Sunday, July 26, 2009

Punk Rock Stories – The Furys

To say I was inspired by the 70s punk rock explosion is to put it mildly. It was exactly what I was looking for in my life. I lived through the late 60s/early 70s in a schizophrenic haze. I had long hair and loved much of the heavy metal (Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin) and prog-rock (Yes, King Crimson, Genesis) of the time. But I was also attracted to the garage rock scene and loved the Stooges, the Velvet Underground, MC5 and the New York Dolls just as much. (And for your information, I still love all these bands.)

Somewhere around late 1973 or early 1974, I got fed up with the peace/love, drugged-out Hippie culture and in an inspired moment, I cut off all my hair and visited several thrift shops, buying a couple of ill-fitting suits, 60s-style skinny ties and a beat-up fedora hat. I wore this outfit until the end of the decade. But for those first couple of years, wearing such items made me a real outcast. The people I worked with, the crew and customers at the Licorice Pizza record store in Santa Ana, California, were puzzled and bemused. But elsewhere, I was met with suspicion and anger. I remember taking my sister to a Black Sabbath concert at the Long Beach Arena for her birthday and having one stoned, young hippie walking up to me and asking loudly, “What’s a redneck like you doing at a show like this?” I answered by picking him up and dumping him in a trash dumpster. My sister was horrified and spent the rest of the concert mad at me for embarrassing her.

So, I was really excited when in 1975, I saw a picture of New York poetess Patti Smith in a music magazine wearing a black suit over a white shirt and a skinny tie. The article was talking about her upcoming album “Horses”, but said that she had already released a 7’ single, “Hey Joe”/”Piss Factory”. I tried to get the single through Licorice Pizza, but no one seemed to know what I was talking about. That started a day long journey, where I finally found the single at Wallach’s Music City in Costa Mesa. I ran home, put it on my turntable, and was immediately lost in a sound I hadn’t heard before. It was just guitar and vocals, but it packed more power than most four-piece bands of the time. I was sold!

It was then that I started reading about this new music scene out of New York, which the music writers were calling “punk”. Patti Smith was joined by bands like the Ramones, Talking Heads, the Voidoids and so many more. It wasn’t much longer until the British groups, influenced by those New York groups, started up and stories about them were dominating the music rags.

During all this, one of my best friends was a fellow named Jeff Wolfe. He was the brother of the manager, Scott, at the Licorice Pizza I worked at. We would hang out at his parent’s house or at the house I was renting in Orange and listen to music and talk about all the new bands breaking into the scene. Both of us were taking trips up to Los Angeles to see bands like the Motels, Pop, the Dogs, and then, after the Damned played at the Starwood, a whole slew of new bands at the Masque in Hollywood. We both liked the idea that there were hardcore punk bands like the Weirdos and the Zeros existing in the same scene as energetic “power pop” bands like the Nerves and 20/20. (This wouldn’t last for long though, as those pop bands eventually were labeled as “new wave” and a whole different scene sprung up around them.)

Jeff had been writing songs with a musician named Gregg Embrey and after a short discussion it was decided to form a band and get ourselves up to Hollywood to join this new scene. Jeff was the singer and Gregg played keyboards and guitar. I didn’t play anything, so I became the manager. The first thing we decided on was to get a record out. Bands all over were now ignoring the major label system and recording and releasing records on their own through independent distribution. We corralled Gregg’s brother, Gary, in to play drums and the band went into Inland Studios to record a couple of songs.

In the meantime, I was looking into what we had to do to press up records, print covers and get distribution. We all pooled our money together with some help from various parents and such and before we knew it, we had our own 7” record ready for release. It was mid-1977. We named the record company Double R Records. The single had two songs, “Hey Ma” and “Jim Stark Dark”. The sleeve was black ink printed on a white envelope. We cut the top off the envelopes so the top would be open like a regular record sleeve. For the next few weeks, Jeff and I spent all our time taking the single around to record stores, talking small distributors into selling it and sending copies off to local clubs so we could try to book shows for the band. In no time, we had sold out of our initial pressing and took the single back to press. For the second pressing, we decided we didn’t like the cheapness of the original cover, so we raised a few more dollars and got a proper sleeve on glossy stock printed with brand new photos.

