Musings

Life Decisions After Surgery

2010-08-11T17:11:00.000-07:00

I took a friend to have day surgery this week. The staff was very friendly and they gave my friend “happy juice” during her surgery, so that when it was over she was actually in a good mood, with no idea when the “happy juice” would wear off.

They had her go over the post-operation information sheet while I was there, which had some warnings on it such as not to make any important life decisions during the next 24 hours, when she was under the influence of the anesthesia.

As I drove her home, she seemed excited about making some major life changes after the surgery, so I’m writing this as a reminder to folks who have just had day surgery that it’s important to resist the urge to:

1. Sell everything you own and give the proceeds to your two favorite charities, Wal Mart and the A-Team

2. Break that 20 year vegetarian diet you’ve been on by eating steak, goat, lamb, rabbit, alligator, turtle, venison, and lobster, all mashed together on a piece of bread.

3. Take this as an opportunity to try out your new exercise plan, “Skydive-weight lifting”

4. Get a tattoo that says, “I just got day surgery and all I have to show for it is this lousy tattoo.”

5. Decide that this is the perfect time for you to paint yourself red and run with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain

6. Call up your friends to set up a game of “taser tag”

7. Combine your two favorite hobbies of covering yourself with massage oils and going rock-climbing

8. Invest all your savings into Silly Putty

9. Rewrite your will, leaving all your money to “Bullwinkle”

for at least 24 hours….after that maybe consider the life changes a little more seriously…

Census Test

2010-04-01T17:13:00.000-07:00

At the Census job fair, you have to take a test to see if you are likely to be a good Census worker. Being a Census worker involves knocking on people's doors and asking them questions like "How many people live in your house?" and "How old are they?" Here are some questions from the test (or maybe I just imagined these ones because I was delirious from a stomach virus when I took the test. Lisa said her questions were more boring, like "What is 3.45 multiplied by 6.56?") :

If someone comes to the door offering you some cocaine, you should:
A)    Run
B)    Do the cocaine with them
C)    Hit them over the head with the Census, steal the cocaine, and do it yourself
D)    Take the cocaine and share it with the people at the Census headquarters

If a hot housewife comes to the door naked, you should:
A)    Come in and say, “Let’s party!”
B)    Scream and run away
C)    Make a video of her Census interview and put it up on YouTube
D)    Recruit her to work for the Census

If someone opens the door who has a gun:
A)    Take the gun, thank them and leave
B)    Throw the Census at them and run away
C)    Offer them the Coke
D)    Yell, “Don’t shoot me! I work for the Census!”

If a kid opens the door and says that he is from Mars, makes 5 Billion Martian Dollars a year and lives in the house with five clones of himself and Lady Gaga:
A)    Mark this information down on his Census form
B)    Run and call the Pentagon and NASA
C)    Say, “We come in Peace!”
D)    Ask to talk to Lady Gaga

If you come to the house of someone who used to steal your milk money in elementary school:
A) Proceed to do your census interview as if you don't recognize them
B)    Hit them over the head with the Census and steal some milk from their fridge and a few dollars from their wallet
C) Report them as a terrorist
D)    Hand over your wallet so they can buy some milk

If you come to a house that has twenty people sleeping on the floor, but the person at the door claims only two people live there:
A)    Assume this is a hip new summer camp and send your kids there
B)    Come every Tuesday night to this “commune’s” potluck
C)    Talk about how you loved the book Dianetics
D)    Say, “I know these people are illegal immigrants, but I won’t say anything if you give me a dollar."

If the door is answered by someone’s pet husky:
A)    Proceed to ask the husky the questions
B)    Take the husky down to the station for further questioning
C)    Tape the Census to the dog with a note reminding the family of the importance of completing the Census.
D)    Ask the dog to take you to its leader

If nobody is home:
A)    Break into the house, eat some Doritos and Dum Dums, and watch Judge Judy until they get back
B)    Go inside and leave the Census on their dining room table, held in place by a knife
C)    Tape the Census to their cat
D)    Make something up on their form and submit it yourself

If an older man comes to the door naked:
A)    Ignore this fact and complete the Census
B)    Cover the offending area with an extra Census form and complete the Census
C)    Say, “Nice pubes!” and complete the Census
D)    Bring him to the Census Headquarters to complete the interview with some of our more experienced staff

