I am in Staten Island again, recording with Andrew. Let's make his new video famous.
Love
Dan
Love
Dan
My last hours in London, in reverse order:
Monday, 6:00pm
I am watching "No Country for Old Men" on the plane.
Monday, 3:00pm
I am watching "Iron Man" on the plane. It is making me cry.
Monday, 2:00pm
I board Virgin Atlantic Flight 45 again, exactly 24 hours after I did so previously. This time, I stay on the plane until it lands in New York.
Sunday, 11:00pm
I am watching "The Juror" in a hotel room.
Sunday, 8:00pm
I am dismissed from Hillingdon Hospital, without any particular diagnosis. I talk to my parents on the phone and they order me a hotel room near the hospital. They are great.
Sunday, 6:00pm
The porter rolls my bed from the x-ray room back into the main area. He tells me he's become obsessed with American politics, so we talk about Barack Obama for a really long time. He asks lots of questions about my job. To make things simple, I tell him I'm a "playwright." He seems really fascinated. He is from Cameroon, and has only come to London to get an accounting degree. He plans on returning to his home town as soon as possible. A southeast Asian porter comes in and says, "He's not a student! He's a terrorist!" My new friend says, "No, no - YOU'RE the terrorist!" I say, "It's okay, guys - I am too." The southeast Asian porter sweeps up and leaves, saying, "If we WERE terrorists, we wouldn't need these stupid jobs. We'd be rich." Um!
Sunday, 4:00pm
I am only just beginning to regain lucidity. The pain is gone, for real.
Sunday, 3:30pm
I am riding to the hospital in an ambulance. I am strapped to a gurney. The medic gives me a gas nozzle, which I assume is oxygen. It is not. It is nitrous oxide. I become INCREDIBLY stoned INCREDIBLY fast. The excruciating pain in my abdomen either goes away or becomes unintelligible to my brain. As I lose all sense of awareness, I hear the medic go, "It's great, right? Everyone should have their own supply."
Sunday, 3:00pm
The flight attendants roll me down the length of the airplane in a wheelchair. My face is strapped to an oxygen tank. One of the attendants walks in front of me, kicking feet and bags out of the way. I try not to make eye contact with any passengers, because I don't want to see any angry, accusatory looks. The pain is becoming so unbearable I'm afraid I might faint.
Sunday, 2:55pm
A hot gay flight attendant tells me the medics are on their way. A hot lady flight attendant is rubbing my back and my knees and telling me I'm going to be okay. She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. The pain is so bad I start to weep.
Sunday, 2:40pm
The flight attendants are rushing around, making phone calls, filling out paper work. I discover that the left side of my abdomen is swollen and stiff. No one can remember what side of the body the appendix is on. Everyone's making jokes, trying to make me laugh. I appreciate the gesture, but even smiling hurts.
Sunday, 2:30pm
The pilot tells us we have another 15 minutes before we're taking off. I decide this is my last chance, so I approach the flight attendants in the back of the plane, and tell them that I'm in excruciating pain. I figure they will find out if there's a doctor on board, because that's what they do in movies. Instead, they strap me to a chair and start asking me questions.
Sunday, 2:20pm
The pain is getting so much worse, and I'm starting to think it isn't gas. I worry that my appendix is about to explode.
Sunday, 2:15pm
I'm feeling this horrible pain in my side. I figure it's gas, and I start to feel like an old person. "Gas." Who gets "gas"?
Sunday, 2:00pm
I board the plane and think about how excited I am to come home.
Sunday, 11:00am
I say goodbye to Benjamin at the Green Park tube station. I start the long trip to Heathrow Airport.
Sunday, 9:00am
Benjamin and I collapse in the park outside of Buckingham Palace. He takes off his shirt and I watch an ant crawl over his chest. We talk about responsibility and capitalism. He tells me he "believes in altruism," which somehow surprises me, though he says he "probably doesn't define it the way you do." I nod, though I realize later that I don't know what that means. Benjamin says I should see "No Country For Old Men."
Sunday, 8:30am
Benjamin and I are sitting at a cafe in Victoria Train Station. It hasn't opened yet. We just needed a place to sit. I am so tired I almost start crying. Benjamin shows me how to dance with a top hat.
Sunday, 7:30am
Benjamin and I leave the hotel.
Sunday, 2:00am
The hotel clerk starts pounding at our door. I open up. He tells me Benjamin has to leave immediately. I bribe him. It works. He tells us we have to be out by 7:30 or else he'll call the police.
Sunday, 1:55am
The phone starts ringing so Benjamin rips it out of the wall.
Sunday, 1:30am
Benjamin and I check into the hotel, but the dour clerk tells me that only one person can sleep there. (I am ignorant of the ways of the world and thought one pays by the bed, not by the person.) Benjamin says, "That's okay," and shoots me a look. I say, "Okay," and pay. Benjamin tells the clerk he's going to help me bring my bags to the room. The clerk says we have 15 minutes.
Sunday, 12:30am
After chatting with Amy Lame, I walk out of the dressing room and look for Benjamin. The cutest boy in the club (besides us) grabs my ass, puts his lips to my ear and says, "He went outside." After doing a double take (triple/quadruple take), I say "THANKS" and run outside.
Sunday, 12:15am
I am dancing to "That's Not My Name" by The Ting Tings with Benjamin, Tina, Jenny, Tessa and my new friend Stella Plumes. We are all amazing dancers. The club is completely packed, and I keep accidentally hitting people. We're surrounded by friendly-faced bearded men.