We started getting interest from clubs so we needed to get a full live band together. On that front, we brought in Charlie (Chaz) Maley on guitars and a friend of Gregg’s, Doug Martin, on bass. So the band started doing some live shows and started attracting a small, but loyal following. Now it was 1978 and we knew we needed to get another single out. We decided on one of the live favorites, “Say Goodbye to the Black Sheep” and backed it with a new song, “Suburbia Suburbia”. The cover of the single was taken by our friend, Donna Santisi, in the living room of my rented house. Behind the band, I had taken the sleeves off of my punk singles and pinned them on the wall. I still think it’s a great photo. (Just for the record, all three Furys singles sleeves were designed by our friend, Matt Powers, who also worked with me at Licorice Pizza.)

“Say Goodbye” was received even better than the first single and the band began playing a lot. They were the first band to play at Madame Wong’s in Chinatown, opening for Gary Valentine and the Know. They played the Cuckoo’s Nest in Costa Mesa, usually opening for some up-and-coming English band. There were shows at the Starwood and the Whiskey. As usual with these memoirs, I don’t remember much about any of the shows. A few still stick out in my mind though.

The very first show the band played was at the Surf Theatre in Hunting Beach. They were sandwiched between two prog-metal bands and the audience didn’t know what to make of them. Around the same time, they also played at Huntington Beach High School at a noon-time assembly, and again the audience didn’t know what to make of them. One kid even threw an egg, hitting Charlie’s black Rickenbacker 12-string guitar. Charlie screamed “This is sacrilege,” and left the stage. The kid got expelled from school. Of course, it wasn’t long until most of the kids were dressing the same way as the band and listening to the same kind of music.

My favorite show was at the Troubadour. The Furys were opening for the Knack. From the minute we walked into the club, things were tense. The Knack were taking forever on their soundcheck and we had no choice but to sit around and listen to them screw around. About an hour after we arrived, someone from the club approached us and said that the Knack had accused us of stealing some equipment out of their dressing room. The accusation was complete bullshit and we said so. Since there was no proof, the club took no action, but the tension in the air was stifling. We all proceeded to get very drunk. My family was coming to the show, so it was decided that I was going to sing a song with the band. (I’m a frustrated lead singer, although I really can’t sing. I sang with the band several times. My favorite time was singing “I Can See For Miles” at Blackies.) By the time I got on stage towards the end of the set, I was completely blottoed. Singing “Hound Dog”, I walked out on the tables in front of the stage, knocking over drinks and finally losing my balance and falling to the floor, where I writhed around and finished the song in the middle of an irritated audience. The set ended sloppy and drunk.

(My family thought it was a lot of fun, or so they told me. They didn’t seem to realize that I was drunk at all.)

We all headed upstairs to our dressing room. Charlie looked out the window and saw Knack leader, Doug Feiger, standing in the alley right under the window. Before any of us knew what was happening, Charlie unzipped and sent a torrent of urine out the window and all over Feiger. We were rolling all over the floor in laughter. The Knack probably still hates us to this day. Hopefully they learned their lesson and never accused another band of false charges. We were expecting to get in a lot of trouble, but the club seemed unfazed by the whole thing. We didn’t hear a word from them. At the end of the evening, I walked up to Doug Weston’s office, where he paid me in full while a young, blonde boy sat on his lap. Those were the days.

