Dante's Peak of Love

Sarge & Sarge March Across America - p1 - Jetskis to Cleveland

2009-07-13T00:02:00.000-07:00

It’s the night before we leave for Cleveland and some of the important camping equipment is still unaccounted for, but what would a road trip be without poor planning. Sarge & Sarge – Sarge, a nickname I was given by Sam’s father “S.A.C.” in attempts to keep me focused and give me responsibility after noticing I was a space cadet and Sergeant, the rank James holds in the United States Army – are now realizing that they leave tomorrow. Not exactly what you would expect from two ranking officers…

The laughable departure time of 6:30 AM is pushed back to 10AM with some additional stops to fill in our equipment gaps. Rain pours down as it had been in Connecticut for the previous week. James steers his hydroplaning Toyota Camry through the ponds of Wilbur Cross/Merritt Parkway. New York is wet, New Jersey is wet, Pennsylvania is wet, and so is Ohio. We arrive sopping at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Cleveland. Dante Sr. hooked it up with a free stay via acquired travel points. What a guy! Here are some pictures from the hotel room:

Government buildings

Cleveland Browns Football Stadium

Rock & Roll Hall of Fame with Lake Erie in the background

My (father’s) own personalized chocolate bar

Ballin!

After a serious nightcap of Tullamore Dew & gingers, we sleep dehydrated and then drag ourselves out of bed to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. The Hall of Fame doesn’t allow photography and James starts dropping F-bombs at the advent of having to coat check our cameras. But I remind him, we’re in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and it wouldn’t be very rock & roll of us to follow the rules. This frame of thought later urges me to play John Lennon’s piano, but it only ends up a could’ve-would’ve-should’ve. I figured they’d just bar me from ever returning, and I could live with that.
(No interior pictures were taken because we were only rock & roll enough to enter with cameras concealed.)
(… I really should have played that piano.)

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Michael Jackson – Don’t Stop ‘Til You’ve Had Too Much

2009-06-27T11:52:00.001-07:00

"These people become larger than life and are subjugated for our entertainment. We write their biographies." - Chris Welch

There are at least two reasons why I have to write this:
First, because I’ve been up since 5AM after waking from a significant dream followed by a series of related events and then thinking about the past few days and thus having Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough repeating through my head - keeping me from catching up on much needed Zs -and then coming to the conclusion that the only cure is to put it down.
And second, because the whole thing is a fucked-up, weird irony often found in life and I spent a good portion of the other night defending Michael Jackson at a party in Wyoming… only to later have the room dancing to Thriller.

It’s a whole goddamn mess.

If you can sum Jackson up as a mere (alleged) pedophile than you’ve been standing too close to your television. I’ve enjoyed his music too much to let it go down like that. His persona is burned into our culture and I believe our culture burned him as a person. We all saw the transformation whether we wanted to or not. We all had our own take on it. I hear the resounding canon “the dude had issues” and rightfully so when you’re continually expected to perform at a caliber that is not sustainable. Have you ever seen the Life magazine cover photo of the Jackson family? Poppa Jackson has quite the grip on the boys and his wife. That’s where it always starts.

Unlike other entities that are “too big to fail” (and we’ll see how that goes), I’d say the rule is more like “Too big. You fail.” Do I really need to cite the examples of over-exploited pop artists and icons whose lives have ended in a sad demise? And as we pay for groceries and walk the subway platforms, the latest offerings stare us in the face. Give it a rest. Twenty-four hour news networks? Television channels dedicated to people’s private lives? (Your life is that uneventful?) This shit breeds and nurtures tragedies. Not to say there weren’t times his hired publicist wasn’t pushing airtime either… and so as a culture we never know when to stop until it’s too late.

Keep on with the force. Don’t stop. Don’t stop ‘til you get enough…
Melissa and Mike, you’re right. He certainly had enough and it was far too much. But WHAT A GREAT SONG! What a great reminder to soak in and search for and create amazing moments. And oh yea, be a DANCING MACHINE. I have to move. It’s infectious. It pervades all attempts of just loafing around. Do yourself a favor and find the demo recording of the Jackson’s performing it in their kitchen using glass bottle percussion and a shitty vocal microphone. In its essence, before Quincy Jones made it a sonic rain forest, it moves you.

People are made into icons and we are brought up in a culture that injects them into our psyche so we’ll later buy a Pepsi. Our society treats fame as the highest form of success, and all this needs to be considered before you pass off Michael Jackson as some weirdo child molester brimming with evil. To define Michael Jackson in only one way is unfair either way you choose to remember him. You can cut him down, but his music will continue to lift people up.

Road Trip #2

2009-06-17T11:26:00.000-07:00

HERE WE GO

Fotos on Flickr when they start getting captured. But don't click yet; there's nothin' new.

New music on Myspace.

There is a music page on Facebook too, though I have no idea how to link it. How does one get all those fancy icons that provide links to other sites?

You're smart. You'll find it. I have to go mow the lawn.