Oldie but a goodie...

I haven't blogged since June...my mind has not been in that mode. The fact that blogging is self indulgent and pointless makes it something that I can only do in phases...but here is one I wrote in October of 2006, when I was living in LA. I must have been in a bad place...


Four Months and a Kick in the Teeth
Mac Leaphart and Los Angeles. Not a match made in heaven. But what did I expect? I hate traffic, pricks and bands that sound like Rick Dees Weekly Top 40. But LA has grown on me, and I have acccepted it to a certain extent. I just had to find the right spots around town, and slowly but surely I am sort of getting what the LA experience is all about. I thought maybe I could come out here and kick its teeth down its throat, you know, convince a few big shots that I was a badass and all that. I guess that was my initial goal. It didn't really happen like that, though. From my experience, LA has been more like the little kid that you baby-sat and the first thing he does is hit you right in the nuts and then it is hell for the next five hours and then his parents come home drunk and don't have any cash and precede to write you a check for jack shit. So now, my attitude has changed a bit. Now, I'd just like to pull the chair out from under LA -you know, have a little fun and try to take advantage of the opportunities that exist out here that don't exist in my beloved South.

So its been four months in LA for this 'ol boy. And I've done a lot of jogging, (at one point I was doing two-a-days out of sheer boredom) played a few shows, good ones, bad ones, bland ones-a few to completely write off the books. Specifically one at this place in North Hollywood that was a really rock bottom-ass dive causing me at times to sort of fear for my life, but not really-where this borderline crazy man kept asking me to play "Positively 4th Street" and the place was so dead that I finally told him that he could play it if he wanted to, and so I handed him my guitar-sat down at the bar and grabbed a beer while he preceded to play some Dylan and some ZZTop, and honestly, he was actually pretty good. He was still bonkers, though. I worked a job going from mailroom to mailroom around LA for a little over a month, surrounded by people that had given their lives to the mailrooms and copy rooms who were putting up with some kid with an English Degree that kept botching copy jobs and metered mail. So I did that, made a little money, and now I'm back to trying to wake up every day and start writing-songs, articles, my novel that I've been writing for the past four years. I have moments of intense inspiration-I wrote a new song-a ballad where someone dies (imagine that) but I also spend a lot of time on myspace, waiting and hoping for that new friend request or comment or message. Oh, what a great feeling, better than walking into a grade school classroom and seeing a projector-man, did I just date my old ass. So, yeah, I write, check the internet, play my guitar, write, check the internet, all the while drinking too much coffee and Earl Grey tea and usually end up drinking beers in the afternoon. So basically, my life is sort of life a Kris Kristofferson song right now (minus the myspace shit and the fact that I don't smoke cigarettes-I wish I smoked cigarettes-I'd be so much cooler if I did) , which seemed pretty cool when I was a much younger man, but isn't quite as romantic or appealing when it is actually my life. But still, it has somewhat of a nice ring to it, and I don't plan on spending the rest of my days like ths. So, as I am on the verge of returning to God's Country for a couple months, I feel like reflecting on my first stint in a LA a bit, but I guess I have already been doing that for a few hundred words, but I've never been much on chronology, anyway.

I cannot really offer much insight on LA, as I have barley experienced the so called "City of Angels." But I have learned a few things from my limited experience. One thing about LA, is it is a pretty good place to be a bum. Probably the best in America. The climate is great-never too hot-never too cold-and nobody will really mess with you. You can sleep right on the sidewalk or in the park, or wherever you please pretty much. You can sleep in, too. Sleep all day if you want to. On the other hand, if you've got tons of money-LA is still a great place to be. There's a lot of places where you can show off and run up big tabs for people you're trying to impress that could less about you. LA is wonderful in that aspect. To tell the truth, its probably best to be either a bum or a multimillionaire in LA, because either way, you don't really have to worry about money. Because trust me, when you're a regular guy like me, the money goes, and it goes fast, and you've got nothing to show for it, except for maybe a some vintage t-shirts and jeans you bought down on Melrose.


