7:35 p.m. - 2005-12-21
twitch craft
Yesterday I got this weird new kind of facial muscle spasm, just to the left of my upper lip. When it first occurred I thought, Wow, this feels twitchy; I wonder if it looks twitchy? I looked in a nearby mirror AND IT DID! I was horrified, of course. Once a spasm starts, there's no guarantee that it's ever going to stop, so how did I know I wasn't destined for a lifetime of terrifying children with my menacing face spasticism? What if it spread to my entire head and I had to go through life looking like some kind of avant-garde animated short, with forehead quivering, eyes a-bulging, tongue and lips agoggle, etc.? What if it were to lead to a dreaded grand mal seizure? These are things I worry about on a day to day basis anyway; this new spasm sent me into a paroxysm of anxiety. Eventually it went away...until LATER. When I was on a loud stage with hot lights and I was trying to fake my way through a song. Another paroxysm followed, and I was certain the grand mal seizure was imminent. For a second I was sure I felt one coming on, rattling my bones from within, surely I would collapse in a shaking, Dosteyevskian heap, right there on stage, OH THE DRAMA, but it turned out to be bass notes from the big moniter shaking my chest, the way those big bass notes will. Eventually the spasm stopped. The evening went on. There were no casualties.
During break I asked Gordon if he ever felt weird face spasms. He said he had, that it pointed to an electrolyte imbalance, possibly caused by dehydration. This made sense to me, as I was holding my third or fourth drink of the evening at the time. Today I got up resolved to hydrate, which I have. My face remains, for the time being, untwitchy, and I have water and Gordon to thank.
HYPOCHONDRIAC FUN FACT: I read once that ER doctors have a name for them (us): GOMERs. It's an acronym for Get Out of My Emergency Room.
It's now been a week since we did the all John Lennon show that I was making the brass arrangement for. It was a good event, and well-attended despite the blizzard that occurred that day. All the participants seemed to have a good time, although I had regrettably little contact with most of the brass players. I was at the bar vying for the overworked bartender's attention while they were assembling on stage. It had been decided that I would play drums on Got To Get Sgt. Walrus In the Sky For No One In the Life, but as the downbeat neared the bartender was far away, my next drink no doubt minutes off. But DAMMIT, the Beatific Hornacular Brass Choir didn't HAVE minutes! A decision had to be made: Could I get through the next four or five numbers without another drink? I decided that I could, nay, MUST. Leaving the bar, no drink in hand, I joined the BHBC onstage.
Did it rock?
Let's see: four, count em', FOUR French horns, two trumpets, one trombone, one tuba: a combined estimated quarter mile of metal tubing. Is that metal enough for you, Jim?
So, yes, I believe the consensus was that the evening had an overall positive impact. And you know what? We earned it. It wasn't just three hours of "John Lennon: SAINT". Sure, we did Imagine, Instant Karma, and Beatles songs, but we also did How Do You Sleep, a rather transparent series of jabs at McCartney disguised as a song; and the esteemed Sockrates Carnival of Sock Puppet Morals and Logic, assisted by the Gomers (not the hypochondriac GOMERs, but the band the Gomers) performed Genius is Pain, which isn't a Lennon song but which uses Lennon's own words to show his less...charitable side.
Because, sure, he was in the Beatles, and he was anti-war and principled, and his senseless gunning-down was tragic. But he was also a pretty angry, troubled guy who at times could be callous and vindictive, even toward Yoko Ono. And he was smart enough to recognize that he was no saint. Would he want to be remembered both for his memorable songs and his occasional flagrant assholism? Maybe. Who knows? In any case, that's the approach we decided on, working with the thesis that it ultimately strengthens an artist's legacy if they're shown as real human beings and not marble statues.
Would John have liked it?
Again, who knows. But he wrote that song, Gimme Some Truth. All I know is, I first heard I Am the Walrus when I was around twelve (post Lennon shooting) and it changed everything for me. In a good way. It was one of the freakiest things I had ever heard, and it expanded my perspective such that I realized there were other weirdoes like me in the world. I felt suddenly a lot less isolated and came away resolved to do music all the time.
And I have, ever since.
Thanks, John!
