For May 11, 2008

I won’t be here, but please do come!

Makipag 03.09.2008

Show at Ground Kontrol 1.03.08 and show this Thursday at Holocene

Played a show at Ground Kontrol and met some very nice people. Misadventures of Two and Pirate Radio were fun. I too had fun, hopefully others did as well. I played very clumsy and it was a rather awkward show throughout. Still, only now, have I really dealt with that night. For all those keeping track, I promise it won’t be that sloppy next time! Anyway, in other news, I forgot my computer in Portland prompting a work stoppage for the EP, yet as if fate has intervened (either for good fortune or a good laugh) we’ve been asked to play the Holocene this Thursday 1.10.08 to open up for We Quit and Magic Johnson. Both bands I believe rock more than Multo, so at least that will be fun to watch!

mind grapes at revolver studio

It’s been far too long a day for in-depth comments, but the following are photos taken at the studio by mostly me. Apparently nobody else had the know-how or the guff to take photos on their own. Anyway, below you’ll find evidence of the 24 track analog reel to reel signed by none other than Peter Buck. Further down you’ll notice random pictures of Nalin’s and Colin’s Revolver Studio. Nalin is floating in and out of certain pictures. If you find him you get a prize. We started around 9:30 AM and went until 7PM. We had one visitor by the name of Eli Nolde who sauntered in mid-day.  In addition, Eli’s little brother, really liked to flip off the camera…or the cameraman.  We also started off with a lot of coffee and some of us ended up with a belly full of beer. Enjoy the pictures!

Tree House Show

Multo played a show last night at Neil and Jaimie’s Apt. warming. It was fantastic. I totally forgot all the lyrics to my songs but Marites held it down as always. The other bands (blanket truth, red bear, craig salt peters) were nice and nice sounding. World History, after some prodding, also played a few songs. OMNICHORD!!!!!

Now off to Portland to record.

room with a view

Ah, the joys of cameraphones.

First Snow

The snow outside is flurrying about in large white fluffs. I’m inside Fuel, transcribing an interview about immigrants in Stockton. Memories of warmth and cold intersperse between sips of room temperature coffee. I’m deciding whether the traffic is going to hold up under the pressure.

Sleepwalking in Seattle

Today/tonight I became better acquainted with the city I live in. I didn’t get as intimate as I had hoped, but I felt a little more in tune with the lights, the rhythms, and the waters of Seattle. I walked around some of the neighborhoods south of campus, the more touristy areas, and although I usually avoid these neighborhoods, I felt the urge to see the ‘famous’ structures of the city. I first went to Capitol Hill and picked up an Americano (they didn’t have drip coffee) from Faire gallery and cafe. They had a free comedy show later that night that I thought I would return to, but I ended up not making it. I walked down to the paramount and tried to buy some Magnetic Fields tickets (since I thought that’s where they were playing), but as a passerby mentioned as I got to the front of the line, the Magnetic Fields were playing at the Town Hall.

I continued on into downtown and walked through the Westlake Center area, I enjoyed the anonymity of the streets. The trees were decorated with Christmas lights and I actually felt festive. There was a six piece South American band performing in front of Nordstrom’s. I walked on down to Pike’s Place.

This was probably my favorite moment of the night. Walking through the market while it was shutting down flooded me full of memories, both real, imagined, and culled from various fictional narratives. I think the best time to visit ‘tourist’ areas are when they are either opening or closing. Pike’s Place was draped with warm multi-colored lights, ice chunks from the fish stands were melting in the streets, and the alleyways were filled with straggling tourists unsure of what to do. The staff closing up and counting up their receipts at the various shops and restaurants offered a mix of hipster baristas, older ‘ethnic’ immigrants, and working class whites. I felt like a tourist, but at least the inconspicuous kind.

