Tag Archives: Troublemake

Shitty Children’s first show

Usually, I only stay in a city for a week or so before moving on to the next one. Chris and I decided to post up in Chicago for a good chunk of the summer though so – as long as we were gonna be around – Mike asked if we’d like to start a band with him and Dave.

Chris and Dave had played together before, on Rational Anthem’s 2009 summer tour, back when I was still doing all of the band’s booking. Rational was down two members and I recruited both of them to fill in. Mike sings and plays guitar in Like Bats, whose records I used to release on Traffic Street. Dave also plays in Like Bats these days (bass) and played guitar in my band, Troublemake, on a couple records. Anyway, in Shitty Children, the line-up is Mike on drums, Dave on guitar, and Chris on bass; I sing.

Last night was our first show and we played five songs. One was a Cleveland Bound Death Sentence cover and the other four were things Mike’s been working on for a while that didn’t make sense as Like Bats songs. He wrote the lyrics for one and I wrote the lyrics for the other three. We only practiced the set altogether twice – once the night before the show and then again just a few hours before the show started. I was really nervous going into it. It’s been four years since Noelle got sick and I subbed in as Rational Anthem’s singer one night in Manhattan. It’s been six years since Troublemake played and I sang my own lyrics in front of an audience. But this wasn’t just my first time singing in a really long time, it was my first time singing sober ever. I had never gotten up on a stage before without being some kind of fucked up. I was so nervous last night that I shook throughout the whole set and so out of my element that I was unable to articulate anything that I had wanted to say in between the songs. When one song would end, I’d just anxiously wait for the next to start. Now that I’ve seen the videos of our set though, I feel a lot better about it. I think we actually did pretty well.

Here’s the first of those five videos. We play a short intro before transitioning into our first song, which I haven’t titled yet. (Scroll down for the lyrics though).

The dumb smirk plastered on my face, like the crooked smiles that I paint and all of my clever, contrived slogans, quips, and tag-lines… All the things I do and say are just designs to garner sex and praise. But – sometimes – I really despise the way that I don’t even try at all to hide my stupid pride. My vanity’s embarrassing.

Unpredictable mood swings. No self-esteem.

I’m so in love with myself; I’m so disgusted with myself. I’m a shame and I’m ashamed. I’m a joke; I’m okay. I say I’m living out my dreams, like I have any clue what that even means. I laugh and smile all the time. Except when I’m preoccupied with anxiety. I find relief in suicidal fantasies.

Went back home, sat alone in a park with my phone. I’m  too insecure to just pick up and call you. I wouldn’t want you to think that I might need you. I’d rather sit stuck in my rut between unpredictable mood swings. I have no self-esteem.

 

We’re gonna record a demo before Chris and I leave town and we’ll probably play at least one more show too. Whether or not the band continues to exist beyond that, I’m not really sure, but there’s no reason we couldn’t get back together every so often to write/record more songs or even go on tour. We’ll see what happens.

I’m a Fucking Artist, Guys

"I'm a Fucking Artist, Guys." 12/14/12. Pen. 2x3".
“I’m a Fucking Artist, Guys.” 12/14/12. Pen. 2×3″.

I was sitting in someone’s coin-out [rehab graduation ceremony] and feeling a little upset over a girl [shockingly out of character, I know] and trying to do something productive. I had zero ideas though. I mean, once you’ve made ten or eleven pieces, what is there really left to do as an artist?  “What do other assholes draw?” I thought.

Campbell’s soup cans! Because it’s like… really clever, right?? Really, I just figured it was one of the few things I stood a chance at drawing somewhat recognizably.

When I was done, I wasn’t upset anymore – which means that this cartoon has basically the same story as HALF OF THE OTHER stuff I’ve made.

Which is cool…

 ——

Just recently, I realized that I stole this caption from Dear Landlord. Right before Dream Homes came out, Zack posted something online about the tracklisting being changed. The song “Bong Hits” was instead going to be titled “Rosa” because – as he put it – “We’re fucking artists, you guys.”

But the song – if any – that I might have thought I was ripping off is by Barrakuda McMurder.  It’s off Traffic Street’s 32nd release and has what’s probably my favorite title ever. Stream “Oh My God, You Guys, My Job Is So Annoying And My Life Is Seriously So Hard (You Guys)”  on Bandcamp.


Shoot me an email if you wanna buy this drawing for $2,000 (or a 4×4″ print for $50).


warhol parody campbell's soup

Funny

sarcasm
“Funny.” April 19th, 2013. Pen. 1½ x 2¾”.

I use sarcasm when I’ve got nothing else.

In treatment, I was encouraged to drop sarcasm entirely. I’m not sure if that’s possible, but (in any case) I think it’s got its time and place like anything else. I am able to see now that I was overutilizing it in moments when I felt uncertain or otherwise lacking in confidence. This – my smallest piece of expressive art – is a simple acknowledgement of fear and insincerity.

—–

Since the above isn’t much to absorb, here’s a bonus story. My memory of one day back in Summer ’08. It was a week before we left for the first Rational Anthem tour (which ended one month before I moved to DC to start law school).

—–

I spent the first half of the night shooting up and the second half nodding out on the toilet with the worst stomach pain of my life. Now itʼs morning and my tongue is black. Really black. I canʼt brush it off. I get a knife from Peteʼs kitchen and try to scrape off whatever’s on it. It does not scrape off. I get online and research possible causes. Smoking too many cigarettes? Guilty. Poor oral hygiene? It could certainly be better. Too much coffee? Maybe. Intravenous drug use? Ummm… Bismuth? What the hell is bismuth? An ingredient in peptol bismol. Oh, I take peptol bismol sometimes – that must be it!

I sold my car last week and used the money to buy a bicycle with a little engine on it. I pull the ripcord and start the ride over to Noelle’s to spend the day recording Troublemake songs. The bike runs out of gas at the bottom of a hill and the cheap plastic pedals are already broken. Excellent day so far. I walk the bike up the hill to a gas station. I fill up an empty Gatorade bottle with gasoline and mix in the oil my engine requires. I go inside and get another Gatorade to drink. I sit on a curb to smoke a cigarette before I get moving again. I reach for the bottle and take a slug. Wrong bottle. My mouth is full of gasoline. I swallow a little and spit the rest out. I am now covered in gas, my whole head is tingling, and I feel instantly ill. I go inside and get a cup with a better spout on it than my bottle, so that I can pour what remains of the gas into my tank without spilling. I sit back down and pour the gas into the Styrofoam cup, which dissolves almost instantly, spilling all of what remained onto my shirt and lap. I am now thoroughly soaked in gasoline. This moment is the culmination of every decision I have ever made over the course of my entire life.

But, when I get to Noelle’s, I find that the gas I poured into my mouth has significantly reduced the blackness of my tongue. Things seem to be looking up!

—–

Website news: By the way, if you hadn’t noticed, I’ve stopped using aliases for other people. I figure I don’t need rules. If I wanna use a real name, I will. If I wanna use an alias, I will. Whatever feels right.

Thanks for reading!

—–

The drawing featured in this entry is for sale in my webstore.