a list of one. When The Public tracked Chris down, he was in New Orleans. The producers had to wait until he came back from Jazz Fest to audition him.

Our first 12th Night music rehearsal wasn't 10 minutes old before Christopher demonstrated without trying that he knew more than anybody in the room about Irish music. I later learned that Leslie our flautist showed up to the same rehearsal surprised to see that her teacher was playing the bagpipes in the band - again, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Christopher Layer... " When we looked at the pictures of Old World locales that had been posted for inspiration in LuEsther Hall, Chris said, "I've played a concert in that castle." No one was surprised.

One night early in rehearsal we were on dinner break. Chris asked a guy in line at Famiglia if his "Blackwater" golf shirt was a joke. The guy did not have a sense of humor. "You can't come to this city and not be social," Chris said. "Plus Blackwater is so fucking horrible." Chris didn't learn much about me over that dinner. I was too interested in what he had to say.

"New York City is going to have to figure out what they're doing about the water," said Christopher Layer. "It's the real problem facing us now."

Chris has on more than one occasion thanked his fellow Illyriacs for putting up with him and his ways. The apology is totally unnecessary and to me, reeks of the sad fact that if the artists roaming the world haven't had to homoginize their manners in order to play together and get on lists, they have probably suffer too many expectations of civility. I don't think anyone in this cast hasn't walked around for at least a day convinced that no one likes them. (I've clocked in at least a week with such a condition.) But I think this feeling results from the priviledge of actually having been given freedom to work in a collaboration where no one has dramatically drawn lines with their fellow artists. There is no music director for the Illyriacs. Everything that has happened has been the result of combined input from everyone involved, and everyone agreeing to listen to one another and solve the problems as a group...and we're still getting along! I guess sometimes apologizing is a good way to check in and be reassured.

Besides, Chris has a knack of keeping his gift of gab interesting, not to mention useful. Everyone from the Hem composers to me (playing the bodhran for the first time) would perk up our ears when Chris made a suggestion or, when directed at me, a wisecrack.

One day, looking at the box of bright colored percussion instruments I'd brought, Chris said, "Did you rob a clown?" He was particularly intolerant of one saucy little instrument I used for a while - a jingly Pier One holiday napkin holder. "It sounds like a candy wrapper!" he said. His initial subtle attempts to get me to put it down didn't work, but eventually I agreed it wasn't the sound.

Then during tech rehearsals, I pulled the offending instrument out once more to hear it for a run through of the finale song. Immediately and before I had a chance to play it, Chris recognized the sound, turned to me and snarled, "I thought we were through with that thing!" It was an unfortunate moment: however much I might have wanted to impress upon Chris the outdoor acoustics and the way I was using the micing to get my colors, I told him that if I could appreciate the sound of him warming the fucking bagpipes, he could be patient while I mixed my sounds.

But Chris and I get along fine in this moment, of course. (In the end I still did not incorporate the jingly napkin holder.)

Chris wrote the funeral melody for 12th Night that reprises as the introduction to "Come Away Death". Some nights, the intro is played so strong that I worry for Raul and Annie who must then work their magic as Orsinio and Viola discussing the trappings of women and love. But everyone rises to the occasion, and Annie punctuates the famous line about "dying even as they to perfection grow" with giddy poignancy, so rock on Layer!

Other nice things about Chris Layer

1- he's an inventive cook.

2 - He's the first person to have recognized the impending lunar cycle upon our production (which just completed with a mind blowing full moon last night.)

3 - a mockingbird lives on Chris' street. It has made national news for mimicing the car alarms.

4 - Chris is a nudist ("especially when I'm on a raft going through the Grand Canyon"). On his personal blog, there used to be a picture of him playing a flute on a rocky waterfall, looking like a mancicle. The lantern in the background of the picture would make you think the photo was taken at Turtle Pond behind the Delacorte Theatre, but it wasn't.

One more Chris moment: before a recent show he was venting about an unsavory turn with one of the ensemble members, and I said, "That's mean spirited."

Without missing a beat, Chris swaggered and said, "I am mean spirited in case you haven't noticed, Ray. Which reminds me. I brought some licorice for J.P.."

Dinner Break (18th night pt.2)

I'm eating the loneliest slice of pizza in New York.

The second loneliest, I guess. The first and most lonely slice was a little further north on Columbus. Eating it gave me some energy and immediately I didn't feel so much. But when i finished, I was still hungry, and I decided if I was in for another lonely slice, it should be Ray's.

This one is much better.

On the radio is Sheryl Crow singing, "If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad. If it makes you happy, why are you so sad?"

Maybe it's is a sad slice.

