The Heavens and the Ceiling Part

On Friday, I moved into my new apartment, which was an exciting albeit strange experience.
The floor had just been redone and coated with Polyurithane. Perhaps it needed another day of airing out before
I slept there, because I woke up throughout the night weezing, sniffling and occasionally hacking. I woke in the morning with a dry charred throat and the voice of an aged sailor on his sixth glass of whiskey.

I felt as though every drop of moisture had been sucked from my body.
I got up and drank massive amounts of water and took a long hot shower.
Amazingly, I rehydrated almost immediately.
I had a bit of concern since Saturday was the marriage equality march and I would be performing as both myself and Kitt & Kaboodle.

I threw on some clothes, grabbed my guitar, stuffed my guitar tuner and an assortment of cables into my bag and ran for the train, stopping quickly between to grab some coffee. Without coffee I am generally a zombie. I got to Cadman Plaza and hung out and waited for soundcheck while socializing with the other performers and doing cartwheels on the astroturf. The heavens parted and the water began to pour down. We did not let fear of electricution or slipping off the stage onto the concrete deter us from the task at hand.

We got the word that the marchers were coming across the bridge. Soon we saw a crowd of umbrellas approaching.
Sadly, the crowd was not very big. As much as I want to say that people gathered in huge numbers to fight for their right to equality, that is not the case. I supposed if there had been an open bar or gogo boys involved that maybe it might intice people to get off their lazy apathetic asses and pretend that they care. Sadly this event was not even listed in the local rags full of picture after picture of half naked boys,dragqueens and drunken club kids.

If we care this little about our rights, then why should anything change? What does it take to unify and mobilize a group of people? When did we give up? When did we decide to just sit back and let the world happen without screaming in outrage? If we aren't willing to fight for change, then we will not get it. If we aren't doing something to make things better, then we are part of the problem. It is time for us to wake up. It is time for us to pull our headphone out of our ears, put down our cellphones, turn off our tv's and flood the streets with picket signs. We can't just sit back and let life happen to us. It is not a TV show. We can't switch the channel. We have to live it. UNPLUG and REACH OUT.

On Sunday, I slept in and started to get a little more settled into my new home. However on Sunday night I heard water dripping and was sure I didn't turn the shower all the way off. I walked into the kitchen to find that the dripping was coming from my wall. Water and formed bubbles in the paint and was oozing out of these pockets and down the wall. A large bubble formed on the ceiling and was also oozing liquid. I called my landlord and hopfully this will be fixed today.
Despite water falling from the sky and from the ceiling, I am thrilled to have been a part of the wedding march and thrilled to have a new home. Nothing in life is perfect. We all have to dig in from time to time, put on the work gloves and grab a paintbrush, fill in the cracks and wipe the sweat from our brows.

The Rant (in print)

In next week's Worcester Magazine, an excerpt of the
rant will be printed in their Bloglog section.

The rant is famous.
Crazy! Who knew?!

If You're in Minneapolis...

I will be appearing on
Fresh Fruit
May 17th at 7pm.
90.3FM in Minneapolis/106.7FM in St. Paul

As mentioned in a recent post, I am featured in the current issue Lavender Magazine.
(Scroll Down)

Last but not least and actually most important,
I will be performing at

The Wilde Roast Cafe
518 Hennepin Ave. E.
Minneapolis
May 26th at 8pm
$5 Suggested Donation(so mamma can eat)

Jesus lives in Ohio

Driving through the lush serene landscape of Ohio, I found myself
engulfed in a kind of peace that could only come from Jesus.
I knew that something was amiss when I looked in the Columbus phone book and found more listings for churches than bars, but I thought nothing of it.

Then there were the large signs that said "JESUS LIVES" "JESUS IS REAL"

We passed the giant tower that said "JESUS IS LORD"

Had we made a wrong turn into the bible belt? I thought for sure Ohio was closer to the bible nipple. Apparently I was wrong.

Right now, I am stretched atop the bed in the Dayton Econo Lodge. If you're really keeping up with my blog and obsessively checking it, you even have time to stalk me before I get to the bus station for my glamour ride back to New York.

I had something strange happen this evening. For the first time in my musical career, I had a woman return my cd. I gave her back her money as she apologized saying that she couldn't play my music in front of her children. This woman named Joel(like Noel) had sat through my first set this evening in Dayton and enjoyed the music so much that she ran to get cash and buy my cd. Apperently, she started listening to the cd after leaving the show, midset and got to the song, Marlboro Man, which totally rocked her world and not in a good way.

