Well there was Stellastarr* on Wednesday night which proved to be very entertaining. Vocalist/Guitarist Shawn Christensen proved to be a good conversation as well. I look forward to seeing them at Coachella.

Saturday however overshadows either of the two shows that preceded it this week. The Rapture were entertaining, sometimes it isn’t until you see a band live that you realize which members are the driving force behind the general sound of a band. In this case it was entirely the rhythm section who paved the foundation for the guitars, saxophone and vocals accented.

BRMC however stormed in and stole the show with their energized performance. Peter didn’t seem to have quite the chip on his shoulder that he carried at the show earlier in the year (then again the audience was there to see him this time around) but he did manage to throw a boot on top of the photographer’s camera lens towards the end of the set when we’d all grown tired of him snapping away (not to mention kneeling down to light up his joint). Robert found his way into the audience at the end and ended up sitting on the ground against the barrier next to me and Maddy (who I hadn’t seen since the last BRMC show until this week when she came with me to all three concerts, nothing happening stop plotting). I had to think to myself, “this is no accident.” 

Earlier in the afternoon Maddy had dropped off some chocolate covered strawberries for the band and before the show had sent me around to talk to them to make sure they had gotten them. I talked to Robert for a bit, but he was distracted trying to sort out a time when they could do some recording in the middle of all the touring they’ve signed up for over the next 4 months.

Following the show BRMC’s tour manager pulled me and Maddy aside and we went and hung out with The Rapture and BRMC in a large room complete with air hockey, pool tables, a small dance floor, booths, giant cushions and the like that exists underneath the venue. There were moments of conversation, insanity, laughter and drunkenness to be found. Perhaps there are a hundred stories that could be pulled from the hours of midnight to 2 AM when we were all thrown out… but all the needs to be said was a good time was had by most… you see there was this rather old guy off his face in a faded Police (the band) t-shirt that was trying to catch a girl, any girl and he went home without one.  

For the first time in a long time I spent the evening as someone I don’t mind being. I’ve wanted to see the musical Urinetown since I originally read about it a couple years ago. A few months ago I noticed that it would be touring its way through Utah and I decided at that point that a trip to New York any time soon was very unlikely so if a slice of Broadway came to me (a slice that I’d actually want to consume) I’d have to make the effort to go and see it. Somehow the months in between then and now passed recklessly without so much as giving me warning that tonight Urinetown would open and by Sunday it would close. I wandered down to the Capitol Theater with the intent on buying a ticket for Thursday night but ended up seeing the show tonight. It was a delightful balanced play full of politic and enough self-mockery to keep me smiling for the bulk of the evening.

sarahall

masque__

desperately love Tangerine.  

There was a large part of me tonight that was willing to not do anything at all. It would have been pleased to sit around, mope a bit, stare at the computer screen etc. I’m glad that part of me went to bed while the rest went out to play.

Friday night I went to see Return of the King for the 3^rd or 4^th time and sat next to a father and his three young girls (I’d guess ages 3-10). The 3 year old spent the majority of the film frightened and clinging to her father, the oldest of the three however sat next to me curled up tight in he own arms and cried her way through the love story. From time to time I would join her in tears for the strength that lingers in the Lord of the Rings trilogy (books and films) is the relationships between its characters. At many points in the story one character’s love for another somehow wills the other character to stay alive in the direst of situations. I’d like to believe there is a place in world, sky or land that a person’s death can be defeated by those who love them.

Yesterday I went to see Kill Bill Vol. 2 with cheesesuede and enjoyed it, but not nearly as much as the first installment. The fighting sequences are shadows of those in Vol. 1 and the randomized plot isn’t nearly as interesting once you start to know all of the details. Nonetheless as a whole the film is a fun jaunt into half a dozen styles of film from Asian to spaghetti western.