The first couple of months I was here, I was surrounded by sirens and horns and Otis Redding. Sirens and horns are sort of the soundtrack to LA, you cannot really escape them, especially when you live a block away from a fire station. Otis was always with me at "Molly Malones" this bar on Fairfax and Sixth that I would play the open mic night, drink too many beers, and try to get the cute redheaded bartender with the kind eyes and not quite American accent to notice me. So I'd play Otis. And the Allman Brothers and Sam Cooke. All the songs that I thought might spark a young lady's interest, you know, like maybe she'd think that the pensive young man with his eyes in his beer and the really good taste in music was somewhat inticing. But to her, I was probably not pensive, I was just another drunk. The thing is, I'm just not cool enough. I'm really not. Okay, if I'm onstage, with my guitar and my songs of love and despair and blah-blah-then yeah, I can manage. But at an open mic night, any asshole with three bucks and a guitar can take the stage, so it doesn't really work the way it does at a "real" gig. But, I would go to Molly Malones anyway. Hell, I went there a lot when I first got here, even if it wasn't open mic night. My girl back home and I had decided that 2000 miles was a little too far to make things work, and so I was just feeling as alone as I could feel, spending all my money on draft beer and Jack Daniels like I had some kind of endless supply. So I'd sit at the bar by my lonesome, like all those guys that used to come to the Salty Nut and talk my ears off and try to hit on the waitresses, and I'd play Otis on the jukebox, to gain the title of "dude with best taste in music at the bar" and because my heart was broken and I needed to hear some heartbreak songs. And nobody breaks my heart like Otis. Nobody. Sometimes, when you're lonely and down, the only thing you want to hear are songs that are going to tug on your goddamn emotions even more, making it hurt like a hell, taking everything out of you until you just feel empty, but somehow making you feel good, not better, but good in a way that is only relevant to lonely souls with broken hearts. I definitely fit the bill.


Open mic night at Molly Malone's was a pretty good deal. You got to play two songs, and usually there was a nice built in crowd. There did tend to be a large quantity of Justin Timberlake/Maroon 5 falsetto belting crooners, but I alwyas got up and played my songs, and sometimes somebody would dig it. Usually, I'd just head back to the bar to knock back a couple more drinks. One night, a buddy of mine and I both played after we had watched the Braves game and had too many 16 ounce Miller Highlifes. We started hanging out with these Texas sority girls and also some girls from Canada, who were somehow friends-don't ask, becuase I don..t know-but we went back to their house that was supposed to be right around the corner, but it wasn..t as we sped through some alleys in a pick up truck belonging to some dude that I didn't know. Anyway, my buddy kept saying "Goddamn" and the girl whose house it was kept telling him not to say it, but he kept saying it and we got kicked out and had to walk about two miles back to my place. It might have been even farther. These girls lived on Crescent Heights on the other side of San Vicente, and we had to walk to Cochran, which is two blocks up from La Brea. If you are familiar with LA, that paints a pretty specific picture of a long-ass walk. So anyway, on any given open mic night, I was usually pretty drunk whenever it was my turn to play a few songs. One time another friend came and watched me, and afterward he told me that I was too drunk to play. To which I replied, "I wasn't too drunk to play, I was just too drunk to play well."


More to come...



Thanks and goodnight,


Mac

Mike, you know it ain't easy...

I'll start with this one with one thing. Then I'll move to another. From there, I have no idea.

I never pay much mind to mainstream music/pop/culture, American Idol, Reality Stars, I just sort of skip it. Obviously, Rascal Flats is not worth the price of the ticket, and the success of most commercial artists baffles me. "All Summer Long" by Kid Rock? I could not believe that it was:A. Real. B. a Song that people actually wanted to hear/bought into/etc. But I know they did, because I got requests for it when it was on the radio. But bands like the Jonas Brothers don't bother me, I just don't listen to them. What does bother me is when I hear a band that "sucks," most likely because they are derivative, and people that should know better, people I know to be discerning, buy into it. I'm not going to name drop here, but there are a bunch of bands out there that I just can't believe people are falling for. It is usually because they have "The Look." As in, these guys look like they'd be cool, discerning, they have long hair and beards and wear a lot of denim, and scarves and hats-but the music is derivative and always about break ups and booze and people that should know better eat it up like goddamn pixie sticks. It makes me a pull a McEnroe, as in "YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!"

Yeah, that is what bothers me. It shouldn't, though. Because, honestly, who cares? I guess I feel like it affects me because I try to make music without a whole lot of flare and hipster additives, and I don't want people to get the idea that a newsboy hat, a beard, tapered jeans, pointy shoes and a well placed tattoo makes for a good night of songs.( always about me, isn't it? Indulgence of the self.")

