The Dream of the Albino and the Silent Glass

I have been having incredibly detailed dreams lately. For those of you who know me, this is unheard of. Usually, if I dream at all, I wake up with a completely blank mind. Lately though, the dreams are still entirely vivid even when I'm in the shower 15 minutes later.

I had one last night that I thought was worth sharing....

I found myself walking down a poorly lit high school hallway towards the gymnasium. On the walls were posters for the Army and Navy, telling me I could be a Hero if I wanted to. As I approached the doors to the gym, there was a card table with some students behind it, they looked like they were selling tickets of some kind. When I walked up to the table, one of the students looked up at me with a concerned look on his face and asked me what my 'code name' was. I had no idea. As I stood there confused, my old high school friend Luke walked out of the gym and saw me and said, "Vassal! You made it!". So, I looked at the student behind the table and said, pointing to myself, "Vassal".

When I walked into the gym with Luke, there were bleachers on three of the four walls; behind me, to my left and straight ahead. They were completely filled with people, who were all sitting in total silence. We walked straight ahead across the gym to the far set of bleachers. In the middle of the gym floor there extended a line of people waiting for something. At the head of the line was an old man in a white suit standing next to a cart filled with glasses of what appeared to be champaign. As we walked past him and the line of people, I looked to my right, where the line was leading to the wall where no bleachers were. There I found a strange sight.

Against the wall, was a very narrow but high set of bleachers. At the top, on a sort of floor, surrounded by a set of strange looking musicians dressed all in black, sat another old man, an albino, and he was looking sternly at the person at the head of the line. The only sound in the gym was the music that was coming from the musicians surrounding him..... It was something that you'd hear on the jukebox from Twin Peaks, something the dwarf would dance to. Very unsettling. As we passed the line and the old albino and his musicians, I looked back to see what was happening and I saw this:

The person at the front of the line would grab a glass of champaign, drink it down, and then throw the empty glass as hard as he could at the old albino at the top of the bleachers. As the glass approached the old albino, he would start blowing very, very hard and the wind created was so powerful that it knocked the empty champaign glass back down to the floor, which I just realized was covered with broken glass...although it didn't make a sound as I stepped on it. The person who threw the glass looked disappointed and left the gym. Everyone in the bleachers was paying very close attention to all of this, but remained completely silent and unmoving.

I turned to my friend Luke and asked, "What is going on in here?" He simply said, "You'll see. Look." He pointed back to the line.

Another person was drinking his champaign. After he finished, he went to throw the glass at the old albino, like the last person did, but stopped at the last second. The old albino started to blow but there was no glass. Just as he stopped blowing the person in line then threw the glass. The glass sailed through the air and smashed against the bottom of the old albino's seat, sending shards of glass everywhere. The musicians stopped playing..... The room was completely silent. The other old man serving the champaign at the head of the line looked very angry. He pulled a long serrated knife from his white coat and started slashing at the man who had thrown the champaign glass. All you could hear was the sound of flesh being cut. He kept stabbing the man until he was no longer moving. Some people came out from another part of the gym and carried away the body. The musicians started playing again. The next person in line reached for a glass of champaign.

That is when I woke up.

Gross Miscalculations on the Concept of Happiness

It is 4:02 am and I cannot sleep. I worked at ze kafee shoppe until 3. Wanted rest. Body exhausted. Mind zipping too quickly. I want to be dreaming of a world where I am not afraid of rice wine. Wise is looking at me wondering what the fuck I'm doing awake. We are usually spooning at this time.

I am attempting to write a blog detailing the most magnificant four days I've ever lived. These days are the days spent traveling the East Coast with Page France and Canada. June 28th 2006 might have just been the best day of my entire life. If nothing more, it was the best Canada show in the history of The Canadian Front. Also, things I am wondering....who invented the pin-cushion, why is my plant dying, i think my eyes are traveling backwards in time but the rest of my body is here in the present.

I have too many things to do tomorrow. One of the things I do NOT have to do is join ASCAP. For it is done. I have recently joined Netflix though and I am addicted. Wise is trying to get me to lay down.

But before I do I wanted to express via pixels to the universe that my heart is filled with a brilliant love for you all. And I miss the way summer used to smell when I was a boy.

Heading dreamward.

He, that be me, The Esteban

How I and The Wise Created a Demon of the Second Kind to Defeat the Pirate Pugg

46 minutes ago I became officially finished with the Spring 2006 semester at LTU. Last night I stayed up late finishing a collage self portrait showing my agony and nerves a-raging across a landscape of fear and worry. The class did indeed enjoy it. And now I'm done.

And it is sunny. If I wanted to, I could sit completely still for the rest of the day and not worry about homework or building systems or the names of impressionist painters. It feels so good I could cry.

15 days.

I would like for you to contact me, if you are reading this and enjoy my company, to hang out soon and often. All I have is work. And rock performances. I want to spend as much time around a vast multitude of folk as is allowed by state law.

Also, as I lay in half sleep this morning, listening to the Wise cry to be let out onto the porch, in between thinking of throwing him against the wall, I also thought of some strange things. Like, being rid of all oral languages. Instead replacing communication through food....for instance....a half eaten icecream sandwhich could signify that I need a ride to the grocery store. Or a withered apple to signify that I am late getting my taxes done. A pile of seven grapes, three green and four purple (one of which has been peeled of it's skin) could mean that my favorite show, Knight Rider, is on in twelve minutes so please go get the potato chips.

Or what about squirt guns? We could all carry around squirt guns and squirt eachother to communicate....maybe in morse code?

