The Weblog of Daniel Tashian

Arrived and actually read the entire Murakami book on the plane. It wasn’t that long…Car to plane to plane to a car to bus, to car and finally arrived at Helen Bransford’s. It’s funny, but it seems like the sight of a guitar-laden traveler is more respected in the Northeast. In Nashville, it’s like: “Back of the line, you.” But I saw Colin Linden in the airport. He was talking about how he collects a lot of old mics and compressors, etc. Immediately went to Sciavoni’s, a swanky grocery store. Maisie and Barrett were telling me about their dietary restrictions. Barrett (No Sugar) Maisie (Vegan) So there we were. The biggest revelation was that Barrett turned me on to “Guitar Hero” which is really amazing and fun. He’s very good, and I actually think the game improves musicality and rhythm. I hope they make one for Jazz scales soon. I know they will. Read Christopher Hitchens in Vanity Fair about getting waxed by the J Sisters in New York, and it was so funny I was crying. God I wish Vanity Fair would write a blurb about the S.S. That’s what I pray for when I close my eyes at night: I will be in “Hot Tracks” in V.F. I know that sounds shallow. But the thing that pisses me off is that they name-check the same icons every month: Dylan, Clapton, Nick Drake, Stones, McCartney, I mean, why can’t they mention someone like, you haven’t heard about a million times already? Then K.T. Tunstall’s Playlist in the NYT- so pedestrian. I mean, Amy Winehouse? She says she’s a good singer. I mean….Turn the masses on to something that’s not been totally over-exposed to death…oh well. Professional jealousy- rearing it’s ugly head, seeping into the blog like a venomous plague. It must be stopped. M and B’s Birthdays a (heavily orchestrated) success for the most part. Except one stupid brat punched Barrett in the eye. Maisie’s friends all very nice, but all wanting to know: “Does your hair grow, and you just cut it short, or will it not grow..I mean, could you grow it if you wanted to?” Me: “Nope. It won’t grow. It’s like a field that has become barren. Dust-bowl-type stuff. No action.” Girls are saddened, but certainly, not to the extent that I am. “If you had great hair, you’d be such an asshole.” Said Helen. “You can’t have everything.” A few relaxing moments- walked on the beach at the Buffett’s house. Played the “Open Mic” at the Stephen Talkhouse. Naomi was going to come, but it was too many ferries. Jay McInerney came to the gig and was complimentary of the new songs. Lovely, pensive weather. Overcast, cool. Looks like the English countryside. Listening to  “Bonny” by  Prefab Sprout and  “Painted from Memory” Bacharach and Costello. The key change on “I Still Have That Other Girl in My Head” is thrilling and majestic. Must update Mp3’s soon. Maybe some live stuff. Said farewell and took the kids to school. Read Ian McEwan’s Amsterdam on the way home. Funny book. Arrived at about 7 pm. Washed out. Sleep by 10

Walked the long walk with the dogs, aunts, everyone. Liz came. Frosty morning. Lovely. 44 degrees.  Home and worked til noon. Made some whole wheat pasta with pesto and red pepper. Worked for another hour, then took a nap. Woke up and walked the walk again with Liz. Then to Hopkins to help set up for the party. It was an Anniversary party, and there were about 50 people there. The dinner was excellent. Carl and Karl got back from their drive, so I was drinking lots of white wine and talking to them. At one point I realized I was rapidly approaching getting drunk, so I switched to Canada Dry. After dinner the grown-ups had a jam session, and I finally admitted to myself that I can’t play bluegrass. That party with the Old Crow folks was enough to send me home with my tail between my legs for even attempting to play the stuff. But the music was great. Liz and Karl and Carl and I went for a night walk. 3 walks in one day! Six miles! Home and read some Murakami, sleep at 11:30

Breakfast with the aunts. Words are difficult to fit in edgewise. Worked on Royal Plum for a while, then to the mall with my mom and the aunts. Got some new T-shirts…are they too tight? The girl in the shop seemed certain they weren’t, but I was really sucking in my gut. Can I maintain that in daily life? I don’t know. Lovely morning. Home and they went to the airport, then to Hopkins for lunch. Home and worked for the afternoon. Went for a walk down Belmont at 5. Saw Rachel and talked to her for a minute. She said that guy Tom checked out a rental car from Hertz like months ago and never turned it back in. Who does that? He also left a Porsche somewhere in a parking lot. Woe to his next car. Hopkins for dinner, then home and worked more. My life could be approaching the “too predictable” mark, but luckily I’m going away next week. Bed at 10. Reading Haruki Murakami’s “After Dark”- creepy and majestic.