Last night I watched Billy Elliot. I was reminded again (as I often am) how infectious the music of T Rex really is. The guitar lines are so simple, rolling over and over but you can’t help but want to dance around, sing along and generally forget the weight of the world around you. As for the film; it’s absolutely stunning. It is the sort of offbeat British comedy that in American hands could have easily rolled off into a disaster. Sometimes we want the awkward and unexpected for all the right reasons. Maybe we all should have been ballet dancers.

painamplifier

feeling out of step, somewhere behind the glass looking out with the sound of butterfly's wings in my head and I'm so very thirsty for something that isn't here.

dear electronic void,

i've wanted to say something but haven't found the words to say anything. for whatever reason i find myself in a rather odd spiral of emotional decay.

work has turned into a Terry Gilliam film where e-mails launch out never to return, upper management only knows the phrase "i'll get back to you on that" then they instantly forget the question was ever asked and when you bring it up again they react as if it were something they had never heard before, "oh, i don't know. i'll have to get back to you on that." it would be comedy if i weren't forced to live it.

i've been looking for a new job for some time now without much luck. if i wasn't so dependent on insurance it wouldn't be nearly as difficult but sadly i cannot afford to go without the medical coverage

i don't exactly know how i will be getting to Coachella, nor do i know where i will be staying etc etc. too many things have fallen through. there are days when it is the only thing i look forward to, followed by moments when i don't even know if i'm going to go. 

there have been a few minor details, reactions and whatnot lately that have caused me to be more paranoid than  would like (yes, i think a bit of paranoia can be a good thing, this much however is clearly not) and there has been a deep sense of betrayal from a couple different angles that i'm not going into at this point.

perhaps this bitterness can turn itself into something, i don't know

It has been a difficult few days for me. Due to my own recklessness and the unstable situations at work I was unable to go with my family to support my sister Katie in Florida as she and her high school drill team competed for the national championships held at Disney World. I could have used the vacation, a real break from my life and the minor details that have become like slivers deep below my nails… but more importantly I wanted to be there because as far as I’m concerned my sisters are more important than anything this world has to offer. So when the phone call came this evening from my mother’s mobile I expected to hear that Katie had done well, that the performance went okay etc. Instead I got Katie dancing around (yes, I could tell by her voice thank you very much) trying to get me to guess who came in second place. So I figured, brilliant second place is great. Sorry no, they took first and she just had to be coy about it (just like I taught her to be, thank you very much again)… Apparently all the luck I didn’t have in High School went to my sister… and it is hard to complain about that. Wish I was there. Wish I was anywhere but here.

Needless to say, someone I love very much will be coming home late tomorrow night with a smile.

Like a junkie bent on getting his next fix I return from nowhere to somewhere else: I'm trashed off the start of a bad year (details? I don't have them, let's just say 1 + 1 + 1 suddenly added up to 1.5 million)

Notes from a Schizophrenic:

I'm offended that Disney's next film and the Garfield film are trailered with The Passion of Christ (which isn't a narrative; it is simply Theatre of Cruelty, Dadaism at its most vicious peak. Blood and torture with a few scenes cut between. Like pornography with violence substituted for sex.)

I’m offended that the same people raving about this film never saw The Last Temptation of Christ and yet they decided to protest in an attempt to deny its existence. Last Temptation… may not exactly be about the Christ most people believe in but it was an extremely interesting look at a man growing into himself and a role that has been placed before him.

As much as I liked Mystic River, I think I really wanted to see Bill Murray win over Sean Penn (also pushing aside my love for Mr. Depp who should have been nominated years ago for far more substantial films)

I still think the Fellowship of the Ring is the best of the trilogy.

I hate the bills I have to pay slightly more than the work I am forced to do to pay them.

My Favorite Line I’ve written this week: “I’ve reached the point where the things that make a difference don’t make any sense.”

I should have gone dancing; my heart wasn’t up to it. So I kicked around with my sister.

now go back to your cubical and forget that any of this ever happened

Sitting next to my sister as she drove west through the neighborhood may not seem like a life changing event. In this case it is evidence of the world moving forward while I spin my wheels in the ever deepening mud.

My Kathryn Elizabeth Lamb is 16, a reminder that her Ryan Michael Painter is 27 going on 28. I don’t feel a year over 21 and I can’t seem to bring myself to believe that she is actually 16. For some reason 16 seems much older than 15 and it isn’t because of the permission to drive. Perhaps it is because when I chapter my life I tend to hard stop after 15 before re-opening in my 16^th year. I learned about real heartbreak at 16, lost a month in the haze of mono and spent the majority of my free nights dancing around in a long black cloak.

Last night, Katie next to me across from our younger sister Melanie at Noodles & Co I was flooded with the sense of their growth. It should be no secret that I haven’t entertained ideas of leaving Utah because I wanted to watch them grow. I wanted to be there for them if they needed me (and quite frankly I wanted to be close enough to them when I needed a few minutes of unconditional love). I wanted a taste of what a real family is supposed to feel like. Growing up it was just my mother and I against the world. We had spent the afternoon, her second of year 16, watching the ballet Sleeping Beauty. Katie knows the majority of the dances, often telling me between acts which dancers were spot on and which were a bit lack luster. Strangely enough her assessments tended to match my own observations; perhaps I have developed a sense of talent and precision over these last 10 years of watching Katie and Melanie dance.