It came time to do a third single, but I was broke and didn’t want to put any more money into it. There was also some friction between me and Gregg. I really had no idea what I was doing. I worshiped outspoken managers like Jake Riviera (Elvis Costello) and Miles Copeland (Squeeze, the Police), both of whom I had met and had given me advice. But Gregg thought I was being too much of an asshole and that was hurting the band. I was also living up in Los Angeles by this time, and we were feeling a bit of disconnect between each other. By the time the third single, produced by Danny Holloway, came out on Steve Zepeda’s Beat Records in 1979, I had gone my own way (which eventually lead me to BPeople, which is a whole other story). I was still very good friends with Jeff, though, and a big fan of the band.

This third single was “Moving Target”/ “We Talk, We Dance”. The band had also parted company with Doug, as he was really a metal-kind-of-guy and never really understood where the band was coming from. They brought in Joe Conti to play keyboards and Gregg switched to bass. I believe Steve Zepeda became their acting manager, at least for a short time.

The band continued off and on for quite awhile. They released one more record, this time a 12” EP called “Indoor/Outdoor”, in 1986. I think there was some friction between Jeff and Gregg and the band split up for good shortly after that.

These days, I still hear fond remembrances about the band from old fans. Rhino Records licensed and released “Say Goodbye to the Black Sheep” on one of their Los Angeles compilations in the 90s. I hear the original singles are going for good money on EBay. And, although we’ve lost contact a few times for long periods over the years, I’m still friends with Jeff Wolfe and a fan of his newest band, the Horse Soldiers.

One more story. Shortly after leaving the Furys, Charlie was working at Rickenbacker. I was asking him about guitars because I was thinking of forming a band of my own, which eventually became Jes Grew. He sent me a brand new Rickenbacker guitar as a gift. It was beautiful, but I had no idea how to play it, so I eventually gave it to a friend of mine who wanted to learn how to play. That friend was one Brian Tristan, who would become Kid Congo Powers in a just a few years. I saw him playing that guitar in the early Gun Club. I think Kid is a great talent and I’m proud to have been able to help him along. I lost track of Charlie shortly after that, so I was never able to tell him about it, but I’m sure he would be proud as well.

And that’s it for this journey. Keep in mind that these memoirs are as I remember them, which doesn’t always mean that it was the way it happened. I’m sure various members of the Furys would have completely different views on what happened when, but they’re not writing this, are they?

Thanks for reading. I’ll be back here with something completely different soon, I’m sure. And don’t forget my brand new food blog, “The Order of the Omnivores”, which you can find here:

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

This and That

I’m still working on the stories of my days with the Furys, so that will be another week or two away. That was really a long time ago, so trying to get everything together is taking some thinking and talking. I hope it will be worth the wait.

This week, I want to get a bunch of stuff off my chest, so I thought I would do so this way. First I’m going to talk about some things that I really dislike at the moment. That will be followed by a few things that I’m enjoying.

It would be easy for me to fall into another rant about my dislike of Barack Obama and almost the whole of the Democratic Party. Or I could easily fall into screaming about that insane asylum known as the Republican Party. But I’ll keep away from politics this time around and just say that next election I’ll be voting for a third party candidate. And if that means we have to endure more Republican years, then that’s the price we have to pay to get the fool Democrats to start acting like real Democrats again. And that’s enough of that for this week.


The hysteria over Michael Jackson is really getting on my nerves. I thought this would all be over after his overblown memorial, but every time I turn on the news, it’s still full of un-newsworthy stories about Jackson and his creepy family.

Look, I know that Michael Jackson changed the face of music as we knew it. He helped make it possible for black music to make it into the mainstream. A lot of good music would have been ignored if not for his groundbreaking. But the last good music Jackson made was two decades ago. About the time his hair caught on fire during a video shoot, he fell apart, both personally and artistically. As far as I’m concerned, he died way back then and I had already come to terms with it. That Michael Jackson was replaced by some freak-of-nature, child-obsessed doppelganger who just kept pumping out the same unoriginal dreck over and over again until the world was bored by the repetition. The only attention he was able to get was when he pulled some crazy stunt, usually involving a child or two. He had become a laughing stock to the world. So then he dies in a suitable fashion and suddenly the whole world forgets history and becomes lunatic fans of his again.