If someone attempts to rob you while completing their Census interview:
A)    Give them your wallet in exchange for them completing the interview
B)    Give them the Census instead, and ask them to fill it out themselves, and send it in at their own convenience
C)    Ask them if they would like to work for the Census
D)    Fill out the form for them, stating their occupation as thief

If during the interview someone offers you food:
A)    Say, “Bribery will not influence this Census interview.”
B)    Get whatever food you can and bring it back to Census Headquarters
C)    Take it back to the Census forensics lab to make sure it’s not poisoned and then leave it for the “new” Census workers
D)    Eat the food, then regurgitate it and feed it to a penguin

If someone offers you a drink while conducting the interview:
A)    Give them the glass, and take the bottle, and leave
B)    Fill in the form for them stating the heads of household as Jack Daniels and Jim Beam
C)    Say, “Don’t touch the stuff… do you got any cocaine?”
D)    Get wasted and finish your Census route as drunk as a skunk.

Top Ten Things To Do in a Recession on a Saturday Night

2009-03-15T17:16:00.000-07:00

In case you were wondering what other recommendations we might have in this economic climate, we've compiled a handy list of the Top Ten Things to do in a Recession on a Saturday Night. Here it is:

10. Get 9 embryos implanted into your uterus so you can one up the octuplet mom and steal her book deal and future Oprah appearances.

9. Make a list of everyone who has wronged you in the past 10 years and call them and let them know that you no longer seek to get "revenge".

8. Create a new drinking game involving "Antique Roadshow"

7. Give your pet an Extreme Makeover and/or start a Ponzi scheme involving your pets

6. Watch "House", "Desperate Housewives", "Coupling", and "Lost" simultaneously putting the DVR on random to create your own TV show

5. Eat leftover slices left on the tables at your favorite pizza eatery

4. Start a new hobby..preferably something you can learn on your own, like taxidermy or acupuncture

3. Give in to the voices

2. Start the new trend of naked sock bowling

1. Go and see Sweet Wednesday at the Real School of Music and hear guitar, mandolin, banjo, and harmonica, and forget your troubles for a while....

Drunken Santa and Wild Reindeer

2005-02-26T17:59:00.000-08:00

A couple years ago during Christmas time, Lisa and I did not play Christmas carols. We were of the mindset that everyone gets sick of Christmas carols around Christmas time since they hear them everywhere every year for their whole lives. Boy were we wrong. So we're doing our usual assortment of covers and originals and this guy dressed like Santa Claus comes up to us reeking of vodka.

"Why don't you play Christmas songs?" he asked.

"People get sick of Christmas songs," we replied. Lisa asked a woman standing near us if she wanted to hear Christmas songs.

"Yes!" she said enthusiastically.

Assuming that this must be some kind of mistake, we tried asking some more people. Lisa asked a guy standing near us, and he was like "I love Christmas songs!" We asked a few more people and pretty much got the same response. The drunk Santa was so adamant about us singing Christmas songs that he stole one of the microphones and was saying "Ho! Ho! Ho!" very loudly into it, whispering to us that he was doing this to protest us not doing Christmas songs.

There were two problems in us doing Christmas songs. #1 we had a general idea of a lot of the songs, but did not really know almost any of the words. #2 We did not know the guitar for any of the songs. So we made a decision right then and there to delve into uncharted territory.

I started singing Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones but changed the lyrics to fit the Christmas spirit- and thus "Wild Reindeer" was born, an epic about a reindeer strike before Christmas and other complications (like Blitzen's drinking) that made Santa nervous he could not get ready in time. You can hear the song at http://www.daveandlisamusic.com/WILDREINDEER People seemed to be loving it and we made good tips. Santa sang along while intermittently taking swigs from his listerine bottle. We were the fab three. We started getting more confident and made new hits like "Friend of Santa" a Grateful Dead parody, and even did Felice Navidad (Lisa knew the Spanish parts), and Santa Clause is coming to town. We did Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah and people even thought that was a Christmas song. In the Subway, you can make a lot of noise with just a few songs.

Drunken Santa started going around the platform shaking everyone's hands, wishing them a Merry Christmas and giving them gifts from a bag he had (that appeared to be samples from the nearby Filene's Basement and Macy's). We were getting along great. For 2 hours we were on cloud nine or as they say in Christmas lingo at the North Pole. Drunken Santa even gave me an extra Santa hat and made me an honorary Christmas helper.

Part II: The Three Stages of Drunkeness
It has seemed to me over the years that there are three stages of drunkeness:

#1 There's the phase where your inhibitions start to go away, and you start feeling happy.