But clearly these thoughts are all tied together, a mesh of ideas that I can’t quite work out into complete sentences. There are too many restless details in the way. I fear for my sisters, knowing well the world and what it can do to someone in the flash of a moment. Yet I also see hope for them that was not available for me. They are both smarter than I ever was, seemingly more adjusted as well. But you never know. And not knowing is where the fear lives.

It was a good way to end a week even if I had to rush back to work long before I was ready... I never would have been ready. I could have simply walked on forever never once looking back... Well, that isn't completely true because even in all the joy of the past few days I was reminded of how much better life is when you've got a friend around.

It was supposed to be all about Bowie (and that would have been enough) but instead it turned out to be something so much more. Getting to hang around with one of your favorite people in the world, catching up on the months, perhaps years, that stretch between conversations in the stillness of the afternoon turning into evening (where does the time go so quickly?)... Ben and I were friends since the start of middle school. His brother Tim taught me how to be reckless and spend far too much money on music.. many afternoons and nights were spent at the Osborne home listening to fantastic music, watching movies, playing basketball (yes, even that.. and I'll have you know I was horrible but would always end up making some shot that would leave them all laughing and somewhat impressed... right, anyway)... Isn't it wonderful how little needs to be said between old friends to paint a vivid picture of how life is, how it has been and what comes next.. you see everyone I know is getting married this year... well, it starts to seem that way... Ben will marry a wonderful woman he met at med school (perhaps they'll be bloody rich and need a poet to grace their court... that's where I come in...)... but I'm sure this bores you.. so on to the set lists...

Phoenix February 5th 2004

01 Rebel Rebel
02 New Killer Star
03 Looking For Water
04 Fame
05 Cactus
06 All The Young Dudes
07 Reality
08 China Girl
09 A New Career In A New Town
10 The Loneliest Guy
11 The Man Who Sold The World
12 Hallo Spaceboy
13 Sunday
14 Under Pressure
15 Life On Mars?
16 Be My Wife
17 Days
18 Ashes To Ashes
19 I'm Afraid Of Americans
20 "Heroes"

(Encore)
21 Hang On To Yourself
22 Five Years
23 Suffragette City
24 Ziggy Stardust

Las Vegas February 6th 2004

01 New Killer Star
02 Looking For Water
03 I've Been Waiting For You
04 Let's Dance
05 Fame
06 Cactus
07 All The Young Dudes
08 Pablo Picasso
09 Under Pressure
10 Life On Mars?
11 The Man Who Sold The World
12 Rebel Rebel
13 Fashion
14 China Girl
15 Days
16 Changes
17 Sound And Vision
18 Ashes To Ashes
19 White Light, White Heat
20 I'm Afraid Of Americans
21 "Heroes"
22 Five Years
23 Suffragette City
24 Ziggy Stardust

Each night had a different mood, in Phoenix you'll notice a couple slower numbers that don't appear in the Vegas set. This had much to do with the differences in the venues and cities. Phoenix was less glitz, more natural glamour in a rather large theater. David’s wardrobe for the night would prove to be a bit more theatrical with more layers and a longer coat. However, like in recent tours the same basic outfit would be used both nights.

Interesting Bowie bit: before “Be My Wife”* he went on to explain that it was from a lonely part of his life and he didn’t really like the whiny complainer who wrote the song but he liked the song nonetheless.  

Vegas was... well the Hard Rock Joint is a rather small venue, the crowd tends to have the stench of money and alcohol and they're all looking for a party. Or as David would put it, "There is nowhere else in the world quite like Las Vegas." This was said just before he did his best Saturday Night Fever and just after a YMCA. You might say Bowie and his band were wired in for a good time in Vegas and they were determined to make sure that we all were in on it. I was of course (then again I did sneak up from the back where I was supposed to stand into the $300 seats without anyone asking to see my ticket).