I wonder if in the time it takes to eat this slice I could get it out of me. There's a black shriveled leaf of basil in the middle of it.

(Paul Simon "Something So Right.")

I am sad because sometimes, today especially, I feel so far out of my element that I don't know how to act. My shyness and reluctance to speak has weighed hard on me in the past weeks. It's an unnatural behavior that I've made habitual. I am pretty sure I am the only person in the cast today who was lying down in the dressing room with the light off, scared to step out into the hall. I haven't had a vacation in over 18 months and it's wearing me down. I see the difference it makes with people around me as I fumble through our limited exchanges. I feel like I've been in the presence of random passing people for so long that I've forgotten how to talk. (Gram Parsons "In My Hour Of Darkness) I am awkward in instances, or come on with such force its too much. I have become more rather than less self conscious.

Kierkegaard has written about the man who imposes introversion. I am reading it in Denial Of Death and its freaking me out. But more on that later. (Days Of The New "Last One")

Yesterday the lovely cadaver.
Today Tim Krekel passes.
The rain it raineth.

I thought in moving here that we would make good friends in New York City. But I feel like Traci and I have barely got to know anyone much less feel like we've grown with anyone.

It's better than this. I'm just having a hard day.

(Lyle Lovett "Church")

Traci has been happier lately which is a direct effect of my having such a good and steady job. This has relaxed me and that has been great for both of us. On a day like today, I am already dreading it ending, and this is making it even weirder to relate to the people around me. I've been here before. I don't think I have the strength to feel this way any more. Something's got to change.

My brother Mike is coming home tomorrow for a 2 week break from Iraq. This is so impossible for me to conceive of. I have barely spoken with him.

I talked to Dad today. On a day like today, where my mind goes...

Paul Simon in Central Park. Slip Sliding Away. Feste and Come Away Death. It's a big, sad cocktail, isn't it?

People Are Giving Less On The Subways

by Little Willy Shakes and Ray aboard the long A Train

I watch twelve o'clock turn to twelve o one a.m.
My mistress I'm misdressed, night mayhem clocks
at midnight but I rock Big Ben

Brother can you spare a stroke

".can you please help a homeless person?"
again dragon's feet and knees, hollow teeth
grey braided hair
fingers long and jaded
pressing a word to the flat floor

) (

I could have helped before the door opened and left him
nothing
did I say

Hello Hi Hey n"Ice E U in Eighties

dungarees nice undegrees

I didn't do nothing, I did worse. Seeing a second time both times in the same mind
he knew I knew the times a'make you loosen your ties, improvise

calling lies
in2
questions
revise
retention
Be
lies in intention
all is one
all is ice
in Hades

Play these, tune awhile
from now be gone and
smile

Courteous curtsy,
bow
wow wow yippee
O ditty say

"Kin' rain again some sunny a'day?"
away from hysteria
the element is clearing. YEah.
I'm so pleased I'll ear in ya mouth
ear in ya mouth

clearing
hearing
speak
in the
south

ear in your mouth
I'll ear in your mouth
I'll earn 20 an hour if i go pro
ear in your mouth, I'll ear in ya mouth
or do my best when I'm all alone
I'll ear in ya mouth

Uses are uselessly calling me home
I'll never go without you
I need to know, need to grow
into your ratatouille
you in my chop suey


"Uses are useless"
:kiln baked motto of a single mind
dead.
An end of a
voyage of nothing

With hat's off like mathematicians
gave it over to the innervisions

joy is a strong thing
to support your moves
find some proofs
and flush the suit

18th Night

Rehearsals for the musician/actors of 12th night began the week of May 12th. May 18th was Mom's birthday. On that evening I left the apartment with Traci's ipod on shuffle.

It started with "Fall"? from Vivaldi's The Four Season's, which was the c.d. I played when I would give her a massage. The next song was an Afro Cuban drum and voice performance of "I Wish You Love". Then, Paul Simon singing "Have A Good Time". Then the Pointy Kitties "So Unreal". Then more Cubano. Ba ba ba.

On October 14th it will have been ten years since Mom left. Mom would be 71 this year.

I always remember the day she died.

This was the first year in !0 I felt the day she was born.

There is a song in 12th Night called "Come Away Death". it is the bulls eye of sad song lyrics, and when we play Hem's version of it, I truly believe that every soul in earshot feels the warm insulation of utter sad despair that Orsinos everywhere will cloak themselves in. it's a drug rush, this kind of sadness. It can become addictive.

"Come Away Death" has in it the saddest line in a song I have ever heard.

"Sad true lover never find my grave to weep there."

It is a lyric that could make Hank Williams mute in a "the rest is silence" kind of way. I used to think "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" was the saddest song ever written. But Willy Shake put to Hem's melodies, played by the Illyriacs and sung by David, Raul and Annie takes the cake.

