I
kept several things that may have otherwise been overlooked, later to
be discarded and the contents vanish as Danimal had. There were old
business logs/itinerary that I examined and deciphered very carefully,
calling every number I came across, to tell them of the news of Danny’s
passing away. Hoping to find close friends who would have wanted to
know, and those that may know others. I put a lot of time into going
through the various archives, most of them were scattered about the
state and then some. To this day, I am still going through the papers
and note pads, sketch books and photos, slides and negatives, water
color art and canvasses, four tracks and mix-downs, all from past art
shows and group paintings.
Which
happens to remind me, the tape was almost always rolling when we had
serious musicians playing, not just there to drink. So, what that leaves
us is approximately one hundred forty some odd tapes. That’s what I
know of because I cataloged each tape, gave them a listen and came up
with a somewhat vague but helpful indication for indexing. There are
additional tapes (these are all four track tapes), that haven’t been
cataloged yet, and there is a good deal of quality material there.
Regardless
of the particular quality of the recording, it’s the general concept
and the underlying composition that counts. You can do virtually
everything with a song these days, from what I have learned in college
at LCC.
I
suppose I should mention that I have been taking courses relevant to
the studio, trademarks and copyrights stuff, a lot of legal issues, all
in effort to be fully prepared and effective in all aspects of running
a multi-medium art studio that publishes the works through the internet
in various media formats. This is for Danny, and myself as well because
it provides me with the exact pulpit to write from and helps ensure
that I actually write and not waste my days being that I am emulating
this entity, the image, the being, essence, the spark. People notice it
when it’s around, they feel it. I have that spark, see it all the time,
kids always grab me visually. All my life kids know when I am there, we
make eye contact. I have blown light bulbs, just walking in the room. A
dead woman called me to find her body, which police did find in the area
that she led me too, in my mind.
Point
is, Danny picked me to carry this flame because he and I had an instant
brotherly bond. Like we’d known each other all our lives. He had
confidence in my writing ability, my music ability, and he had to know I
would get the job done. Though it took a little time to start, it was
for the best. I feel empowered. As a matter of fact, just a little while
ago we, (Prospect Studio/Jennifer Rodriguez and myself), had gotten an e
mail saying we sold another Ambient Blues cd!!
I went up to tell
jenny and sit in bed with a rack of ribs and get sauce everywhere....but
the youngest was in my spot and they were both out cold. So, I came
back to my office and ate while I thought about what to do for a bit.
Write.
She
just finished her first week of her new job at Munson, here in Traverse
City, Michigan. We took a nice drive up the peninsula and shot a bunch
of pictures. Cold as shit but beautiful day, sky was clear almost
completely, birds were everywhere. We have been seeing lots of Cardinals
at home. The home, that’s another story altogether.
From
the moment we found it, we wanted it. Jen said it was her dream house.
It is very big, spacious, but that may be because we have very little
furnishings presently. Discarding most of the junk we had accumulated,
purging, Danny called it. That’s just what we needed, a purging, a
purging from the neighborhood completely.
I
had most of my studio stuffs packed up and in stacks in the garage from
the Oregon excitement, a story for another bowl. Be it toilet or
otherwise. We purged a couch that cost a whole lot of money when it was
new, a big sectional that had recliners at each end and two arches that
made up 45 degrees or 90, depending on arrangement.
That’s
what I hate. Explaining things that should make perfect sense and not
being understood. Confused a bit by my random train of thought, it’s the
need for further information than what was provided that agitates me. I
must be a re-incarnated Mousilini or some other dictator. An
explanation is dictated. Eating an apple you see growing on a tree
dictates that you must pick the apple. The dictation is guidance, common
intelligent subconscious comprehension. Now, I just fathomed that up so
I may be wrong, but I do know this: Icebergs are what they’re cracked
up to be. And that, is dictation. MMMMM, dictation goooood. I just made
myself smile, and giggle. It’s 2:21 in the morning, I should go push my
way into the bed. My hands are cold and stiff anyway.
Well, I
slept like a baby in Sienas bed. It was a mission, scrubbed, when I went
to put her in her own room. (Remember, it’s the weekend, mamma’s got
needs. And she just did her first week and we hadn’t consummated our new
home). Thinking I will just slide on in, move her to he room, and slip
on next t’mama with the ol’ magic fingers and wake her. Instead of
finding her and transferring her, I was discovering a bag of popcorn
that was dumped out of the bag.
Not gonna do it...so I slept in her
single. Even though I stayed up in my office until the wee hours, I was
still out of bed before noon. Artist/musician hours, gotta love em but
they are also the hazard incurred. This is something that was pointed
out to me in Band Management class at LCC. I forgot where I was going
with that. Probably the house.