As I was packing everything up and getting ready to leave, here came Joel with cd in hand and a kind of embarassed look on her face. I gave her back her money and took back the used CD.

I found myself in an odd place this evening where I feared that speaking my mind and being who I am would offend people. I've never set out to offend people. I've only ever tried to speak from my heart without filtering or lying about who I am and what i feel. I changed a lyric mid-song. I don't live to give you head suddenly came out of my mouth as I don't live to make your bed.

I changed my setlist as I heard the woman working in the cafe talking about how the proximity to all the bars made this place the perfect location for her to minister to people. What better place than the street with the tattoo parlor and the sex shop? This is where she would bring people to Jesus. Pictures of Jesus hung from the wall next to a nude painting of a woman.

Where does the line exist between integrity and self preservation. I don't want to be run out of Ohio with pitchforks and torches and in fact I was received well by the folks of Dayton. It saddens me a bit that someone like Joel liked my music until she heard one song that conflicted with her beliefs. Suddenly I was the devil in CD form, come to corrupt her children and lead then down the fiery path to hell. If Jesus lives in Ohio, then maybe it is fitting that the devil lives in Brooklyn, a blonde boy with a guitar, now branching out to other states to tempt the holy through songs laced with sin.

New Article In Lavender Magazine

I recently did an interview with Lavender Magazine in Minneapolis as a prelude to my show there on May 26th. The article is available online.
Check it out!

and check out that boy on the cover. Can you say Shazam?!

Greetings from Ohio

There is nothing like a roach motel with cigarette burns in the curtains and an indescribable chemical smell used to remove some far worse smell to let You know that you've truly made it in the music business.

I took a bus, yes a bus from New York City to Columbus Ohio. I took two of my little dolls to help me sleep but even they could not distract me from the large man who was using me as a pillow. I woke up at 4am in the middle of West Virginia with the feeling that my neck might be permanaently damaged and in need of an emergency visit to the Chiropractor. I spent an hour in a bus station in Pittsburg sitting indian style on the ground, slumped over my backpack just so I could get a window seat on the dirty dog.

I arrived in Columbus with bloodshot eyes and a dazed and confused look that turned heads, wheeling a PA System, carrying a guitar, a backpack and a bag. I looked more like a packmule than a human being. I have become Robert German's roadie. The pay is terrible. The accomodations are 2star at best, but at the end of the day, I know that the twisted spine and sore muscles are all for the greater cause.

I left my cellphone in New York, which led to a rather neuotic spree of skype phone calls at the local Columbus Starbucks. I had my big bubble headphone on, yelling at my laptop. I'm sure I created some sort of scene, but it had to be done.

Last night I did an hour set at Q Bar in Columbus followed by socializing with my friend Michael Jackson (not the one who touches children) who came all the way from Indiana just to see the show. God bless you, Michael.

After a drive through serene country landscape littered with geese, sheep and outhouses, I find myself in Gambier Ohio. Oh, my good deed for the day was saving a butterfly. It flew into the car and we pulled over to give it back to nature.

It is the simple things that really make it all worth while.

More to come...

The Headless armless legless man from Worcester

Last weekend, I treked up north for a show in Worcester Mass.
It was only a 5 hour busride, so spinal damage was minimum.
I got off the bus and into a cab with a driver who started telling me
all about Worcester in an accent that is hard to describe. We shall just say that it was "New Englandy"

The highlight of the conversation was his warning to me about my safety on the mean streets of Worcester.
He pointed to a hill with railroad tracks and told me all about a body that had been found there with no head, no arms, no legs. Apparently there were no witnesses as to what might have happened or to who the torso might have belonged.

By the time I got to the venue I was scared to even go out onto the sidewalk with all the tales of crackwhores and murder.

I had some coffee, a blt and got to spend some time chatting with Lara Ewen, a fellow Brooklynite who came up to open for me. It was funny since we had never met, but we hit it it off as she is a kindred spirit out on the road doing her thing.

Lara's friends, the Noonans came to the show and stuck around for my set. I was delighted by their hospitality when they offered for me to stay with them in Barre Mass. Barre is this beautiful town smack dab in the middle of the state with a quaint charm. Lara describes it as the town where the show Gilmore Girls is filmed and I couldn't think of a better way to describe it myself.