#2 There is a feeling of elation, like you are on top of the world (think Leo DiCaprio in Titanic: "I'm king of the world!"; on second thought maybe don't think that), the world is your party.

#3 Complete anger, rage, and madness!

We watched our Santa friend go through all of these stages and even some new uncharted frontiers as he continued to take swigs from the Listerine bottles. We at first got comfortable and chummy together like we were the Scooby Doo gang: he could have been Shaggy and I was Scooby and Lisa was Daphne or something like that. But as time progressed, Santa's (or Shaggy's- I think I'm losing the analogy here) inhibitions had him saying some not so nice things to Daphne. He yelled at her when she tried to play an original song, and said that when she sang he just did not feel it. It was like being at a party and everyone's digging their favorite song and then someone tampers with the record and there is this giant scratching noise.

Part III: The Escape Artist
One of the requirements of being a subway musician is the ability to get out of a situation, no matter how difficult. We are social escape artists, if you will. We had a problem here. Daphne was not happy because Shaggy had eaten too many Scooby snacks and had to go. But how do you tell a jolly, Listerine drinking Santa who is starting to get agressive that it's time to go? The way I chose was an analogy.

"Remember when the Beatles and the Rolling Stones did a Christmas concert together in the 60's? They did that show, and it was great, but after the show they went back to their own thing and did their own shows. I'm sorry man, we've had a great show, but I feel that we are holding you back, and you could have a great show at a different spot."

"You mean I'm holding you back!" he said.

My analogy was not working that well (maybe we are not quite social escape artists, but we strive for it). "No, we're holding you back. We did a great show together, and now it is time to do our own shows- Beatles and Stones, man!"

It was sad. It was like being with a friend that when you first met everything clicked and was perfect but then some time later, you said too much, got too close, learned too much about each other. Or maybe it wasn't exactly like that. But for a moment, it was beautiful. I will never forget you drunk Santa, singing your songs handing out your gifts and shaking hands with the good people of the T while drinking your listerine.

My Worst Day Ever

2005-02-05T08:43:00.000-08:00

My worst day, or worst couple of hours in the subway occurred about a week before this past Christmas. Lisa and I tried to get Redline Park Street spot, but our talented friend John, the classical guitar player, had beaten us there and expert fingerpicker, Michael Sullivan, had the spot for the remainder of the evening.

John suggested that we try upstairs at the Park Street Green Line spot. Unfortunately, the Park Street elevator was broken so we had to carry our 200 pounds of equipment up the stairs, while dodging hundreds of rush hour commuters scrambling to their connections. We set up upstairs and it was impossible to hear yourself think. The problem with playing the Green line is that there are always trains coming in or out because there are five different trains and there are three different tracks at that spot. It reminded me of living next to Route nine as a child as noisy trucks and cars came wizzing by.

We tried playing for about 15 minutes but no one could make out any of our lyrics and it was like we were not there. One guy got into us and asked if we played the Middle East or places like that and we gave him a gig card. A Berklee student came by and we immediately gave her the spot. She quickly set up all of her equipment next to us as we dismantled and took our stuff to Downtown Crossing to try our luck there.

Lisa went to get some food and make a phone call, and right when I set up I was immediately hassled by an MBTA employee. He complained that I did not have an MBTA ID around my kneck. This week it had been near freezing temperatures and I could not fit an ID around my kneck because like him, I had on a thick jacket and a scarf, and it was impossible for this little badge to fit around this. He went on to tell me that it wasn't placed well in my case, and the whole point of the badges is for us to wear them so they know that we're not terrorists or something like that.

(As a side note, I just read in the Boston Globe that in New Mexico, legislation is being passed that strippers must also wear ID badges. Do they think that strippers could also be terrorists? Or do city officials want an easier time of getting strippers contact info for private parties? Now they can get their real names and numbers, cuz before they would try to look up Amber or Star and get the wrong one? Subway musician and stripper badges, what's next? At least we are in good company.)

When Lisa got back, I was like this day sucks and I want to go home. She wanted to wait it out another hour to see if it would get better. The month before we had had some amazing days at this spot when the Red Sox had won the world series, and we were hoping with the Christmas spirit and all that it would still be good. I had been playing an hour by myself at this point and did not have that much to show for it.