Yeah, the house is an interesting story.
What
it is, is a house someone had probably decided to do all the work them
self /selves. Probably took out a construction loan, had it framed and
‘nickle and dimed’ it, did all the labor their selves, hang and mud,
roof and side, plumb and wire, paint/stain and floor, trim and decks. I
can see that it wasn’t professionally painted and finished. I can see
they went the most economical way on all the finishes, such as the
siding, the flooring, the cabinet aren’t bad, the windows are something
to comment about. I think they got a deal on everything and built the
house around it. At least, that’s one way I see it.
So,
I have a three to four hundred thousand dollar home, with the
equivalent of a hundred fifty to two hundred thousand finish. But it’s
in the hills and forest. With a very big yard and lots of decking. There
is a platform on the west side of the place observing a jungle gym,
that makes an excellent stage area! I can see it in my head, the things
that could go on, the traffic. It’s a somewhat gated type community. You
can’t just turn left or right and be on an intersection where there is
normally traffic. The only traffic is people who live there, the roads
don’t go through any where.
We don’t like the fact that we are behind
what look like condos,(maybe), but apartments, quad-plexes certainly.
Rentals just the same, but the police drive through this neighborhood a
lot. I see him patrol through at least a couple times a day. Maybe he’s
visiting the wife or a girl-friend.
Point is, I can see the
story of the house, where the money went, the struggle to get through
each task and process of the actual management of the project,
imbalances, frustration, explosive arguments, the deadlines with the
bank to get your next draw. If there is anything I feel knowledgeable
about, it would be the construction industry. Residential mostly BUT not
including electrical in it’s entirety, or heating cooling and
ventilation. Working behind some of the most multifariously ignorant
builders in the state gives a person the advantage of consistent
education, further developing your skills of the trades. Still today, I
can’t understand how incompetence can be so diverse and yet, tolerated
or acceptable. Are they all looking the other way?
Here’s
a great way to be hated as a finish carpenter, be good at your job. At
one time I was, and it was me. One with the identity, and it felt
great.
Just
when you think you’d seen it all, something else jumps out of the
woodwork. And hope to god the homeowner isn’t around to see knot-holes
and get nervous. Then they start asking a lot of questions. First they
try to buy you doughnuts or lunch. Then after that they think they own
you and you always have to take a shit load of time out of your day for
them. Keep in mind, they are the prospective buyer. They don’t own the
house or have anything to do with the tradesman and their tasks. It’s
all specified by blueprints/contracts etc..., they don’t own it until
they sign the paper, which is usually thirty to sixty days after I leave
the site.
One
time I got a printed out, Punch-list from the buyer, entailing what I
was to correct/or finish that was yet to be preformed. Seven pages of
what my job was. He faxed it to me as well, just in case I lost it. Best
part of his story is his wife hitting a deer with her fat car payment.
Laughed for days after that.
The
Superintendent doesn’t fabricate punch lists until the cleaning ladies
are in there. It’s always the same thing. Screens or grids, for windows,
and all the stuff the painter takes off that needs putting back on.
Nobody noticing that this is a problem. Or saying anything if they do
see.
My teams never got call-backs. Never got back-charged. Matter of
fact, Jim Tibbe graded all the trades. We scored out uncontested on all
five counts. Once in a while we’d hear about the woodwork falling down
and hurting the occupants. They were paid out of a slush-fund. That’s
just a rumor....Fact is, their hourly employee were hacks.
This
builder, Eastbrook Builders, was a big deal in Kentwood. Paul Jensen
and I trimmed like mad-men for them. They would have houses sitting six
deep for us to trim because we were the best. They hated us for it. I
loved my job. It’s such a good feeling to be on a team that wins at the
games! Now , at 40 years old, I can see where the glory is in sports.
Being on a winning team makes all the difference in the world. That’s
why it’s important to give all you can to your loved ones and
vice-versa. It builds up a strong foundation, trust, security. Only then
can you be a family. Anyway, I loved doing the finishing, seeing the
end result appear before your eyes in your very hands. The hands of a
craftsman with a whole-hearted passion. Maybe too much Passion, too much
expectation, and the anxiety that does not let my nerves and muscles
relax.
I just went to set my coffee on the back of the toilet
while I urinated. Dropped my digital voice recorded right in the bowl,
‘ploop’. Funny, seems how I just made a video-infomercial stating to
take a step back away from the bowl. I should have set it on my desk or
the bathroom counter. We’ll see if it dries out and still works. It was
working, up to the point where I shook it out vigorously and removed the
batteries. There are over fifty files on it since I got it for my
birthday a few days back. More on that some other time...
