Archive for August 2005
Don’t Sweat The Technique
We were discussing The Nadas pre-show ritual, “I think they need to listen to ‘Big Pimpin’ before they go on. Hip hop has more attitude, more confidence. It’d be good for ’em.” Tonight I listened to a friend of mine go on and on and on about how much her life sucked. Her career, her…
Read MoreI Can Breath For The First Time
Eighteen hours later, I walk into my hotel room. The clock reads 3:39. There was a moment this morning when I couldn’t remember what day of the week it was. I had no idea when I was going home. And then, before I knew it, I was clapping my hands and telling my photographers, “Dudes,…
Read MoreSunshower
I have run to the edge of Key Biscayne. I am standing in the sand looking out at the bay. I am debating whether or not to dive in. If I do get into the water, I may miss my room service delivery. I may miss my conference call with my boss. I may miss…
Read MoreWhen September Ends
It’s Saturday morning. I’m setting up News’ interview room at the MTV Radio Forum when I hear the unmistakable buzz of electric guitars. I sneak into rehearsals and catch a snippet of Green Day. The band is soundchecking. I wait through their monitor and mic checks. They’ve got a piano and a second guitarist. When…
Read MoreBig Slice
I’m riding shotgun in Snoop’s pimped out convertible with Dub Magazine’s Herman Flores. It’s a yellow and purple Pontiac; Laker’s colors. The rims are solid gold spokes. The hydraulics give it about two inches of clearence. An unpredictable Miami rains begins. And the brakes give out. We’re coasting downhill towards P2, aka News’ parking garage.…
Read MoreA Perfect Disaster
We did what we always do in the face of disaster. We hit the bar. Fact is, Katrina’s landfall last night was pretty fun. We left the venue a little bit early, and convened at the Hyatt for a slightly grim but completely hopeful production meeting. Afterwards, the entire crew descended on Currents, the Hyatt’s…
Read MoreMeeting Katrina
She’s here. And she’s feisty. The sliding glass door in Hyatt #1226 is rattling. Wind is gusting from the west at upwards of 75 miles an hour. Rain is blowing in gray-streaked vertical sheets. Palm trees are stretching and swaying. Power is out in nearly half a million homes already. And Katrina’s just barely arrived.…
Read MoreInto Miami
While I have complete confidence in the durability of the American Airlines Arena — the basement of which I am currently writing you from — in the face of the descending tropical storm, of the red carpet, white tents and fresh sod just outside the door… well, I’m not so sure. Yes, it’s that time…
Read MoreBelieve What You’re Saying
Here we go again. I have a car coming at 6 o’clock for an eight o’clock flight to Miami. I haven’t packed a thing. I’ve been told that my “I’m So Busy I Could Blank A Blank” journal entries are tedious. So I’ll spare you. Sort of. Just get this: 8:30 – Doctor’s appointment, 87th…
Read MoreRun
Well, that was fast. This was my first weekend home in three weeks. And it’s my last weekend home for three weeks. As a result, I did almost nothing all weekend. Laundry? Check. Haircut? Check. Dancing at three a.m.? Check. Casey came over last night. He’s a far more accomplished harmonica player than I am,…
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