I'm playing Simple Twist of Fate, and Lisa is eating a slice of pizza, and all of a sudden these three teenagers proceed to huddle around the case and check out the CD's. All of a sudden like synchronized swimmers, they simultaneously dive into the case, scoop up all of our money and run.

This was the last straw. Lisa was starting to agree with me at this point that the spot was not working out that well. I felt bad for these kids, because their pranks will probably get more and more serious until they could be shuffled through the US prison system, and it all started off robbing someone singing a Dylan song. To add insult to injury, they continued to tell me how much I sucked as they ran away.

(Atleast they didn't try to steal a song. I read in the Globe yesterday that an 83 year old dead woman was being sued by record companies for millions of dollars for illegally trading hundreds of pop and rap songs on her computer. It was later found that she did not like rap or pop and neither had nor knew how to use a computer, though the record companies did not drop the charges until they found out she was dead.)

A nice guy on the platform gave me a ten dollar bill after this happenned and urged me to quickly put it away before it gets stolen. Lisa and I start packing up. A man with a cowboy hat is getting off a train and walks towards us as Lisa is emptying the case and putting away the stuff. He has over 4 feet between us and the yellow line to walk by but instead decides to stop and glare at us.

"Get out of my way!" he yells at us. "You guys are blocking the platform." As he walks away I proceed to do what any good citizen would do at this point: give him the bird. It's funny how so many days are so great in the subway, but every once in a while you can have this day that is so bad that it is almost surreal. Maybe somewhere in this tragedy is the birth of comedy : )

My Second Worst Subway Day Ever

2005-02-04T13:29:00.000-08:00

I didn't play as much as I would have liked during the blizzard. It can be very hard to play the subway when it's cold out and there's lots of snow. It's weird, I don't mind playing the subway in the summer- it's nice and cool down there. One summer I played Harvard Sq. outside with a band and it would hit 90 degrees on some days and my stuff would start to melt.

One winter about 4 years ago during January, I had just gotten a new Crate limo and wanted to try it out. It did not cross my mind that it was one of the coldest days of the year. I got down to Park Street and this excellent classical guitarist Julian was there, and seemed to be doing pretty good, though he said it wasn't as good because of the cold. A Berklee student was there and he was so excited about getting to watch me play the subway. He was interested in buying an amp and trying it out himself.

Park Street is a good spot, late morning to early afternoon, and after 7PM to closing. But during morning and evening rushhour its is the pitts. Figure in that it was -20 below zero and you get the picture. So this very enthusiastic Berklee student is watching me for like 8 trains going by, and no one tips me the entire time. I felt like a leper. People would look at their pockets, and look at me and notice how they could see the cloud of their on breath and did not want to even try to attempt to take their wallets out.

I felt butterflies in my stomach and my head started spinning from the cold. I felt like a leper that everyone was trying to avoid like the plague. The Berklee student who seemed way less enthusiastic about playing the subways himself by then took a few pennies and nickels and through them to me, and said, "Sorry this is all I have," quickly avoiding my gaze in fear of catching my leper disease.

I felt tension in my face as I sang the songs. I just got to the point where I couldn't take it any more. I packed up my stuff, bundled up, and walked home through the New England Artic Chill.

Parakeet and the Psychotic Real Estate Agent

2005-01-26T17:58:00.000-08:00

Here's a story from a couple years ago before we had a blog or lived in Cambridge. My, we've come a long way (or have we?)

8/29/2002

Found a stray parakeet the other day and became friends with him. I risked my life for him, protecting him from a neighbor that was trying to catch the bird with a crow bar. The bird is alive and well, and has been adopted by some of our nice neighbors. It seemed that the bird really liked the grass in front of our house and stayed there for a few hours. This has got to be some really cool grass.

Otherwise my life has been pretty unexciting except for being trapped in a car with a psychotic real estate agent for 4 hours ("It has air conditioning, you buy this place now or it will be gone in -3.14 minutes"), who proceeded to show us an apartment near the Kendall Cafe in Cambridge that was okay except that it was missing a stove, sink, toilet, and parts of the ceiling and floor. The walls were a lovely collage of exposed wires and plaster.

"I guarantee the place will be ready by September First, " said the psychotic real estate agent, "They're working on it day and night." I looked at my watch and it was 2 o'clock in the afternoon on a weekday, and there were no work men to be seen within a 5 mile radius of the place. "You'll be in Kendall Square, next to the movie theatre and the Kendall Café! Only $1300/month !!! Don't I show you guys the best places??"