The Noonans live in this beautiful farm house connected to a barn. Kim Noonan, a very skilled artist and vibrant soul, gave me the tour of the house, which was built in the 1800's. She also shared her art with me, which was quite spectacular. We all sipped herbal tea and chatted into the wee hours. I fell asleep on the plush sofa and awoke with a startle at around 3am. The Noonan's three cats were all on top of me. The ring leadeer, butros butros was kneeding his paws into my chest. I freaked out and sent the cats running.

In the morning I was greeted with fresh coffee and homemade banana muffins. Chaz, who is also a musician asked Lara and I to sing backing vocals in his home studio on a track he is working on. So there we were laughing and singing "I'm the Mudlark" haha
Oh, I love Mass.(the state not the church service)

Lara and I became road buddies on the way to Boston. She dropped me off at the bus statin and we said our goodbyes.
I took the Fung Wah bus back to New York. Though I was glad to be home, a part of my heart is still in Barre Mass.

Blah

I am guilty of neglectfulness in blogging. Oh my dear readers, I've been a bizzy bee. Where to begin...

Well, The music video is in the editing process. I have seen two seperate rough cuts and I'm very excited to see the edges rounded out and the little piece of mini-cinema to be ready for mass consumption. You've been chomping at the bit to see it, I'm sure you have. Unfortunately you will have to wait until the fall. Good things come to those who wait, I hear.

I've been doing lots of performing. I went up to Boston and over to New Jersey. This weekend I head to Worcester Massachussettes and find myself in Dayton and Columbus Ohio next weekend. I'm doing some New York performances as well.

I am currently though temporarily homeless as I wait for renovations to be completed on my new apartment. I neglected to mention that I've been living in Queens for the last 2 months in a sublet. I am not a queens boy. I have Brooklyn in my blood. I'm delighted to say that on May 15th I will again become a Brooklyn boy in a cozy new home by my favorite park in New York City. I am going to rollerblade and sun my pale skin to lobstered blissfulness. This is the definition of glamour.

I would like to give a big thank you to Chris for organizing and promoting the performance in North Brunswick, New Jersey. All of you guys were so warm and attentive and I enjoyed chatting with everybody. I was even sent home with a bag of sandwiches. For a starving artist I sure know how to eat. Thanks for indulging my glutenous ways.

Robert Recommends

From time to time I like to recommend Music and movies that move me and groove me.

One of my all-time-favorite films is the glorious, unstopable and untopable cult cinema classic, Coffy, starring the busty breasted bad ass queen of blaxsploitation, the one, the only Pam Grier.

With such memorable lines as

"This is the end of your rotten life, you motherfuckin' dope pusher!"

and the classic...

"Now I'm gonna give you another slice to match the one you got from that dope-pushin' pimp, unless you tell me where he keeps the stuff!"

This is a movie for the entire family.

The Sociopath and my reaction to the creamy wet spot on my pants

Photo taken during the shooting of my first music video for the song Open Wide

From the title You'd think I had something titilating up my sleeve or down my drawers, but really I just have a tale for you of last night's encounter with a couple at the local Duane Reede pharmacy.
I'm sure that while recounting my reaction to the "situation" I will give myself away as being slightly crazy, but then again when have I knocked door to door selling sane?

I decided to take a break from my sleep deprived haggared existence and treat myself to a night of pampering.
This somehow brought me to the soap isle of the pharmacy, staring blankly at the multitude of choices in shower gel. I wanted something that would both exfoliate and moisturize but be gentle on my skin. Let me just tell you that the options were a bit overwhelming and I almost gave up on any thoughts of pampering myself alltogether.

I heard a woman at the other end of the isle say to a man that she needed to get some shower gel.
I was joined by this pair who were also engaged in the daunting task of indecisiveness.
The man was in his mid thirties with an obvious goofy quality to him. He began grabbing bottles of shower gel and saying stupid things which I can't recall. He proceeded to grab a botttle of the creamiest shower substance known to man, which he brilliantly shook back and forth until the cap came off, shooting white gooey wetness all over my leg.

As I mentioned before, the title hints at something much more titilating than reality.

I looked down at my pants and looked at the guy. He and the girl started laughing. I was not amused.

ME: Umm...not to be a dick, but you need to grab a napkin or papertowel or something and clean this up.
(I totally sounded like a dick, yes, I know)

The man grabbed a piece of plastic out of his bag and then smeared the stuff across my pants just making the mess bigger. He then smiled and said he was sorry while laughing and ran away. I was a bit bewildered at what had happened. I tried to focus on the task of buying shower gel, but my concentration had been broken. I tried to get it back when i heard laughing in the next isle.

