Tuesday, October 24, 2006


a- Ya know what's in that truck?
b- No.
a- CBGB. CBGB is in that truck.
b- Really?
a- Yeah.

b- Where's it going?
a- I have no idea.

b- It's a nice truck.
a- Yeah, looks new.
b- Clean.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006


The details of the last few days have already been recounted by former coworkers of mine, but they are behind us now, and were less a cause than a symptom that began at the start of the "Save CBGB" movement of last year. I don't know how many times I've been approached by total strangers, and been forced into a conversation about how it's a "crime" to shut down the birthplace of punk, but not once did any of those conversations turn to the fact that a whole lot of good people were about to lose their jobs. While brought about by well-meaning outsiders, the "Save CBGB" movement never made mention of the men and women tirelessly performing their thankless jobs of serving you drinks, selling you t-shirts at 1AM, making you sound as good as possible, and keeping you safe while in our care. We hung in there as best we could, for each other, because that's what a family does, and a family is what we are. So when we were turned away for the very last time, an angrier, more heart-broken mob I have never seen. But we moved across the street to draw it out a little longer, pushing the inevitable end of an important era in all our lives back just a few more hours. Some of us said what we had to say, but we all moved on peacefully, and that fact alone shows a level of maturity and class that our former masters will never understand, and that makes me so very proud.

Monday, October 16, 2006


I spent as much time there as I could over the past few weeks. To soak up as much of you as possible. The place itself is of no consequence whatsoever. Once the people stop gathering to do whichever thankless job they're assigned, I'll just walk away. With nothing drawing breath but the rats, it's just a building.
But I really do love most of you.

Friday, October 13, 2006

It's starting.

I just had my first stand-up comedy related dream. It wasn't a particularly bad dream, and was pretty interesting at times, but at one point, I was doing sound for a stand-up comedian. This will undoubtedly be a side effect of any job I find.

Happy friday the 13th.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Those baked cinnamon sugar pita chips are something else.

Ever been on the subway when some drunk guy is just yelling shit out at people and sorta free associating? That happened a few days ago, but this time I knew the guy. Really funny. He didn't even notice me a couple feet away.

Some guy named Darin stopped me on my way to work. He knew my name and everything. Knows me from that place I stopped doing sound a year ago. What the hell do I say to this guy? When are people going to stop expecting me to remember the 30,000 people I've done sound for? (I'm not exaggerating the 30,000.)

We should start sending kids into the page program specifically to hit on congressmen to see how many more take the bait. Then have a camera crew waiting for them like that Dateline show I keep hearing about.


Tuesday nights. Late. WKCR 89.9FM.

Sorry I haven't been writing, Juline.