I wanted to inform this woman that large parts of the floor were missing, but then decided that some things are just best left unsaid. "Airconditioning," she quipped.

Luckily, we found a cheaper (and better) apartment in Winter Hill without the help of a real estate agent, but that's another blog entry. . .

Frog Pond, Fajitas & Ritas, & Other Capades

2005-01-17T20:56:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we went to Frog Pond in the Boston Common to go Ice skating with our great friends Robert and Alice. I learned a lesson that when you go off ice to cement on skates it is good to maintain a speed of 0 miles per hour or you are sure to fall flat on your face.

Rental Ice skates I think were originally an ancient torture device that some entrepreneur decided he could make a buck off of. They have nothing in common with the comfortable skates that you buy in a store. I'm sorry, but what is so comfortable about putting all your weight on your ankles while the top of your foot is lifted unnaturally at a 20 degree angle up from your heel. This seems like something the mafia would make you wear if you owed them money.

Otherwise, I really enjoyed the ice skating. It is not everyday that I get to combine four of my five top neuroses:

1) Fear of sharp objects
2) Fear of losing control while moving fast and falling onto a hard surface
3) Fear of other people running you over with sharp objects
4) Fear of death (see fears 1-3)

All you need is the fear of heights thrown in there, and we've run the entire gamut. How about ice skating on top of a cliff with no protective guard rail. Or how about ice skating on top of a tall building like the Prudential or the Empire State Building with lots of people and no guard rail. Why not play Hockey on top of the Empire State Building while you are at it. (I'm just venting, I love ice skating... or do I?)

We later went to Fajitas and Ritas which had a great goth atmosphere of free world graffiti and killer watered down Sangria. Who ever came up with the idea for this place is a genius. It's hard to find and that makes it exta special. Also, they took the charm of the graffiti written all over the bathroom stalls at the Middle East and made it a centerpiece of the restaurant. What other restaurant could you go to where you would find the name of someone's mother written on the wall next to you and a phone number saying, "For a good time call this number."

We started covering our table with graffiti immediately. They should really do this with more restaurants. It was hidden off of West Street, near the Park Street T spot. Robert and I braved the scallop quaesadillas which were very interesting to say the least. You can't go wrong with free all you can eat tortillas and salsa.

We saw Michael Sullivan on the way home, performing at the Park St. T station, so we talked to him for a bit, and listened to his beautiful music.

Michael Sullivan has a lot of great songs. Our favorite is "Becky's Tune" which we heard on a tape made by David White (a musician friend of Lisa's who tragically committed suicide), and a new love song that he played for us. Michael does great renditions of old folk tunes as well, like "Streets of London" and "Shady Grove". When he's not playing in the subways of Boston, sometimes you can find him on tour with his old friend Michelle Shocked. We loved listening to Michael play, and it was the perfect end to our Taco Ice-Capades day.

The Entrepreneurial Spirit (by Lisa)

2005-01-15T18:55:00.000-08:00

It seems like every time we go down to play in the subways, we see people selling unusual stuff. If you look closely at the wares of the "Magazine Man" at Harvard, you will find, amongst his ancient porn and "Better Homes & Gardens", ten year old copies of "PC World". I have no idea who would be interested in buying ten year old copies of a computer trade magazine, but perhaps I am the fool for not snatching them up quicker, as they may be valuable collector's items waiting to happen.

We also won't soon forget the woman at Park Street who we saw selling buttons that say "This is the Only Bush I Like" with a picture of a woman's you-know-what. She seemed to be doing quite well in the pre-election season.

The most unusual sales people we have seen down in the subway, however, were two women selling perfume. The two women, who were wearing long cotton dresses and hijabs, decided to try their luck one day selling perfume near where we were playing. They greeted us with a smile, then proceeded to set up a display of their perfume bottles on top of a nearby trash can. When a promising looking man or woman came into range, they would lead him or her over to the trash can to smell some samples of their fine perfumes.

At one point, the subway cleanup guy came to empty out the trash can, and waited patiently while the women lifted their bottles, one by one, and put them away so he could empty the trash. When he was gone, they neatly set up their bottles again, and resumed business as usual.

They seemed to be having a hard day, and Dave & I considered mentioning to them that a trash can might not be the most appetizing way to display perfume and that they might perhaps want to consider investing in a folding card table, but they must have sold some bottles while we weren't looking, because after about two hours they waved goodbye to us, smiled, and tipped us sweetly before boarding the train to head to their next location.