A week ago I watched a filled body bag on a stretcher be taken from the house across the street. There were only the medical team members present. it reminded me of when Mom was sick.

"You don't know how lucky she is," Nurse Judy told me. "Many people go through this alone." Judy also told me I was lucky. I got to mourn Mom while she was alive.

One day during tech David Pittu saw the book I'm currently reading and said, "Oh, stop denying death, Ray!"

I did.

12th Night :"Karmic Debt"

The rain is falling nicely on the understudies as they run through the scenes in the roles they have prepared to cover.

Julie is Viola.
Robin is Olivia and Maria. (A dangerous feat to behold.)
Slate is Toby Belch.
Dorien is Andrew Aguecheek
Kevin is Malvolio and Antonio.
Baylen is Duke Orsinio.
Clifton is Feste
David is Sebastian
and Leslie our lovely bandmate is understudy for Olivia's ladies.

Andrew and I are "male swing" understudies, which means that in the event that Dorien, David, Slate, or Clifton are needed to cover a principal role, one of us may have to step in to their roles as soldier or attendant. Kaus just laid the specifics on us: Andrew is tracking Dorien. I am tracking Slate.

Andrew immediately asked Dorien which roles he was tracking. It's a reasonable possibility, suppose, that Andrew would need to know the lines - the understudies are tracking multiple roles and it could happen that on some wild night, two roles Dorien is tracking would need to be covered.

But I think Andrew and I pretty much understand the real possibuilities of such things, so presently I am typing on the computer in the stage manager's office while Andrew plays his guitar and sings in the next room. He is playing songs that a friend of his wrote, songs that would resound comfortably in a singer songwriter spot like Rockwood Music Hall.

"I'm not ready for the spotlight, not quite yet," goes the song Andrew sings. "I'm still paying off this karmaic debt."

I frankly wish Andrew would sing the Over The Rhine song that he covers so well. I've heard the song he is singing now too many times to ignore the fact that I just don't understand how "the spotlight" can be the brass ring of a wistful and breezy introspective 6/8 song. I wouldn't be as beguiled if the word "spotlight" was replaced with "your love", but I would still wonder too much how someone could have such a clear grasp of their karmaic ledger. It sounds really, um, Puritan. So okay - I'm being a dick, which means its hitting close to home, this song of Andrew's friend. Every time I hear Andrew sing it, an uncomfortable knot twists in my gut, and it won't be untwisted by simply railing on what a goofy song it is or name calling. There is an element of the song that is indestructible, which comes from the questionable but grand values of it's writer and the out and out commitment of Andrew the singer who clearly feels every word.

And it's exciting that Andrew has a song like this to pour himself into on the eve of his audition for an international tour of "Fame". Kick that song in the ass my friend! Then please sing Over The Rhine.

12th Night: The Best

I have wondered and continue to wonder as 12th night rolls on... what does Shakespeare think about relationships and marriage in particular? Clearly marriage makes everyone happy at the end of the play. But Feste: "She has no folly. She will keep no fool until she be married."

In the last song, "When I came alas to wife, with hey ho the wind and the rain, with swaggering I could never thrive..."

I relish Raul Esparza's delivery of Orsinio's line: "For I myself am best when in least company." For the past few shows it has come across a little embarassed, but also proud, as if he is revealing a superpower that he knows no one can appreciate because they are simply not there when it reveals its force.

I want to know how a woman could love with a guy like that, partly because I want to know better the woman who sleeps down the hall from me as I write. Part of me is always, for better or worse, unavailable. And the unavailable part is the part that Orsinio says is his "best". Even if no one around him agrees that the best of the Duke unfolds in their absence, this is what he thinks. It is this image of himself that is affecting his reality, and this has to be okay with her.

I love the scene in Act 1 when Cesario/Viola listens to Orsinio go on about what Olivia must be told about his love. I love the scene because at this point the audience knows Viola loves Orsinio, and we see them as they cannot: as a woman and a man communicating to one another. Viola speaks out of love to the man in front of her who is too absorbed in his ideas of his romantic ambitions to see things for what they are. You get the feeling that Cesario could be a woman at this point and Orsinio still would not see. Do we think that part of this not seeing is also part of his attractiveness to her? Is it just me or is Shakespeare rocking some serious relationship dynamics here?

My drummer character in 12th Night is fucked up by what happens in the first minute of the play until he hears Orsinio talk romatically about Olivia's mourning. At that point, the drummer sees in Orsinio the things that Viola will: a guy in need of saving from his own indulgences. Maybe its true that our best comes when we're alone. I certainly can't write with anyone in the room.