But, on a larger scale, I've heard some rumblings about people being upset that folks like Taylor Swift, the Jonas Brothers, Kelly Clarkson, Justin Timberlake...(the list goes on, I'll stop there) are getting decent to good reviews in Rolling Stone. I'm fairly sure that Taylor Swift got 4 out of 5 stars. No Bullshit. Maybe those critics are just being objective-you know, saying that it is good in its genre. But to me, that doesn't make any sense. I guess its like saying "Its really good in terms of junk music made for middle school kids." A lot of those reviews are paid for. Not all of them, but this is a fact. Jann Wenner sells reviews as much as he peddles left wing, pinko bullshit. Just ask Jim Derogatis. And there is no way that Pete Travers really thought "Dan in Real Life" deserved 3 and 1/2 out of 4 stars. Digression. Again.
Point is, that I don't think it matters. Anybody that cares and truly appreciates music knows that the Jonas Brothers and Taylor Swift are not a part of the great song, the group of singers and story tellers that make people really feel-make music more than something you simply listen to...
The thing is, bands like the Jonas Brothers, they are finsished as soon as they get started. Their fans will get old and start listening to the Smiths and laughing at how they used to have Jonas Brothers posters on their wall. One of them will land a great producer and try to embark on a solo career that will have limited success and 20 years later they will reunite and the same girls who went through their Smiths phase will have a girls weekend in Atlanta and catch the Jonas Brothers Reuinion tour.
Let's pin point Justin Timberlake here. Talented? Yes. One of a kind? Hardly. That's the thing. Justin Timberlake is obviously someone who grew up wanting to be a superstar-and he worked his ass off to get where he is, no doubt. But, I think there are probably Justin Timberlakes all over the place. And if Justin Timberlake hadn't ever made it beyond the Mickey Mouse Club, he could probably be selling commercial real estate in Memphis and the world would have never missed him.


Which brings us to what everyone is talking about now. Michael Jackson. I remember it. I remember getting the "Thriller" cassette at Kmart. I lived through it. The man was huge. The biggest star the world has ever seen. The thing is, he was the chosen one. I don't mean that like he was a mesiah or something-or, that he was put on this earth to change pop music and our culture. But, he did, never the less. So, it really doesn't matter whether or not he was destined to become what he became, that is irrelevant. What is relevant, is that he was what he was and he did what he did. Pop music went from being mostly rock and roll based to becoming more R&B influenced, well hell, I can't categorize, but obviously hip hop owes more to Thriller than it does to Revolver. And, I don't think Michael Jackson was capable of doing anything but what he did. I mean, I don't think that Mike could sell real estate in Gary Indiana. The man had too much vision. And he was obviously in his own world, so to speak. The point is, that if Justin Timberlake didn't exist, someone else could fill his shoes. Someone else would basically rip off Michael Jackson and attempt to be the next "King Of Pop." But, if Michael Jackson didn't exist, everything(in terms of pop music since 1982) would be different. Someone always fills a void, or really makes people realize that there was a void after the fact-almost like they create a void and then fill it? Okay-after the appearance of such an artist, their existence/impact creates a void that needs to be filled as the public searches for the next artist that is like the first guy. Or something like that... From Elvis, to Dylan, to the Beatles-someone always shows up and changes everything. Kurt Cobain got close, but obviously, he was not comfortable with his place on the throne. Some artists, like Gram Parsons, I don't think really knew what kind of impact they would have. I mean, I think Gram Parsons wanted to be a rock star, and knew that he would find a niche in showing people that country music was actually artistic and sophisticated, but I also think that Gram was a rich kid that thought it was cool to hang with the Stones, and probably thought he might steal that show the way he did with Byrds. But Gram died when he was 26, and in truth his legacy inspired the Eagles and the whole country/rock thing-which, ironically kind of put pure country music to rest. But Gram's music wasn't a country/rock hybrid-it was simply real country music made by guys that looked like hippies. Like I said, I don't think Gram wanted to much more than be a rock star.


Where am I going with this? Its getting long...
I think Michael Jackson knew that he was changing things-as did Dylan, and John Lennon-and maybe it just becomes to much. Maybe you start seeing a halo in the mirror. I think one would almost have to. So, who will be the next person to not just fill someone else's shoes, but actually make the shoes to be filled? It happens every 10 to 20 years. It will be interesting to see. Whoever it is, I feel sorry for the guy-(maybe it will be a girl this time?) There is hardly ever a happy ending.

I wouldn't call it optimism...

So, maybe I was being an asshole earlier. I do that sometimes. No, I still love Smoltzy. And obviously, he's not a traitor. Maybe he's the oppoisite-which would be a patriot? A Braves patriot? I mean, he got rocked by the Nats, who are the worst team I've seen in a long time. Willie Harris is on that team, though. That dude is fierce. But, the Nats are awful. So, maybe Smoltzy was sabotaging the Sox? It would be sweet if he did.