A 90 Foot Sausage or a Dance with Your Eldest Daughter

2005-01-03T15:14:00.000-08:00

Lisa and I both came down with the flu this past week. Despite our maladies, our awesome friend, Robert, insisted we come to his New Year's extravaganza. Apparently, we were going to perform a New Brunswick New Years tradition of going from house to house and singing a Cajun/French song asking for a 90 foot sausage, or, if they don't have that, a dance with their eldest daughter. When Lisa and I got to Robert's apartment, we were welcomed by a surly violin player and Robert's friends from New Brunswick, Mark and his girlfriend Tania, and the scrumptious aromas of food from "Bob the Chef's".

Robert had this really nice oriental rug in the middle of the floor which I did not see when I first walked in with my snow covered shoes. Then Lisa, heaping her plate with vegetarian greens, collards, rice and potatoe salad, sits down at the table and accidentally drops her food on the floor onto the expensive Oriental rug. When we sit at the table and replace the food, Lisa keeps leaning on the table and I look underneath the table and become aware that it is in fact not a table, but a piece of wood balanced on a small box. So every time Lisa leans on the table, I watch it go up 15 degrees and am nervous that my jambolaya, beer, and other acoutrements will go flying onto the rug.

We start learning the song in French, and I'm having a little trouble getting the words right. But it works out pretty well. Robert and Mark would say the part first while Lisa, Tania and me would repeat each verse in call and response. Each of us knew about a third of the lyrics, and it seemed that one of us would know the lyrics that the other one didn't know.

After practicing a few times we added in the violin and soon we were ready to hit the streets. We first hit the brownstones on Comm. Ave. It appeared that at 10 PM, alot of people were either out at parties, sleeping, watching Dick Clark's New Year's special, or at First Night. We knocked at a few doors and rang a few bells, but did not get much of a response at first. So, after getting turned away from a building by a disgruntled security guard, we hit the streets for a bit and sang to lots of Boston fans who enjoyed the violinist's Christmas carols as well as our French song and usually responded with the usual, Happy New Years, and go Red Sox. We sang the song to some people in a limo.

I had to go to the bathroom and I find as a rule, the nicer the place you choose to go to the bathroom in Boston, the more chance they will let you use it. You could stop at a small bar or pizza parlor or a convenience store or fast food place, and they will turn you away unless you are a customer. If you go to the Ritz Carleton or Eliot House, you will have the most enjoyable bathroom experience unhassled.

At the Eliot House, we had groupies calling to us from their rooms begging for our French carol. We even got our first tip on the streets of Boston singing our song for a couple waiting for a taxi in front of the hotel. The Doorman loved our carol so much, he was sad when we left. It should be said that no one gave us a 60 foot sausage or a dance with their eldest daughter.

At about 10 minutes to New Year's we passed a party where they were celebrating the new year with some hip hop dance music from their balcony. They invited us to their party, but we decided to sing to them from the street. When we told them we were going to do a Cajun carol, they said "Sure! What ever!!". They turned down the rap music and danced to our song.

It was 3 minutes to New Years and we were right near the Prudential. Mark opened up the champagne and we danced around the streets and toasted in the New Year. We got a lot of the night on film, which which I will stream from this blog as soon as it is ready.

Subway Dave

2004-12-24T22:36:00.000-08:00

This next blog is about the guy who works the booth at the subway station we go to every day. He's a real character. Last night we saw him at CVS and he shouted accross the store, "Don't forget to pick up my Oxycotin for me you bums!"

I) SUBWAY DAVE: Borrowing Someones Apartment for an Affair

We have had the pleasure of getting to know some of the MBTAs finest while busking down in the subway. One of the people we run into every night is Dave who does the graveyard shift at our local subway station, and he is a real character.

Every day when we go through the station he kids how he wants to use Lisa and my apartment to have an affair with his girlfriend. I keep telling him to use the booth. I mean, what is more romantic than a subway booth. Also, the MBTA workers have those mysterious numbered doors in the downtown crossing tunnel.

I lied and told him that we had a one room apartment, but said that we can put some of the Greg Brady beads up for him, like when Greg moves into the attic on the Brady Bunch.

Subway Dave seems to have a thing for Lisa. When she had a cold the other night, he said she should go home and strip and he would come over with the stethascope and check her heartbeat. He always sends her to get coffee so me and him can rag on each other.