It all started off well enough anyway, while rushing through the Hard Rock hotel lobby/casino area towards the Joint I walked past Earl Slick (long time Bowie guitarist off and on over the years, second perhaps only to Mick Ronson in legend and fame as far as Bowie guitarists go... which is saying a whole hell of a lot really). I thought about not saying anything, but paused and turned back to find him already extending his hand to me. "I'm really looking forward to tonight. I was in Phoenix last night and really enjoyed the show. It was really brilliant." I said. "Thanks, glad you enjoyed it." He said. Perhaps I should have asked him about working with Robert Smith and Bowie, the differences etc. I didn't. Instead I left it simple and wandered into see the last couple songs of Macy Gray (not nearly good, nor bad really, just sort of there in an odd way... frankly she didn't fit the bill all that well either night... ).

Half way through "Looking for Water" a woman came up behind me and asked who the guitarist was because she had seen him out in the casino before the show. Wanted to know if he was anyone she should have approached... how old he was... typical groupie speak I assume. Earl was fantastic, full of dramatic flair, upstaged only by Bowie (who is such a natural on stage that it would make me sick if I wasn’t so enthralled).

Interesting notes from Bowie: “Days” was in fact written about a stool, the stool he sat on while he sang the song actually.

Because of the small amount of vocal duties in “Sound And Vision”* Bowie took to standing on the side of the stage watching the band. Following the song he proclaimed that he would like to be a conductor because really what do they do? They wave their arms around and yet it is their name that goes up in lights. If only he had a stick to wave around a bit. Then again perhaps he could have a cane and simply be a professional blind man (his whimsical wish, not of my creation).

Following “Ashes to Ashes” he decided that he’d really like to have a cane to conduct the orchestra because it would be more dramatic.

All I can say is brilliant. The only thing better would have been to be able to catch the show in LA as well… but we can’t have everything all at once.

In typical fashion following the show I walked around the casino and marveled at all the beautiful people who had lingered. After an hour of feeling terribly plain I left to return to my hotel room and watch the History Channel. Yes, I am really that boring.

*All the Low material draws me back to a lovely, fantastic girl named Jaclyn who I was lucky enough to call my girlfriend for an all too brief stretch of time. She was really the one who opened me up to Bowie beyond the basic hits. She grew up faster than I did, I couldn't keep up. Of course I didn't know at the time how far I was falling behind. Everyone has at least a couple people they'd like to have another chance with... Jaclyn would be mine.

for the past week my body has tried to convince me that being awake is a very bad idea... and were i smart i would have listened and pushed reality aside for the darkness and dreams that come from sleep

my moods have been darker, strained from the desire of hope faced with the truth of the moment. i've lived in this box too long and have done so little to get out of it. i want to say the fire is lit and that everything will change like i keep trying to promise you, myself and all of those around me. it however would seem that i simply do not have it within myself to create that major change at the moment. i am not sure if this confession will make me stronger or lapse into further weakness. i've yet to figure myself, my moods out.

yet this week i did go see Lost In Translation with sarahall and had a good time later that night playing for her the bits of that long promised album that to this point has gathered more dust that notes and lyrics. perhaps she was bored, i don't know. at least my little hole in the world has plenty to look at (even if it is evidence of a wasted life spent collecting various forms of plastic discs). a nice "good to meet you" anyway i hope.

i'll be seeing David Bowie this week and i hope to enjoy that. there have been a few times in the past few days where i've been far more inclined to hide away in my closet where no one can see or think to find me. i hope this mood passes in time for me to enjoy myself.

So I found myself in Park City typically a dead town unless you're up for a snow ride or the film festivals are in full swing. Thankfully the later is true, although the glitz has gotten a bit over blown one can still have a delightful time skipping through the egos and desperate attention grabbers. The music selection this year has been lacking, were it not for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club I don’t think I would have even bothered going up until Friday for the closing ceremonies of the Slamdance fest. But as it was I had secured my place on the guest list for the extreme sports themed X-Dance Film Festival closing party (featuring the somewhat awkwardly placed BRMC as a rock ‘n’ roll act squeezed between hip-hop dj’s). Having little to no knowledge of the super stars of extreme sports I found little excitement in milling around, although the film they showed for the first hour or so was entertaining and caused a few outbursts of shock and awe (sorry, I also took in a documentary film earlier in the day that successfully paralleled the book 1984 with our current world in 2004). Perhaps the girl in the pink hat was Paris Hilton as she swept down the VIP staircase and made her appearance, pranced around and disappeared. The award assembly was boring as hell. Were it not for the surprise of seeing Tina Dixion,the only girl to ever ask me to a high school dance (and it wasn’t so much out of romantic interest as it was a kind gesture), presenting one of the awards you could call the next hour uneventful. Apparently Tina has become quite the queen of snowboarding. Unfortunately at this point I hadn’t bumped into anyone I could tell about it. I thought about trying to brave the VIP stairs to track her down but did not.