I know plenty of people who have met Jackson and claim he was one of the nicest people they’ve ever met. Interestingly enough, almost all those meetings took place way back when he was an actual artist. I ran into him a few years ago while I was shopping at a local comic book store called Meltdown. I was the only customer in the store at the time, when a giant black limo pulled up. A large black man got out and walked into the store. After talking to the owner, Gaston, for a few minutes, Gaston called me over and asked me to leave. He told me that Michael Jackson was outside and wanted to come in to shop, so he didn’t want anyone else in the store. I told Gaston that if I left under those circumstances, I would never come back in again. Well, I was one of their best customers at the time, so after some talking with the large black man, who would run out to the car periodically to let the occupant know what was going on, we came to an agreement that I would stay on one side of the store (the comics side), while Jackson shopped on the other side (the toy side, which I didn’t care about). Once I left, he could come over to the side I was on and shop some more.

The large black man ran out to the car and after a few minutes, two small white boys stepped out of the car, followed by Jackson, who was wearing a surgical mask over his face. They entered the toy side of the store and the kids went wild, running around picking up toys and oohing and aahing over them. Jackson just stood there and glared at me for about 15 minutes until I finally decided to buy my comics and leave, getting away from that freak show. So all I remember of my encounter with Jackson is a creepy asshole.

I always find it interesting that when a famous person dies, thousands come out of the woodwork wanting to buy music, movies or books by that person. They always claim that they were the biggest fan of such person. But if they were, why didn’t they already own the objects they were now buying? It all actually gives me the creeps.

So enough of it already. Most of you didn’t care about Jackson for the last two decades. He died years ago. He was no longer important and it’s time to get over it.


I loved the movie, “Borat”. I thought it was one of the ten best pictures of 2006. It was a pitch perfect skewing of American bigotry and ignorance. I laughed so hard I had to see the movie twice so I catch the parts I missed through all the noise.

So I was very excited when I found out Sacha Baron Cohen was doing a movie about his gay fashion “expert”, “Bruno”. I always liked the character on his TV show and I was looking forward to a deeper comic examination of American bigotry, considering that homosexuals are the only minority these days that it’s still okay to be bigoted against.

Well, the movie’s been open for only a week now and I’m already sick of hearing about it. He really struck out on this one. Yes, there were a few funny parts that worked, but most of it is just forced and silly. It just wasn’t funny except to stereotypical straight audiences that want to laugh at the funny queer guy. I mean, come on, the guy goes camping with some Southern good-ol’-boys who are trying their best to tolerate him. Then, late at night, he shows up in one of their tents completely naked and when the guy goes berserk, that’s supposed to show the homophobia of the mass American public? I’ve got news for you; I would have gone berserk if that asshole would have shown up naked in my tent, and I’m gay. It’s quite a presumption to think you can enter anyone’s tent naked without an invitation.

This type of thing was almost throughout the whole movie and I found myself feeling sorry for the poor heterosexuals who found themselves punked in this way. I even felt sorry for Conservative chowderhead Ron Paul, and I thought that would never happen. Face it folks, Sacha Baron Cohen was shooting blanks this time. It wasn’t funny and anyone who thinks it is needs to take a good look at their mind frame and maturity level.

But then, maybe that’s exactly the message he wanted to make through this waste of celluloid.


