So last night Paul and I got together to watch the game, and what a horror it was. Not only did we get beat and I drank too much Cabernet and now my head hurts, but Paul's beef stew (what a coin-ki-denk – we both made beef stew) totally kicked my beef stew's ass.
I shouldn't feel too horrifical about it, since Paul is a regular Martha Stewart – extremely handy around the house, and a great cook. He's also a producer/engineer and has recorded me many a time as I execute new pop songs as I write them. But still, I couldn't help but feel like a bit of a doofus, as Paul slurped down my broth politely, and then I had a helping of his stew. Let's just say it was exquisite, thick, with all the pieces bits and bobs totally disintegrated from so much stewing, and a spicy finish.
It was one of those meals where you want to shout out because you feel so good eating it. But then, I have skillz that Paul doesn't have – namely songwriting and painting (I'd add writing to this short list, but today I am feeling mentally challenged and so will leave it off). By the way Paul gave me a recipe for his Kale soup (I'd never even heard of Kale) and a couple of links of Portuguese chorizo for good measure.
So anyway, Paul's home recording studio is all patched up – whatever software he needed to reinstall to get his ProTools to work is reinstalled – and he's good to go. I've been bugging him to record me for a while. See, what I do is, I book recording sessions when I feel I need to light a fire under my bum to write some new pop songs. And then I have no choice, innit. There's a recording session, and so I have to step up and write some new stuff. I do the same with booking gigs when I feel I need to brush up my playing/singing/remembering-own-lyrics. And I'll arrange art gallery exhibitions if I feel I need to amp it up with the oil painting.
Paul said sure we can record, and proposed the weekend after Super Bowl, whatever that is, haha. Seriously, I am only recently a football fan convert, but not sure I'll watch the Super Duper Bowl, because I just don't care to be honest. So last night after a number of glasses of Cab., I remembered Paulie once asking me to paint a portrait of Stevie Wonder for him – he had worked with Stevie in the studio once and meeting him was a spiritual experience, he said. So I was in Paul's bedroom looking out onto the hall wall. It's painted this really nice clay colour, and there are prints and lovely framed photos everywhere, but there's nothing in front of you on the hall wall as you walk out the bedroom.
So I said Paul, I said, record me doing 3-4 new songs, which I have not written yet, and I'll paint you Stevie for that spot on your hall wall right there! He was into the idea, we shook on it, so now I HAVE TO WRITE FOUR NEW POP SONGS!!!!!!!! (not to mention painting an oil portrait of Stevie Wonder, but that'll be fun)….
Oh, and the assignment to paint fiber-glass sheep for that famed sleep medication marketing promotion is still pending. Reason it's hanging is funny – since the famed sleep medication is a controlled substance, they want to make sure my painting job is not too psychedelic, lest they be linked with recreational drugs, which in fact this famed sleep medication is oft mis-used as (so I hear)!! Which is damned straight, because I was envisioning a Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds kind of Yellow Submarine motif.
Finally, went to see a production of Macbeth on Sat. night with Debby and Chris, because our friend Leeanne was in it. It was awesome and everything, but I just didn't get it. I couldn't follow their damned Olde English too well (and I was an English Major in college, and graduated Cum Loudly and everything), and even though Chris was lovely enough to explain everything that went totally over my head in the first half (which was a couple hours of sitting there, half trying to concentrate on what was happening, half just zoning out and daydreaming, which I have a hard time enough not doing even when something interesting is on – if it's something confusing or uninteresting, forget about it – I am blasting off to Planet Ari never to return), but then the second half rendered me befuddled again. And I tell you what gentle reader, it's not fun being a dim-bulb!! I was really trying to work out what was happening, and other than just the very basics, I truly had no clue. I was kind of stung by my own lack of brains all the rest of the weekend.
It reminded me of the time a few weeks ago when, while at band practice with Adam and Justin at Justin's place in Brooklyn, I started playing this Guided By Voices song we might cover, Window of my World. Well, I figured out the middle part wrong, and I knew I didn't have it exactly right but it was the best I could do. Well Justin, who is our DRUMMER for Pete's sake, gets up and takes the guitar and, after listening to the bit once or twice, nails it perfectly!! And I'm standing there slack jawed going, I'd have never figured that out, why am I so stupid????? But then again, we proceeded to practice some songs I wrote and they were good songs, and I'd written them… so my brain is strong in certain areas, and really not very strong at all in some other areas.
The brain is a complicated piece of meat.