Sunday, 12:00am
Stella Plumes is doing a burlesque routine as a WWII trench nurse, to the music of Judy Garland's "Get Happy." She is covered in fake blood, her nipples are covered in Red Crosses, and she obscures them with a severed leg until the big finish. The crowd goes INSANE. Tina says it's the best burlesque performance she has ever seen.
Saturday, 11:30pm
I am on stage. I show the audience the origami vagina that Benjamin made me with a dollar bill, thus justifying my presence on stage during "women performers only" month at Duckie. I point out, however, that the dollar isn't worth shit, so OH WELL. I sing "I'm Gonna Make Out With Everyone Who Philosophically Disgusts Me," "Bisexual Boy" and "Sweet Chastity."
Saturday, 7:30pm
Benjamin and I arrive at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern for DUCKIE, the coolest alternative queer club night in the universe. I used to come here when I was a student in London in the summer of 2002. I am setting up my guitar. It is a dream come true.
Saturday, 5:00pm
My dear, dear, old, old friend Benjamin meets me in Piccadilly Circus. We originally met in Maryland, when he was some sort of physicist/musician, but he is now living in Devon, England, and is working as a blacksmith. Whichever tourists weren't previously taking my picture because I'm wearing a top hat are now taking my picture because I'm kissing a boy.
Saturday, 2:00pm
I'm eating a massive lunch in Neal's Yard with Tina from Dream Bitches and Pantsuit. Tina is doing PhD work in London. I haven't been to Neal's Yard in six years. I am feeling so nostalgic, though my memories are relatively vague - just a diffuse sense of freedom and power that I never felt as an undergrad in the states.
Saturday, 1:20pm
I arrive in London from Oxford, where I was the maid of honor at Christine's wedding.
[Report on Christine's wedding forthcoming...]
Monday, 6:00pm
I am watching "No Country for Old Men" on the plane.
Monday, 3:00pm
I am watching "Iron Man" on the plane. It is making me cry.
Monday, 2:00pm
I board Virgin Atlantic Flight 45 again, exactly 24 hours after I did so previously. This time, I stay on the plane until it lands in New York.
Sunday, 11:00pm
I am watching "The Juror" in a hotel room.
Sunday, 8:00pm
I am dismissed from Hillingdon Hospital, without any particular diagnosis. I talk to my parents on the phone and they order me a hotel room near the hospital. They are great.
Sunday, 6:00pm
The porter rolls my bed from the x-ray room back into the main area. He tells me he's become obsessed with American politics, so we talk about Barack Obama for a really long time. He asks lots of questions about my job. To make things simple, I tell him I'm a "playwright." He seems really fascinated. He is from Cameroon, and has only come to London to get an accounting degree. He plans on returning to his home town as soon as possible. A southeast Asian porter comes in and says, "He's not a student! He's a terrorist!" My new friend says, "No, no - YOU'RE the terrorist!" I say, "It's okay, guys - I am too." The southeast Asian porter sweeps up and leaves, saying, "If we WERE terrorists, we wouldn't need these stupid jobs. We'd be rich." Um!
Sunday, 4:00pm
I am only just beginning to regain lucidity. The pain is gone, for real.
Sunday, 3:30pm
I am riding to the hospital in an ambulance. I am strapped to a gurney. The medic gives me a gas nozzle, which I assume is oxygen. It is not. It is nitrous oxide. I become INCREDIBLY stoned INCREDIBLY fast. The excruciating pain in my abdomen either goes away or becomes unintelligible to my brain. As I lose all sense of awareness, I hear the medic go, "It's great, right? Everyone should have their own supply."
Sunday, 3:00pm
The flight attendants roll me down the length of the airplane in a wheelchair. My face is strapped to an oxygen tank. One of the attendants walks in front of me, kicking feet and bags out of the way. I try not to make eye contact with any passengers, because I don't want to see any angry, accusatory looks. The pain is becoming so unbearable I'm afraid I might faint.
Sunday, 2:55pm
A hot gay flight attendant tells me the medics are on their way. A hot lady flight attendant is rubbing my back and my knees and telling me I'm going to be okay. She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. The pain is so bad I start to weep.
Sunday, 2:40pm
The flight attendants are rushing around, making phone calls, filling out paper work. I discover that the left side of my abdomen is swollen and stiff. No one can remember what side of the body the appendix is on. Everyone's making jokes, trying to make me laugh. I appreciate the gesture, but even smiling hurts.
Sunday, 2:30pm
The pilot tells us we have another 15 minutes before we're taking off. I decide this is my last chance, so I approach the flight attendants in the back of the plane, and tell them that I'm in excruciating pain. I figure they will find out if there's a doctor on board, because that's what they do in movies. Instead, they strap me to a chair and start asking me questions.
Sunday, 2:20pm
The pain is getting so much worse, and I'm starting to think it isn't gas. I worry that my appendix is about to explode.
Sunday, 2:15pm
I'm feeling this horrible pain in my side. I figure it's gas, and I start to feel like an old person. "Gas." Who gets "gas"?
Sunday, 2:00pm
I board the plane and think about how excited I am to come home.
Sunday, 11:00am
I say goodbye to Benjamin at the Green Park tube station. I start the long trip to Heathrow Airport.
