(A bingo hall in Baltimore. Awesome.)

Ri-chan is sending out resumes and cover letters for nursing positions. She has a potential sponsor for her work visa, at John Hopkins.
She has been studying and job hunting since I got here. She has two of her licenses; and is soon to take the registered nurse test for her final license. She’s a smart cookie.
She, however, doesn’t think so. This is one of our ongoing arguments. We spend our lunches together arguing whether or not she is intelligent and wise. It’s clear to me she is. It seems less clear to her.

This is always quite baffling to me.
I don’t think I’m all that smart. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that we have no fucking clue about ourselves. If you want to know who the fuck you are, listen to what people say about you. They know who you are, based on your actions and your words. Any time you want to disagree with them, bite your fucking tongue.
People tell you that you’re smart? You fucking well probably are.
People tell you that you’re impatient? Even though you think you’re some New Age fucking guru of zen? Bite your fucking tongue, pull your head out of your ass, and consider that discrepancy.
You have no fucking clue who you are; what your qualities are; what your peccadilloes are. You don’t know shit about yourself; the people around you know who the fuck you are.
You are your actions, not the self-indulgent puke of your conscious mind and the rancid wank of your internal dialogue. Every iota of you that you have access to is fetid and deceitful fabrication.
The conscious mind is a betrayer.
Your behavior is who you actually are. And only others are in any position to tell you who your actions make you out to be.
Not that you can actually ever convince anyone of this.
Even though we all know this, forwards and backwards, from infancy, when we first start manipulating our actions to manipulate others to win our desires.
Whatevs.
Ri-chan and I argue this each day at lunch, because she’s whipsmart.

Today I rehearsed for six or seven hours. (Okay so this must have been written three days ago, January 1st, 2009, because yesterday I recorded with the kick-ass double bassist Daniel Barbiero at his place in DC. And I did long practice sessions the two days before that. And this sounds like it was the first day.) Glorious.
I use a Novation X-Station 49 to control Ableton Live. I send out of an Indigo Echo to an Alesis Multimix 8, with a Korg Kaoss pad as my effects unit.
I am using about 40% old samples from the standard collection I’ve put together over the past decade. And I am using about 60% samples made from my time in DC, Alexandria and Rosemead.
(I’ll try to upload all of this to vime, soon.)

(I see things while traveling I don’t see otherwise. Like this instant margarita tub. Capitalism is awesome. In the same way black holess are, like, “wow, that is crazy, I can’t even imagine that, wait I’m trying, nope, no, can’t imagine it, will have to stick with Max van Sydow in mind.”)

I am very happy with the way I am sounding. By the end of the trip, I should be in fine form. I’m even thinking of asking the always agreeable Boni Banks for a slot at Noise n Pancakes in SF at the end of my trip. (I did ask. Haven’t heard back. Asked for a 24 hour show. With rotating guests collaborating through the day and night with me. Basically I’d supply a running atmosphere in the background of some venue and others would come and go as they pleased. I can’t imagine who would want to see this, or why Boni would want to put it on, but there you go, it’s be fun for me, and often what I enjoy others do to, even if I can’t figure why.)

Tomorrow I am recording a duet record with a double bassist in DC, Daniel Barbiero. Nobu is producing. That should be fun.
(It was. Totally faboo. Daniel was really responsive and flexible. His background and influences are contemporary compositional, so we share that. But my music is completely unlike what he is accustomed to. He generally plays with other acoustic musicians. And musicians who can provide more instant feedback and interplay. I, and this is a weakness of mine as an improvisor, am really a wall of sound, an environment other musicians are thrown into. I can flex and shift this environment to try and suit there needs, but I do so at a geologic pace, by musical standards. Daniel was fabulous at integrating the extended technique and broad range of his instrument to inhabit the world I created for it. Nobu is very happy with the recordings, and is hoping to produce them in the next few months, before getting the frakking brilliant Honyo Ohte to do up a CD package. He’ll then send the whole thing off to labels. Crazy that someone as incredibly talented as Nobu is that big a supporter of my music. It’s way beyond flattering.)