Subway Dave really loves nature. One day we were walking to the subway, and he saw a hawk on top of Blockbuster video and we stood their admiring its beauty for about 20 minutes. He was so enamored with its beauty that he started to cry. It seemed kind of out of place in this urban setting, kind of like seeing a mall in the middle of the desert (hence, Las Vegas).

He is a man of a mysterious past. He has many tattoos, one reading Never Forgive. Me and him always give each other hell. Dave had his wisdom teeth removed last month and he loves to show them to me. He jokes that he removed them himself by eating caramels.

Subway Dave gets very emotional about some of the riders and gets into their lives. The other day he was telling me how he met this beautiful young woman in her twenties, who seemed to have this great life. She had a good job, she had her youth, and yet she seemed so unhappy. It was as if she had an invisible weight on her, she had everything and was in the prime of her life but found it hard to smile. I told him that she needed him.

He told me that he tells people like that to make a list of 10-12 of their favorite things to do, and each day do one of them. Who cares what anyone thinks. If you wanna go climb a mountain, then go climb a mountain. If you wanna go fishing, go fishing. It's your life. Sometimes I feel like Dave is a Buddhist monk of the subway variety.

So, he asks this girl why she is so upset, and she says she's been having some troubles but they seemed to him to be intangible. He said to me, she does not have kids to worry about, house payments, have to worry about supporting a family, things are going to get harder and more complex, and she has everything, but she is still unhappy.

On Christmas we gave Subway Dave a box of fudge, pumpkin bread, and cookies. He was so happy to get the stuff, and bought for us today a copy of the Boston Globe describing how it is now legal for us subway musicians to play on the streets of Boston.

When he got to the booth this morning he saw that we had given a similar box of goodies to the woman on the morning shift, and he was mad.

"I feel more special if we're friends and you just give me a gift. If you give the gift to everyone it makes it less special," he said, disappointed.

We explained to him how we only gave the gifts to our good friends in the subway. It was almost like Dave had this special club, and if we started associating with the other people, we could get blacklisted in a funny way.

Dave always lets us in the subway for free and to show our appreciation, we always buy him coffee from Dunkin Donuts. One time last year, Lisa and I were going to NYC to play a gig, and we saw him on the way, he said the only way he would let us in is if we got him a souvenir from New York. It seems like we are back in the old bartering days, before the money system, when I might trade you a chair I designed for your wagon.

Dogs and "Deadly" Chocolate Chip cookies

2004-12-21T13:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Lisa and I went over her parents' house to cook cranberry pumpkin bread and chocolate chip cookies. Lisa's mom had all the ingredients and cooking implements out for us before we started which made everything really easy. She even had a piece of pumpkin bread for us to sample which was quite delicious.

We were making the baked goods for the people who worked in the subways and some of the stores around Porter Square. We wanted to show appreciation for all our friends who work in the underground with us and have been so kind the last few years. We also feel bad that a lot of people don't get time off around the holidays to keep the public transportation moving. We also feel bad for people who have to work on Christmas Eve and Christmas around where we live. For instance, we have friends who are cashiers and security guards at CVS who don't get time off and are paid no overtime.

While cooking the cookies, Lisa and her mom had to go to Cambridge and left me to tend to their three dogs and the cookies. Lisa's mom warned me before they left that the dogs will try to eat the cookies, and if they do, they will die, but not to worry. So anyways, I'm stuck in a kitchen with chocolate chips, trays with chocolate, cookies, in three different locations and the dogs keep walking up to the table. The image of Lisa's mom saying that if the dogs eat the chocolate they will die keeps going through my head.

I start by putting the remaining cookies and chocolate chips above the cupboards where the dogs can't get them while telling Mac, a siberian husky bigger than myself to stay away from the table. As I started making the next batch of cookies, the other dogs, Gemini and Maestro, distracted me by walking around and barking, while he did the old "Look at me. You think I'm sitting down. Now I'm up while you're not looking and walking towards the table."

I felt like a soldier walking three children through a mine field. Finally, I got the chocolate covered trays from the far table to clean them while checking up on the last batch of cookies in the oven, and the dogs finally lost interest and went to take naps around the house. I couldn't find a sponge so I cleaned everything with this brush that made me feel like the same soldier of the last metaphor cleaning the Latrine with a toothbrush.