Sunday, 9:00am
Benjamin and I collapse in the park outside of Buckingham Palace. He takes off his shirt and I watch an ant crawl over his chest. We talk about responsibility and capitalism. He tells me he "believes in altruism," which somehow surprises me, though he says he "probably doesn't define it the way you do." I nod, though I realize later that I don't know what that means. Benjamin says I should see "No Country For Old Men."
Sunday, 8:30am
Benjamin and I are sitting at a cafe in Victoria Train Station. It hasn't opened yet. We just needed a place to sit. I am so tired I almost start crying. Benjamin shows me how to dance with a top hat.
Sunday, 7:30am
Benjamin and I leave the hotel.
Sunday, 2:00am
The hotel clerk starts pounding at our door. I open up. He tells me Benjamin has to leave immediately. I bribe him. It works. He tells us we have to be out by 7:30 or else he'll call the police.
Sunday, 1:55am
The phone starts ringing so Benjamin rips it out of the wall.
Sunday, 1:30am
Benjamin and I check into the hotel, but the dour clerk tells me that only one person can sleep there. (I am ignorant of the ways of the world and thought one pays by the bed, not by the person.) Benjamin says, "That's okay," and shoots me a look. I say, "Okay," and pay. Benjamin tells the clerk he's going to help me bring my bags to the room. The clerk says we have 15 minutes.
Sunday, 12:30am
After chatting with Amy Lame, I walk out of the dressing room and look for Benjamin. The cutest boy in the club (besides us) grabs my ass, puts his lips to my ear and says, "He went outside." After doing a double take (triple/quadruple take), I say "THANKS" and run outside.
Sunday, 12:15am
I am dancing to "That's Not My Name" by The Ting Tings with Benjamin, Tina, Jenny, Tessa and my new friend Stella Plumes. We are all amazing dancers. The club is completely packed, and I keep accidentally hitting people. We're surrounded by friendly-faced bearded men.
Sunday, 12:00am
Stella Plumes is doing a burlesque routine as a WWII trench nurse, to the music of Judy Garland's "Get Happy." She is covered in fake blood, her nipples are covered in Red Crosses, and she obscures them with a severed leg until the big finish. The crowd goes INSANE. Tina says it's the best burlesque performance she has ever seen.
Saturday, 11:30pm
I am on stage. I show the audience the origami vagina that Benjamin made me with a dollar bill, thus justifying my presence on stage during "women performers only" month at Duckie. I point out, however, that the dollar isn't worth shit, so OH WELL. I sing "I'm Gonna Make Out With Everyone Who Philosophically Disgusts Me," "Bisexual Boy" and "Sweet Chastity."
Saturday, 7:30pm
Benjamin and I arrive at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern for DUCKIE, the coolest alternative queer club night in the universe. I used to come here when I was a student in London in the summer of 2002. I am setting up my guitar. It is a dream come true.
Saturday, 5:00pm
My dear, dear, old, old friend Benjamin meets me in Piccadilly Circus. We originally met in Maryland, when he was some sort of physicist/musician, but he is now living in Devon, England, and is working as a blacksmith. Whichever tourists weren't previously taking my picture because I'm wearing a top hat are now taking my picture because I'm kissing a boy.
Saturday, 2:00pm
I'm eating a massive lunch in Neal's Yard with Tina from Dream Bitches and Pantsuit. Tina is doing PhD work in London. I haven't been to Neal's Yard in six years. I am feeling so nostalgic, though my memories are relatively vague - just a diffuse sense of freedom and power that I never felt as an undergrad in the states.
Saturday, 1:20pm
I arrive in London from Oxford, where I was the maid of honor at Christine's wedding.
[Report on Christine's wedding forthcoming...]
I find myself ducking into internet cafes just to watch Los Campesinos videos.
Love
Dan
Love
Dan
This one is better.
Love,
Dan
Love,
Dan
I have a new love:
Oxford is rainy, and I'm not going to Stonehenge. I couldn't sleep last night, so I turned on BBC and watched a movie called "Green Street," in which Elijah Wood gets expelled from Harvard and flees to England to become a SOCCER HOOLIGAN. And the best part? It's NOT A COMEDY. Slept in and had a vacation morning. Bed. Reality TV shows about pets. I feel oddly recharged.
Love
Dan
Oxford is rainy, and I'm not going to Stonehenge. I couldn't sleep last night, so I turned on BBC and watched a movie called "Green Street," in which Elijah Wood gets expelled from Harvard and flees to England to become a SOCCER HOOLIGAN. And the best part? It's NOT A COMEDY. Slept in and had a vacation morning. Bed. Reality TV shows about pets. I feel oddly recharged.
Love
Dan
I'm back stage at a big festival in Manchester with the Jeffrey Lewis Band. They just played a heroic set (the guitar was completely inaudible on stage) and the crowd looked pensive and curious and moved. I played guitar on "Creeping Brain," and got the chills at the end of "Back When I Was 4." We spent all day driving up from London, and I was re-united with my favorite food group: Marks & Spencers Cardboard Box Sandwiches.
Calvin Johnson is here with what seems to be the entire K Records back catalogue. He is wearing really tiny short-shorts.
Last night's show at The Windmill was absolutely lovely. Sibsi and Christina from Berlin materialized out of nowhere. I'd almost forgotten they were in the country, let alone sleeping in a tent in The Wave Pictures' back yard. Jenny from Stubaboon is one of my Favorite Promoters - she took good care of me all night, and brought me back to her gorgeous apartment in Kilburn for five hours of deep sleep.