Girl: Oh my god, this is so funny. I have to call someone and tell them about this.
(more laughing)

I proceeded to walk to the next Isle

ME: Excuse me, but if you're going to squirt shit all over my leg and leave it to soak into my pants and then laugh about it, you might might want to go far enough away that I can't hear you.

They both turned pale and then red, lowering their heads. This is when I could take a moment to question my own sanity or just go completely postal,but instead,I walked back to the shower gel to try and make a decision and get back to the task of self-pampering.

Let me remind you that the girl of the couple came to get shower gel. I started to chuckle ever so silently as I noticed that she was lurking at the end of the isle waiting for me to leave so that she could get shower gel, but of course I was lost in my indecisiveness and hell bent and determined to take my sweet time in choosing. Eventually she was forced to stand next to me and join me in my task. She apologized for her man who was hiding in the next isle.

Of course fate decided to put us right next to each other in the checkout lines. The guy felt so uncomfortable that he left the store. I bought my shower gel, a lufa and Queen Helene's Mint Julep face mask. If you're gonna do crazy, it doesn't mean you have to sacrifice that fresh, squeeky clean feeling that can only come from a relaxing night of pampering.

Some Thank You's

Thank you to Jerry Jodice and
The Great American Music Hour.
Lemon Scented is Featured this week on their podcast.
(The Website)

Thank you to Robert Urban and Gay Guitarists Worldwide for
having me as their featured player for the month of April
(Site and Interview)

Thank You to Billi and Patti for playing my music.
Patti B. Host "All Thangs Queer" on WSLR LPFM Community Radio Sarasota/Bradenton! The show features lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered and transexual artists! The show is on every other Saturday from 5-7pm on 96.5FM!
(website)

Thank You to Jeremy Hovies of Sirius Radio for playing my music.
(Sirius Out Q)
(Jeremy Hovies Website)

Thank You to Harry Faddis & Steve Sims and the Quest of Life for featuring my music on last week's show.
(website)

My biggest thanks right now goes out to everyone at Bizarre Farm, Brian Maschka and the D-Lounge and everyone who volunteered their time and resources to help take my music video from concept to reality.

If I left you out, which is very possible, please hit upside the back of the head. My noggin' probably needs a good floggin'.

Fetal

Photo by Steve Brennan

I curl into myself
tucking my head between my legs
feeling the pulse of my heart,
the pumping of blood through my veins.
The muffled sounds of the outside world
filter through the fluid into my cocoon.
I go deeper and deeper inside.
I am sucking my thumb
and losing myself in the warmth of the womb
I don't want to come outside to play.
I need to stay here for a while.
I just need a bit of sleep and then
you can push me out between your thighs
and throw me, wet to the ground.
for now. I just need to sleep.

The Broken Pigeon -Critters (Part 4)-

Photo by the very brilliant
Carrie Jo Thomas

I was walking on 23rd street last evening resisting the desire to indulge my craving for movie theater popcorn when I saw something that made me sick. It was a pigeon on the ground, trying to flap its wings, falling over. It looked sick, in pain and confused. I watched as people passed the poor bird. Some of them laughed, some of them looked disgusted. Some looked helpless.

For a few moments that pigeon became a mirror to the souls of the people passing by. I stood in front of the bird not sure what to do. I was torn between two desires. One was to scoop the bird up in my hands and try to save it. The other was to swiftly and mercifully take the role of Dr Kevorkian. I don't like to play god, but I really can't stand to watch a creature suffer.

Instead of choosing either option, I decided to call the city of new york to see if I could get help. I spoke with a woman who informed me that the city will help animals in distress with the exception of pigeons and seagulls.
For some reason, this really upset me. I paced in front of the bird, unsure of what to do.

I looked at the bird and gently whispered, "I'm sorry."

I walked away.
I put the bird in the back of my mind.
I feel guilty.
I feel as though I have failed on some level.
I can see the look in that poor birds eyes, so innocent, confused and hurting.
I should have done something, but I didn't.