But, I'm not here to talk about the Bravos anymore. I'm here to discuss optimism, and why it has never been a part of my character. I am naturally self depricating, I'm hard on myself. I'm hard on everybody. That, as the kids say, is how I roll. But, damnit, I'm tired of looking at the downside to everything. I will always see the downside, I'm too damn discerning not too, but maybe I'll try to ignore it. Tough task. But I will try to look past the girls I see that do nothing but take pictures of themselves all night. Seriously, all night. I was trying to load out from the show tonight, and I was dodging digital flashes and poses, like walking through a maze. I will hold my tongue when I hear people talking about how they just got off tour, and a minute later realize that they aren't actually in a band, they just went to 6 Widespread Shows in a row. I will just turn the other cheek when people discuss dicussing the finer points of commercial hip-hop, and I won't say hip-hop in general, but sort of hip-hop in general. Because honestly, what's the point? Who cares what I think? It is self indulgent enough for me to write on this blog...but the truth is, even though its out there for the world to see, I am just venting for myself. Self indulgence. I mean, if someone else wants to waste there time with my ideas, hey, your minutes, pal. But seriously, thanks for stopping by...
But how do I control it? How do I stop the cynicism when people text non-stop during live music? Or, I lose a bar gig to "Guitar Hero."(True.) Or, "Guitar Hero" in general? I don't know-I guess the slow eating of my soul won't go away. But, the world definitely does not need anymore negativity, so maybe I can at least keep my mouth shut. Spare us all...

Digression. Again. Instead of focusing on the negative-how about the Positive...How about finding a good parking space when I really needed one because it was pouring rain and tonight I didn't want to have walk a lot of blocks...
How about playing songs and getting paid-most of them aren't my songs, and it is sad that "Wagon Wheel" has lost any of the soul that it used to have, because at one time, I really liked that song. Now it might as well be Jessie's Girl. But still, I have a job playing mostly other people songs and I'm working on a career where I can play mostly my songs and folks will be happy...

I don't know why it tends to be half empty for me. It has never been my intention, it is just the way it has always been. Like being left handed, or something. I'm trying. We'll see-I've tried parallel parking for years, and I still do a shit job of it. Time will tell. But sometimes it doesn't. I'm not drunk, but I've been drinking. Don't feel like proof reading.

They cause me nothing but pain. Honestly. I wait all winter for April, and by this time every year(well, since 2005) its already over. I'm talking about the Braves, yall. Let me just say that is great to see a walk off home run, etc, but the lows always hurt worse than the highs feel good.

Today was no exception. Red Sox 1, Braves 0. The fucking Red Sox, man. Capitalism at its worse. And, there are so many fairweather sox fans out there, and because Atlanta is an import town full of damn yankees, there were more Sox fans at Turner Field than Braves fans. Insult to injury. The hate that builds in me from watching the Red Sox basically play a home game is truely unbelievable. It really is. I will not mention out loud what brews inside me when I hear Tuner Field chant "YUUUKE," or when the broadcast goes to a split screen to show Paplebon in his stupid, goddamn wind up. Its rediculous, I know. I remind myself of that. It shouldn't be there, but it is. The thing is, I don't hate Youkalis or Paplebon, I don't hate anyone for that matter, but I do hate them on the field. Maybe its not hate. Just deep rooted pissed. Better word. But, yeah, Yuke and Paplebon the person, nah, I don't hate them. Probably wouldn't have much in common with them, though. Or any ball players. Baseball is my favorite sport, it is also the sport I was worst at, Ironically. But ball players wear gold chains and listen to DC Talk and Sugarland, so you know, not on the same page, I guess.

In the end, I still love the Braves. I can't help but think that my life would be less stressful without them. I need my head examined. I really do.

Sorry that there was no point to this. Purely a vent.

One more thing. Fucking Smoltz, man. Traitor.

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah...

So after posting this, everyone will know that I am a huge softy. I don't care. This absolutely breaks my heart, in the best way. Not since "The Giving Tree" has something gotten too me this much. Enjoy.

http://www.noob.us/humor/partly-cloudy-new-pixar-short-film/

Lonesome, Onery and Old...

Yep. I've been 32 for about an hour. Not a very memorable one, I reckon. I turned 29 in Los Angeles, at this bar called Molly Malone's. I was all by myself. I remember that night I tried to talk to the cute red headed bar tender. She had kind eyes and not quite American accent. But I didn't make much of a dent on her. She probably thought I was just another drunk, which I was. I remember thinking that I turned 29 twice, because I was basically still on Eastern Standard time, so I figured I turned 29 to my friends and family back home and then out in LA three hours later. That was a lonesome time for me. Now I'm lonely again. Funny how that works.