(This is Nobu looking for a CD on his wall of jazz CDs. He has that many CDs again of progressive rock. He loves music, and is encyclopedic. Right now, as I write this blog, he is writing reviews for a new book coming out, covering every ECM release in history. He’s writing 28 of the articles.)

Yesterday I rehearsed all day, as well. (So maybe this was written on the 2nd not the 1st. or maybe the 1st. Time gets all smeary when you’re traveling and couchsurfing and haven’t had a real life in almost a decade, and even then, it was only sort of real, for a few years, and before that, super unreal, and maybe before that it was on and off, but mostly off.) In the evening I read Cryptonomicon. My allergies (cat and mold are getting me here, I think) were worse yesterday. Now the loratadine is kicking in a bit more. (Yeah, yesterday at Daniel’s was a great relief. Today, I’m feeling a little better. The loratadine really helps, I just hate taking medication.)
I’ll post recordings from my rehearsals to vime when I get to a decent web connection.
As well as photos. Right now, I’m lucky to get on long enough to check email. I’m writing my blog posts offline and sending them when I get a wifi window here.

Right now Nobu and I are listening to CDs by Achille Succi, a saxophonist who we will be recording with (along with Daniel) in DC at the end of the month. That will be the fourth Stowe-Pembleton Project CD.
This recording session will alter my sched a bit. I’m probably going to be on the East Coast two weeks longer than anticipated. After Baltimore, I’ll hit Philly, then NYC, then back here for the recording. After that I’ll hit Holyoke and Lebanon in the first two weeks of February, before returning to Baltimore to begin the Amtrak leg of my trip.

Let’s see, SF, where was I?
I think I hadn’t even left LA yet, last time. Whatevs.
Now I’m in SF. Not in reality. In reality I am in Rosemead, a suburb of Baltimore. I am sitting uncomfortably at my laptop, and periodically running into Ri-chan and Nobu’s office to look at her work applications.
And now I am going to brush my teeth.

Hmm, well, that was a weird segue to end with. But now, on the 4th, I’m, actually, my ass really hurts from sitting on hard surfaces all day, so I’m going away now if there’s a wi-fi sniff I can catch to upload this.

(Okay, straight up, I mean really, giving yourself diabetes before the cirrhosis kicks in? Fucking brilliant. See, like a black hole, how can you not love the idea, even if, ultimately, you’re kind of thinking, “fuck, note to self, avoid that deathtrap.” No? Not buying it? You don’t see the connection? Capitalism doesn’t awe you at all? It’s nothing like what maybe you imagine happens at the event horizon of a black hole, that idea that maybe you’ll be pulled a part and stretched forever because of the possible oddities of time and space under such high gravity? No? Really, because I’m thinking, maybe, yeah, you know, you gotta give capitalism some props for just how marketing is everything, like give the ponzi scheme economy a ponzi scheme materiality? No?)

(A bingo hall in Baltimore. Awesome.)

Ri-chan is sending out resumes and cover letters for nursing positions. She has a potential sponsor for her work visa, at John Hopkins.
She has been studying and job hunting since I got here. She has two of her licenses; and is soon to take the registered nurse test for her final license. She’s a smart cookie.
She, however, doesn’t think so. This is one of our ongoing arguments. We spend our lunches together arguing whether or not she is intelligent and wise. It’s clear to me she is. It seems less clear to her.

This is always quite baffling to me.
I don’t think I’m all that smart. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that we have no fucking clue about ourselves. If you want to know who the fuck you are, listen to what people say about you. They know who you are, based on your actions and your words. Any time you want to disagree with them, bite your fucking tongue.
People tell you that you’re smart? You fucking well probably are.
People tell you that you’re impatient? Even though you think you’re some New Age fucking guru of zen? Bite your fucking tongue, pull your head out of your ass, and consider that discrepancy.
You have no fucking clue who you are; what your qualities are; what your peccadilloes are. You don’t know shit about yourself; the people around you know who the fuck you are.
You are your actions, not the self-indulgent puke of your conscious mind and the rancid wank of your internal dialogue. Every iota of you that you have access to is fetid and deceitful fabrication.
The conscious mind is a betrayer.
Your behavior is who you actually are. And only others are in any position to tell you who your actions make you out to be.
Not that you can actually ever convince anyone of this.
Even though we all know this, forwards and backwards, from infancy, when we first start manipulating our actions to manipulate others to win our desires.
Whatevs.
Ri-chan and I argue this each day at lunch, because she’s whipsmart.

