Alcohol

I read Esquire. It's just another bullet point on the long list of un-military activity that I participate in on the daily but I'm not ashamed of it. I envision for myself a future of upper-middle class comfort where I'll be able to indulge in fast cars (probably rented), nice suits (that I won't have much occasion to wear), and of course fine expensive liquer. The mixing of these three is always a guaranteed recipe for hilarity, but if for some horrible reason I was ever forced to choose just one from the list, I'd have to follow my heart and my liver to the drink.

Alcohol is illegal in Kuwait, as it is in Iraq and of course my natural perpensity toward the contrary is begging my better judgement to find some sort of underground hooch network here on base where shampoo bottles are filled with bathtub gin and you need a password to open the tent flap. I've heard alcoholism runs in my family but I like to believe that I drink not because of some genetic defect but rather because drinking makes me a famous super hero with sexy chiseled abs and large offshore bank accounts. Reality is dictated by perception, right? I enjoy my reality on the rocks.

Anyway the reason I mentioned Esquire as a prelude to my libational confession is because they do a "Best Bars in America" feature every year and as I was laying on my cot in my white tent reading about bars that I'd actually been to I came to the conclusion that the only thing that rivals my love of music is my love of drinking with my friends. But I fucking hate going to the bars. They are too loud, too full of retards, and I always feel short in them. I don't why bars are the only place where I become self conscious of my height but it pisses me off just the same. It seems to me that these feelings aren't indicative of the bar experience as a whole but rather because the local bar scenes in the towns I've lived in have been either based around obnoxious college age drunkards or obnoxious middle aged affluent drunkards and the bars themselves focused too much on squeazing every last cent out of plastic sheathed well rum and cokes and not on the atmosphere of what made the public house of so many years ago a welcoming meeting place for the tired and thirsty masses.

I guess the only thing to do is build a bar from scratch that won't suck. Here's what my bar will feature:

A well trained and friendly staff. They don't have to be super models but men and women who know how to make a real drink. I figure I'll have to snag some from a larger city or start off staffing the bar myself until things are running the way I'd like.

No TV's. I don't care about sports and I want my bar to be a place to talk and meet people not to drool and stare into the corner at a Berry Bonds fat ass.

A free or cheap jukebox with good music. My definition of good is fucking good.

A small area for live music. People have forgotten the power of live music inclosed areas and alcohol, it's an awesome trio. I will use my contacts which still remain to get good artists to come play and I'll treat them right.

These will be the basics. As for design ideas and implimentation I'll be thinking while I'm not drinking. When I get home I'll be doing some heavy research to find out exactly what do and don't want in my bar... this of course will have to be done in the field.

I'm here and fine... like ok, not like you know.. sexy.

This is just a copy of the email I sent out that had some issues getting to people. If you didn't get it... tough titties :)

Sorry for the retardedly long list of people I sent this to. My contacts list is immense and though I'd like to have the time to go through and check find who would actually care about this I decided to do the democratic thing and just annoy everyone and let you all sort it out amongst yourselves. And they said I didn't have a good grasp on marketing theory.

I left the US Monday and two days, a subway sandwich in Ramstein, Germany, and a cramped commercial flight later I stepped off onto Kuwaiti tarmac in the wee hours of the morning. Things smell different over here... probably because Axe body spray hasn't caught on yet. It's blistering hot and windy during the day and just hot during the night and the sun rises to fill a dusty blue gray sky before 5 AM. The men hold hands and generally act kind of like adolescent boys and I haven't actually seen a local female yet. I'm beginning to see why there are so many conflicts in this region.

So far things are business as usual just getting used to the climate and taking orientation classes. I don't really feel like I'm halfway across the world. I still eat three times a day and hop on the internet at night. America knows how to go to war. We even have a KFC and a Starbucks. The same company that wouldn't serve my friend because she was in uniform apparently takes no issue with placing a store in the middle of an American military base in a war zone. Capitalism 1 - Ideology 0. The only real difference for me is that I no longer have a cell phone. So don't call me unless you have a thing for voicemail.

So that's that for now, nothing cool to report. I just wanted to write and let you all know I made is safely and despite your worry I think I'd be in worse danger in Los Angeles than I am here. If you received this and don't really know me or care regardless just let me know and I'll be sure to leave you off next time.

Tata for now,
Stephen

P.s. If you want to make a "moment" out of landing in your first war, preset your ipod. Otherwise you may end up getting stuck listening to "If I were Gay" by Stephen Lynch. True story.

Access Denied

Since I can't get on myspace on this government computer, I'm going to write on facebook to scratch the itch that's been bugging me all week. I've had to give up my laptop for about a month while I'm doing the Ranger Indoctrination Program so my internet mobility has been stiffled for a while as I am forced to use DOD computers that balk at allowing access to any site the government deems inappropriate. The word "blow job" in one of my friends posts blocked me from viewing my facebook profile on a computer that I actually paid to use. This one in the library is free and aparently is BJ blind which is nice... I don't really like them anyway.

RIP hold is some major bullshit. We stand a lot. I have formed a pretty sweet sunburn line around the back of my freshly shaved head where my PC ends. It's only slightly embarassing to go out in public with it. But then I tell people how I got it and they go "Oh" and stop laughing. The rumors going around about that I've volunteered for are bad and mostly true so the average soldier doesn't want to have anything to do with it. Which is great since I don't want to have anything to do with the average soldier. Finally a place where my elitism is nurtured, with good reason to back it up. The Rangers are simply the best light infantry in the world. From what we've been told, only 23 Rangers have died in combat over the last 5 years. Mostly because they don't have to wait around for confirmation to engage the enemy so when the opportunity presents its self they take it with lethal efficiency. I'm not a aggresive guy but these are the people I want to be around when bullets start flying.