I ducked into Left Bank Books. Finally. I had promised myself to come visit about four years ago and although I had been here for almost three months, I still hadn’t ‘found’ the time to stop by. I perused the cozy little store and found multiple books I wanted but couldn’t afford. I then scored on an abridged version of Das Kapital for three dollars and The Marx-Engels Reader for six dollars. Marx would certainly be proud of my capitalistic savviness. I was this close (index finger very close to thumb) to purchasing Walter Benjamin’s The Arcade Project for fourteen bones. I just really like the cover. And it’s such an imposing text. I promised to come back to Walter and exited Left Bank Books, sure to return by my next paycheck.

I continued on down through the various floors and ended up walking on the pier. The lights of seattle across the sound absolutely floored me. I didn’t know quite where I was and so I just kept walking toward the only landmark I recognized: the Spaceneedle. As I crossed through the various streets I stopped at all the sculptures I came across and every interesting poster. One particular ‘artpiece’ that jumped out was this telephone pole where someone had attached hundreds of various multi-colored squares if paper all across the bottom creating a dynamic grid-like pattern.

After some zigging then a few zagging I finally ended up at the Spaceneedle. I crossed the street thinking about using their restroom and possibly taking a trip up, but I decided to save the Spaceneedle ‘treat’ for another day. I turned back toward Capitol Hill and sauntered back toward Belltown. Belltown Wells Fargo claimed it was 33 degrees. I felt like a champion.

I really needed to use a restroom and found all the various hoity toity (which comes from a dialect of English “hoit” meaning “play the fool”) venues far too scary to approach. I was reminded by a story a good friend once told me about James Baldwin. Baldwin was walking through the white part of town and needed to desperately use the bathroom. Unfortunately because the bathrooms were for whites only, he couldn’t even perform the most natural of human acts on account of his race. Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m comparing myself to James Baldwin or the severity or grotesqueness of his situation, but it put things in perspective. Memories and histories always do.

After some jittery walking I ended up at Top Pot Doughnuts and using their restroom I caved in rather easily and ordered a small coffee and a pink frosted donut (I’m a sucker for pink). It was delicious. Deep fried, fresh, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. And so unhealthy. I gulped down my coffee and crossed the bridge to Capital Hill. I got lost and spent the next hour trying to find my way back to where I had parked. But that’s another story.

Recording, resting, riting

Multo (I refer to myself as Multo) will be going to Revolver Studios (Portland) in December. Hopefully a new ep will be produced out of this, to be released by February. At this point the tracks will most likely be:

1. displaced voices 2. walls of islands 3. my greedy openings 4. leaving the garden growing 5. hallelujah and all those things

The ep will be titled: broken lines

I will also be resting, so other than the shows already up in performativities there are currently none forthcoming for December. I will also try to connect all the fragmented songs I’ve written in the last couple of months and “rite” them into less fragmented songs. Song(s) with a capital S!

Sleep twelve hours and dream about home

(originally published 11.06.2007)

I’m sure that most people begin blog entries: “I’m supposed to be doing (fill in the blank) but instead I’m writing this…” I won’t be one of them, so instead I’ll just say I’m writing this out of dedication rather than out of boredom. As some of you may know I am a student and I am currently taking Tagalog classes. What is surprising is just how much work it is to learn another language. Unlike my seminars, there is just a lot of physical daily work put into learning another language. For instance our class has to do listening exercises, record ourselves for pronunciation, and write (somewhat) grammatically correct essays in Tagalog. I don’t know what is more frustrating, having to learn new sentence forms just when you get familiar with a current form, or not being able to adequately explain your thoughts because of a lack of vocabulary or inability to sound not-fucked-up. But I also realize that I’m not a very good academic writer, meaning, I cannot seem to communicate what is going on in my head onto paper. In addition, I also seem to have this trouble in recording music, where I can’t get what I want in a concrete form, and am amazed when I hear or read something where the songwriter or author just absolutely hits the nail on the head.

Self doubt.
What a frustrating mess.