I know this is barely a "tour," but I'm having such a pleasant time. It's funny, for all these experiences to feel normal. Last year, it was so exciting to jet all around the world, playing songs. This year, it just feels like a thing that people do. I don't know which is better - to live in a world where this lifestyle is unextraordinary, or to adjust your perception of the world so that everything is extraordinary.
Anyway, anyway. Birmingham tomorrow. And curried jacket potatoes.
Love
Dan
Calvin Johnson is here with what seems to be the entire K Records back catalogue. He is wearing really tiny short-shorts.
Last night's show at The Windmill was absolutely lovely. Sibsi and Christina from Berlin materialized out of nowhere. I'd almost forgotten they were in the country, let alone sleeping in a tent in The Wave Pictures' back yard. Jenny from Stubaboon is one of my Favorite Promoters - she took good care of me all night, and brought me back to her gorgeous apartment in Kilburn for five hours of deep sleep.
I know this is barely a "tour," but I'm having such a pleasant time. It's funny, for all these experiences to feel normal. Last year, it was so exciting to jet all around the world, playing songs. This year, it just feels like a thing that people do. I don't know which is better - to live in a world where this lifestyle is unextraordinary, or to adjust your perception of the world so that everything is extraordinary.
Anyway, anyway. Birmingham tomorrow. And curried jacket potatoes.
Love
Dan
I'm on tour in England and I forgot my camera! I've just been left to my own devices in my old friend Henry's gorgeous new apartment. The wall of the guest bedroom is literally covered, floor to ceiling, with shelves full of gay-ass DVDs. Absolutely Fabulous. Cruel Intentions. Longtime Companion.
My two flight attendants this morning were named (I am not making this up) Patsy and Eddy.
The 48 hours leading up to my flight were non-stop, last-minute organizing, mastering, pressing, designing, printing, emailing, arranging, blah blah blah.
But now I'm in London, and I'm surrounded by the ephemera of pop music, so all I can say is...
Let's forget your life...
Love
Dan
My two flight attendants this morning were named (I am not making this up) Patsy and Eddy.
The 48 hours leading up to my flight were non-stop, last-minute organizing, mastering, pressing, designing, printing, emailing, arranging, blah blah blah.
But now I'm in London, and I'm surrounded by the ephemera of pop music, so all I can say is...
Let's forget your life...
Love
Dan
Thain gave me a Tarot reading at Eastern Bloc tonight. Before I drew a card, he asked me what I wanted to focus on. I said something like...
"I feel like I'm at this turning point... and there's a new path before me, but I'm resisting it... and I can't figure out if my resistance is Wisdom or Cowardice. Basically: should I go down this new path? Should I change what I've been doing? Have I been doing something wrong? Yeah, that's it. Am I doing something wrong? Am I doing something wrong?"
I picked a card and Thain said, immediately, "No."
I asked him what the card was called, and he told me.
"Victory."
Love
Dan
"I feel like I'm at this turning point... and there's a new path before me, but I'm resisting it... and I can't figure out if my resistance is Wisdom or Cowardice. Basically: should I go down this new path? Should I change what I've been doing? Have I been doing something wrong? Yeah, that's it. Am I doing something wrong? Am I doing something wrong?"
I picked a card and Thain said, immediately, "No."
I asked him what the card was called, and he told me.
"Victory."
Love
Dan
Manic days. Total ecstasy one moment, then a glaze will set in. It won't last long. It never lasts long. Just long enough to remind me to keep on my toes, to pay attention, to take naps and drink more water.
I went to Elizabeth's Big Lesbian Birthday Breakfast. We talked about menstruation and families and conservatism. Then Elizabeth led us in a meditation. Somewhere in the middle of the ritual, she asked us to meditate on the following statements (paraphrased): "I wish to be safe. I wish to be peaceful. I wish to be happy." I found this easy. Then she asked us to think of a person in our lives, and wish those things for them. I thought of a person immediately, but somehow could not bring myself to wish them safety, peace and happiness. I tried. I wanted to. But the image of them in my brain somehow deflected the wish, like they were covered in some kind of force field. So I picked a new person, and wished Dibs safety, peace and happiness. That was much easier.
Elizabeth's next instruction was to imagine someone to whom we would have difficulty sending good wishes, and focus our mediation on them. I was startled, that she would ask us to do what I had just then attempted. But I tried again. It was hard.
It made me wonder how loving I really am, what my intentions towards other human beings really are, what my generosity consists of, and how my sense of kindness translates in the world around me.
I am still wondering.
Also, I cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot stop listening to "Sometimes a Dream" from Liz Phair's Girlysound Demos. Join me in my obsession HERE.
Love
Dan
I went to Elizabeth's Big Lesbian Birthday Breakfast. We talked about menstruation and families and conservatism. Then Elizabeth led us in a meditation. Somewhere in the middle of the ritual, she asked us to meditate on the following statements (paraphrased): "I wish to be safe. I wish to be peaceful. I wish to be happy." I found this easy. Then she asked us to think of a person in our lives, and wish those things for them. I thought of a person immediately, but somehow could not bring myself to wish them safety, peace and happiness. I tried. I wanted to. But the image of them in my brain somehow deflected the wish, like they were covered in some kind of force field. So I picked a new person, and wished Dibs safety, peace and happiness. That was much easier.
Elizabeth's next instruction was to imagine someone to whom we would have difficulty sending good wishes, and focus our mediation on them. I was startled, that she would ask us to do what I had just then attempted. But I tried again. It was hard.