Today I rehearsed for six or seven hours. (Okay so this must have been written three days ago, January 1st, 2009, because yesterday I recorded with the kick-ass double bassist Daniel Barbiero at his place in DC. And I did long practice sessions the two days before that. And this sounds like it was the first day.) Glorious.
I use a Novation X-Station 49 to control Ableton Live. I send out of an Indigo Echo to an Alesis Multimix 8, with a Korg Kaoss pad as my effects unit.
I am using about 40% old samples from the standard collection I’ve put together over the past decade. And I am using about 60% samples made from my time in DC, Alexandria and Rosemead.
(I’ll try to upload all of this to vime, soon.)

(I see things while traveling I don’t see otherwise. Like this instant margarita tub. Capitalism is awesome. In the same way black holess are, like, “wow, that is crazy, I can’t even imagine that, wait I’m trying, nope, no, can’t imagine it, will have to stick with Max van Sydow in mind.”)

I am very happy with the way I am sounding. By the end of the trip, I should be in fine form. I’m even thinking of asking the always agreeable Boni Banks for a slot at Noise n Pancakes in SF at the end of my trip. (I did ask. Haven’t heard back. Asked for a 24 hour show. With rotating guests collaborating through the day and night with me. Basically I’d supply a running atmosphere in the background of some venue and others would come and go as they pleased. I can’t imagine who would want to see this, or why Boni would want to put it on, but there you go, it’s be fun for me, and often what I enjoy others do to, even if I can’t figure why.)

Tomorrow I am recording a duet record with a double bassist in DC, Daniel Barbiero. Nobu is producing. That should be fun.
(It was. Totally faboo. Daniel was really responsive and flexible. His background and influences are contemporary compositional, so we share that. But my music is completely unlike what he is accustomed to. He generally plays with other acoustic musicians. And musicians who can provide more instant feedback and interplay. I, and this is a weakness of mine as an improvisor, am really a wall of sound, an environment other musicians are thrown into. I can flex and shift this environment to try and suit there needs, but I do so at a geologic pace, by musical standards. Daniel was fabulous at integrating the extended technique and broad range of his instrument to inhabit the world I created for it. Nobu is very happy with the recordings, and is hoping to produce them in the next few months, before getting the frakking brilliant Honyo Ohte to do up a CD package. He’ll then send the whole thing off to labels. Crazy that someone as incredibly talented as Nobu is that big a supporter of my music. It’s way beyond flattering.)

(This is Nobu looking for a CD on his wall of jazz CDs. He has that many CDs again of progressive rock. He loves music, and is encyclopedic. Right now, as I write this blog, he is writing reviews for a new book coming out, covering every ECM release in history. He’s writing 28 of the articles.)

Yesterday I rehearsed all day, as well. (So maybe this was written on the 2nd not the 1st. or maybe the 1st. Time gets all smeary when you’re traveling and couchsurfing and haven’t had a real life in almost a decade, and even then, it was only sort of real, for a few years, and before that, super unreal, and maybe before that it was on and off, but mostly off.) In the evening I read Cryptonomicon. My allergies (cat and mold are getting me here, I think) were worse yesterday. Now the loratadine is kicking in a bit more. (Yeah, yesterday at Daniel’s was a great relief. Today, I’m feeling a little better. The loratadine really helps, I just hate taking medication.)
I’ll post recordings from my rehearsals to vime when I get to a decent web connection.
As well as photos. Right now, I’m lucky to get on long enough to check email. I’m writing my blog posts offline and sending them when I get a wifi window here.

Right now Nobu and I are listening to CDs by Achille Succi, a saxophonist who we will be recording with (along with Daniel) in DC at the end of the month. That will be the fourth Stowe-Pembleton Project CD.
This recording session will alter my sched a bit. I’m probably going to be on the East Coast two weeks longer than anticipated. After Baltimore, I’ll hit Philly, then NYC, then back here for the recording. After that I’ll hit Holyoke and Lebanon in the first two weeks of February, before returning to Baltimore to begin the Amtrak leg of my trip.