The End
I shouldn't feel too horrifical about it, since Paul is a regular Martha Stewart – extremely handy around the house, and a great cook. He's also a producer/engineer and has recorded me many a time as I execute new pop songs as I write them. But still, I couldn't help but feel like a bit of a doofus, as Paul slurped down my broth politely, and then I had a helping of his stew. Let's just say it was exquisite, thick, with all the pieces bits and bobs totally disintegrated from so much stewing, and a spicy finish.
It was one of those meals where you want to shout out because you feel so good eating it. But then, I have skillz that Paul doesn't have – namely songwriting and painting (I'd add writing to this short list, but today I am feeling mentally challenged and so will leave it off). By the way Paul gave me a recipe for his Kale soup (I'd never even heard of Kale) and a couple of links of Portuguese chorizo for good measure.
So anyway, Paul's home recording studio is all patched up – whatever software he needed to reinstall to get his ProTools to work is reinstalled – and he's good to go. I've been bugging him to record me for a while. See, what I do is, I book recording sessions when I feel I need to light a fire under my bum to write some new pop songs. And then I have no choice, innit. There's a recording session, and so I have to step up and write some new stuff. I do the same with booking gigs when I feel I need to brush up my playing/singing/remembering-own-lyrics. And I'll arrange art gallery exhibitions if I feel I need to amp it up with the oil painting.
Paul said sure we can record, and proposed the weekend after Super Bowl, whatever that is, haha. Seriously, I am only recently a football fan convert, but not sure I'll watch the Super Duper Bowl, because I just don't care to be honest. So last night after a number of glasses of Cab., I remembered Paulie once asking me to paint a portrait of Stevie Wonder for him – he had worked with Stevie in the studio once and meeting him was a spiritual experience, he said. So I was in Paul's bedroom looking out onto the hall wall. It's painted this really nice clay colour, and there are prints and lovely framed photos everywhere, but there's nothing in front of you on the hall wall as you walk out the bedroom.
So I said Paul, I said, record me doing 3-4 new songs, which I have not written yet, and I'll paint you Stevie for that spot on your hall wall right there! He was into the idea, we shook on it, so now I HAVE TO WRITE FOUR NEW POP SONGS!!!!!!!! (not to mention painting an oil portrait of Stevie Wonder, but that'll be fun)….
Oh, and the assignment to paint fiber-glass sheep for that famed sleep medication marketing promotion is still pending. Reason it's hanging is funny – since the famed sleep medication is a controlled substance, they want to make sure my painting job is not too psychedelic, lest they be linked with recreational drugs, which in fact this famed sleep medication is oft mis-used as (so I hear)!! Which is damned straight, because I was envisioning a Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds kind of Yellow Submarine motif.
Finally, went to see a production of Macbeth on Sat. night with Debby and Chris, because our friend Leeanne was in it. It was awesome and everything, but I just didn't get it. I couldn't follow their damned Olde English too well (and I was an English Major in college, and graduated Cum Loudly and everything), and even though Chris was lovely enough to explain everything that went totally over my head in the first half (which was a couple hours of sitting there, half trying to concentrate on what was happening, half just zoning out and daydreaming, which I have a hard time enough not doing even when something interesting is on – if it's something confusing or uninteresting, forget about it – I am blasting off to Planet Ari never to return), but then the second half rendered me befuddled again. And I tell you what gentle reader, it's not fun being a dim-bulb!! I was really trying to work out what was happening, and other than just the very basics, I truly had no clue. I was kind of stung by my own lack of brains all the rest of the weekend.
It reminded me of the time a few weeks ago when, while at band practice with Adam and Justin at Justin's place in Brooklyn, I started playing this Guided By Voices song we might cover, Window of my World. Well, I figured out the middle part wrong, and I knew I didn't have it exactly right but it was the best I could do. Well Justin, who is our DRUMMER for Pete's sake, gets up and takes the guitar and, after listening to the bit once or twice, nails it perfectly!! And I'm standing there slack jawed going, I'd have never figured that out, why am I so stupid????? But then again, we proceeded to practice some songs I wrote and they were good songs, and I'd written them… so my brain is strong in certain areas, and really not very strong at all in some other areas.
The brain is a complicated piece of meat.
The End
posted by Same Suit Sam | 11:22 AM
1 Comments:
"but Paul's beef stew (what a coin-ki-denk – we both made beef stew) totally kicked my beef stew's ass."
Maybe the problem is that your beef stew has an ass.
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