It made me wonder how loving I really am, what my intentions towards other human beings really are, what my generosity consists of, and how my sense of kindness translates in the world around me.
I am still wondering.
Also, I cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot stop listening to "Sometimes a Dream" from Liz Phair's Girlysound Demos. Join me in my obsession HERE.
Love
Dan
Last night, I went from Staten Island to Ridgewood for Dibs' birthday party. A few hours later, I went back to Staten Island for a 9-hour recording session. Then Andrew and I drank 40s and watched Mary Poppins.
Goodnight!
Love
Dan
Goodnight!
Love
Dan
Last night I saw lightning with my eyes closed.
Then I woke up and accidentally touched someone's penis (and I'm REALLY EMBARRASSED ABOUT IT).
Love
Dan
Then I woke up and accidentally touched someone's penis (and I'm REALLY EMBARRASSED ABOUT IT).
Love
Dan
I went to Staten Island again last night for recording. Andrew made lentil pizza and we watched Dick Tracy. I slept in a turret with ten windows. We woke up again, recorded some more, and then I took the ferry into Manhattan for my weekly day of work. (I'm working one day a week in exchange for health insurance. I KNOW.) Perhaps, most importantly, Andrew showed me this incredible video he made for his song "Bad Sad Mad." I am flat-out jealous! SO JEALOUS.
Love
Dan
Love
Dan
I just sent out this newsletter:
Hello Friends,
It's a whole new life up in here! I quit my day job (pretty much), and am now working on my own projects full-time. Predictably, I've never been busier! I wanted to give you all a run-down of what's been brewing. Shows! Recordings! Books! Thingies! If, while you are reading this, you think, "THAT SOUNDS AMAZING - I WANT TO SUPPORT THAT!" then feel free to make a tax deductible donation right here. What else are you going to do with your Receipt For The Destruction of the Federal Government? - oh I mean "Economic Stimulus Check."
Sending Much Love,
Dan
1. UK Tour
In two weeks, I'm returning to England for a mini solo tour. I'll be seeing a lot of old friends, but most importantly (for me), I'll be playing Duckie - the coolest queer club night in the whole stinkin' world! I am so very honored. If you're on the island, come give us a hug!
Aug 1st: LONDON: The Windmill, 22 Blenheim Gardens, 8:00pm with Thomas Truax & David Cronnenberg's Wife
Aug 2nd: TBA (Anyone wanna play a show?)
Aug 3rd: BIRMINGHAM: The Sunflower Lounge, 76 Smallbrook Queensway, 7:30pm with The State of Georgia and more.
Aug 9th: LONDON: Duckie at The Royal Vauxhall Tavern, 372 Kennington Lane, doors 9:00pm, show 11:00pm.
2. NYC Shows
As soon as I get back from England, I'm launching right into the 2008 Summer Antifolk Festival...
Aug 13: 2008 SUMMER ANTIFOLK FESTIVAL, Sidewalk Cafe, 94 Avenue A, 7.30 Alisha Westerman, 8.00 Mad Happy, 8.30 Somer, 9.00 Casey Holford, 9.30 Eric Wolfson, 10.00 Dan Fishback, 11.00 Bernard King Presents, 12.00 Crabs On Banjo
...But it really gets out of control in September, when I return to the Sidewalk Cafe for a weekly residency. I'm re-learning all my old songs, and I'm hoping that each show will have an almost entirely different setlist. We're calling it...
THE DAN FISHBACK SONGBOOKS
The Sidewalk Cafe (94 Avenue A), 9pm, with special 8pm guests...
Sept 2nd: Creaky Boards
Sept 9th: Friday Nites with Matt Katz
Sept 16th: TBA
Sept 23rd: Novice Theory
3. Mammal
After starting our first session in late 2005, Casey Holford and I are finally set to finish my second studio album, "Mammal." We have sessions lined up with guest artists like Andrew Hoepfner, Luis Illades, Matt Katz, Angela Carlucci and Dibson Hoffweiler. We should be finished in September, but we won't release the album till 2009. Check out the perpetually leaked single, "Some Boys are Bullies" at http://www.myspace.com/danfishback .
4. B-Sides Album
While "Mammal" is full of big, anthemic rock and pop songs, I've set aside a collection of tinier folk tunes for a B-Sides album that I've been recording with Andrew Phillip Tipton on Staten Island. It should be ready for my UK tour, and will be available at shows in August!
5. What Have They Done To You?
I'm following up last year's zine, "A Very Small Hole" with a new "book" -- a collection of scripts called "What Have They Done To You?" It will include the text from my plays "Please Let Me Love You" and "Waiting for Barbara," and hopefully some other goodies. This should also be available on my UK Tour, and online very soon.
6. College Workshops
This fall, I'll be visiting various universities to speak about Queerness and Jewishness, and how I kinda think they're the same thing. If you're a student and want me to visit you, email me! You'd be shocked to discover how easy it is to make this happen!
7. You Will Experience Silence
After a few radically different readings, I'm once again re-working my new play, "YOU WILL EXPERIENCE SILENCE (or 'The Last Chanukah'). We'll be doing another reading, tentatively in October, and the show should run sometime early next year!
8. Blog
I am still writing that darn blog at http://www.danfishback.com. Check it out for almost-daily updates on my projects and my drinking!