When they were finished building Rome (which included exploding champagne bottles, drunken skateboarders, idiotic self-promoting displays of bad acting amongst clips from the various nominees) BRMC came on to face a disinterested crowd. The 20 or so of us who cared were treated to a brilliant show and enough distortion to blast out anyone who was trying desperately to pick up on the closest gender of choice.

When it was over, it was too soon.

Maddy, a lovely girl (has a boyfriend stop plotting) I had only met briefly through a co-worker, and I simply walked backstage (security wasn’t exactly stellar at that end of the club, had we tried to get up to the VIP lounge however I believe compromising situations would have been required). Sitting around with Robert (bass), Dave (tour manager who I sent directly into snowstorm only months ago while he was looking after The Warlocks) along with a couple other girls watched from the balcony above the stage as two skinny white guys rapped to a looped beat provided by a man standing behind the decks (the CD player which supplied the majority of the beats and touches was of course hidden below so that the illusion of a turntable wizard at work could continue to conjure up bliss in the clueless mind of the crowd).

When we left it wasn’t too soon.

Robert kindly offered for us to join the band and their friends at the condo they had been provided with. This proved to be a few hours of kicking back doing a lot of nothing. Mostly Robert was around with a cast of friends, sometimes Peter (the guitarist) came around; the drummer boy was nowhere to be found. For a bunch of rock stars and groupies (in the kindest sort of way) we certainly did very little to live up to the stereotype of Sex, Drugs & Rock ‘n’ Roll. More often than not I was found making smart ass comments at those playing pool (comments which I am sure became less and less funny or welcomed as the night pushed on). I did have the opportunity to play a rather poor game of ping pong which resulted in a loss (although it was closer than it ever should have been due to Robert’s pity on me and Maddy’s lack of talent coordination).

Somehow this sustained until 4:30 in the morning when I had Maddy take me back to my car so I could drive home, get two hours of sleep and go to work.

just for the record lorelei is the kindest friend i could ever have hoped to have in my life (and the fact that she lives on the other side of the world only makes her dedication and love all the more wonderful). it has little to do with the package that arrived today, but it was a reminder of how little praise i have given her. i am truly thankful that the fates made our paths cross. i do believe it was written in the sands of time long before we existed.

i went and saw Cold Mountain and thought it was rather good. some how in the first few minutes it did what the whole of Gods & Generals failed to do in three hours plus. a bit detached perhaps, but a journey i was pleased to take. i might just be a Natalie Portman believer again.

My mother has often been quick to call me Peter Pan due to my long lasting love for the world of daydreams. The sad truth being that both of us know that I was forced in many ways to end my childhood prematurely and any child-like behavior (collecting toys, enjoying children's books and films etc) is a somewhat empty attempt at regaining those years that were lost.

In my heart the idea of Peter Pan has always been very attractive to me. Even lack luster films like Hook seemed to speak to me. While at University I helped workshop a play about James M. Barrie, the author, and when it was finally given a staged reading was asked by the author of the play to read the part of Barrie because I was the only one who seemed to have a sense of the character. I was honored. Not so much because I was given the lead role but because someone outside of my close circle could sense the inner struggle that has taken the past twenty years of my life: How to move forward and gain from the losses.

So when Melanie, my youngest sister, called and asked me to go see the recently released film version of Peter Pan I didn’t hesitate. An odd choice considering that I had mixed feelings about the film ever since I learned it was being made. Frankly I worried that it wouldn’t be any good. The trailers I had seen didn’t make it appealing to me at all. Yet, the chance to be with my family was enough to get me to go along.

It is a good move with great moments. Some of the darker elements that were avoided in the Disney version creep into view along with some fantastic performances. I was thrilled to see Peter’s reckless charm, Wendy’s struggle between childhood and young womanhood… and the tension between them, not quite sexual but a curiosity of the way growing up changes the relationship dynamic between the two genders.  

It also raised a few thoughts that I wish to explore within myself. Corners full of cobwebs and dusted emotions. Call it premature spring cleaning.

It seemed right to drive into 2004 with Suede blaring. A sonic blur of bitter guitars and gutter dreams going up one's nose.

Nothing to note really. Just still here.