On a scale much grander, this is how many of us including myself deal with the suffering of the world, the unjust and unnecesary war that we are waging. We become paralyzed, guilty and numb. We turn a blind eye and wait for someone to ease the pain of the world. Unfortunately it is our responsibility on an individual level to pick up the broken birds and make the decisions. Not making a decision, walking away, seems like a way of not making a choice, but it is a rather strong choice, as strong as snapping the bird's neck. I made the weakest and most selfish of choices. I walked away. I must learn from this.
The Critters Series Archives
Critters(Part 1)
Chloe & Ferdinand-Critters(Part 2)
The Rat Race-Critters(Part 3)

New York City has an extremely diverse cast of animal characters, all part of the urban jungle. As I interact with these four-legged, feathered, and sometimes one footed friends, I write about these encounters. From cockroach to politician, we are all part of an ecosystem, an interconnected chain. We all need each other to survive.

Losing it for Art

This last week was full of excitement, stress and more coffee than any human stomach should have to endure. On Friday I sort of had a breakdown if that's what you would call it. Maybe it was a panic attack. I'm not sure.

On Saturday I officially lost my mind and was strapped into a straight jacket. I was thrown around by the nurses pictured here, at one point hitting my head hard against a wall. I realized why the cells are padded and just how hard it is to have mobility and sanity in the confines of a straight jacket.

I will never forget nurse Veronica or Nurse Betty or for that matter the hospital administrator with an iron fist. They thought they could keep me locked up, but they were wrong.

Don't take it away

Nathan's in Coney Island

Photo by Carrie Thomas

I was choking down my chilidog and watching the "circus folk" walk by, wondering if this is really the end? Will the cotton candy blow away in the winds of change, leaving behind a strip mall and a rollercoaster, which will eventually be too noisy for high rise luxury condos and later be turned into a coney island museum to show what the place used to be like?

I spent most of my Easter in Coney Island, wondering if the pealing faded paint and broken boardwalk would rise up like Jesus for the day. Everyone would see the freaks dancing in all their glory and children shooting at them with paint guns. Oh wait, am I supposed to be drawing out the parts of Coney Island that you should want to save? There isn't a part of it as strange as it may be that looks like a head for any chopping block in my book.

Coney Island in its glorious faded beauty reminds me that there used to be vaudeville, that men wore large one-piece bathing suits, and that a nickel and a bearded lady could both go a long way if you found the right place to use them.

We spit on the past instead of honoring it. We wheel the old people and the old things away to places where we don't have to see their decay. We stop sanding the wood every year and repainting the sign because the cracks in the wood and the color that has faded from the paint are like our lives. We don't like to be reminded that life is beautiful but fleeting. We'd prefer to put something new in the place of the old.... a new building...a new boyfriend...a new nose from your fifth husband and his fifth avenue surgeon.

It made my heart sink to see that the batting cages are gone and replaced by a construction site. Gone is the go-cart racetrack.
Soon, I will only have pictures and memories. I will be one of those old crotchity men telling anyone who will listen what the good old days were really like. I shoveled snow uphill 10 miles to get a corndog from the amazing snake boy and it cost a nickel and it took me 12 days of hard labor to earn that nickel, and I never complained, not once. Don't forget it.

I urge you to visit Coney Island before it is all gone and do everything in your power to protest its destruction. I chose to shoot part of my music video on the island of coney. I can't think of a better place to wear my straight jacket proudly and give a shout out to a place that is full of so much history and part of my home, my heart, my Brooklyn.

Coney Island, I love you. I wish I could save you. It really hurts me to the point of crying to think of losing you. If that is what it comes to, then I will carry you in my heart for as long as I live.

Thank You Alanis!

I've needed some comic relief.
God bless you Alanis Morissette for providing it.
See the brilliance, now.

Straight Jacket

I ordered my straight jacket, yesterday.
I'm so excited. I can't wait for it to arrive.
I find it sort of funny that two seperate people called me crazy
on the day of my big purchase.
They don't know the half of it.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much to everyone who has been requesting Fishnet Sailor.

A very special thanks goes out to Mr. Carpentier.

"Your heart's like a whale
and you're built like a tank.
You keep me alive, and I'd like to thank you.
cuz there were times I couldn't make it through my day
when I lost my shit and they should have carted me away,
but you're always there, you care and you believe in what I do.
I wanna go through the soccer field to the swingsets, just me and you.

Let's swing high.
Let's swing high
Let's swing high
so high we touch the sky."

-excerpt from the song, Mr. Carpentier (coming soon...)

#3 on Sirius

Fishnet Sailor is # 3 on Sirius OutQ's hot20 countdown.
This is the 3rd single from the album to make it on the chart.
Open Wide and Marlboro Man both went to #1!

Please request Fishnet Sailor by sending an email to
jhovies@siriusradio.com

You can request the song more than once, so don't be shy.