Hello Friends,
It's a whole new life up in here! I quit my day job (pretty much), and am now working on my own projects full-time. Predictably, I've never been busier! I wanted to give you all a run-down of what's been brewing. Shows! Recordings! Books! Thingies! If, while you are reading this, you think, "THAT SOUNDS AMAZING - I WANT TO SUPPORT THAT!" then feel free to make a tax deductible donation right here. What else are you going to do with your Receipt For The Destruction of the Federal Government? - oh I mean "Economic Stimulus Check."
Sending Much Love,
Dan
1. UK Tour
In two weeks, I'm returning to England for a mini solo tour. I'll be seeing a lot of old friends, but most importantly (for me), I'll be playing Duckie - the coolest queer club night in the whole stinkin' world! I am so very honored. If you're on the island, come give us a hug!
Aug 1st: LONDON: The Windmill, 22 Blenheim Gardens, 8:00pm with Thomas Truax & David Cronnenberg's Wife
Aug 2nd: TBA (Anyone wanna play a show?)
Aug 3rd: BIRMINGHAM: The Sunflower Lounge, 76 Smallbrook Queensway, 7:30pm with The State of Georgia and more.
Aug 9th: LONDON: Duckie at The Royal Vauxhall Tavern, 372 Kennington Lane, doors 9:00pm, show 11:00pm.
2. NYC Shows
As soon as I get back from England, I'm launching right into the 2008 Summer Antifolk Festival...
Aug 13: 2008 SUMMER ANTIFOLK FESTIVAL, Sidewalk Cafe, 94 Avenue A, 7.30 Alisha Westerman, 8.00 Mad Happy, 8.30 Somer, 9.00 Casey Holford, 9.30 Eric Wolfson, 10.00 Dan Fishback, 11.00 Bernard King Presents, 12.00 Crabs On Banjo
...But it really gets out of control in September, when I return to the Sidewalk Cafe for a weekly residency. I'm re-learning all my old songs, and I'm hoping that each show will have an almost entirely different setlist. We're calling it...
THE DAN FISHBACK SONGBOOKS
The Sidewalk Cafe (94 Avenue A), 9pm, with special 8pm guests...
Sept 2nd: Creaky Boards
Sept 9th: Friday Nites with Matt Katz
Sept 16th: TBA
Sept 23rd: Novice Theory
3. Mammal
After starting our first session in late 2005, Casey Holford and I are finally set to finish my second studio album, "Mammal." We have sessions lined up with guest artists like Andrew Hoepfner, Luis Illades, Matt Katz, Angela Carlucci and Dibson Hoffweiler. We should be finished in September, but we won't release the album till 2009. Check out the perpetually leaked single, "Some Boys are Bullies" at http://www.myspace.com/
4. B-Sides Album
While "Mammal" is full of big, anthemic rock and pop songs, I've set aside a collection of tinier folk tunes for a B-Sides album that I've been recording with Andrew Phillip Tipton on Staten Island. It should be ready for my UK tour, and will be available at shows in August!
5. What Have They Done To You?
I'm following up last year's zine, "A Very Small Hole" with a new "book" -- a collection of scripts called "What Have They Done To You?" It will include the text from my plays "Please Let Me Love You" and "Waiting for Barbara," and hopefully some other goodies. This should also be available on my UK Tour, and online very soon.
6. College Workshops
This fall, I'll be visiting various universities to speak about Queerness and Jewishness, and how I kinda think they're the same thing. If you're a student and want me to visit you, email me! You'd be shocked to discover how easy it is to make this happen!
7. You Will Experience Silence
After a few radically different readings, I'm once again re-working my new play, "YOU WILL EXPERIENCE SILENCE (or 'The Last Chanukah'). We'll be doing another reading, tentatively in October, and the show should run sometime early next year!
8. Blog
I am still writing that darn blog at http://www.danfishback.com. Check it out for almost-daily updates on my projects and my drinking!
A small elf has been producing my new b-sides album...
In the meantime, I've been thinking a lot about stabbing, and how I don't want to get stabbed.
Love
Dan
Love
Dan
Ani Difranco Songs I Sang on the Way To The Ani Difranco Concert:
-"Going Down"
-"Angry Anymore"
-"Cradle and All"
-"Know Now Then"
-"Jukebox"
-"A Light of Some Kind"
-"Swing"
Tonight, we danced with Kimya Dawson at the Ani Difranco show. By "we" I mean Underthrust. By "Underthrust" I mean the all-star, anti-folk, DIY dance troupe that only rehearses while drinking beer and eating pizza (theoretically). Ani's crew was super friendly! They seemed excited to see us stretching in the wings. I guess when you're on the road all the time setting up the same show, it's refreshing to see a bunch of bouncy happy people wearing differently-colored laundry bags and superhero tights.
We did the same "I Like Giants" dance that we did at Webster Hall, and followed it up with an improvisational performance to "Rollercoaster," during which we took off our bags and ran around the stage waving them like flags. We also rolled around and did lots of lunges.
After Kimya's set, we were all jumping around backstage when Ani walked past us and smiled enthusiastically. I thought this was a very CLASSY way to both acknowledge/appreciate us AND avoid having to do the whole weird rockstar/fan conversation thing. I know I really dislike meeting my heroes. My experience of Ani Difranco was already COMPLETE. And fulfilling. Her music and attitude completely changed my life, focused my creative energy, and largely inspired my ventures as a folksinger. I've worked really hard to follow through on those impulses, and I think I've succeeded pretty modestly. So, at this point, I don't need any icing on this here cake. This cake is delicious. This cake is done. Ani smiles at me and my friends. We smile back. I'm a folksinger. Going on tour again in two weeks. With a copy of "Not a Pretty Girl" in my bag. Full circle. Amen. Glory. Praise. Sisterhood. Respect.