I turned 30 at Charlie's Steakhouse in Greenville, which is one of my all time favorite establishments. It opened its doors in 1910, and you could film a period piece in there without changing anything. I always drink Miller Highlife out of 10 oz glasses there. There was actually about six bottles in a beer bucket when I got there that night. Courtesy of my mother. My parents and my brother chipped in and bought me a new Telecaster becuase mine had been stolen about a year before. Good Birthday. Nothing crazy-family, cold beer, and a new guitar.

I turned 31 in one of America's loveliest locales, Augusta, Georgia. I was playing with my friend Doug at a Wild Wing and I swear I only drank one beer all night-until the end. The owners were there and were big fans of Doug's, it leaked out that it was my birthday, and we stayed there taking shots after the bar closed. I had been so successfully cautious about taking it easy with the booze that night, that for some reason, and sort of subconsciously, I thought I was in the clear. But I wasn't, I puked on the way back to the house where we were crashing and then, the next day, on I-26 right around 95, I projectile vomited all over Doug's car. I told him to pull over, but it wasn't fast enough. I blocked some with a shirt I grabbed, but luckily it was all water and a little bit of Coca Cola. Sorry, Doug.

So now I'm 32. Which feels oddly similar to 31. I don't know what a young Mac would think if he saw the old guy he grew into. Some of it would probably be a little unexpected. Some of it is pretty par for the course. Tough to tell, considering that old Mac can't look in the mirror and get a real handle on it. It could be better. It could also be worse. Either way, I'm still here. Its not such a bad place to be.

Late night thoughts, booze influenced...

I was sitting at the bar tonight, waiting to get paid, and I had ideas running through my head. Things I wanted to blawg about. Which in itself, is sad enough, really. But I forgot most of them. I think it was going to be a hypothetical letter to my parents, basically apologizing for not being successful. That is being harsh. But I'm drunk right now, so the self deprecation is on 11. I can say that the music has become more or less my job. It is not yet a career, but it is a job. Which isn't all bad. I feel like Will Ferrell in "Old School"-"I tried to join a gym, that's one thing."

Anyway, I would ramble if I could. Sometimes the booze gets me a ramblin'. But now, I'm getting nothing. So why am I posting? Because I'm drunk? Because I'm bored?

Yes.

THIS MIGHT BE AWSOME...

LET'S HOPE SO, CHILIN.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sBLir8H2zM

blawging for the sake of blawging...

I think the machines have won. We have been defeated. It didn't play out like the Sarah and John Connor said it would. Maybe it is a little more like the battle that Neo and Morpheus fight. But the machines have won.

I like technology as much as the next guy. Well, truthfully, I guess that depends on who is standing to my left and right. I think technology is great when it makes our lives better. George Carlin once said, you can't argue with a good blow job. Yep. You also can't argue with not having to use an outhouse in the middle of the night. Or, being able just to flip a switch and have lights come on.

But, has the digital revolution made our lives better? It has made them easier, no doubt. But easy is not always best. I'm sure in some ways, the internet and all that is related has made things better. But, we are losing important communication skills and basic human survival. The next generation probably won't even understand how to read a map. And online dating? Come on, where's the romance? Where's the adventure? Most people probably laugh that stuff off, but I am seeing it all over the place, so it must be catching on. Fast foward to 2078: "How did I meet your grandfather? Oh, its a wonderful story. I was at work strolling dating sites, and his profile stated that he was a fan of Kelly Clarkson, as was I. It was love at first view."

100 years ago, if the power went out, people didn't lose their minds. It wasn't a big deal. Now, the whole world goes to shit during a black out. It is literally chaos. It won't be long, hell it might be now, that it is going to happen when the internet goes down.

The machines got us by the balls, yall.

Its sunny outside. I'm staring at a screen. Irony. Textbook. What's a textbook?

HONKY TONK ANGELS...

Man, that was a good time Sunday night at the Tin Roof. Credit Miss Jamie Resch for all the hard work and the great turn out. All of the bands and artists that played great sets and spread the word, thank yall so much. And, to all the folks who came out to listen to some classic chick country and have some drinks for a good cause, thank you for coming out and coming early(The Tin Roof was slammed by 7 o'clock!) And, obviously, thanks to the Tin Roof staff for for putting up with all of us...
It was a great night of music and we raised 600 hundred bucks for The Ronald McDonald House, so, yeah-a great night all around...
I can't wait for the next one...
Cheers
Best
Mac