Let’s see, SF, where was I?
I think I hadn’t even left LA yet, last time. Whatevs.
Now I’m in SF. Not in reality. In reality I am in Rosemead, a suburb of Baltimore. I am sitting uncomfortably at my laptop, and periodically running into Ri-chan and Nobu’s office to look at her work applications.
And now I am going to brush my teeth.

Hmm, well, that was a weird segue to end with. But now, on the 4th, I’m, actually, my ass really hurts from sitting on hard surfaces all day, so I’m going away now if there’s a wi-fi sniff I can catch to upload this.

(Okay, straight up, I mean really, giving yourself diabetes before the cirrhosis kicks in? Fucking brilliant. See, like a black hole, how can you not love the idea, even if, ultimately, you’re kind of thinking, “fuck, note to self, avoid that deathtrap.” No? Not buying it? You don’t see the connection? Capitalism doesn’t awe you at all? It’s nothing like what maybe you imagine happens at the event horizon of a black hole, that idea that maybe you’ll be pulled a part and stretched forever because of the possible oddities of time and space under such high gravity? No? Really, because I’m thinking, maybe, yeah, you know, you gotta give capitalism some props for just how marketing is everything, like give the ponzi scheme economy a ponzi scheme materiality? No?)

Internet is intermittent where I stay in Rosemead, that’s all I’m saying.

(this is some spa treatment powder you reconstitute or something. It was on display at cvs this evening.)

So, the point is (was when I wrote this some odd days ago), I have either been on the road for 14 days or 24 days.
Except I sort of decided it is 14 days, because some opportunities have come up on the East coast that could use an extra 10 days of traveling.
Nothing like pragmatism, eh?

So, day one,
Wait, today, day 14 (except I’m writing these offline now, and posting them when I spot a burst of wi-fibility, so now maybe today the 4th of January, it is maybe 16 days? 17days?), I woke the way I always do at Nobu and Ri-chan’s, with Nobu storming around the house getting ready for work. He leans towards the thinking that if he is awake, so should I and Ri-chan be. He doesn’t actually rouse me from bed, but as I sleep on a futon on the floor in the living room, which is in between the kitchen and the bedroom, he makes a great fuss of walking through the room continually, and yelling at Ri-Chan and banging pots and pans and such.
(Now Franco Battiato just came up on random on my mp3 player. He is fucking brilliant. If we discount classical composers, far and away my most obsessive collections [and maybe he qualifies in there, too…], he competes with Gary Numan for the artist I have most obsessively collected.) I, in response, awake, and then lay in bed refusing to acknowledge that I am awake, even ignoring his questions when he asks, “Lee, are you awake?”
I love my relationship with Nobu. To a certain degree I guess it mirrors my relationships in general, to know me is to marry me, basically.
Umm, which is kind of weird.
Or maybe totally inaccurate.
To know me is to be caught up in my passive-aggressive, antisocial, borderline psychotic, nihilist-leaning (because the hegemonic can), self-absorbed delusion?
Well, we’ll have to revisit that, but, Nobu and I, we have an excellent relationship, built on a mutual pig-headedness, contrariness, and absolute certainty that we are right and the other is deliriously confused.
Regardless, my morning here begins with the racket of Nobu trying to wake me so that he can start the day arguing with someone other than Ri-Chan, who he argues with every morning. Because Nobu just loves to argue; about anything with anyone taking any position, just as long as it involves argumentation.
But I steadfastly refuse to acknowledge that I am awake and in this way stymie his desire, and I end up the victorious one in our morning combative meditation ritual. HA! Take that, Nobu!

(Nothing captures the memory of sunset like a phonecam.)