We watched Ani's set in full costume, in the middle of the theater. She played a beautiful show, but I felt less invested than I used to. I took mental notes. Tricks. Pacing strategies. Vocal embellishments. Banter navigation. It was a master class. From the real master. Dave and I tried to calculate how many shows she's played, ever. At least 5000? The ultimate. The sensei. The teacher on the hilltop. No?
We hung out for a few hours afterwards, in a tiny room where Beau told us stories about moving to NYC in the 60s, going to see performances by Merce Cunningham and John Cage. Panda picked some boogers. All was as it should be.
All of these things? Wonderful. But honestly. It paled in comparison to the first half of the day. Dibs turned 25, so I took him on a birthday adventure. We made breakfast. Went uptown. Experienced the life and work of Buckminster Fuller at the Whitney Museum, along with polaroids by Robert Mappelthorpe and killer architecture installations by Paul McCarthy (and by "killer," I mean they could literally murder you). It felt like the Whitney knew it was Dibs' birthday, and curated these exhibits just for him.
It feels good to realize that a friend is actually, in truth, in the greatest truth, family. It feels even better to realize this over and over and over and over again.
Moral of the day: Performances and Rockstars and Audiences and Dreams Come True are AMAZING. Best friends, however, are AMAZING SQUARED.
Awwwwwwwwwwwwww!
Much Love
Dan
-"Going Down"
-"Angry Anymore"
-"Cradle and All"
-"Know Now Then"
-"Jukebox"
-"A Light of Some Kind"
-"Swing"
Tonight, we danced with Kimya Dawson at the Ani Difranco show. By "we" I mean Underthrust. By "Underthrust" I mean the all-star, anti-folk, DIY dance troupe that only rehearses while drinking beer and eating pizza (theoretically). Ani's crew was super friendly! They seemed excited to see us stretching in the wings. I guess when you're on the road all the time setting up the same show, it's refreshing to see a bunch of bouncy happy people wearing differently-colored laundry bags and superhero tights.
We did the same "I Like Giants" dance that we did at Webster Hall, and followed it up with an improvisational performance to "Rollercoaster," during which we took off our bags and ran around the stage waving them like flags. We also rolled around and did lots of lunges.
After Kimya's set, we were all jumping around backstage when Ani walked past us and smiled enthusiastically. I thought this was a very CLASSY way to both acknowledge/appreciate us AND avoid having to do the whole weird rockstar/fan conversation thing. I know I really dislike meeting my heroes. My experience of Ani Difranco was already COMPLETE. And fulfilling. Her music and attitude completely changed my life, focused my creative energy, and largely inspired my ventures as a folksinger. I've worked really hard to follow through on those impulses, and I think I've succeeded pretty modestly. So, at this point, I don't need any icing on this here cake. This cake is delicious. This cake is done. Ani smiles at me and my friends. We smile back. I'm a folksinger. Going on tour again in two weeks. With a copy of "Not a Pretty Girl" in my bag. Full circle. Amen. Glory. Praise. Sisterhood. Respect.
We watched Ani's set in full costume, in the middle of the theater. She played a beautiful show, but I felt less invested than I used to. I took mental notes. Tricks. Pacing strategies. Vocal embellishments. Banter navigation. It was a master class. From the real master. Dave and I tried to calculate how many shows she's played, ever. At least 5000? The ultimate. The sensei. The teacher on the hilltop. No?
We hung out for a few hours afterwards, in a tiny room where Beau told us stories about moving to NYC in the 60s, going to see performances by Merce Cunningham and John Cage. Panda picked some boogers. All was as it should be.
All of these things? Wonderful. But honestly. It paled in comparison to the first half of the day. Dibs turned 25, so I took him on a birthday adventure. We made breakfast. Went uptown. Experienced the life and work of Buckminster Fuller at the Whitney Museum, along with polaroids by Robert Mappelthorpe and killer architecture installations by Paul McCarthy (and by "killer," I mean they could literally murder you). It felt like the Whitney knew it was Dibs' birthday, and curated these exhibits just for him.
It feels good to realize that a friend is actually, in truth, in the greatest truth, family. It feels even better to realize this over and over and over and over again.
Moral of the day: Performances and Rockstars and Audiences and Dreams Come True are AMAZING. Best friends, however, are AMAZING SQUARED.
Awwwwwwwwwwwwww!
Much Love
Dan
With enough clout in yr industry, they'll let you do anything. I find this so compelling:
Love
Dan
Love
Dan
Elizabeth, Joseph and I made a bed on the roof. The sun was rising, and we wanted to see it happen as we drifted off. I was sitting on a towel, staring at the antenna of a skyscraper on the horizon, when I realized it was growing. And zig-zagging. Then I realized it was the trail of an airplane. Elizabeth thought it was a rocket, because it was going straight up. Then we realized it only looked like it was going straight up. It was actually heading right toward us. We hadn't accounted for the curvature of the earth. I kept watching the plane as my friends fell asleep, for ten minutes or so, as it went over my head and eventually straight down, as though it was going to crash. It, of course, didn't.
Three hours later, the sun was blaring so brightly that we took off our clothes and got a tan.
A few hours after that, I saw the Breeders in McCarren Park. A girl tried to crowd surf, but only stayed aloft for a few seconds. Simultaneous Dan/Max reactions:
Dan: You're 10 years late!