The real test starts next week. So I'll finally get to see if I'm as good as I think I can be. And if not at least I can say I tried which most people never will be able to. Wish me luck... Oh and wish also that I'll somehow get to play my guitar a little bit too. I miss that damn thing more and more every day. Music is such a huge part of who I am. I'm always going to have to share my life between whatever I'm doing and being a musician. Much love to y'all.

Rangers lead the way.

Back in the swing

Thanks to you all who came out to the Soquel show. I have to admit I was a little nervous to get up after being away from the mic for such a long time, but you all helped me realize that I really do have something special to offer. Thanks also to Reed for setting the show up, and the Ugly Mug for being the hardest to find corner coffee shop in Soquel. I seriously circled the damn thing three times before figuring out where it was… right in front of my face.

<3

Idlewild

i havent really slept in two days. its idlewild 2005, the second installment of a party thrown by a dude named ivan who lives down in temecula and is friends with paul and in the inverse crew.

ive never seen such dedicated drug enthusiasts and coming from pacific grove thats saying something. but surprisingly its been really mellow, we had live music last night and the bands who came kind of just switched around and all of us who were musically inclined back to participate.

the house this is being held in is a three story rental overlooking a valley and the smog of LA. the scenery reminds me a little of lake tahoe with the dryish shrubby plants and pine trees. its a beautiful area actually. but definitely one i was just want to visit. it’s a little to remote for my liking.

the second story of the house has been converted into a night club of sorts complete with live dj’s and smoke and light machines. the house music never fucking stops. which is good and bad. i dont really mind house and jungle music but for the most part, bass pumping at 130 bpm can only sound so many different ways.

if i survive the rest of this trip i’ll finally have my car back and i guess i’ll have to finally start looking seriously for a job :P and i’ll have to try being more… sober.

Trouble in Paradise

theres a strange dichotomy between the way the culture hawaii accepts and repels its guests. on the one hand people here are warm and open and friendly and there is a strong sense of family connection that holds people together, but then there is also a strong sense of resentment for white people that stems from the huge amount of poverty that exists throughout the islands. lack of education plays a large role here too and as with any situation the easy way to try and find the answer to a tough problem is to identify a scapegoat and focus your anger and frustration toward it.

personally i went from being called ohana by a new found cousin of mine to having a knife pulled on me at waikiki beach so i had the joy of experiencing the full spectrum first hand. of all my travels ive never felt worse about being white than i did here.

scenically speaking hawaii is as beautiful as i remember it. pristine beaches, lush forests and generally very clean cities and the smell of tropical flowers everywhere gives a surreal feeling that i’ve not felt anywhere else. i love it here but i think if i was to do it again id have to have some local people my age to show me around.

seeing doug and the other cousins was really good because it gave me a chance to put a more human feeling with these names that until now had only existed in my distant memory. i wonder if everyone has as detached of a adolescent life as i had. i dont feel like i was even in the same body. like everything that happened before i was 20 was just a bunch of implanted memories. yes i believe im actually living in the matrix. which was that pill you were supposed to take? the red or the blue?

there isnt enough hours to sleep as long as id like to lately. my life is so easy and im so tired. i’ll make sense of it all eventually.

Such is the Mraz

jason mraz is like crack. i try not to like his new stuff because its so pop and so produced and i didnt really like what steve lillywhite did with the dave matthews album he was involved with but god damn it i’m sucked in every time. mr. a-z is his latest single and i listen to it about 5 times a day. such is the mraz.

im in the terminal of the san francisco airport waiting for my flight to hawaii for my cousin doug’s 65th birthday. i havent been to the islands since i was 12 and since i got home early from the tour i figure why stop this whole travel motif i’ve been swimming in lately.

i’ve been to the north eastern tip of the other side of the country where i froze my ass off playing for a crowd of hundreds of drunken colby college kids with keller williams. then i was in the most south western corner visiting my cousin in san diego. and finally as far north as portland oregon before money ran out.

ive seen deserts, dunes, palm trees, marshes, snow covered mountains, national monuments, forests of unmeasurable density, highways, dirt roads, oceans, rivers, yokels and yuppies and now i get to see mangos and hibiscus flowers.

i start a good deal of my paragraphs with myself as the subject. lets try and remedy that.

the san francisco airport terminal was gray upon gray upon gray this morning when my sister drove my dad and i here. the gray fog packed up against the huge windows that look out over one of the many gray runways and swirled around steel support tubes painted gray to match the gray of everything here. only now can i see i little bit of blue poking out of the gray.

i think i forgot to mention the swedes in my tour journal entries. maybe i did, i kicked a huge dent in their rental car when they came to see me play in aptos. thats what happens when i get free irish car bombs. anyway they came to eat with us last night and it’s always a pleasure to have a little european influence in the house. their sense of humor gets me every time. i have to get to sweden before this summer is over.

fragmented memories of incidents from the past few months dance around when i try to write and i sometimes miss a few of them because i have to latch on to one or the other when they come around and get them down before they disappear again into the nonsense that is my mind.

thought for the day: what would the world be like without caffein? i get they feeling we’d still be riding animals for transportation and id be scribbling this down on papyrus with a quill and ink made of crushed leaves and snail shells.