After he leaves the apartment I get up, and then Ri-chan and I have breakfast. She drinks some coffee. I drink coffee with soy milk (I normally drink coffee black, but she puts soy milk in my coffee, and now I have that as one of my rituals here) and eat grape nuts with soy milk.
And we chat. Which is a pleasure, because Ri-chan is smart and charming and delightful. This morning we talked about my misuse of the term Pochi, which I thought was Japanese for “dog.” But which is actually a common name for dogs in Japan. Inu is the word for dog. We talked about nursing. Ri-chan just finished nursing school here, and she used to work as a nurse in Japan. She adores the elderly, and would like to specialize in geriatrics. Today, however, I heard tales of the morbidly obese in the cardiac unit. And specifically the weight of their bed commodes.
HORROR!
I am so scarred now.

(It’s too bad I didn’t have my good camera out, or a better cellphone, but whatevs, those are real estate signs, because this church in the ghetto of Baltimore is for sale, no reasonable offers refused.)

Since then I’ve been listening to field recordings from the trip, editing them into loops of sound I like, and longer pieces from in between conversations and distortions. Inevitably when I wear a microphone and go out to record for multiple hours I end up with moments best left out of my music and uploads.
Today I’ve been working with recordings from the DC area metro’s blue line. I have some distortion I needed to cut out, from when we were on particularly loud sections of track. I don’t care for limiters. I prefer to set a volume and get the range of sounds that volume permits. So on the day I rode the metro for five hours recording stations and trains, I used different volumes to capture different aspects of the experience.
As I write I’m listening to Christmas mass at Christ Church in Alexandria. I went with my step-family, and I recorded it. It’s probably not useful for any of my music, but it will be a nice upload and document of the trip. The recording is pretty okay, if I say so myself. One thing I learned from Carl Orff is an appreciation of dynamics. I love how his work requires a quiet environment or a constant riding of the volume knob. Or parts of it just disappear and you end up with an arrhythmic beach, a surf of voices crashing aperiodically in your ears.
Anyway, this is a nice recording. I’ll upload it along with everything else when I can.
But that may be awhile, as I’m here ten more days (not now, now I’m here 4 more days, maybe 5, I travel on the fifth day. Travel presents a difficulty in day counting for me) and Nobu and Ri-chan don’t have wireless. I may try using their modem if I get desperate, but for now, it’s kind of fun just writing in word and rambling and not checking email or fb or blogs or etc.
I get a lot of tweets. And tweet a decent amount myself, so, that gives me my socio-digital fix.

(Nobu is buying food for Pochi, his cat. His cat who has been dead for a few months. Nobu has a somewhat extended mourning ritual for dealing with Pochi’s death. It is beyond irrational, but don’t try telling him that, because he prides himself on his rationality and internal consistency. And is always searching out the inconsistencies of others to attack. This tactic, fwiw, is not so effective with me, perhaps one reason we’re friends, because I believe that all humans are always inconsistent, and that the conscious mind is deluded about pretty much everything, but especially consistency, rationality and other ludicrous belief structures. He tells me I’m behaving without consistency in my beliefs and I ask him, “what beliefs? When have I ever demonstrated anything remotely akin to consistency or rational behavior or self-awareness? Or even a basic desire to do anything but what pleased my momentary fantasy?” And that’s the end of that verbal duel.)

Listening to one’s life from a few days before is always odd. In UMF (an art work/composition series from 2000-2001) I likened it to time travel. And I still feel that way a little.
So, during the louder sections, there is some digital artifacting on this recording. During the louder hymns. I was using the mp3 record feature on my iriver IHP-400 instead of the wav feature which is my norm. I forget why. But I screwed around with the settings for some reason that day.
Anyway, this recording, unlike the wav recordings, has some flanging in the high end. Not too bad, but noticeable. I’ll still post it, but be warned.

Nobu got home

And then that entry simply ends, because Nobu is the end of productivity. Once he’s in the house, there will be nothing but discussion and argument and theorizing. Which is super awesome, of course. I love arguing with Nobu (not first thing in the morning, so much).