Max: Have you learned nothing from Woodstock 99?!
Yesterday was the first Monday of my new, virtually day-jobless life. I accomplished so much. I want to accomplish more.
Tomorrow I'm performing with Ani Difranco. What?
Who's life is this?!
A few weeks ago, Andrew Hoepfner and I were walking past Tompkins Square Park, where there was some kind of bike convention. Kids on bicycles, just swarming around like bees. We didn't really acknowledge it at first, but then Andrew said, "If we were on tour, we'd stop to talk to these people, and take pictures, and email all our friends about it. We'd be like, 'Wow, this is amazing.'" And so I've been trying to experience New York as though I don't live here. As though I'm on tour. Sleeping on rooftops. Etc. Joy.
Love
Dan
Three hours later, the sun was blaring so brightly that we took off our clothes and got a tan.
A few hours after that, I saw the Breeders in McCarren Park. A girl tried to crowd surf, but only stayed aloft for a few seconds. Simultaneous Dan/Max reactions:
Dan: You're 10 years late!
Max: Have you learned nothing from Woodstock 99?!
Yesterday was the first Monday of my new, virtually day-jobless life. I accomplished so much. I want to accomplish more.
Tomorrow I'm performing with Ani Difranco. What?
Who's life is this?!
A few weeks ago, Andrew Hoepfner and I were walking past Tompkins Square Park, where there was some kind of bike convention. Kids on bicycles, just swarming around like bees. We didn't really acknowledge it at first, but then Andrew said, "If we were on tour, we'd stop to talk to these people, and take pictures, and email all our friends about it. We'd be like, 'Wow, this is amazing.'" And so I've been trying to experience New York as though I don't live here. As though I'm on tour. Sleeping on rooftops. Etc. Joy.
Love
Dan
I'm plotting my big break. Clearing away enormous swaths of TIME. Lippe was telling us about Breathairians last night - people who believe that food is poison, that all you need is good, clean air, inhaled properly. I don't know about that. But I'm starting to think that maybe I could eat TIME. Like, instead of food. Just time. Delicious. Dribbling down my goddamn face. Excuse me while I lick it off.
Meanwhile:
Cole and his friend Jeffrey have officially raised the bar for messed up internet videos. Is it weird to feel proud?
Love
Dan
Meanwhile:
Cole and his friend Jeffrey have officially raised the bar for messed up internet videos. Is it weird to feel proud?
Love
Dan
I'm listening to WNYC and heard an advertisement for Canadian diamonds. Their tagline is "Luxury with a Conscience." Which begs the question: CAN you have luxury with a conscience? Is luxury moral? Discuss!
Love
Dan
Love
Dan
Alternative Dream Theory: Regarding the Cockroach Coincidence from my last post, my guru Matt Katz hypothesizes that, when I hit the cockroach, the psychic force of my blow created a tesseract, propelling the dry parts of the bug through a crack in space-time, towards the person I was thinking about, along with my dream about him. Duh! I don't know why I didn't think of that before.
I'm still going to talk about Pride Weekend and the Last Anti-Hoot eventually.
In the meantime, in my 30-second break between urgent tasks...
1. I read Watchmen.
2. I installed an air conditioner, and I'm paranoid that it's gonna fall out the window and kill someone, even though I secured it pretty well, and the window faces a courtyard/junkyard where no one ever goes.
3. I stayed up really late with Joseph, Thain and Allan to watch Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, a film I was not prepared for. When it was over, Thain did things around the room while Joseph, Allan and I curled up in bed and discussed whether or not the world is about to end. My position was: No, it's not going to end. Joseph's position was: Please tell me it's not going to end. Allan's position was: Curled up.
4. The Pansy Division song "Political Asshole" is preceded by a man's voice saying, "...you will drink the black sperm of my VENGEANCE!" I must have listened to that song a thousand times, but I never knew where that line came from. So, in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, when Z-Man was about to murder a loin-clothed straight guy who had sexually rejected him, I started to feel the pangs of recognition, and as soon as he said "...you will," I joined in for the remainder of his proclamation. My companions were frightened. I had never seen the movie before. Was I possessed? Luis, was I?
Love
Dan
I'm still going to talk about Pride Weekend and the Last Anti-Hoot eventually.
In the meantime, in my 30-second break between urgent tasks...
1. I read Watchmen.
2. I installed an air conditioner, and I'm paranoid that it's gonna fall out the window and kill someone, even though I secured it pretty well, and the window faces a courtyard/junkyard where no one ever goes.
3. I stayed up really late with Joseph, Thain and Allan to watch Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, a film I was not prepared for. When it was over, Thain did things around the room while Joseph, Allan and I curled up in bed and discussed whether or not the world is about to end. My position was: No, it's not going to end. Joseph's position was: Please tell me it's not going to end. Allan's position was: Curled up.
4. The Pansy Division song "Political Asshole" is preceded by a man's voice saying, "...you will drink the black sperm of my VENGEANCE!" I must have listened to that song a thousand times, but I never knew where that line came from. So, in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, when Z-Man was about to murder a loin-clothed straight guy who had sexually rejected him, I started to feel the pangs of recognition, and as soon as he said "...you will," I joined in for the remainder of his proclamation. My companions were frightened. I had never seen the movie before. Was I possessed? Luis, was I?
Love
Dan
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Dan Fishback is a sponsored project of Fractured Atlas, a non-profit arts service organization. Contributions in behalf of Dan Fishback may be made payable to Fractured Atlas and are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law.
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