Hecklers of the Underground

2004-12-20T11:56:00.000-08:00

Whenever Lisa and I play the subway we meet so many people who are so nice to us. But every once in a while we meet a heckler. For instance, last week when I was singing "Long December", some one started singing along with this super exagerrated Adam Duritz voice. Then this scizophrenic guy started yelling. Sometimes I change the words of the songs to fit the mood. I took poetic liscence with the second verse of the song, and said, "The smell of hospitals in winter and the feeling that people are saying weird stuff wherever you go."

This other drunk guy last week started heckling me to the tune of Leonard Cohen's "Chelsea Hotel" (Lisa had me change the first verse to "feeding me bread on the unmade bed" to make it more subway friendly. We also change the Rolling Stone's "Sweet Virginia"'s chorus to "got to scrape the dirt right off your shoes," and we changed "Dead Flowers" 2nd verse to "I'll be in my basement room with some icecream and a spoon.") So this guy is saying something like "you think you own this subway station" and then slowly seguing into some psychotic stuff all to the cadence and melody of Chelsea hotel, which caused two women clad in fur coats and Nieman Marcus bags to scramble for the other side of the subway platform.

When we were packing up the other night this guy who reeked like a 5'10" bottle of open vodka asked us to play songs. He called Lisa over and she said that we were done for the night because we had to make the last train. He asked her if she needed any money to get a hotel room. He said he was blessed in having lots of money and believed in God and Jesus and wants to help those less fortunate than him. He said that whatever Lisa wanted he would give to her. He seemed really set on this hotel room. We told him he could buy a CD but we would not take his money with out playing.

He said, "You name it, I'll give it to you." Then he took out three dollars and handed it to Lisa.

"Will this help?" he asked. He kept pushing us to take the $3 reminding us how he had so much money and was so much more fortunate than us. But there seemed something about it that made it the sketchiest three dollars I've never taken. He reminded me of Robert DeNiro's character in Taxi Driver, so we decided not to take the $3, but thanked him just the same.

I've had other scary hecklers down there. Last year, a guy told me to give him all the money in my case. When I refused, he broke his vodka bottle and waved it at me threateningly and then threw it onto the tracks. Another guy last year around the time of the subway musicians battle, demanded me to stop playing. He said, "What do you think this is your f- ing living room!" He violently pulled the chord out of my amp and started waving his fist in my face. "What is it with you long haired faggots thinking you own the f- ing subway? Get the f- out of here!"

Every one on the platform looked really frightened. Then this really tiny Asian woman with a soft voice said, "I like their music and I want them to play." Her friend standing next to her was trying to talk her out of doing this. "You are a mean man," she said. "Leave them alone." Almost everyone on the platform tipped us, and one guy went to get the station police, who escorted the guy out of the station. I was playing my parody of "Wild Horses", "Wild Reindeer" for the Christmas season, and I'm thinking that maybe this song pushed this guy over the edge. But it is nice to know that for every heckler out there, there are lots of friendly, brave people who care about us and our music.

Bizzarre Tips

2004-12-18T13:16:00.000-08:00

Playing in the subway we have gotten some really cool tips. Once an artist gave us paintbrushes that he had just bought to keep our case open when it kept getting blown shut by the wind. During the Democratic convention, a man gave me a five dollar bill, and took a couple ones out of the case. He listened to a song and said, "You're so good you deserve a $50 tip. Do you want some weed or cocaine?"

I told the guy I was all set and he proceeded to take the $5 bill out of the case and filled it with cocaine. After the train left he took a hit and asked me if I'd like a hit. I said no thankyou. "You don't want to take a hit in front of your girlfriend. I get it," he said pointing to some random girl in front of us. He left the coke on the 5 dollar bill in the case and I scooped it from the case and handed it back to him.

"Trying to kick the habit," I told him.

"All right, maybe next time," he said.

I missed the $5 tip, but during the convention, people were having their bags searched and I saw police dogs multiple times go by me that day. Even if I could have thrown the cocaine out, what if the dogs could smell the cocaine from the $5 bill. So I think I made the right decision. Better to spend the day $5 short than to spend the night in jail.

Other cool tips we've gotten include a crystal doorknob, a tropical plant, a cool Joan of Arc coin, a fake $2000 bill with George Bush on it, poems written by commuters

The One

2004-10-09T17:55:00.000-07:00

This is my first blog and I have no idea what to say. That's better. I like this even more. How about that, now that's what I'm talking about! I'm wanting to say something really intelligent. Maybe I could promote the music with the blog, or I could deal with impending social issues. But alas the wells of words are all dried up.