On the other hand, I saw a movie the other day that I loved. It’s called “The Hurt Locker” and it’s just amazing. It’s directed by Kathryn Bigalow (Near Dark, Point Break, Strange Days) and is about an elite Army bomb squad unit in Iraq. It’s easily the best summer action movie playing right now. And yes, that includes the new Terminator and Transformers movies. Unlike those two dumb films, this is a thinking man’s action picture. I don’t want to say too much about it, but through most of it, you can cut the tension in the theatre with a knife. I think it stands a great chance of getting Oscar nods for best picture, director and actor. Jeremy Renner (Dahmer) puts in an amazing performance as a bomb expert with a devil-may-care attitude. Although the story takes place in Iraq, and people don’t like seeing movies about Iraq, don’t make the mistake of skipping over this because of that. It just happens to be set there. The story could take place anywhere. There is no political agenda to this movie. It’s just a superior human story that deserves a really wide and appreciative audience. This is the best movie of the year so far and I suspect it will be one of the best at the end of the year as well.

(Among other recent movies I’ve seen, I thought “Up” was brilliant; “Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince” was the perfect set-up to the final chapter of the story, “Drag Me To Hell” was stupid and fun; “Iced Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs” was also quite fun and deserved better than it got from the critics; “Public Enemies” was good, but got more than it deserved from the critics; “Moon” was a promising debut from director Duncan Jones; “Surveillance” was the second dull strike out for David Lynch’s daughter Jennifer; and “An Englishman in New York” had a great performance from John Hurt as Quentin Crisp, but overall felt like a rushed TV movie.)

And while were on film, I’m quite enjoying the summer TV season this year. I heartily recommend “Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List”, “Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations”, “Nurse Jackie”, “Rescue Me”, “Warehouse 13”, “Top Chef Masters”, “Burn Notice”, “Royal Pains”, “Eureka”, “Primeval”, “Merlin”, “True Blood”, “Hung”, and “In Plain Sight”. They all make for some great and fun television watching.

(I’m also watching “Big Brother 11” but I don’t know how long I can last with this dysfunctional group of bigoted asswipes. I think maybe its time for this show to be retired.)


I’ve had several people ask me about my cat, so I’ll take this time for a quick cat update.

As most of you know, I’ve lost two of my cats over the last two years. First my beloved Frankie, the first pet I could truly call a soul-mate, died of liver disease two summers ago. That was a traumatic death that I still haven’t completely gotten over even after all this time. Then, earlier this year, quiet and sweet little Squeek lost her life to feline hepatitis.

That left us with one cat. His name is Chuck and he was the unfriendly, skittish one of the bunch. We rarely saw him around the house (all our cats are always indoor cats) and just never saw him if anyone but us was visiting.

Well, that’s all changed now. Chuck still hides when people come over, but he tends to come out sooner than he ever did before to check visitors out. He never hides from us anymore. In fact, he wants more attention than I can sometimes give him. Fortunately, like Frankie, he’s learned what “lay down” means and when I say it he immediately lays on his pillow on the floor and leaves us alone, at least for awhile. He also sleeps curled up next to me every night, something he never did when we had all three cats. And he loves his “kitty goodies”, which I give him every other day and he goes apeshit for. He still won’t eat canned food, preferring to chomp away on dry stuff I leave down for him 24-7.

In short, he’s become quite a sweet and loving pet and I find myself growing closer to him each day. I think he’s made this turn around because he’s suddenly found himself to be the only cat in the house. I think that he’s actually lonely and misses the other cats. I know he doesn’t like it at all when we go away for any length of time. I feel bad about that, but I can’t get another cat at this time with the financial situation were in. He’s just going to have to cope and I pet him and play with him as much as I can to help. He’s getting up there in years as well, so I know I’m really going to miss him when his time comes. But I’ll enjoy his loving company until then.


I want to mention a few other things I’m enjoying at the moment.

I’ve been in contact with a folk singer named Trent Miller for a while now. He’s from Italy, but now lives in London, where he hopes it will be easier to get noticed. He’s been sending me demos on and off for a few years, but now he finally has his first real album out, credited to Trent Miller & the Skeleton Jive ( The album is called “Cerebus” and is really something quite enjoyable. Of course, the first thing that attracted me to Trent’s music was the obvious influence of Thin White Rope on him. Not so much in the music, but his singing voice is very reminiscent of TWR’s Guy Kyser. That gives his songs a wonderful blues/folk feeling. His lyrics are haunting and wonderful and I find myself slipping his CD into my computer and listening to it over and over again while I work here. Give him a listen, especially you Thin White Rope fans. I think you’ll like what you hear.

