Roman Edirisinghe

With special guest Doc Jeff Green on guitars/bass. Featuring Oumar Sagna, Heidi Sagna, Aicha Diallo, Thacher Schmid, Aaron Gardner, Jesse Sheehan, Roman Edirisinghe, Joe Wong.

Private party.

Humphrey Scottish Rite Masonic Center, Milwaukee

Party hosted by Racine Coalition for Peace and Justice with music by the One Drum quintet (featuring Roman Edirisinghe, Holly Haebig, Kristin Urban, Cecilio Negron, jr., Cory Coleman)

Located at George’s Tavern in Racine:
1201 N Main St
Racine, WI 53402
(262) 632-6469
www.georges-tavern.com
$5 cover

I had an interesting experience while waiting for Nicole’s flight to arrive: I met Mickey Hart, one of the drummers of the Grateful Dead. I was coming up the escalator, and he was looking at me, and I looked at him, looked away, looked back, and then walked up to him. He was on the cellphone, and I didn’t want to intrude, but I said, “Mickey Hart?” and he nodded. I shook his hand, and moved on. His hand was slightly callused, and reminded me of shaking Jahmes’ hand, which is far more padded. A few minutes later, he was joined by Mike Gordon, bassist of Phish, and an older gent I didn’t recognize. I didn’t want to be the annoying fan who spotted the celebrities, so I kept to myself.

What an interesting experience. It was somewhat surreal, seeing a guy I had only seen in concert, or on album covers and videos, standing right in front of me. I sent an sms to my buddy Ryan, and he told me the Rhythm Devils were playing in Milwaukee.

After I left the airport, I remembered I had read two books by Mickey Hart a long time ago, and had thoroughly enjoyed them both.

Even later, I was mulling over the notion that they were waiting for a late ride, and Mickey may have assumed I was the driver, which was why he was looking right at me as I got to the top of the escalator.

My devoted readers may note that I haven’t stopped thinking about this. Roman is starstruck. I shook Mickey Hart’s hand.

I’m now offering private guitar lessons, for those interested. I will either do home visits, or have the student come to my place.

All Ages
Beginning & Intermediate
Styles: Rock, blues, Reggae, Pop, R&B, Funk, Folk, Latin
Curriculum customized to the individual
20+ years of experience
$20 per half hour

Contact me via my online form.

A Jimmy John’s driver got robbed, shot and killed as he attempted to make a delivery in the neighborhood of Humboldt and Burleigh, in Milwaukee’s Riverwest. Not far from my home, my friends. Very frightening.

This took place about 3 blocks away from the Art Bar, where owner Don Krause was shot in the chest by a 14 year old kid. Thankfully, he lived, but the problems remain: somehow, idiots having no regard for human life are obtaining guns and wreaking havok on innocent people.

Sounds like the war in Iraq.

How can a nation whose history is steeped in warfare have any hope of raising children that shun violence?

The problem is compounded by those who think purchasing a gun solves the problem.

This gun violence must stop.

Down in the dumps? Here’s something cheerful: the Smoking Gun is sporting an 18 page copy of Iggy Pop’s concert rider, which explains “Iggy’s requirements in terms of amplifiers, security, lighting, stage set up, and dressing rooms.” Rife with profanity, misspelled words, and outrageously witty remarks, the document, written “on a computer” by roadie Jos Grain, is a testament to true punk.

I suggest you read the whole thing.

Via Boing Boing

Lately I’ve read quite a lot of books:

• The Dark Tower series by Stephen King (7 books in all)
• The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
• Pattern Recognition by William Gibson

Whilst reading, I noticed I wanted nothing but to read, almost obsessively. It was my way of checking out of life, and checking into an alternate reality. I used to do this with movies: rent a bunch of them, and watch one every night, turning off my phone and disconnecting from everyone to decompress. After reading my last book, I decided to rent a movie (I had an unused coupon about to expire). So, I watched it by myself, and noticed the same thing happen. A sensation of comfort snuck up on me.

Is my life really so bad that I need to decompress with a book or a movie? Perhaps others’ lives are harder. I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I am overwhelmed and overstimulated with my own life and concerns that it is nice to bliss out on a story having nothing to do with me. The trick for me is to not get too caught up in it.

If you’re looking for a big bottom to add to your car or home audio system, Tom over at Music Thing has a post on a pair of innovative subwoofers.

One of the subwoofers mentioned is a coneless, fan-driven rotary system that gets frequencies as low as 5 Hz! Instructions include mounting in a basement or attic. Pricing? Consider about $25,000. Ummm, yeah.
The second speaker, a 60 inch subwoofer, made the vehicle housing it balloon in & out a couple of times during testing. That puts those wannabe gangbangers in my neighborhood to shame!

A general question to any who may have some experience in this matter:

Regarding those guys (haven’t seen a woman… yet) who hold up “job needed” posters at highway exits…

Does it work? Does anyone actually hire them? If so, for what purpose?
Every time I see one of those men, I wonder about these things.

Writing part one brought to mind a nearly forgotten incident that took place at a hotel in Turnu M?gurele, Romania, in 2003. I had just completed business negotiations with my father’s client, after a fifteen hour train trip. Read more about that, if you need background.

Exhausted and hungry, Constantin & I pored over the hotel restaurant menu. As a tangent, the thing that stood out on the menu was spelled “crap,” Romania’s spelling of “carp.” Hmm. I think I ordered a pizza.

While we awaited our food, I noticed a guy at another table sort of glaring at me, and not nicely. His outfit looked like that of a hotel cook, and he was talking to one of his friends at the table. Undaunted, I glared back. At one point, he said something in Romanian, maybe even in English, I can’t remember. Translation: he was asking me if there was a problem, in a rather belligerent fashion. Constantin & I both replied that there wasn’t. The creepy guy left. A few minutes later, the waiter came and apologized, saying that the guy had mistaken me for someone else.

Who else looks like me in Romania? Dark complexioned, stunningly handsome, etc.

Gypsies.

The cook had mistaken me for a gypsy, and was ready to throw all his hate at me. So much for Romanian hospitality, at a hotel, no less.
It seems every country, every group of people needs a scapegoat. So much easier to feel good about yourself if someone else is “worse.” Or so it seems.

How disappointing the human condition.