There’s something sort of relieving about all the Halloween stuff being over. I woke up and I felt like there was a weight lifted or something. Walked the long walk, did some computing and emailing. Worked for a few hours, then went to the new Whole Foods market that just opened. Wow. Pretty amazing place. I mean, they have everything! And there’s even a cooking school upstairs! I sat down at the grill and had crab cakes and salad ($7) and I wandered around and tried lots of samples. I saw Adam and Shannon Wright. They said they were going to the award show at the Ryman auditorium and they were excited about it. They’re really nice. The last time I saw Adam, I broke a key on his piano, and I didn’t have his number so I couldn’t tell him I wanted to fix it. Bought a few other things but it was too crowded to really shop, so home, and took a short nap. Then worked for a while on the S.S. residency songs. To Hopkins for dinner with Aunt Joy. Took some roses for my parent’s anniversary. Home, and Rachel and Beau came over and we played through some songs. Beau went to the Ryman, and Rachel and I went to the Taproom, but then a band started playing, so we went to the Mirror. Had chocolate soup. In bed by 11.

Well I pretty much decided not to dress up, since I was Derek Smalls for 2 nights already. So I cleaned the house pretty much top to bottom, and did laundry, towels sheets, all the hotel stuff. I felt like a hotel staff. I mean, I’m 33 years old! I want to rock, I don’t want to make beds! But it was a lovely day, and I took a break and went to East Nashville, and I got some $ for Guilty Pleasures gigs, and I was too tempted not to, so I went to get some ink done. It hurt more than I thought it would, and I was trying really hard not to cry. Me and all these biker dudes. Home and finished the laundry, then to Angelo and Eulene’s for a drink. Went to Troy and Jessica’s too, and I had Posh with me and we were basically touring the neighborhood getting free cocktails. Home, and all the Tricker-Treaters were coming by, and it was fun. We sat one the porch. Me, Layng, Rachel, Beau, Liz, Brandi, and Liz quit caffeine and was telling everyone about it. I said “why such extremes?” and she said she was kind of an extreme person. Had a little too much beer, and my parents came over, and then they left. We went through like 5 bags of candy, and probably had like 100 treaters. I saw a lot of Spider Men, lots of Pirates. To the Taproom briefly, and Alex was dressed like a frog. Mack Starks was there and Layng and John Roninger. Home and asleep by 12.

Breakfast with my Gran, then B& H came back about 3. Picked them up from the airport, then headed home and unpacked my stuff. Did laundry most of the evening. Went to Troy’s building, and worked a bit on a new uke song called “Role Model of the Year” and it was a funny song. Based on John Bruton, or sort of with him in mind. We didn’t finish it, but we were both sort of tired so we went to the Taproom and I had a Guiness and I was telling Troy about my various romantic escapades, well not really escapades. Maybe theoretical escapades. Ice Capades. Ice Capone! Ha HA. Sorry. Lost it for a second there. But he weighed in and we had a beer or 2, then headed home. The Caddy is in such abysmal shape. I feel chagrin everywhere I go. “Riding Dirty” is the term they say in Hip-Hop culture. I just don’t even know what to say. I mean, the tail-lights barely work, the trunk doesn’t close. Only one window rolls down. No AC, Tape deck is broken. Blinkers are intermittent. It leaks close to a quart of oil a day. I mean. Enough is enough. I have to get a new car like, yesterday, I just don’t know what to get or how to figure it out. But all things, as George Harrison so wisely sings, must pass. And so will the Caddy. It’s been a really great car, and we’ve had some hard times and some good times together. It’s never left me stranded anywhere that I couldn’t at least walk to a nearby bar, and it’s always ready to go in the morning. I think I will put it on Craigslist for $500. Home, and did more laundry. Tomorrow I must clean the house. God, I wish I had a maid.