My friend, Paula Yoo, has just published her second children’s picture book. Her first was “Sixteen Years in Sixteen Seconds: The Sammy Lee Story”, which told the story of the first Asian American to win a gold medal in the Olympics. This new one is “Shining Star: The Anna May Wong Story”, which tells of the Chinese American’s rise as a movie star during the 1930’s. Since these are books that aim to tell a story in simple ways for children to understand, they are easy to read and illustrated with beautiful pictures, in this case by artist Lin Wang. I really feel these types of books are important for kids to read. Asian American kids will find much to inspire them in these stories, and other kids will learn that the history of America wasn’t just made by white men. Despite their simplicity, both books make for a very interesting read. If you have kids, you can do a lot worse than get them these colorful, interesting and educational books. Paula also has a young adult novel out called “Good Enough”. Despite the heroine of this book being a teenage Korean American girl, I found I really related to her story, especially her search for understanding through music. You can find out more about Paula here: There’s lots of great writing information and entertaining stories there. Check it out, especially if you’re an aspiring writer.

I think that’s as good a place as any to end this. Hopefully I’ll have something a little more structured for you next time. As always, thanks for reading.

Oh, by the way, I’m thinking about starting another blog. This one would focus on food & wine. Lots of people seemed to enjoy my short reviews of restaurants and food events. If you get the time, let me know what you think of that idea and any suggestions you may have.


Tuesday, July 7, 2009

You Kids Get Off My Lawn

I was originally planning on writing about the subject of the paths that life takes when I returned from Arizona several months ago. In some ways I’m glad I didn’t have the time because so much has happened since then that has broadened the subject and given me much more to think about. In fact, it’s blended with another subject; that of growing older.

These subjects are something I’ve rarely thought about over the years, but they finally seems to be forcing themselves on me this year. I turned fifty-five years old this last June. Growing older never really meant much to me. I knew it was happening, but it never really felt like it to me. With the exception of a few aches and pains I never had when I was younger, I still pretty much feel like I did in my early twenties. I still go to clubs to see indie rock bands. I still love roller coasters. I still love to drink and eat too much. (To be fair, I don’t drink as much as I did in my twenties and I’ve completely stopped taking any drugs, which is probably the only real change in my lifestyle from back then.) But for some reason, this is the year I started really realizing that I wasn’t a youngster anymore.

All this introspection started when I went to visit my family in Arizona. During one conversation with my Mom and my two younger brothers, high school came up. When IQ jumped into the conversation, my brother Steve said that they all figured that out of the whole family, I was probably the smartest of them all. This statement alone caught me by surprise, but I steered the conversation towards the fact that I hated high school. I just never felt I was accomplishing anything in school. I was always bored. I was just seemingly uninterested in most of the subject materials. That was when my Mom said that the school teachers had told her the same thing. They told her they felt I wasn’t challenged by what they were teaching, but they didn’t know what to do about it.

This came as a complete surprise to me. I had never heard any discussion at all about this in my family. At first I was pretty pissed off about it. It never dawned on me that the fault wasn’t mine for hating school. I’ve spent my whole life wondering what was wrong with me. Why was I so lazy when I knew how important education was? Even when I got to college I was bored and only lasted there for two years. My whole life could have been different if someone; anyone would have just talked to me about this.

Now days, this is a recognized trait in kids and teachers know how to handle the situation when given the right tools. Kids who aren’t challenged in their school year are now sent to advanced classrooms with other kids like them. Or they’re moved up a grade or two to put them where they feel they’re challenged and have something to learn. I wasn’t given this opportunity due to either adult ignorance or the fact that someone just didn’t care enough. So I just turned inward and became rebellious. My last couple years of school were spent in a drug haze, although I still managed to pass my classes and graduate high school.

