Biography The Letter
On Composing Pop is Dead

Adventures (Current Page)

 here's what happened. Arose for the job at 5am. couldn't sleep, was too excited about the Momus show, *I step outside of my self, "Uh, acting like a drooling fanboy"* argh getup, go, get through it come home change, and in the trusty Toyota fly down the freeway at 72mph for two hours until I reach SF, I go straight to the club, get my ticket, there seated at a table is Nick with the orange iBook, it's funny I glance down at the keyboard in it's plastic translucence and behold an oily smudginess, a little dirt! i'm likin this, the ones in the store always look repulsively clean. He remembers me, and I thank him for his kind words on the Momus site, the essay "Jan 1, 2000", I hand him my new release "Reflections on a past life" "Oh, is this on your castlerobertson label?" Yes (I think: "sigh, such as it is, sign me, sign me") there was a brief discussion about equipment after the show and what kind of harddisk recorder one used, when N asks: "what do you use James?" reply:"I use a cassette, eight track, I use analog synths recorded analog then I burn, I like the fat tones"... So the show was done, I said goodbye, got in the car, trying to leave San Francisco, the car is in won't get out of first gear, I top out at 35mph, I can't drive the 130 miles back like this! Stop at a gas station, it's pouring rain, I have no hat, or umbrella and my little fanboy dress ups on. I ask the guy if he thinks I should make the two hour drive in first, laughs "no it'll ruin first gear", laughs to myself (evil dopple James laugh), I hiss through my teeth..."got any coffee".. Gas station coffee...well, it's really really bad, hmmm. backout into the rain, no box, just a phone on a stand, The rain, The fanboy, The humilation, call the "insurance" company for the tow service, hold wait hold wait (no I dont have a cell phone), wait, OK 15mins. Driver comes, blue collar guy "seen alot of stuff here". Tows me to a transmission shop near a needle park. My options are getting worse and it's still raining, it's now 3am, "OK can you take me down to the bus depot?" this is it, the end of the line, literally where the busses turn around and the end of the line for the homeless and the broken hustlers. There's no ticket windows open at all, people sleep in heaps, the prized seat in front of the auto-video arcade game is taken of course by a healthy young black man who can probably throw a mean roundhouse. This isn't for me, I ask a security guard back down the stairs when the bus leaves going north "5:21am" so I find an allnight puke palace/resturant and eat pancakes, pound coffee and circle personals, almost two hours killed and I stroll back down to the pit. Wait in a bus shelter for 45mins, finally the bus comes, it's warm, empty, I have a little bit of the feeling of what it must be like to be homeless, cold and sucks.

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