Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Ding!

I’m going to murder the bell.

In fact, I think I am going to melt it down and leave it on the front desk as a reminder that if you want to interrupt me you better damn well want to dance.

It’s been a while since I have updated you lackluster slack elite to my random adventures. The adventures have not stopped, they have jsut taken on a new form. A new feeling a new texture.

I used to use this space to rant about the things that irritated, angered and saddened me. Those things have become fewer in number – I think it’s the therapy.

But even with all the anti-depressants and self-help sessions and late-night mental breakdowns recoveries, I have managed to hoist all of my remaining issues on one non-descript little silver bell that sits in my office.

It rings each time a new moron from the outside world manages to ascend the ivory tower we live in and assault us with questions that have no relevance in the modern world.

Out of sheer proximity I have to answer the front door every time someone rings that bell.

Every time someone has a question or wants to talk to someone else in the bureau, I have to stop what I am doing and do it for them.

“Oh, you want the newspaper from the third Tuesday of every month? Yeah, I can do that.” As I secretly wish I could just push the old woman down the stairs.

I have no idea how the other side of our office operates, but I get ram-rodded with questions about how to take an ad or place a classified.

I was even yelled at by a blonde girl from advertising for messing up an ad order form. It would almost be kind of a turn on if she was not so morbidly retarded. I think she gnawed through the straps of her helmet.

How am I supposed to know how to take and ad? If I’m doing that, then you better pay me a commission on each and every ad that I can push on these ingrates who come toddling up to my desk.

In fact, I have tired to get away from answering the door and the bell. I listen to music, top volume, to silence any chance of the bell making it to my central nervous system – I can still see the reflection of the people in my computer screne though.

Its almost kind of funny to watch the people in the cubicles hear the bell, then look directly at me, not registering what is going on. I am un phased, I am rock solid. But I see them running around, I see the reflection of the impatient idiot at the front door.
I remain un flinching.

It is only going to get worse to this month.

The guy who sometimes answers the front door is leaving for a month-long vacation next month.

I will murder someone with that bell.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

The Regulars

Sitting at the kitchen table, I have the perfect view of downtown.

The breeze blows in genty enough that I can catch the wifs of the Folgers Plant and the river at the same time. The smell is almost intoxicating, if not nauseauting at that same time.

I love living downtown and inmy thre weeks where I have already become a a regualr at my two bars.

At Harry's I walk in and the batender and waitresses know who i am instantly. At Dos Hombres, the bartender and this waitress know who I am from the second I plop down at my seat that has the perfet vantage point of the TV, front windows and the bar.

They know what I want to drink, they know who I want to talk to and what I want to talk about. They seem to cater to my every whim, but that is what you do in the service industry.

I have different Names, Star mike, at Dos Hombres, and House of the Rising Sun at Harry;s

My names seem to be derived from the fact that I have made my name at these two places on those presmises.

At dos Hombres, I am Star Mike becasue I hang out with the other media tpyes that gather the. TV people, radio people, sports people. We all go to drink and eat queso.

At Harr's I go to request one song from the house band - it does not take much to guess what that song is.

Just this last week, they recognized me as I walked. the band pointed and said, "we better do this song, for this guy or he might not tip the waitress."

Our waitress was attractive, as most of them are, so they knew I was going to tip heavily. But hearing my song, by the band who knew me only made me tip more.

Am I a sucker, yes. o I get taken to the cleaners everytime I hit the bars in the River Market - probably. But I dont think I would trade it for anything right now. This is where I want to be.

This is who I want to be known as for now.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Scary talent

Despite being one of the largest venues in the area, the air conditioning was not working at all last weekend.

Sitting in the balcony was the only option as it was also the only place with seating. But the sweltering heat and obnoxious foul body oder coming from below was casuing me to melt. I sort of regreted promising to spend all weekend here, but I was not there for my own amusment. I was there as a supporter - a grouppie.

As they took their position you could feel the anticipation by all of the kids. They were somewhat new to this kind of attention and crowd.

The whistel exploded acorss the court and we were thrown directly into the depth of a high school basketball game.

For three days I sat in a crowded, hot gymansium sweating out every fluid I had as I watched my brother - the jock of hte family - play his heart out in seven basketbball games.

The entire time the watchful eyes of supporters, parents and recruiters were beaming down on his every move, his every shot and even those missed ones.

10 high school kids, no older than 16 would take to the court to get noticed, hopeuflly by someone who would make them a star.

I can't beleive I am about to say this. But when I think of High School Basketball, it does not take much to make the leap into what has become the Indie Music Scene here in Kansas City.

The amibtious young kids playing their hearts out in shitty air-condition less venues hopeing to one day get noticed by the right person, the right group, the right recruiter who will walk up to them and ask, "So, are you ready to be a star?"

What kind of basketball do you have to be playing to realize that one of your spectators is BIll Self, Danny Manning, Brett Ballard, Mike Anderson and a slew of other names that can propell a lack luster high school kid in to the natioanl sports arena.

What kind of show do you have to play to realize that one of your spectators is Conor Oberst, Robert Moore, John Hulston and god know how many other kingmakers in the music industry that file into show after show to offer a deal of a life time.

If you do well in front of hte right people, then you get to go further, increase you influence and your abiltiies. You get stonger, tougher and smarter about your craft.

You become surrounded by people hwo adore you and want to be like you. You are surroudned by people who want to bring you down and make you less of a human.

How much of fame, though, is merely the discovery process.

It's a hard comparision for me to swallow. Basketball to the Indie Scene. But the similarites are striking and hard ot ignore once you are sitting in that gym or concert hall watching some very talented people do what they love.

Some do more for the sheer fun, other do it more for the want to be discovered, but neither can be mutually exclusive.

God know I keep hoping that one day Spin will finally give me a call.