Now, given time to think on the subject, I can’t regret it any more. If I would have received the help I needed to succeed in school, my life certainly would have been different. I would probably have a degree and be making much more money, for one thing. But thinking about it, would I have been happier? Despite the dire financial straights I find myself in these days, I’m pretty damned happy with my life. I’ve been able to travel a good portion of the world. I worked closely in the music business, which was a life dream. I’ve eaten and drank some of the best food and wine in the world. I’ve met so many wonderful people, including the love of my life. I don’t know if any of that would have happened if my school days would have been handled differently. And to tell you the truth, if I could go back in time to change things, I don’t think I would choose for any of it to be different.

So while I can wonder about where I would have ended up, I have no regrets. I got the education I needed by teaching myself for the most part. I read all the time, taking on any subject. History didn’t interest me in school, but I loved reading books about it. I found I could do anything I wanted to, although I couldn’t always convince other people of that. (One incident that comes to mind was when I applied at one company to work in their shipping and receiving department. They told me I didn’t have any experience and eventually hired me to be a part time filing clerk. Six months later I was running their shipping and receiving department.) My life has been great. I’ve gotten by and I’ve come to realize that even a formal education couldn’t help me today with the world the way it is. And to tell the truth, I don’t even know if a formal school education would have changed the way I feel about the world. I have little taste for the business world and I really can’t see where I ever could have succeeded in that. The cut-throat attitude and greed I’ve run across in business just leaves me cold and I would prefer to starve to death than join those faceless emoticons in their back-stabbing and money grubbing. I think I’m exactly where I should be.

So that’s what started the process. My birthday brought new focus to it all. Then I saw a couple of events that helped keep the introspection going.

The first was seeing the stage play “Big: The Musical”. Anyone who has seen the movie knows this is the story of a boy who, fed up with not being taken seriously, gets his wish granted to become an adult. The movie was great and so was the musical. The overall theme of both is not only that you should think about what you wish for before you wish for it, but that a young outlook can be a great help negotiating the adult paths of life.

I also saw the new Pixar animated movie, “Up”, and that affected me strongly. The story is about an old man who, having just lost his wife, realizes that they wasted their lives away by not doing the things they dreamed about. Instead they just kept working away and making excuses for not taking the time to search for the adventures they always wanted. So he sets out to rectify that mistake by flying his house to South America, where they always dreamed of living. He accidentally takes an insecure, young Scout along with him and through their adventures, they both learn their self worth and their places in life. It was a wonderful movie that meant a lot to me, mostly because I have always refused to let the realities of life keep me from doing the things I dream about doing and enjoy tremendously.

Thinking young has always been important to me and I’ve tried to never forget what it was like when I was a teenager, and even when I was younger. I’ve tried to relate to younger people, without being the creepy older guy dancing in the back of the club, and without being condescending. (I was always afraid that I would turn into that dancing old guy in the back of the club and that helped me focus on not becoming him.) I don’t always succeed, but I get along with kids and younger adults well enough that I feel I must be doing something right.

I realize now that I’m no longer young, but I also don’t feel that I’m old either, at least not yet. When I was a teenager, I always thought I would be dead by the time I was thirty. When I made it to thirty, I was sure I wouldn’t see forty. Then I thought there was no way I could allow myself to be fifty. Now I’ve given up all those thoughts. I know I can be any age and still be as young as I feel. And as long as I continue to enjoy life and refuse to give up, I don’t think I’ll ever feel old.


Thanks for reading. I’m going to try to get back here in a week’s time. I think what you’ll read is a history of my involvement with The Furys, the first band I managed at the dawn of the punk era. Comments about any subject are always appreciated. Please, don’t be shy. Take care and always have fun. -ML