Basically, I'm tired of hearing everyone's voice. Grab a granola bar or a Super-Soaker and let's chat.

Actually, I love your voice. My favorite voices are those of Mollie, The Wise, my dad and of course Tom Waits.

I'm going to go read a book in the sun now. I'm free all summer now. Let us get together and create moments.

A Treatise on the Science of Arms

This weekend was a murderous one. I barely survived. Overnight shifts at old coffee shops, Canada concerts inside of Blind Pigs (afloat in a sea of drunkeness, bachelorettes and ashtray noses). Late nights. But good nights. But also nights that put me further behind schedule with my semester project. The problem = design an urban studio for Tulane University in New Orleans. The solution = panic, wasted time, a full and violent loathing for my instructors which directly leads to a complete lack of desire to attend studio. If I can somehow manage to pull it off by 2pm on Wednesday I will be treated to a lovely concert in Ann Arbor with the incredible Chris Bathgate and Annie Palmer as well as Canada's friends The Dardenelles. Booze will exist inside of me. I will exist in a system of strings and wires that moves my elbows and knees as an audience member admiring the terribly wonderful tremors of live and lovely music. Mouthfulls.

In a few weeks I hit the road with Page France. Every time I think about it I shake and shiver. The record will be out by then. In hands, in ears. I'll be in a tree. I am most nervous and excited about playing at The Mercury Lounge in New York City. I'm currently downloading a Joanna Newsom concert from June of 2004 which took place at The Mercury Lounge. I became even more anxious and excited knowing that I'll be performing my songs upon the very stage where less than two years ago Joanna did the same. I want to drink lemonade with her and hug her in between gulps. I want to watch her fingers flip between stretched strings. Though our bones break and our souls seperate, though our bodies recoil from the grip of the soil, with her songs in my head I shall never have a long face.

Today I received the final/mastered copy of This Cursed House. I've heard this record so many times now I don't even know what to think anymore. I need to not listen to it for a while. I need to think about new songs. I need to finish the next 48 hours as quickly and as skillfully as possible so that I can sit in the yard and balance new thoughts between my open ears.

That's all I want right now. To lay the entire day in the grass with a book and a headphones. To not have to worry about sketching and explaining, cutting and pasting, drafting and diagramming, typing and sighing.

To simply feel the sun shave my face with it's millions of tiny blades. To watch the grass wave. To watch geese gather wind under wings. To watch ants climbing the mountains of sidewalks.

And once that is all taken care of, I want to play as many rock shows as is allowed. These things I wish in the name of all that breathes and stretches it's knees, that shakes it's sleeves at the gathering breeze.

Send me your pillow and your favorite blanket so that I may rest easy.

The Countless Rings of Saturn Thrill Me

I seem to be unable to get enough sleep lately. I cut getting to work and school on time DANGEROUSLY close. This is with coffee. Someone is drugging my food, I'm sure of it. It isn't the Wise because he appears to be drugged as well most of the time. So that leaves The Dis and Prefontaine. I keep planning on sitting down to question them but I always end up being too tired. I think they are aware of my suspicions though.

I think there is a bat or a squirrel trapped in my basement. I found one of the basement windows open last week and now every twenty minutes or so I'll hear a squeek coming from the basement, and it's always coming from a different location. I am too afraid to go down there like a real man and capture the beast. I worked up the nerve twice so far and stood there waiting for it to make a noise so I could at least figure out where it was and hopefully see what it was, but it must have been aware of me and decided to keep quiet. I'm afraid it is starving to death and soon we shall find a corpse. Either that or one of the cats will find it and decide to bring it into my bed one night while i'm trying to sleep. Or, my luck, it has rabies and will in turn infect each and every one of us until we are all defeated.

Next week is my spring break. I am in such dire need of this. I feel so burnt out lately. Between the long drives to Lansing in an attempt to finish this record, and the drives to shows, and school and work and a plethora of smaller obligations, I'm generally kept at full speed throughout the day, every day. I can't remember the last time I was just able to go out and get a drink with a friend or simply just hang out with someone outside the band. No wonder I feel so drugged in the morning. My body does not want to have to go through another day like this. I mean, it beats having nothing to do, but I sometimes feel I need a mountain to sit on or a forest to hide myself inside for a month. Grow another beard. Learn to speak to birds. Climb some trees, scrape some knees, sit and stare at the clouds for a bit.

Joe is in New York. Saul is with his woman. I seem to be the only one at our house lately, the place is my own private castle. It's nice and lonesome all at once. Especially with the demon monkey in the basement biding it's time.

Some exciting developments on the Canadian Front. Fall Records wants to release a Canada EP this summer or later this year. New songs are already being created. The tour in May with Page France is slowly taking shape. Baltimore and Boston are so far confirmed, DC and New York are being worked out. This is exciting since it is something I've always wanted to do but was never able to. Another dream I can scratch off the list. Also, we have friends in each of those cities who haven't been able to see us yet. Also, Fred Thomas has asked us to tour with Saturday Looks Good To Me for two weeks in June and to also possibly have some of us play with him in his band to back him up. Though nothing has been confirmed yet, this would definitely make this summer one of the best in recent memory, and trust me, last summer was pretty fucking brilliant.

I really just want this record to be done more than anything. I'm tired of being worried about it and nervous about it. I just want it to be finished so I can relax a bit.

I need a good masseuse. For real.

This weekend Pincado. Next week Chicago. Next weekend, hopefully, an ending to This Cursed House.

Oh. And I turn 28 on Friday. Pray for me please.