Sudden End

Well, it looks like my career as a poser drummer is over. The band I'm in -- The Rum Diary -- has been officially put into "hiatus" phase. Our practice space is no more and there is no forthcoming effort to find another one. Not sure what to think about all of this. I've been in the band about seven years now. We practiced twice a week for a good portion of those years. Wednesday nights and Sunday afternoons were our practice days. So much time was spent traveling up to Cotati to practice for just a few hours. We did this for so long that it became almost a mindless activity. Sure, it felt good, and it was a pleasant, creative release. It kept me busy and kept me focused. I really did enjoy it for the most part. But, the longer you do something, the same thing over and over again, the more it becomes a chore and eventually starts to lose it luster. This was beginning to happen to me, and I'm sure the other guys were feeling it too.
About 5 months ago we stopped practicing on Wednesday nights. It was just too much for me and Jon (bass player, lives in Marin, car-pooled to practice) to get up there after work. In the early days of the band Wednesday nights were fine, they were a welcome reprieve to the slow and trudging work week. We were excited to play and write new songs. I recall looking forward to Wednesday nights. It was a time to be with friends and let the worries of our lives slip by. I felt we could escape into glorious noise for a couple of hours. And this was true, for a good 4 years we did this, without hesitation, almost automatically.
I'm not sure what we set out to accomplish, I guess we were not too concerned with that; we just wanted to make music, to have fun, to do something a little different. None of us were accomplished musicians, but when we got together and played, we seemed to make something happen. Be it good, bad, or indifferent, we made some noise and packed it into a strange, kinda shaky, yet controlled package. I certainly didn't know what the fuck I was doing, I just love music and loved the feeling of playing drums. I took what I knew and made it work for me. Still, 7 years later, I sit and wonder how we did this for so long, with such limited knowledge of how to really "play" our instruments. I can't really speak for the other guys in the band, but I learned to play drums simply from listening to my favorite songs and paying attention to the way the parts were put together. I still don't consider myself a drummer, I'm just somebody who got away with drumming in an active band for a spell.
If we did accomplish anything, we were able to play numerous live shows (I lost count a couple of years ago), go on short tours, release three full length albums, one e.p., a split album, and a handful of 7" singles. Pretty good for a band whose objective was to become solid enough to play live about 5 years ago. Through it all we met friends in other bands, and fans who would frequently come to shows. I was happy with this, and it was much more than I had originally anticipated we would do as a group.
Our newest album just came out last month. My name is misspelled in the liner notes. I feel we could have all worked a bit more together as a band on the thing. But, the songs turned out nicely, and if anything, it was more of a DIY process than previous albums. Jon likes to call it the "album that was never there". We haven't been getting much help from the label in regards to promoting it, but it's out there, pretty much available everywhere to purchase, and I guess that is better than nothing. I think by the time it was finally released, we were already a bit burned out. This sounds like the end, but maybe it's not. If Sara and I move it'll surely be, for me at least. Seems strange, to end like this, but really, just as quietly as we crept in we will now quietly make our exit, almost as if we never existed at all. Does anybody really care? Probably not. There are Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and Franz Ferdinand shows to attend. I heard T-shirts only cost $20! Cool dude!!! Go get 'em while we die a slow and unforgettable death. See ya.

Bob

Man, there is this attorney here at work named Bob Brown. He likes to refer to himself in the third person, e.g. "Bob has won a few cases in his time and Bob likes to win" or "Bob feels pretty good about today's trial" It is truly bizarre. Bob's an older man, probably in his late '60s. I would assume he is around the same age as my father. Bob swears a lot too. It kind of scares me because he seems like a fairly easy going man most of the time, but he'll suddenly blurt out something like, "You've gotta be fucked in the head if you want to serve on a jury for 6 weeks" I think of how my dad never swears and it makes him seem so much more above someone like Bob Brown. Don't get me wrong, Bob seems like an alright guy, a little loopy, but he also seems like he may have been a pompous prick (early term for douchebag) back when he was younger, and in his early law school days. I have zero tolerance and respect for douchebags, and alpha males. I would love to collectivey kick the assses of all the douchebags in the world, just to show them that they can be beaten by a freckled, glasses wearing, balding, OCD ridden, quiet man. Give me a ring (if you you're a douche) and we'll set something up.
Anyway, I bet Bob had a nickname like 'Bubba' when he was younger. I think he used to play football. Normally I would try not to have anything to do with somebody like Bob, but I kind of enjoy being entertained by Bob's naive ways. He's like an ancient and endangered creature, the last of his kind, and we are here to study it and try and glean some knowledge as to its origins, manners, ways of living, etc...
But, really, people like Bob are everywhere, they are just younger and worse. Just head on down to the trendy Berkeley bars on any given Saturday evening. There you'll find a collection of the worst frat boys and young B. Brown's in training. In 30 years they'll be the ones replacing the Bob's of today, they'll be the new Bush's, they'll be the ones making all the wrong decisions only to feed their massive egos. A very scary time it'll be. Better make alternate plans, or as Adam Frankin of the great Swervedriver once said, "Go take a stroll amongst the mines call yourself back in when it's time score your provisions score a smile hit the road for a million miles pack your vision and set your dials."