I woke up, laying on the futon on the floor in Nobu and Ri-chan’s apartment. Looking at me through the kitchen doorway was Ri-chan. Except, oddly, she was horizontal not vertical.
I parsed this with my mind, and realized she was laying in a bed, a fold-away old fashioned metal type, with the covers pulled up around her throat. Her nose was red.
“Are you sick?” I aksed.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Oh.”
I got up and we talked, I forget the details now.
At a certain point she mentioned that I should stop being silly - maybe I mentioned my plan to rehearse all day – that today I was going to meet the American husband she and Nobu found for me.
I thought this was a little odd. But, ultimately, perhaps for the best. I’ve demonstrated a profound inability to look after myself, and maybe it is time I found a sugar daddy to look after me. Being straight might be an initial inconvenience, but if Nobu and Ri-chan felt I could overcome that difficulty, well, I would try not to disappoint them.
Then my father arrived.
Fortunately, not as my new husband, that would have been a little grotesque. And given that I’ve been living at home for a year, perhaps a little to close for comfort.
He was in the kitchen to give me away.
Ri-chan was still in bed in the kitchen. She was demonstrating a staunch dedication to remaining horizontal.
Then a little man arrived. Think Gimli from The Lord of The Rings. Except dressed in modern safari-like clothing. He was to be my American husband.
So, there’s this gnome fellow. That’s strange to begin with. Maybe at this point I’m starting to think this is a dream.
I often dream waking up. That is, I often wake up and start going through my day and discover I’m in a dream not real life only at some point when things get really weird, then I’ll realize I’m dreaming and wake up and go about my day until something really strange happens and then I’ll realize I’m dreaming and wake up. And so on. Some nights I wake up all night long without ever actually waking up. I can wake a hundred times I na night like that. At it’s worst, when I’ve been having these cyclical dreams for weeks on end every night, I become very suspicious of reality and go through my day fully expecting strange things to happen and the realization of dreaming to strike. Perhaps this in part explains my ambivalent relationship to truth and faith and certainty and the other bedrocks of reality.
Anyway, my new husband is not unattractive at all. He’s short, a gnome I think, though now I think maybe he was more a dwarf. But he is quite handsome if you like bears. He’s a white bear, a polar bear. And he is dressed very nicely, suggesting he can take care of me in the way I am accustomed to, that is letting me sleep in the laundry room, or the closet, or the death room, or some such, and feeding me grape nuts and rice milk and chips and salsa and giving me some room to work.
What is strange about my new husband is that on his hat he wears the head of one of his victims. And on a rope around his neck he wears another.
At first I think he’s rocking some new hipster jewelry, because it looks almost like he is just wearing the faces of these men. But the faces are shimmery, almost like bad holograms. I don’t say anything because I am uncertain what this jewelry is, and if it’s new techwear, I don’t want to offend him. Maybe holographic adornments are his silicon valley gimmick and he’s got a VC fortune backing him in this stuff. It’s not unlikely, I’ve been in SF a long time now, and gnomes wearing the holographic visages of their beheaded enemies as an avant garde introduction to their new high tech jewelry and cosmetics line is not as uncommon as you might think living elsewhere in the world.
So, he’s a handsome fellow and he’s wearing these fellows’ faces. Strange, but I can deal.
So, we leave for a stroll, a few minutes outside the fam for he and I to get to know each other.
We’re walking around the streets of Rosemead, a suburb of Baltimore, holding hands and chatting. And I am now close enough to see that these are not holographic jewelry, but rather, the actual heads of his victims, shrunken and bewitched so that they can never firmly regain their appearance. They are ever-shifting, so that the power their likenesses hold are kept within, at my fiancées beck and call. None but he can ever again look upon the faces of his enemies. This strikes me as incredibly clever, he has not only stolen their lives and their heads, but he has also stolen their very images, the memory of what they looked like is his alone.
My fiancée fucks with very powerful magic. I am deeply impressed. But a little concerned now, because I’m wondering what happens if I piss beau off, right?
And then I notice that my fiancée has a roving eye, not for other men, fortunately, but for his enemies. Everywhere we walk he is watching all around us for his enemies. He is hunting. I realize my husband will never be still, never relaxed. He will always be on his guard, on the watch for those who have wronged him, or whom he has wronged. His life is a war with other men such as himself, hunters.
And then I heard the shower and I woke up and I had to pee and I thought,
“fuck, Nobu is going to be in there forever, what with his long, thick, black hair!”
And I began pacing and drinking coffee because I thought,
“fuck it. If I have to pee I might as well really HAVE to pee!”